The Hunt Ball

C H A P T E R 3 4

Tuesday’s hunt, December 20, was well attended. College students were home for the holidays. Jennifer and Sari were there and Sari was thrilled that her mother rode with the Hilltoppers. People took off work. Tootie, Valentina, Felicity, and even Pamela, who begged her parents, stayed with Sister and would be there until December 22, when they’d all go home.

Charlotte, also on school break, hunted with Bunny. Everyone needed a physical release from the strain and the extraordinary events.

Sister had had a long talk with Shaker and Walter. They all agreed that Crawford must be asked to leave the hunt. Still, there were many details to be ironed out. They expected him to hit back and hit hard. They’d just have to deal with it, although they knew one of his weapons would be money.

The good news was the hunt ball made Shaker realize that he couldn’t live without Lorraine and he loved Sari, her daughter, as his own. He had asked Lorraine to marry him yesterday so she wouldn’t think he’d done this in the upheaval of the ball or the arrest of Bill Wheatley. She had said yes.

“Guess you asked her when she experienced a weak moment,” Sister teased, then hugged him.

The hunt, down at Chapel Cross, proved wonderful. The grays began traveling in twos early so they picked up a courting gentleman fox. After they ran him to ground, they picked up two others. What a lovely day.

Once back at the trailers, Ben Sidel joined them. He could rarely take off a Tuesday, usually hunting only on Saturdays.

They gathered around the tailgate as Ben told them Bill finally confessed.

“How did it all fit together?” Sister asked Ben for all of them.

“You know, it was ingenious. I’ll give them that. Knute, Bill, and Al all wanted and needed money. Not that Custis Hall doesn’t pay a fair wage, but academic salaries are slim by comparison to other professions. Write it down to greed. Al would sound out those alumnae, or usually their husbands, who would pay big bucks for a sword of Washington. Some people want to own things. We’ve begun questioning those alumnae who bought things from Al and Knute. Knute had a wide net of contacts but quite different from Al’s. Some knew the items were purloined, others did not. Knute’s contacts were people in business who wanted Washington’s epaulettes on their desk or in a display case. An ego thing. They even sold the sword to a museum in Oregon and they faked a document of agreement from Custis Hall. They did this for two years. At night, Al and Knute would unlock a case, after Bill had made a replica, take the original item; Bill would replace it with the fake.”

“And there’d be nothing unusual about Al or Knute working in the evening if anyone passed Old Main,” Charlotte remarked.

“They split the money evenly three ways,” Ben continued. “But Al got shaky after a time and wanted out. Neither Knute nor Bill trusted him not to turn on them to save his own hide should any of this come to light. Knute wore the second Zorro costume. Bill arranged that. And before killing Al, Bill showed Knute Hangman’s Ridge, where the den was. When Halloween came, according to Bill, it was a piece of cake. Knute sprinted to his car, parked away from the Great Hall, drove back, and lured Al out of his car by saying they could have some fun with the kids, seeing double, scare the hell out of them. Bill said he wasn’t there, obviously, being in the school bus, but Al willingly went along with Knute’s ‘gag,’ including putting his head in a noose because Knute said he had another fake corpse. He just wanted an idea how high to lift it or something like that. Bill embellishes.”

“Why so public an execution?” Charlotte thought it way too grisly.

“Theatrical. Make a show. Draw everyone away from the real issue, which was the artifacts in the cases. All was going well until Pamela staged her protest. Al lost his composure after that. He wanted out anyway, that put him right over the edge. It worked for a while. The hanging diverted our attention.”

“Then Professor Kennedy showed up and they both knew time was running out.” Sister felt sorry for the tiny lady, whom she liked.

“Knute did his best to keep current with Charlotte’s plans about responding to the protestors’ issues, which, of course, involved the artifacts. He thought they could make it through the middle of the next semester—wrap things up, as it were. Bill could feign an illness. Knute, if it got too close, would just vanish, but they’d be out of here before the theft of the items was discovered.”

“Yes, we were going to appoint a search committee for an expert in this time period and in slave life,” said Charlotte. “but Pamela beat us to it. When I investigated Professor Kennedy’s credentials, I thought, ‘Why not just get this over with in this fiscal year?’ Knute harped on the budget so I thought we might as well take the hit now in hopes our treasury report for next year would be better. I didn’t see any point in spreading out the pain.”

“Both men showed great self-possession,” Walter said, wondering how they could do it. He’d be ravaged by guilt.

“That they did, until the hunt ball.” Gray also thought their ability to act almost admirable. “Who called Sister?”

“Bill,” Ben replied. “He couldn’t resist adding to the drama. And maybe he was beginning to fear Knute.”

In Bill’s case, they might expect it, but for Knute to keep cool, that was something.

“When I asked for the girls’ notes at lunch both Bill and Knute were at the table. That must have sent a bolt of fear through them.”

“It did,” Ben answered Charlotte. “They had no way of knowing how extensive those notes were. They didn’t think Professor Kennedy had told you of her findings because she was the type to make a complete presentation. She wouldn’t have wanted to upset you or Custis Hall without a thorough documentation. Bill met her at the airport before her flight, and learned that she had mentioned irregularities.”

“He killed her?” Betty thought this all dreadful.

“He offered to help with her bags. Said he was flying out, too, but the flight was delayed, which it was as it turned out. Luck played him a good hand. He talked her into a quick lunch, drove down a back road close to the airport, opened the passenger window, shot her in the left temple before she knew what hit her. Most of the debris flew out the window and he cleaned up the rest, dumped her at St. John’s of the Cross. Before he shot her he pulled the gun on her, asking if she’d told Charlotte that items were bogus. She told the truth, hoping to save her life.”

“How much money did they make?” Gray asked.

“Six and a half million dollars. They also sold forged signatures of George Washington. Bill is a man of many talents.” Ben reached for a chocolate chip cookie.

“And a good actor,” Walter said.

“This is terrible for Custis Hall. It will be public record,” Charlotte honestly stated.

“They were clever. They might have gotten away with it for several more years if Pamela hadn’t thrown a monkey wrench into the works. There’s no way anyone could have foreseen this,” Gray said soothingly.

“No, but it might have been prevented if there had been better security on those cases,” Charlotte said, admitting her failing.

“Knute would still have been able to get into the cases. He was treasurer of the school. You trusted him. We all trusted him,” Sister said.

They talked, ate, considered why some people break the social contract and others don’t.

As people returned to their trailers to head for home, Walter asked Tootie why she stepped in front of Crawford at the hunt ball.

“I owed him one, Mr. Lungrun.” Tootie smiled sweetly. “He helped us when we were lost in the fog.”

“A debt of honor.” Walter, towering over her, dropped his arm over her shoulder.

While Tootie was with Walter, Pamela, Felicity, and Valentina had seen to the horses, even cleaning the tack using the five-gallon water carrier in the trailer tack room.

Sister double-checked the hound list at the party wagon with Shaker. “Good day, huntsman. Good day, hounds.” She called out to Betty and Sybil, “Thank you. Good work.”

“It was a good day, wasn’t it?” Betty beamed.

Sister gazed at the four girls, all together now at her trailer. “Shaker, it’s wonderful to have children in the house. Today is the feast day of Dominic of Silos. He was born around A.D. 1000. He’s credited with healing powers, especially about pregnancies.”

“Thinking of throwing a litter?” Shaker laughed.

“Ah,” she smiled, “my time has passed, but if I could, I would. Well, you can make up for me.”

“I don’t know.” His face turned red. “Funny how we hunt Chapel Cross and there’s St. John’s of the Cross at Little Dalby. And so many times the foxes will run to the little country churches. Guess they’re getting religion since those churches are full of dens.”

“Crawford has already broken ground for St. Swithun. The foxes at Beasley Hall can now worship. It will cost a bloody fortune.” Betty now stood with Shaker and Sister. “We haven’t talked, but Jane, I know what you have to do. I think most of the members will understand. He’ll go down swinging.”

“Well, we’ll get through it, Betty. We always do.” Sister paused a long time. “Funny thing about getting older. You realize every relationship you ever had, on every level, is always with you. The people who hate you. The people who love you. The people whose love turned to hate. And the people who didn’t think much of you and over time learned you were worth your salt. And then you think of the ghosts. Their feelings about you. I sometimes think RayRay is near.”

Shaker nodded, “And Archie.”

“Always Archie.” Sister named the great anchor hound they lost to a bear years back. “I loved that hound with all my heart and soul.” She sighed. “Well, if everyone is building chapels, churches, or cathedrals, I suppose we could build one.”

“St. Archie?”

“There isn’t one, a human one anyway. We could build a little one, would have to be clapboard, to St. Hubert. That would be in keeping.”

“Sister, I’ve got it. We build one to St. Rita, the saint of impossible causes,” he laughed.

Sister laughed with him, glad that life goes on, no matter what, and foxes will always run.