Ten Little Bloodhounds Read online

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved. I could really go for a couple of sausage biscuits.”

  “Coming right up,” she uttered, wrinkling her nose with displeasure. “I don’t think all this microwave-thawed food you eat is good for you.”

  “It’s better than real food. Nuking it removes all the flavor and I don’t eat as much.”

  “Sure,” she drawled. “I’ll be right back.”

  The coffee left in the pot looked like sludge, so I poured it out and brewed a fresh pot.

  At nine, female five arrived at the same time as Wayne. He recorded the birth.

  “You didn’t even go to sleep, I bet,” I accused when the five puppies were settled in the whelping box.

  “I tried, but couldn’t sleep. I’ll call you if I need help, or get tired.”

  I didn’t waste my time arguing. Wayne was more of a mother hen than I was. If he wasn’t here he wouldn’t be resting, but keeping up with all the other chores. Both of us were gonna lose a lot of sleep in the next ten days.

  I led Bobby Lee outside and told him to go play. He ran inside the house for Rudy, and they took off on their delayed morning run. Bobby Lee had been impressive even when he was blind. Now, with his sight, he was magnificent. So far today, my tiny kingdom was intact. Five perfect puppies, and five more waiting to make their entrance.

  I wondered if Rand would call me tomorrow and invite me to dinner—again—and if I would accept. I wondered about Alyce Cancannon and her unknown enemy who wanted to make her suffer. I wondered about a lot of things. I took several deep breaths of the soft breeze that carried a hint of cooler weather, and the intoxicating blend of fall odors.

  I took a shower and then called Susan.

  “Busy?” It took her five rings to answer.

  “On a Thursday morning in October? No way, I’m putting up my Halloween decorations. I was ten feet up a ladder. Your timing is superb, as usual.”

  “Sorry. Want to talk later?”

  “Nah, this is fine, no customers are browsing.”

  “So how are you?”

  “Just dandy. Do you realize I’ll turn thirty-four next April?”

  “Since I turn thirty-three this month—”

  “Mom and Dad are driving me nuts; her more than him. They want a grandchild now. I’ve been divorced twelve years, and haven’t found someone to be the father. They are running out of friends who have friends that aren’t married. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing. You’re discriminating—”

  “Mother says I’m too choosy, I have to lower my expectations.”

  “Body by Fabio, dances like Travolta—”

  “Exactly. There is no such man in this desert of suitable men. How many did you meet this week that fill the bill, just name one!”

  “Actually I did meet one on Monday—”

  “You did? Tell me this instant!”

  My phone line double-clicked. I have call waiting.

  “Susan, I have a call—”

  “Don’t you dare leave this line after dropping that bombshell! Speak!”

  I put her on hold. It was Hank.

  “Hiya, Sheriff. What’s up?”

  “You busy?”

  “Nah, just gossiping with Susan. She’ll wait.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Susan I know.”

  “This time she has an incentive,” I chuckled.

  “Give me time to install a wiretap. I’m curious.”

  “So is she, so you better tell me what you want before she puts a curse on both of us.”

  “I have two men cooling their heels in the squad room who want you to do a search for them.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Two uniforms from Moody Air Force Base. One has captain’s bars, and the other is sporting eagles.”

  “Who have they lost?”

  “It’s not a who, but a what. It seems they have, ah … misplaced a valuable item.”

  “Are we playing twenty questions? What?”

  “It’s an F-16 Falcon fighter plane, commonly known as a Viper. They want you to find it.”

  11

  “You Lost a What?”

  October 5, Thursday, 10:30 A.M.

  Iscratched my head and pulled down a curl and arranged it on my forehead. I was thinking about bangs. I might give them a try when the temperature turned cooler.

  “Did you hear me, Sidden? Speak up. Don’t mumble, I can’t hear what you said.”

  “O … kay,” I drawled, waiting for the punchline. “So they’ve misplaced a fighter plane. Bet it happens all the time. Did a pilot forget he drove his car to work, and fly it home? Call his wife. I imagine she’s cussing because she can’t hang up her colored unmentionables inside the garage, ’cause it’s got a plane parked in it.”

  “Honest, Jo Beth, it’s true. This is not a joke.”

  “Uh-huh, then why did you word your announcement so it sounds like one?” I was being patient with him, knowing that Susan was building up a boiler of steam while she hung on to a silent phone. Hank likes to tease me, and I delight in confounding Susan. Usually they both don’t happen at the same time.

  Jasmine knocked and entered the office. I gave her a questioning look by lifting my brows. She shook her head and signed, smiling.

  “Seven total, four males, three females, all A-okay.”

  “I couldn’t resist, the devil made me do it,” Hank spoke in my ear. “The chicken colonel is a pain in the ass. He’s throwing his weight around—drumming his knuckles on a support column—doing everything but jumping up and down while he’s waiting for me to call you. I’m watching him through the glass.

  “Remember the crash they had last Monday week? The flameout, and then the news that the pilot ejected safely? That’s the misplaced plane. They’ve been looking for it for ten days now. They thought they knew where it crashed but they can’t find a trace.”

  While Hank had been talking, I had pulled over a pad and written a fast note to Jasmine, asking her to call Susan and tell her that I was stuck on a business call and I’d call her later. It doesn’t pay to get Susan too upset, she’s slow to forgive and forget.

  “Don’t they have something on the airplane, a whatchamacallit, to tell them the exact location if it crashes?”

  Hank laughed. “Transponder.”

  “Do I laugh when you can’t name a maillot, jabot, or dickey, even when I’m wearing one?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t,” I answered smoothly, “because it’s impolite.”

  “All three sound sexy. Are they worn above the waist or below?”

  “You’re a precocious dirty old man at thirty-seven.”

  “Thanks for the kind words.”

  “Getting back to my question, was a transponder on board?”

  “Some have them and some don’t. This one didn’t.”

  “Where do they think it came down?”

  “They have some iffy coordinates. The pilot eye-balled it as it went in.”

  “When you said they had been searching for it for ten days, did they explain how they searched?”

  “Helicopters. Three of them. They were looking for a path of destruction, but if it went in nose-down, it could be halfway to China by now.”

  “It’s an interesting puzzle. Thanks but no thanks. They don’t stand a chance in hell of recovery if they can’t pinpoint the exact spot it went in. Did they ask for me, or did you sing my praises and volunteer my services?”

  Silence. “Hank?”

  “I said if it could be found, you’re the only one that could do it.”

  “Tell them I can’t help them, okay? Judy has delivered seven out of ten, and Wayne and I won’t leave the premises for at least a week. We have ten puppies to feed.”

  Jasmine headed for a phone. I leaned back and relaxed in the chair.

  “Are you telling me you won’t be on call for a week? This is a first.”

  “Hank, bear with me whil
e I explain. Judy is a good mother, but bitches can accidentally lie on a puppy. There’s only two ways I know to prevent this. One is to put a rail about four to five inches wide around the perimeter of the whelping box at a height of four inches. That helps. The other is ’round-the-clock surveillance. I’m gonna use both. This is my ‘Masterpiece’ litter. I’ve put a lot of hard work and money into this dream. Can you understand?”

  “Sure. You run a business. You turn out a product to sell and wanna make a profit. I can see what you’re saying.”

  “You sentimental devil, you,” I said with weariness, “you have no idea of what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Oh hell, yes,” he snapped. “Don’t sound so damn condescending. I know you love those hounds of yours more than you could ever love anyone else, including me. I know all about dreams. I’ve a dream of my own, had it for several years now, but mine sure ain’t working out. I hope you have better luck with yours. See you around, Sidden.” He hung up.

  “Don’t call them hounds,” I whispered as I replaced the receiver. I always like to have the last word.

  I tried to call Susan, but her line was busy. I went back to the whelping room in time to see female eight make her appearance. Wayne told me Harvey had come by while I was away and pronounced all the puppies healthy, and to be sure to call him immediately if Judy started looking exhausted.

  I took Judy outside. She piddled and then seemed to enjoy the sunshine. She sat and turned her head up and closed her eyes. I didn’t urge her to hurry. I wanted her to have this little respite from her birthing. After a few minutes she stood, shook her head, stretched, and looked at the door, then back at me. Her actions were so clear. It was as if she told me the sun and air were nice, but she needed to go back inside and finish her business. We walked back to the birthing room.

  A short time later I heard the gate alarm. Jasmine or Donnie Ray would answer. The trainers wouldn’t be back until noon. I decided to ask Windell Grantham to help Donnie Ray this afternoon. With Wayne and me out of the picture, there was too much for Donnie Ray and Jasmine to handle. We have seven puppies that are fed four times a day and forty-three adults fed twice a day. Counting the time consumed in cooking, mixing, and serving them, we have a heavy chow schedule. In our spare time we weigh, groom, exercise, and train them.

  Windell is the best trainer I have. He’s a retired druggist, just turned sixty-eight, who can work rings around the younger guys. His dogs are always ahead of their peers. I wish I knew his secret, I’d use it on the puppies I train.

  He and Cora Simmons, another trainer, had fallen in love and were married in the common room three months ago. Cora had to relinquish her Social Security benefits from a prior marriage when she wed Windell. Everyone, including their children, had advised them to simply live together so she could keep her check. They wouldn’t hear of it. They were raised in the era that frowned upon living in sin. Said it would demean their love.

  I envied them. True love is hard to come by. I had always dreamed of having a home and a loving husband and two children. Susan’s parents weren’t the only ones who could hear the biological clock ticking. My ears were also tuned to that frequency.

  I jumped when Jasmine eased open the door.

  “You have visitors,” she whispered.

  I signed to Wayne. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Let me guess,” I said to Jasmine as we walked through the grooming room. “Two Air Force uniforms, and the older one wouldn’t take no for an answer. He insisted on talking to me.”

  “My, your crystal ball is really accurate,” she said, sounding annoyed. “He not only insisted, he demanded. Threatened to go looking for you himself, if I didn’t produce you posthaste.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” My voice was grim, and I could feel my dander rising and the blood in my veins felt hot enough to boil.

  Jasmine stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. She gave me a wry smile.

  “Sorry, I was deliberately trying to provoke your anger because the creep got under my skin. He made me wish once again that I didn’t have a record. I would have loved to stomp on his spit-polished shoes. Please don’t do anything rash. I’ll feel like I egged you into a confrontation and that it’s my fault.”

  “Did they stop and announce themselves at the gate?”

  A month ago, my attorney had insisted that I put a two-way communication system at the first gate and a large sign explaining the procedures for gaining legal entry even if the gate was standing open. He said it would strengthen the Georgia Posted Land Statute for property owners. It would also aid in convicting Bubba if he ever again came on my property and caused damage.

  “Not a peep, but you know most of our regular visitors ignore the instructions half the time. Don’t toast and roast him, please.”

  I arranged my face into a calmer expression for her benefit. “Nonsense, I have no plans to castrate him or whatever. Hank told him I said no; but being Hank, he probably sent them here just to annoy me. He got pissed at something I said.”

  Jasmine shook her head, looking sad. She’s been trying to get Hank and me together ever since she first met me. Jasmine was a prostitute from age twelve to nineteen. She adores the guy for helping her to get off the street and would wade hip-deep in alligators to do him a favor.

  “Let’s go see the colonel,” I delivered in crisp tones.

  Outside I saw two men standing by a dark sedan that had an Air Force emblem on the door panel. The tall younger man gave me a smile. The short older guy looked grim and stood with his arms akimbo. Jasmine and I stopped the proper distance away for polite conversation.

  “I’m Jo Beth Sidden,” I said pleasantly, dividing my glance between them. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  The younger man answered.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m Captain Evan Danglish, United States Air Force, and this is Colonel Rupert Hayes of Moody Air Force Base command. We—”

  Hayes brushed past him, invading my personal space—putting his nose two feet in front of mine—effectively cutting off both the captain’s speech and line of sight.

  “I was told that you refused to guide us on a search for lost high-priority national defense equipment. Is that correct?”

  “Rupert, you have your nose in my face,” I said calmly. “I’d also appreciate you moving your ass back to the acceptable distance for discourse, or my associate and I will forcibly eject you from these premises.”

  I shocked the hell out of him. His face first blanched, then started pinking up nicely, especially on his nose and checks.

  “You can’t talk to me this way!” he squeaked. “You don’t … have any idea … the trouble I can cause you—”

  I stopped him with a raised hand and pointed a finger quite close to his nose, almost touching, in fact. He had forced the words from his throat, and looked ready to kill.

  I waited. He didn’t move an inch and didn’t seem capable of further speech.

  “You’ve lost track with the real world, Rupert. I’m not under your command and you’re the one in trouble. You’re on my land illegally. After threatening me, I could shoot you where you stand. This is the last time I’ll tell you, MOVE IT OR LOSE IT!”

  He turned and stalked back to the car, walking stiff-necked and stiff-legged, ignoring his traveling companion, who was standing with his mouth agape.

  I winked at Captain Danglish. “Y’all have a nice day, you hear?”

  His gaze focused on me with a bemused expression.

  “You too, Ms. Sidden.”

  His words were soft and polite. He hustled back to the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and drove the colonel out of the courtyard and out of our sight.

  “I think that went well, don’t you?”

  Jasmine drew in a ragged breath.

  “Quite.”

  12

  “Pizza, Beer, and Wine”

  October 6, Friday, 7:00 P.M.

  I was on my knees on the office carpet astride Bobby Lee, tick
ling his ribs, when the first gate’s alarm went off and Susan announced herself. She didn’t expect an answer, so I let Bobby Lee push me away, swooped up Rudy, and flopped on the couch. I cradled him like a baby, which he rarely allows, and crooned a lullaby as I scratched his tummy. Both of them were feeling neglected, since I was spending over fifty percent of my time in the birthing room with Judy.

  Rudy remembered his dignity when Susan knocked and entered. He extracted himself from my hold and began to groom his pelt back to perfection.

  “Welcome to the weekly meeting of the feminist dateless losers who eat pizza and drink beer on Friday nights,” I said, giving her an air-kiss on her cheek and a hug all Southern females ritually bestow on one another.

  “Thanks, I love you too. A beer really sounds good.”

  “Make mine a glass of red,” Jasmine said, entering on Susan’s heels.

  “Coming right up. Get comfortable.”

  In the kitchen I looked again at my watch for the umpteenth time in the past thirty minutes. Ten after seven. I really hadn’t expected Rand to land on my roof and whisk me away to dinner in Jacksonville as he had promised on Monday. He hadn’t called all week, and even he wouldn’t be brassy enough to show up unannounced after the way our first and probably only meeting ended. I shrugged and practiced an uncaring look while I watched my reflection in the framed kitchen print that I use as a mirror. Its dark surface showed me a disappointed face trying to appear indifferent. You can’t win ’em all. I returned to the office carrying a tray with two beers, a glass of wine, and cocktail napkins.

  I had dimmed the office lights and had six candles lit on the coffee table between facing couches. Susan and Jasmine sat opposite me, while I sprawled in comfort on the other after serving the drinks. Susan was in the middle of one of our schoolday disaster tales, and I sat quietly as she regaled Jasmine with one of our silly exploits.

  Susan’s hair is naturally flaming red, but she subdues it with a dark titian rinse. Our birthdays are seven months apart. She is the older. Her hair is shoulder-length and a mass of curls. At five-feet-nine, she’s quite beautiful. She doesn’t think she’s attractive, and covers her insecurity with a bold and sexy voice. She’s been my best friend since the first day of school. She’s divorced from a creep who ran off with a high school cheerleader after seventeen months of marriage almost fourteen years ago. She claims that she can’t find a man she likes. I think, “Once bitten, twice shy.” We’re a lot alike.