A Bloodhound to Die for by Virginia Lanier Page A

both leads usually hung, as if asking what was going on. Both nails were empty.
    “Where are your leads?”
    He whined once and stood on his hind legs as if he was confirming that they were not there.
    “Let’s go see Wayne. Maybe he’s cleaning them or something.”
    Donnie Ray was steaming the dirty bowls from breakfast and Wayne was weighing a litter of three-month-old pups. Some kept wiggling out of the cartand others were trying to climb back in. We watched until he had finished.
    “Good morning,” I said aloud and signed to Wayne. “Do you have Bobby Lee’s leads?”
    He pointed to a grooming table with a frown and began signing.
    “They were in the middle of the floor in here this morning when I came in at seven.”
    I glanced at Bobby Lee and back at Wayne.
    He wasn’t smiling. “They were neatly coiled, and not damp with saliva.”
    I knew that Bobby Lee was incapable of neatly coiling the leads. Even if he had accomplished that feat, it would have had to have happened the night before if they were dry. Just taking them off the nails he got them wet.
    “What’s your guess?”
    I couldn’t think of anything. I was coming up empty.
    Wayne shrugged and looked worried.
    “Maybe Bobby Lee is asking for a raise,” Donnie joked.
    “He’s too proud of being able to fetch them off the nail. He couldn’t and wouldn’t do something like this.”
    Wayne signed his agreement.
    I glanced around, trying to make sense of what had occurred.
    “Everything else is in place?” They both nodded.
    “Jasmine left early for a drug search at United Chemical. She didn’t have any ideas, either.”
    “Are all the trainers here this morning?”
    “Everyone but W.A.”
    W. A. Beekham always ran late. He took care of his father, who was confined to a wheelchair. I understood his problem and let him make up the time when he could. I shook my head.
    “A mystery. Maybe we’ll find out something later. I’m gonna train the six-month class.”
    I had finished with my charges and was back in the house cleaning up when Jasmine arrived around half-past ten. We discussed the misplaced leads.
    “It doesn’t make sense,” Jasmine said when she found I was clueless.
    “Agreed. I can’t think of any explanation.”
    I turned in my chair and stared out at the warm sunshine. All the clouds had passed and it was becoming another sultry August day.
    “You know, lately I feel as if I’m exuding some kooky kind of essence around here. I don’t know, it seems that I’m drawing weirdos into my orbit.”
    Jasmine looked a little uncertain. “Are you turning fey on me?”
    “What have I done, that I rate that mentally deficient Jimmy Joe claiming his undying affection and trying to entrap me in some sort of conspiracy?”
    “Have you heard anything more on his escape?”
    “Nobody tells me anything,” I said moodily.
    “Hank hasn’t called?”
    “Nope.”
    “Why don’t you call him?”
    I sighed. “I’ve been dreading it, but I guess I’ll have to if I’m gonna find out what’s going on.”
    I dialed his number.
    “Cribbs.”
    “Are you still speaking to me?” I tried to sound contrite.
    “Of course,” he answered evenly. “How can I help you?”
    “I’m sorry I took out my frustration about the search warrant on you. Will you forgive me?”
    “Certainly.”
    Uh-oh. He was still mad.
    “Have you heard anything more about our escapee?”
    “I guess he’s still missing. I haven’t heard differently. Their silence is unusual. I thought they would be screaming for your head on a platter. They haven’t even officially requested my office to mount a search.”
    “The warden called me and requested one.”
    “What did you tell him?”
    “No soap.”
    “How did he take it?”
    “He threatened to cancel the contract and hung up.”
    “I heard that he called the county commissioner’s office and complained that you refused a call out.”
    “I bet your snitch was your third cousin, once removed, from your