by Arlene Kay
“He attacked me,” Jakes yelled. “You all saw it. I’ll sue him and the organizers.” When two security officers approached, Jakes was escorted from the ring still protesting.
“You okay?” I asked the steward. “Better brush off your combat skills.”
He shook his head and grinned. “Not quite what I bargained for. That guy’s a menace. Too bad about his horse though. She’ll be the one to suffer.” He gave me a wave and sauntered off toward the admin tent as several volunteers took charge of Cleopatra and led her toward the barn.
The crowd was bug-eyed, particularly those with kids trailing after them. Horse shows were supposed to be wholesome family fun, not a blood sport. Apparently, Jakes had not gotten the message.
Chapter 18
Poor Cleo. She kept her tail down and lowered her head as if she were traumatized by her owner’s downfall. Horses, like dogs, are sensitive, intelligent beings capable of giving unqualified love to even undeserving owners. It is one of the strengths of the human-animal bond. Felines are far less forgiving and more discerning. Witness Thatcher’s elaborate system for keeping me firmly in my place.
I followed the steward as he attended to the mare’s needs and found a vacant stall for her to rest in while Jakes straightened out his feud. He probably wouldn’t get arrested although it was likely that a stiff administrative penalty would dampen his show career. Hers too, unfortunately. What a fool!
As word of the fracas filtered through the show community, a number of visitors agog with curiosity flooded into my shop trolling for information. Violence at these events was mostly verbal—deathblows to careers were administered through innuendo or falsehoods rather than fists. Boorish conduct and brawls were virtually unheard of in a genteel sport that valued decorum above all else. As the day wound down, I put up the closed sign and prepared to leave. Officials would ensure that Cleo was safe until Jakes was able to claim her.
Just before I locked up, the man himself flung open the door and confronted me. Keats and Poe were outside, and I could hear their growls of protest as they sensed danger.
“Where is she, bitch?” Jakes’s face was contorted with rage, his fists clenched. “Just can’t mind your own business, can you?”
I fought to remain calm and slowly unhooked my belt. The narrow aisles of the shop restricted room to maneuver, but I refused to panic. The heavy silver buckle could land a painful blow if needed. One false move and Jakes would feel its sting.
“Your horse is fine. Check with the stewards or the show officials if you’re interested.”
He gave a mocking laugh. “Oh, she is, is she? Is that part of your blackmail scheme?”
I was genuinely perplexed. Admittedly, Jakes was a nutcase, but I must have missed a vital clue, something that connected to Ethel. I had no idea what he was blabbering about.
“What did Ethel want from you?” I asked. “What was worth murdering her for?”
Jakes stepped closer, backing me against a rack of show collars. I clutched my belt waiting for the right opportunity.
“Murder?” he bellowed. “Lady, you are delusional. I have a solid alibi for that hag’s murder. Just ask the cops.” His eyes glittered with malice. “But I have a pretty good idea who killed the little twist and I plan to make it pay.”
He didn’t frighten me. Maybe he should have but he didn’t. I had handled far worse cases than a maniacal biologist. Instead of fear I felt disgust. Jakes was nothing but a puny worm masquerading as a man.
“You love calling women names, don’t you? Back off!”
“If the shoe fits… You need someone to teach you a lesson.”
I swung the belt—buckle first—at his face. At that distance I couldn’t miss, and it struck him squarely in the nose. Blood spurted everywhere on him, me, and my precious products. Jakes howled in pain and I lunged past him toward freedom. Unfortunately, he grabbed my shirttail, and spun me around. He deflected a kick toward his genitals and put his hands around my throat.
“Not so brave now are you,” he snarled, pressing harder. “You broke my freaking nose!”
My training kicked in as I jabbed him in the eye with my right elbow. Sadly, it was a glancing blow that only infuriated him more. I was perilously close to losing consciousness when suddenly the door swung open and my guardian angels arrived.
First came Keats and Poe in full military attack mode, followed by the agile form of Pruett. Jakes loosened his grip just enough to allow me to breathe and fall backwards. We both tumbled to the floor of the narrow aisle. I was relatively unscathed, but it was lights out for my assailant as Jakes hit his head hard against a metal rack. Pruett overcame his fear of my dogs and leapt forward to help me up. Jakes was down for the count.
“Are you okay?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me. I must admit it felt good having someone to lean on even though I was confident that I could have saved myself without his help. That was my narrative, born from years of independent living and I stuck to it. Only Pip had pierced the barrier that encapsulated me. Pruett was late to that party, but he was closing fast.
I nodded to him as I gulped blessed lungsful of air. Pruett kept one arm around me as he whipped his iPhone out and dialed 911. “What the hell happened?” he asked. Keats and Poe loomed over Jakes, watching his inert form for any signs of activity.
I summarized the day’s activities ending with Jakes’s strange behavior. “He knows something about the murder,” I croaked. That sound was the best that I could manage. My vocal chords were still recovering from the trauma of Jakes’s attack and my neck felt tender.
Pruett brushed my bangs out of my eyes and squeezed my hand. Once again, his tenderness overwhelmed me. “Your neck has bruises all around it. Such a pretty neck too.” He winked to show me that he was kidding. “Ah well. Attempted murder should keep him out of circulation for a bit while the cops sweat him for details.”
My wits were still scrambled, and any lucid thoughts were banished by the simultaneous arrival of paramedics and the imposing figure of Titus Bascomb. The medics immediately bundled Jakes off to the hospital. After examining my throat and asking some basic questions, they cleared me to face Bascomb.
He took one look at Pruett and motioned toward the door. “Out, Mr. Pruett. Unless you are her attorney or her husband you don’t belong here.”
Pruett grinned. “Can’t claim to be her husband yet but I am her legal representative. So, ask away, Lieutenant.” He smothered my outraged squeak in another hug.
Bascomb rolled his eyes. He had the jaded look of a cop who had seen it all before and wasn’t fooled. “Fine. Now take me through it. Slowly.” Bascomb wedged his ponderous frame into a corner of my shop. Since his sergeant wasn’t there, he used his phone to record our conversation. “I assume you have no objections, Counselor.” He nodded toward Pruett and received a curt nod in return.
My narrative started at the show ring and continued to Jakes’s sudden onslaught. When I mentioned blackmail and innuendos about Ethel’s murder, he switched off the phone and held up his hand.
“Stop. He knows the identity of the killer? Who is it?”
“He didn’t say but I think he plans to blackmail him or her. Jakes said there were big bucks involved.”
Bascomb’s expression was snide. “Mrs. Croy has big bucks.”
“So do half the people in this area,” I retorted. “We should focus on Ethel. Her character and behavior encouraged all kinds of blackmail.”
I knew immediately that I’d said something wrong. Bascomb’s face contorted and he wagged a meaty finger my way. “There is no ‘we’ in this, Ms. Morgan. The murder is a police matter. Butt out.” He swung toward Pruett. “And that goes double for you, Mr. Pruett. I better not see anything in the media about this. Do you understand? And don’t give me any of this first amendment crap either.”
Pruett’s expression was nothing short of ange
lic. “Absolutely.”
Persistence was my middle name. “What have you found out about Ethel or whatever her real name was?”
Through gritted teeth, he spit out the answer. “Until she moved here two years ago that lady didn’t exist. No trace in any of our databases. Now what does that suggest to you?”
I could almost feel my eyes widening. “Witness protection. She was probably a mob informant or involved with a drug cartel. I guess that clears Babette of suspicion.”
Pruett had a different theory. “I vote for identity theft. The real Ethel McCall was probably a child who died young many years ago. Funny that her prints weren’t on AFIS though.”
Smoke doesn’t literally spew from someone’s ears, but Bascomb gave a fairly good imitation of it. “You both must have a hearing problem. What about the term ‘butt out’ don’t you two understand?” Before I said one word, Pruett spoke for me, an annoying habit that I vowed to nip in the bud as soon as possible. “Of course, Lieutenant, but how else can you explain the money in her bank accounts? Ethel was obviously up to no good. Someone around here was paying to keep a mighty big secret from getting out.” He helped me up. “May I take Ms. Morgan home now? She’s had one rough day.”
Bascomb’s snort was world class and highly unprofessional. “Get out of here. Both of you.” He thrust his arm out and stalked off.
To Pruett’s credit he didn’t flinch. “Sounds like good advice. I better drive,” he said. “You still seem kind of shaky.”
“What about your car?”
“No problem. I’ll leave it here overnight. They have security.”
I didn’t argue. Frankly I welcomed the thought of having company for the evening. My brush with death made me yearn for the solace and safety of my home and pets. Pruett’s presence was an additional bonus.
Chapter 19
On the way home, I phoned Babette to tell her the latest about Jakes. Bad news travels fast and I wanted her to hear it from me first. After Jakes’s claims, I was also worried that Bascomb would confront her with one of his crackpot theories. Spontaneity was a problem where Babette was concerned. If she were taken unawares, she could easily combust and blurt out all sorts of ill-advised comments that later backfired. In this instance forewarned was definitely forearmed.
“What! You have got to be kidding!” Babette unleashed a string of oaths and imprecations that no true lady would even think of. Considering the circumstances, I had to admit that she was justified. Jakes was a vile creature who deserved no better. “Don’t say another word,” she said. “I’ll be right over.”
I couldn’t stop her even if I tried. When Babette was on a mission, only an act of God deterred her. Even though that quashed any hope for an uninterrupted evening with Pruett, I didn’t care. My emotions were spiraling out of control and that frightened me. I studied his profile as he wrangled my Suburban through the traffic squalls. He was perfect, too perfect. That was the crux of the problem.
“Something bothering you?” he asked.
Of course, something was bothering me! After suffering two assaults, finding a bloody corpse and facing police threats, things were just hunky dory. Afghanistan was a war zone, but it seemed like Disneyland compared with Northern Virginia. Instead of howling at him, I took a deep breath.
“Just Babette. She’ll be joining us soon and she’s all fired up. Too bad Ella didn’t join you.”
“Maybe we should pool our information and see where that takes us. If Jakes knows something he might tell me. You know, one guy bragging to another. Of course, if you press charges he’ll be cooling his heels in jail.”
I yawned, leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. Damn. My throat ached something fierce. If only a celestial being would zap this whole mess and make it disappear. Something about Pruett’s company induced me to doze off again. When I opened my eyes, we were home, just in time to hear Zeke’s angry greeting. No rest for the weary. Unavoidable chores awaited me and tending to a cranky pygmy goat was first among them.
“Sorry I zoned out on you again,” I said. “It’s not like me.”
“Give yourself a break. You don’t always have to be strong.” He smiled. “Not around me.”
I bit my tongue to staunch the tears that threatened. All my life I ruthlessly repressed any trace of vulnerability. It signified weakness, something I simply could not afford, except with Pip. He was the only person—male or female—who let me feel safe. Pruett’s kindness lured me closer and closer to him and our bond had strengthened over the past year. Yielding and then losing it was too great a risk. Another loss would break my heart.
I pasted a plucky, can-do grin on my face. “Better do my chores before Zeke kicks down the fence.”
“Hold on, warrior woman. Let me help you.” He hopped out, opened my door and offered me his hand. “You put on quite a show today,” he said. “I was proud of you. Impressed actually. Scared too. Whew! Jakes came out the loser in that one.”
I blinked, trying to dislodge the sleep from my eyes. My contact lenses felt grainy and sore and I found myself squinting.
“I forgot to ask you. Where’s Ella? I thought she was coming with you today?”
“My plans changed,” he said. “Her mother swooped into the city and just had to see her little girl. She plans to take Ella shopping or some such nonsense. Everything’s a big event with Monique. Normal life bores her silly.”
I kept my opinions to myself. Obviously, anything to do with Monique, super photog and absentee parent, was a very sensitive subject. “I’m glad Ella missed all the excitement though,” I said. “Kids should be shielded from violence. It would have frightened her.”
Pruett raised his eyebrows. “She’s safe with me and she knows it. No one will ever harm that child, so long as I have one breath in my body. I’d kill anyone who got in the way.” He lightened his words by holding out his arm and flexing his muscle. “Come on. I have a way with goats.”
We spent the next half hour feeding and grooming Zeke and the dogs. Gradually, Pruett overcame his wariness and approached all of them. Poe and Keats accepted his advances and after eating they curled up in my living room with Thatcher in companionable silence.
By the time Babette swung into the driveway, our entire household was at peace. Pruett learned through his police contacts that Jakes had been charged with assault and jailed for the night. One less thing to worry about.
Babette and the ever-faithful Clara joined our party bearing gifts. “I figured you might get hungry,” she said. “Behold. Pollo a la Brasa—Peruvian style chicken.”
The aroma was maddening. Suddenly I realized that I had missed both lunch and dinner. I was famished!
Babette got down to basics. “Okay. Now tell me everything.”
Between mouthfuls of delicious poultry, we did so. To her delight, Pruett embroidered upon my clash with Jakes by touting me as a cross between Wonder Woman and the goddess Athena.
“You’re a hero, Perri. Just think. You trapped a murderer.” Babette threw her arms around me, heedless of chicken bones, green salsa and upholstery.
I held up my hand. “Not so fast. I’m not sure Jakes is the killer.”
“But he knows something,” Pruett said. “He definitely knows something or thinks he does.”
Babette snorted in disgust. “Horsefeathers! Ethel was blackmailing him, and he killed her. Plain and simple. I called Sheila, but she was out on the town. I bet she’ll agree with me.”
Pruett and I locked eyes. The connection was so intense that for an instant, time and place stood still. I gave myself a mental shakedown and returned to the rational world.
“Bascomb made it clear that amateurs were not welcome on his turf. That definitely included you.” I pointed to Babette.
“Big deal.” She folded her arms and stuck out her lip like a petulant child. Babette never allowed legal niceties t
o thwart her plans. “As a sovereign citizen, I have every right to ask questions. He can just pound sand or deal with my lawyer. How would Bascomb like being the star of my cable show playing America’s most unwanted?”
“Suit yourself.” After enduring a difficult day, I had neither the mental nor physical strength to battle Babette. Instead, I curled up in a ball and pulled the afghan up to my chin. My kind-hearted friend reacted immediately. “Perri, forgive me darlin.’ I’ve been so wrapped up in this feud that I forgot how you must feel.”
“Let’s discuss this later,” Pruett said. “The idea of leveraging your cable show has promise. It might be a way to get information. You could change the entire trajectory of the discussion. Repurpose Cavalry Farms as a community resource.”
Babette glanced over at Pruett and smiled. “I’ll just take off and check back with you in the morning. Come on, Clara.”
And with that, Pruett and I were suddenly alone. I didn’t ask him to stay even though I hoped he would. Loneliness was an acquired habit, one that I had yet to master even after two years. I yearned for companionship and comfort but feared rejection. I yearned for him.
“Looks like you could use some rest,” he said. “Come on. I’ll lock up and help you to your room.” He led the human-canine procession to the bedroom and tucked me under the covers. “Anything else you need?” he asked.
I summoned my courage and met his gaze. “Just you.”
His smile was all the answer that I needed.
Chapter 20
Sunday was a day of rest—unless you were part of the show world. Early that morning I soothed my aching muscles under a scalding shower and gingerly dressed myself. Pruett raised his head for a moment then wordlessly plunged back into dreamland.
My morning chores included feeding, exercising, and placating two dogs, one cat and a goat. For some reason, Zeke was particularly irascible that day. He consumed precious time running around the pasture, hurdling over jumps and generally refusing to enter his stall until I trapped him into it. The triumphant look in his eyes told me that the little beast had enjoyed every second.