Tall Tail

Monday, August 1, 2016

Harry and Cooper sat in the small Crozet Media screening room, piles of DVDs before them. Those DVDs represented the finished product. A smaller pile of outtakes sat next to that.

Cooper stuck her long legs in front of her once in her seat. “Harry, two hours, that’s it.”

“I know, but look at it this way.” Harry turned around for a moment to make eye contact with Rae. “You have nothing to go on regarding Barbara Leader’s death. That was followed by this break-in.”

“I don’t see how they can be connected,” Cooper grumbled.

“Well, I don’t, either. But if we look at website outtakes and some websites of those who knew or worked with Barbara, maybe something will pop up. You’re only losing time.”

Rae stepped in. “When I sifted through my list of clients with Harry she knew some of the people who knew Barbara. Of course, we have no way of knowing a casual acquaintance. As it turned out, not many of my clients did know Barbara. Let me start with The Barracks.”

Harry filled Cooper in. “Barbara kept a horse there for years. Occasionally I’d see her in the ring.”

“We shot this last fall.” Rae punched some keys on the large keypad, and an image of The Barracks’s sign out on Garth Road appeared. Next a moving shot through the gates revealed the land beyond, fenced, the mountains in the far background, and to the viewer’s right the large main building of The Barracks. From there Bethel had walked through the aisle, shots of tidy stalls, contented horses, and thence into the large covered riding arena, the big draw of this place. Over this, Claiborne Bishop’s voice explained the dimensions of the ring, the footing, while two riders in the background were taking a lesson over fences.

Once outside, Claiborne introduced horses in the near paddocks, the house she shared with her husband, Tom, in the background. The brilliant fall day added to the allure. This was the slick final product Rae produced.

Now she slipped in a DVD. Claiborne stood by the fence, and a flaming chestnut horse thundered up, looking stunning, and then pooped as if on cue.

Harry chuckled.

“Wait until you see the next one.” Rae gave them a little anticipation.

Back in the main stables, two teenage girls washing one of the horses obviously didn’t know footage was being shot. A few harsh words were spoken. The blonde reached around the horse with a wet chamois, flicking it at the dark-haired girl, a few pounds overweight. That fast, the larger girl turned her hose on the blonde. The wet-T-shirt moment would have been appreciated by most of the male audience, but it might not have done The Barracks much good. Amazingly, the horse stood quietly through it all, not even folding back her ears.

That was it for The Barracks outtakes.

One hour later, the group had seen most everyone who went to school, worked with, or knew Barbara, if they had websites.

“Okay, last one,” Bethel said. “Edward Cunningham at Big Rawly. We had so many delays, interruptions. We’re still piecing footage together for his new campaign website. Won’t be long until it’s up.”

Edward, sleeves rolled up, no necktie, wearing beige pants and loafers, was walking through the living room, opened massive double doors to the outside slate patio, stepped down, and stepped on a rubber ball.

“Goddammit!” He bent down to pick up the ball, chucked it out on the lawn in disgust.

A golden retriever appeared, entering the frame from the left, joyfully chasing the ball, bringing it back to Eddie. He dropped the ball at Eddie’s feet. Picked it up. Dropped it again.

“Piper, leave it.”

Piper experienced a moment of canine deafness.

Frustrated that the ball was slimy, Eddie yelled, “Chris, will you get out here!”

Entering from the right, pretty Chris appeared, wearing the fisherman’s top favored by Picasso, white clam diggers, and navy blue espadrilles. Ball in hand, she coaxed the golden to follow her.

Chris Holloway Cunningham, the perfect country club wife, should have stayed in the video. Poor Eddie, flummoxed by the dog, spoke his lines too quickly.

Off camera, Rae’s words could be heard. “Cut. Mr. Cunningham, take a deep breath, slow down. Actually, the dog looked great, but we’ll leave using her up to you.”

Another outtake showed Eddie in the impressive library, his grandfather there also. His grandfather, the former governor, sat behind the desk. Eddie’s father, Taylor Cunningham, dropped a book as he entered the library. He laughed, picked it up, and said to the camera, “Marcus Aurelius, one of the governor’s favorites.”

In the last outtake, Eddie was promising he would fight the creep of federal government as a senator. He called upon the memory of Sam Holloway defying Washington while standing at the entrance to the state house when he was loudly interrupted by the governor complaining from his desk in the background.

A middle-aged woman slipped in, handed him a glass filled with ice and a splash of amber liquid. She pressed a pill in his hand.

Harry recognized the woman as Barbara Leader.

Barbara leaned down, whispering in the governor’s ear.

He grinned, popped the pill, drained his glass. His energy returned and his face became more animated. He became more animated.

He looked directly at the camera, his voice booming. “I want to explain why I fought the federal government forty-five years ago. I apologized, but I’ve never really set the record straight.”

Standing in front of his grandfather’s desk, Eddie froze.

Women’s voices filled the background. Entering the frame from the right came Barbara Leader, again followed by Penny and Millicent Grimstead.

Eddie hurried to stand beside the governor’s chair. “G-Pop, the federal government is like a giant kudzu plant. They want to cover us all and control us all.”

Standing, the old man, still handsome despite his illness, boomed, “It is the obligation of every generation to keep the central government in check. I was right about that, but I chose the wrong issue and I regret it. I will die regretting it.”

“G-Pop, you fought the good fight.” Eddie glanced up at his grandmother and aunt.

“Edward, you sorry ass, I hate an overly centralized government. I hate an imperial presidency, but sometimes only a strong president and Congress can right a terrible wrong. Segregation was such a wrong. I cannot, I will not, abide you using me to cloak your intentions.”

“Daddy, Daddy, come on now,” Millicent cajoled.

“I’m not going to be used like this!” he shouted.

“Honey, Millie and I will work with Eddie. You come on. You’re going to overtire yourself. You need all your strength to fight the leukemia.”

Shaking with anger and effort, he refused to allow his wife and daughter to lead him away, but he did go.

Penny’s voice could be heard off-camera. “Come on, honey. They can do a video just of you.”

“I’m ready to talk,” he hollered.

“Please, Daddy, this is for Eddie’s website.”

“Maybe people interested in him should hear me out! I have something to say.”

“Of course, you do, dear.” Penny’s voice was clear. “You were the most eloquent governor of Virginia since Thomas Jefferson.”

Then Barbara’s voice could again be heard. “Come on, Governor, we’ll have our own party.”

On camera, Eddie sank into the chair just vacated by his grandfather. “Give me a minute.” He looked into the camera. “He suffers these outbursts. A lot of anger. I blame the medication. They’re filling him full of too much stuff.” That was the end of the footage.

Cooper pulled her outstretched legs back. “Poor fellow. Do you all remember anything else?”

“No,” Deon answered. “As you’ve seen, most of the outtakes are flubs. Maybe a wind came up, messed up the sound for an outside shot. Pretty much what you’d expect. Well, maybe not the governor, but I guess that’s what happens when people get that old.”

“Or that medicated,” Harry added.

“Scares me,” Rae admitted. “Doctors pumping you with God knows what.”

“You don’t have to be old for that.” Harry feared overmedication, too.

“Right,” Deon agreed.

Rae said to Cooper, “I didn’t question Edward Cunningham why he wanted us to shoot this footage.”

Cooper stood up. “We all saw the governor’s condition. I would guess Edward needed a video of him. The old man is frail, but he’s still presentable and still powerful.”

Fed up with politics, Harry said, “Elections are now never-ending. Edward Holloway Cunningham has his website. The amount of money spent these days on running for office is astronomical.”

“A big waste of money,” Deon said. “All that money could be put toward fixing some of our problems.”

“True, it is, but that money is coming to us,” Rae reminded him. “For which I’m grateful. It’s all ego, don’t you think?”

Bethel grimaced. “I know when I’m old enough to retire there won’t be any money in Social Security. All that money taken out of my paycheck and Deon’s paycheck will be squandered.”

“Yeah,” Deon simply agreed.

“Well, you could run for public office,” Harry suggested.

“And be like them?” Deon’s eyes widened.

Rae quietly added, “I really think when most people take that path they want to do good. Then the process corrupts them.”

“As a public servant I can’t partake in this discussion,” said Cooper. “But I can also tell you Albemarle County has a good sheriff. We are chronically underfunded and people want more and more services. Harry’s right. You all should run, or find someone young who you like, and encourage them.”

Harry added, “Someone young who isn’t corrupted.”

Deon felt cynical. “Yeah, but won’t they become corrupted, like Rae says?”

“You can always hope that a few won’t,” said Harry. “I don’t think anyone can corrupt Ned Tucker or could corrupt the late Emily Couric or Mitch Van Yahres, before your time. They were liberal, but I trusted them. We all did. But such people are few and far between now.” She stood up. “Maybe it was always this way and we think times were better in the past.”

“Do you think Governor Holloway was corrupt?” Deon asked.

“When he was governor, it was the Old Boys’ Club, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. They didn’t think of that as corrupt. I doubt that Governor Holloway or generations of Virginia governors questioned how business was done.” Harry vividly remembered her parents discussing politics.

“It’s still the Old Boys’ Network.” Deon, a young man of color, distrusted most all elected officials who were white.

Harry thoughtfully answered him. “Maybe it’s a shadow we’ll never shake. Little by little, the process opens up. I guess my question is, will it open up enough in time?”

“Hmm.” Deon listened.

“I’m going to be forty-two on Sunday.” Harry looked at Rae, Bethel, and Deon. “Sounds old to you, I’m sure, but it’s not that old and yet, I think about things a little harder, I feel things a little deeper, and I know I can’t turn my back on our problems. By the time you’re forty you know you have to step up to the plate. Otherwise you’ve left politics to all the creeps.”

“That means you’ll be working on Ned’s campaign next year.” Cooper smiled, then turned to Rae, Bethel, and Deon. “Thank you for your time. I may be back to ask questions as they occur to me. We’ll try to get to the bottom of this peculiar break-in. The good news is no one stole your equipment.”

Back outside, Harry climbed into Cooper’s squad car. “What an outburst.”

Cooper nodded. “It’s got to be painful being used by your grandson, used in a way that dredges up old hatreds.”

“Maybe they aren’t so old.” Harry fastened her seatbelt.

“I don’t know. I sure hope not.”

“I do, too, but Eddie wants to make political capital out of them.”