by Arlene Kay
That sounded like the woman I thought I knew. Cool, calm and collected. Nothing fazed her, even Babette’s manic periods. Of course, I didn’t know at the time that she was a blackmailer with a hefty bank balance. That could have a calming effect on anyone.
“Funny thing,” Becca said. “I asked Ethel about it and she said something strange, like if you want to get under someone’s skin find his passion and go for it. She got a big grin on her face and just laughed. Never did explain what the hell she meant.”
After Becca left, I thought long and hard about what she had said. Was Glendon Jakes passionate about anything? He was certainly fervent about his blog, Bag It. For a wimpy man, a chance to rub shoulders with macho gun-toters had to be exhilarating. If Ethel knew that he faked everything, she might blackmail him, but somehow it just didn’t seem important enough. Not life and death important.
An influx of customers occupied me until lunchtime when I hastily closed the shop and sprinted toward ring twelve. Jakes and Cleopatra had a ring call at noon and I planned to be there, front and center. What had Becca said? If the quarrel between Jakes and Ethel had something to do with Cleo maybe that was the answer. Winning meant a lot to a man like Jakes. Had Ethel somehow threatened that simple pleasure?
My self-absorption almost caused a collision with a family group. Luckily, Ken Reedy reached out and pulled me from harm’s way.
“Whoa there, Perri. You’re in a fog.” Even though he was codger-age, Ken radiated a type of confidence and masculinity that made him a useful ally.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to miss the hunters,” I said. “Why are you here instead of at Cavalry Farms? Not giving up on those horses, I hope.”
Ken smirked. “I’ve got energy enough for both, don’t you worry. It’s you I wonder about. Got a crush on Glendon Jakes or something? I thought that news guy was more your type.”
I was used to his teasing. “Ha. Ha. I doubt any woman has ever had a crush on Mr. Jakes although I did hear that he and Ethel McCall were close.”
“What? Who told you that?” He chuckled. “They went at it hammer and tongs at the Fredericksburg horse show. Thought we were going to have to call the cops.”
“Really? That’s weird. Wonder what it was all about.” I did my best to look disinterested, but Reedy wasn’t fooled. He shot a quizzical look my way and folded his arms.
“Still playing detective? Watch your step, Perri. This isn’t some silly television show. People get hurt in real life. Thought you’d know that by now.”
I opted for truth telling. It was the best defense I had. “This is for Babette. The police suspect her and I’m worried. Glendon Jakes was on the premises the day that Ethel died, and it appears that she was…well… unethical enough to blackmail people. I just can’t figure out what she found out about Jakes.”
Reedy paused for a moment. In another life, he had been a hard-charging prosecutor. I got a taste of that by looking into his eyes. They were cold and calculating, a glacial blue. “Look. This is only rumor and innuendo so take it for what it’s worth.”
“Okay.”
He lowered his voice. “People say some judges will rule in your favor for the right price. You know how subjective the whole process is anyway.”
He was right of course. Objective standards were used to assess jumping, but hunter classes were based on a judge’s personal view of the horse and rider’s deportment and style.
“Bribes?” It shocked me but then again it also made sense in a warped sort of way. I recalled Jakes’s intensity in the ring and the way he bragged about Cleopatra. The equine world would act immediately to snuff out any whiff of scandal and Jakes would be banned for life. Poor Cleo would suffer too. Who knew what Ethel, the mousey matron quietly observing everyone, could have heard or surmised?
My conscience began to bother me. I felt obliged to share information with Bascomb, but his attitude annoyed me. The solidarity of the thin blue line felt remote in the chilly confines of the Great Marsh police station. Bascomb acted as though I were a meddler, or even worse, an amateur. Besides, I really didn’t know anything for sure. As Ken said it was only rumor and innuendo. Dog and horse shows were rife with conspiracy buffs who attributed every loss to vendetta, favoritism, or malfeasance. If only Pruett were around. I could use a sounding board, a dispassionate listener to bounce theories off. I was honest enough to know that there were other reasons I wanted him around too. I immediately blotted out any thought of Pruett. Those matters were better left to lonely evenings by the fire surrounded by my pets.
As the hunters lined up, I studied Jakes. The man’s intensity bordered on mania and his demeanor was one notch north of twitchy. He had the whole psychotic thing going for him—bulging eyes, pursed lips and heightened color. Beautiful Cleopatra shared none of her master’s traits. She trotted calmly and confidently into the ring and turned in a winning performance. No doubt in my mind that the lady deserved to win her class.
As he exited the ring, Jakes saw me and glared. Had smoke belched out of his ears, I would not have been at all surprised. Instead of basking in his win, he dismounted and stalked up to me.
“You again! What do you want?”
I decided to take a risk. After all, I could handle myself in a fracas and I knew how to vanquish bullies. “Congratulations on your win, Mr. Jakes. As for me, I want the same thing Ethel McCall wanted. No more. No less.”
Jakes clutched Cleo’s lead so tightly that she balked. An adjacent rider immediately leapt to her defense.
“Hey, cut that out. You’re hurting her.”
Jakes loosened his grip. “Mind your own business if you know what’s good for you.” He then pointed a finger my way. “And that goes double for you.”
He didn’t frighten me despite the nasty scowl distorting his face. I had faced too many drunken soldiers to worry about one adenoidal biologist. Instead of cowering, I cackled. “Wow! Big, tough man. Just remember what I said if you know what’s good for you.” I turned on my heel and strolled away as coolly as Cleopatra herself.
Chapter 16
The remainder of the day passed uneventfully, though profitably. Winners stopped by to gloat and lesser lights commiserated with other losers. Delighted show devotees dove into the sales bin and unearthed treasures for their mounts while I tried unsuccessfully to worm information from my colleagues. Most of them felt Ethel and her murder were old news. Equine crimes such as awarding points to unworthy specimens held their interest. Human misdeeds were irrelevant unless they concerned double-dealing owners, shifty trainers or biased judges.
I had all but abandoned hope when Rebecca bounced into view. “Where’s your sexy friend?” she asked with a wink. “I have more to show him.”
“Pruett was busy today,” I said, ignoring her provocations. “How did you do?”
“I did okay. Big deal. Might as well sit home if Cleopatra hits the ring.”
I decided to stir the pot a bit. “She is lovely though. Can’t say the same for her owner. What an unpleasant man!”
Becca hooted. “He’s a class A jerk and a wimp too. Do you know he actually tried to make time with me last year? Ugh! Probably has scales instead of skin, not that I plan to find out.”
“I guess the rumors aren’t true,” I said. “You know. About Jakes bribing judges?”
She raised one brow and gave me a speculative look. “He’s capable of trying anything but only an idiot would risk that with a winner like Cleo. She’s spectacular. Does all the work herself and makes even a clod like Jakes look good.”
After some more chitchat, Becca left but not before pressing her card into my hand. “Give this to Pruett when you see him,” she said, “unless you claim dibs on him.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Not at all. I will definitely pass it on.”
* * * *
Sheila zoomed in just as I was closing up shop. Ceci
l trailed behind her cringing every time a stranger lunged his way. Someday Cecil would realize that he was bigger and stronger than almost any competitor, canine or human, but for now he was merely a pup in a big dog’s body.
“Well,” Sheila asked, “did you find out anything interesting?”
“Maybe. At the very least, I confirmed that Ethel had something on Jakes, or thought she did. He snarled at me when I mentioned her name.”
“Interesting. My buddies said that Ethel was sitting on the fringes when they were sharing snacks. Didn’t say much, but absorbed everything like a damn sponge. You know how people talk in those things, Perri. Everyone lets her hair down.”
The women at Hamilton Arms said the same thing. Stolid, unobtrusive Ethel was the sort of woman who handled chores efficiently and volunteered for more. She had certainly fooled me and everyone else in Great Marsh. I pictured her sitting quietly in the corner, spinning her web, hooded eyes alight with malice. Just waiting for someone to slip. If Carleton had money, he would have been Ethel’s perfect victim. On the other hand, that was awfully close to home and Ethel had a good thing going thanks to Babette’s kind heart. Perhaps Ethel focused on Carleton’s lady friends instead. After all, they had money and secure social positions. Dowdy Ethel would get plenty of satisfaction from bringing pampered housewives to heel.
“Want to stop for dinner?” I asked Sheila.
“Love to, but Ellis has something special planned for tonight. That man is such a romantic.”
I brushed aside a pang of jealousy. Sheila was a good friend who didn’t deserve that. “Nice that after ten years of marriage he still idolizes you. You’re lucky.”
Sheila yawned. “I suppose. Sometimes it gets tiresome though, being so perfect.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess it’s just my cross to bear.” She winked at me as we exited the exhibit hall. “Tomorrow is another day. Who knows. Maybe my boy will win his class. I’m riding him myself so anything’s possible.” She waved a jaunty purple ribbon, the kind that every participant receives, in the air as she trotted toward her car. “Enjoy your time at the farm. Give those horsies a big nose kiss for me.” She reached into her bag and produced a check. “Here’s a little something extra for them. Hay money.” I glanced at the amount and gasped. Sheila’s idea of hay money would keep those rescues fed for a month.
Keats and Poe heeled by my side as we strolled toward the Suburban. Most everyone had left, and I had parked near the far side of the building to facilitate loading and unloading my truck. Advertising was fine but tonight I cursed the big red letters saying, “Creature Comforts Custom Leather.” They were a neon sign beckoning anyone who wished me harm to step this way. Thank goodness for my dogs. I couldn’t ask for braver more steadfast companions than these military veterans. Talk about terrific backup! Suddenly, as we neared the back of my vehicle, Poe stiffened and issued a low growl. Immediately Keats joined in. Their angst became mine as I peered into the darkness, trying to see what they saw. I issued the “stay” command, Bleib, not wanting to endanger my precious dogs. Besides, it might be a panhandler or even a harmless pedestrian. No need to panic. I brushed aside memories of Ethel’s corpse, my assault, and Carleton’s bloodied head. This was a public space. Surely other people would come along soon.
A noise from behind the dumpster spooked me. I unlocked the Suburban, secured the dogs in the back hatch and walked swiftly toward the driver’s side door. As long as no gun was involved I would be fine. I switched on the engine, activated the high beams, and reached under the seat for the can of mace I kept there. Deep breaths, Perri.
Whoever lurked in the shadows was in for a shock if he or she advanced further. I am neither a victim nor a fool. I prepared for a quick getaway knowing that retreat was always the best course of action whenever possible. Any tactician knew that.
The drama was over in a minute, leaving me wary but sheepish. Lights flashed, foot traffic increased, and the hum of show life continued minus the sinister overtones. Had I imagined it? I am not subject to fantasies, but a palpable air of menace lingered in the air. I trusted my dogs. If they sensed danger that was good enough for me. Before I backed up, someone rapped on the driver’s side window.
“Everything okay, Perri?” Ken Reedy was the perfect antidote to terror—solid, dependable, and no nonsense.
I rolled down the window and smiled at him. “Yep. Still a bit jumpy I guess. How are things at the Farm? I thought I’d swing by tomorrow with a few bridles and doodads. Finally finished repairing those saddles too.”
Ken volunteered at Cavalry Farms and was handling the legal challenge to its status. “They’ll appreciate it. Now go on home and have a brandy and I’ll see you tomorrow. Always works for me.” He rapped the side of the car and stood watching as I exited the parking lot.
* * * *
Ken was right. Brandy and a warm fire did the trick helping me to unwind and reassess my fears. As I sat watching the flames, clad in Pip’s flannel robe with my pets surrounding me, the idea of a creeping menace seemed more and more absurd. Something—probably a guy using his own public urinal—had frightened me and alerted my dogs. No need to panic now. I had lived by myself for most of my life even when I most regretted it.
I must have dozed off because only the frantic barking of the Malinois roused me. I’m brave enough. Responsible risk-taking is part of my makeup and always has been. I reached into the end-table drawer and slipped my old service weapon, a Glock-9, into the pocket of Pip’s robe. I hoped never to use it but was prepared to do so to protect my life. The rapping on the door continued. I switched on the outdoor light and peered through the peephole. There illuminated in the harsh glare stood Pruett.
Chapter 17
Pruett pressed forward, momentarily forgetting about my dogs. “I had to see you,” he said. “Had to make sure you were safe.”
I stammered something wholly unoriginal and inadequate. “Why?”
“I had this feeling you were in danger.” Pruett looked a bit shamefaced. “Silly, I know, but I care about you. More than you’d ever realize.”
I took his arm and drew him closer. Poe and Keats held their position, watching and waiting for my signal. Thatcher strolled up to him immediately, chirping a greeting.
“Please. Sit down by the fire and have a brandy. I could use another one myself.”
He sank into the plush sofa cushions and waited as I poured his drink. “You didn’t answer your phone and Babette said you weren’t with her. I guess I panicked.”
Of course. In the mad dash to get inside, I’d left my cell phone in the car. How careless could I be! These last few weeks had really taken their toll. I was normally the poster child for routine, the dull, reliable exponent of predictability.
“That was stupid of me,” I said. “Careless.” I glanced down at the tatty robe and scuffed slippers I wore, and the bulge of the Glock in my pocket. Hardly the stuff of seduction, so much closer to farce that the contrast was ludicrous. Firelight heightened Pruett’s good looks making him look even more desirable than before. Never had any couple been more mismatched. Under other circumstances, I would have laughed. Instead, I gulped before saying a word. Might as well tell him what happened. He deserved an answer.
“Your instincts were on target. Today was a very strange day.” I forced myself to meet his eyes, unwilling to admit how very lost and vulnerable I had felt. “I’m glad you came. I needed you.”
Pruett leaned down and touched my cheek, slowly and gently. His fingers were exceptionally long and slender. Why had I never noticed that before?
“Kindness had nothing to do with it, Persephone. I shouldn’t have barged in like this,” he said. “I can go now if you’d rather be alone.”
It didn’t take me long to respond. Somehow things felt right, even in this room that held so many memories. I was lonely, tired of being the strong one. Since Pip passed, I’d been mired in grief, living a
cautious half-life bereft of love or male companionship—until I met Pruett. My need for him exceeded logic or reason. It was an exquisite combination of love leavened with a pinch of lust.
“Don’t leave,” I whispered. “Please. Stay with me tonight.”
He doused the lights and gathered me in his arms.
* * * *
Some things were just meant to be. That was my feeling the next morning after awakening from a glorious night with Pruett. I tiptoed across the room, freed my dogs from their crates and headed outside to do chores. Zeke was hungry and not at all pleased. He shot a malevolent look my way and thrust his head into the hay bin. Goats get lonely too, so I left Keats and Poe to keep him company while I made breakfast for my entire crew. I readied the coffee, set the table, and slipped up to the guest bathroom to freshen up. Today I remembered to wear my belt with the sterling silver buckle. It was good advertising and a useful weapon besides. When I returned, Pruett was there sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and wolfing down eggs. His right-from-the-shower look was stunning even though he wore last evening’s clothes.
“I made myself at home,” Pruett said. “Hope you don’t mind.” He pointed to the frying pan. “Plenty of eggs for two in there.”
He put down his fork and stretched in a movement as feline as any from Thatcher herself. “Last night was special for me. You finally admitted that you need me, Perri, and that was a first. My only regret comes every time I leave this place.”
A silly smile was all I could manage. Pruett said exactly what I hoped he would say.
I clutched my coffee mug as if my life depended on it. “Busy day today. A dressage show in New Kent and I plan to visit Cavalry Farms before going. What’s on your agenda?”
“I have to collect Ella but we’ll both swing around to the show in the afternoon. Don’t leave without me. Okay?”
I tried nonchalance, but failed miserably. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll have one of the other riders walk out with me at closing time.”