Homicide by Horse Show

by Arlene Kay

  Sheila and Ken were the last to re-join the group. She glided by without breaking stride, but Ken stopped to chat.

  “Any decisions about Raza? A couple from Charlottesville are interested in her.”

  I shook my head but my heart sank. Could I stand losing the mare to someone else?

  Another thirty minutes passed during which Babette described the fundraiser and what she hoped to achieve. Most of the participants wore that glazed expression of polite indifference that meant their minds had wandered elsewhere. Charlotte stared furtively at her phone; Reedy checked his watch. Even Sheila looked distracted as she fumbled in her purse. When my phone pinged, I rose and read the text. “Come over to Ethel’s place in ten minutes if you want to know who killed her. G. Jakes.”

  How like that varmint to inconvenience someone else to suit his own needs. It was doubly insensitive to meet at a murder victim’s former home. I passed my phone to Pruett without saying anything to Babette. He leaned back against the sofa and nodded. I was no coward but with a madman like Jakes I was intelligent enough to get backup. Besides, Jakes hinted that he had solved Ethel’s murder and I wanted a witness present when I questioned him.

  My heart pounded as I envisioned another confrontation with Jakes. This time at least I was prepared for anything that came my way. Finally, Babette ended the meeting and thanked her guests. I vaulted out the door before the others, but Pruett was detained by Jacqui and Charlotte, both of whom vied for his attention.

  I freed Keats and Poe from my truck and sauntered toward the guesthouse. Ethel’s place might be locked, although knowing Babette I doubted it. Just as Ken Reedy had said, a battered Ram pickup was parked in back of the house almost out of sight.

  I cautiously twisted the doorknob and entered the house, wary of an ambush. The foyer was deserted so I padded on to the living room. That’s when I saw his body. Glendon Jakes lay face-up on the living room rug, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. A belt was wrapped tightly around his scrawny neck—one of the special belts I had made for Babette.

  * * * *

  Keats and Poe immediately went on alert, ears pricked, hackles raised. I summoned my dogs with the Schutzhund command Pass auf and carefully backed out of the room. No sense in contaminating another crime scene. As I did, Pruett appeared at the door. I pointed toward the living room but said nothing. Words failed me. I felt shock, not sorrow for Jakes, this deeply troubled man who alienated everyone he encountered. Babette’s loathing of Jakes was no secret and Bascomb might well add up motive, means and opportunity, and again arrive at the wrong conclusion. Come to think of it, I was a potential suspect as well.

  Pruett soon joined me, cell phone in hand. He took one look at the corpse and pulled me toward him. Despite the circumstances, he stayed calm and cool, preternaturally so.

  “Have you called Bascomb yet?” he asked, his voice rocksteady. “Better back out of here and go to Babette’s while I handle that.”

  I shook my head, numbed by unimaginable possibilities. Someone had murdered the unlovely Jakes, someone who recently sat amongst us at Babette’s meeting calmly eating snacks and sipping tea. No one would believe otherwise.

  Before the other guests cleared the driveway, Pruett stopped them. I hurried inside to prepare Babette and alert her to the coming storm. The scene was emotional and awkward—one step short of hysteria. Females were often tagged the weaker sex but, in this instance, emotion was generated by Carleton Croy whose volcanic rage dwarfed Vesuvius. He stalked over to Babette, fists clenched, and demanded an explanation.

  “Are you trying to destroy me,” he shouted. “How do you think Hamilton Arms will react to yet another murder on these premises?”

  I edged toward my friend in case Carleton got violent. Before I reached her, Pruett intervened.

  “Calm down, Croy. We’re talking murder here, not some minor faux pas. Now, chill. Bascomb will be here any moment.”

  All trace of defiance drained out of Carleton like air from a punctured tire. One look at Pruett apparently convinced him that in this instance silence was the better part of valor. Babette swallowed hard and bit her lip. I knew she was close to tears but who could blame her? When the rest of the committee filed in, I observed them closely for any telltale signs of stress. Sheila entered first looking puzzled but composed. Not so, Charlotte Westly. She made no secret of her displeasure and wore a scowl that was fierce enough to melt steel.

  “What’s going on here, Babette? Some of us have a life, you know.”

  “Stop complaining,” Jacqui said. “Something must be wrong.” She turned to Pruett, the source of wisdom. “Tell us, Wing.”

  Ken Reedy pointed to the window. “Why not ask the cops. They just got here.”

  Sure enough, flashing lights announced the arrival of our nemesis, Lieutenant Titus Bascomb accompanied by a contingent of underlings.

  Pruett and I locked eyes. “I’m afraid there’s been an incident,” I said. “Glendon Jakes was found in Ethel’s living room. Dead.”

  “Murdered, actually.” Pruett scarcely moved a muscle. “Strangled.”

  Chapter 23

  Pruett’s words provoked plenty of reaction. Charlotte gasped and collapsed onto the sofa, Jacqui opened her mouth but emitted not a single syllable, and Sheila stood frozen in place, clutching her purse. Only Ken took the news in stride.

  “I guess that means we’re all suspects,” he said. “Makes sense.”

  A pounding on the door announced the arrival of the authorities. Bascomb, looking more disheveled than ever strode angrily into the foyer and confronted Babette.

  “What in the hell are you running here—murder incorporated?”

  Pruett interposed himself. “Perri found him, Lieutenant, in Ethel’s old house. That’s his truck around in back. I can show you if you like.”

  Bascomb’s tree trunk arm barred his way. “Sit, Mr. Pruett. You certainly land in the middle of things. You too, Ms. Morgan.” He gave us a flat, hard cop’s stare. “While the forensic team handles things, my sergeant and I will interview you. One by one.” He pointed my way. “You first, Ms. Morgan. Seems like your name should be Calamity Jane, the way you turn up bodies.”

  I was unamused by Bascomb’s foray into comedy. Everything had happened so fast that I had no time to process the enormity of the situation. Jakes, chief murder suspect, had himself been eliminated. Possibly—no probably—by someone in this very room. I dreaded telling Bascomb that one of my custom belts was the murder weapon. Considering his volatile temperament, he might slap the cuffs on me post haste.

  Babette resumed her hostess duties by leading us into the study. I had always loved that room although today its charm eluded me. The old-world style was accentuated with reclaimed walnut paneling, deep, down-filled couches and bookshelves lined with leather-bound classics. Some of the luster dimmed as I faced Bascomb’s version of the third degree.

  “Why did you go over to that house, Ms. Morgan? Spoiling for another fight, were you?”

  He forgot that I had taken those same classes on interrogation and knew all the tricks. Bascomb must have aced Bullying 101 though. He was a natural. I explained as calmly as possible about the text from Jakes. It sounded reasonable to me but Bascomb wasn’t buying.

  “What time did you get that text?” His sneer was masterful.

  “Right before the meeting ended. I showed it to Mr. Pruett. Just ask him.”

  Bascomb frowned. “So you say. Funny how ten minutes later you found Jakes dead. Do dead men send texts these days, Ms. Morgan? Not that I heard of.”

  I knew that he was bluffing, trying to force some damaging admission from me. Until the forensic team finished their work, no one knew for sure when Jakes died. I kept calm and merely shrugged.

  He pulled out his phone and shoved a photo toward me—a photo of one of my beautiful belts. “Look familiar?”

 
“Yep. It resembles the belts I make. Most of the stores in Great Marsh stock them. Some in DC as well.” I was positive that the belt in question was one of my earlier designs available only to a select clientele. However, my previous encounters with the police had taught me to neither volunteer nor withhold information. Stick to the facts and just tell the truth.

  Bascomb trotted out his avuncular act. “Jakes hurt you. I understand that. Maybe he attacked you again and you tried to protect yourself. Any jury would sympathize. You’d probably get off with probation.” His toothy grin was grotesque.

  “You’re wasting your time and mine as well. I can account for my whereabouts from six this morning until I discovered his body. When we took a break, Mr. Pruett and I didn’t even leave the room. Now, unless you plan to read me my rights or charge me, that’s all I have to say.” I folded my arms and met his steely gaze with one of my own.

  Bascomb was bloodied but unbowed. “Naturally I’ll need your phone to verify your statement. That’s it for now, but don’t leave the area. You’re still on my radar, missy.”

  I nodded and strolled away slowly—straight, tall, and slightly defiant.

  * * * *

  My dogs were happy to be freed from the Suburban. One of Bascomb’s men watched warily as I opened the hatch and put them in the fenced yard with Clara. A forensic team wearing white coveralls and booties immediately descended on my truck to conduct their search. Despite my act of bravado, Bascomb had rattled me. This was Great Marsh, Virginia, for heaven’s sake. How could any of the average citizens assembled in Babette’s living room overpower a reasonably strong man like Jakes? And what about that text? It clearly had come from Jakes’s phone after his death. That meant that the murderer probably still had his phone. Would Bascomb’s guys find it somewhere?

  I felt a need to see Pruett, a dangerous compulsion for someone like me who valued independence and zealously guarded her tender heart. It seemed like an eternity before he appeared. I watched him glide toward me, with the peculiar grace of a jungle cat. My heart lurched as he smiled my way and stretched out his hand.

  “How are you holding up? Did Bascomb use the old rubber hose on you?” He patted my shoulder.

  “He took my phone and I forgot to remind him about what Jakes said the other day.”

  Pruett raised his eyebrows.

  “You know… About how he knew who murdered Ethel and was planning to make a killing. He made a killing all right.” I shivered even though the day was warm.

  Pruett touched my cheek. “Listen, Iron Woman, you don’t have to be tough around me. I told you that before. Anyone would be shaken by seeing one body let alone two in two weeks. Relax.”

  I have been on my own most of my life, proud to be self-reliant and resilient. I can handle adversity with the best of them, but kindness knocks me out. Something about Pruett penetrated my defenses in a way that only Pip had once done. When he opened his arms, I clung to Pruett like a fragile female in a sappy romance novel. Worst of all—it felt good. I wasn’t embarrassed at all.

  “I better tell Bascomb again what Jakes said. Not that he’ll believe me.”

  Pruett grinned. “Not the most trusting soul, is he? I’ll wait out here for you. Yell if you need backup.”

  “Coward,” I scoffed. The path back to Babette’s front door seemed endless as I plodded toward the deputy standing guard. He was suspicious at first but ultimately, I gained entry. Bascomb was ensconced in the library with his next victim, but as luck would have it, Sergeant Avis Stone stood in front of the door. I breathed a sigh of relief—much easier to confide in her than her crusty superior. She listened carefully, noting the specifics on her tablet.

  “I’ll let the Lieutenant know right away,” she said. Her eyes held a spark of mischief. “He’ll probably want to talk with you again. Jakes may have set up a meeting with his own murderer.”

  That made me shiver. “He can reach me at home,” I said in a show of bravado. “He has the number.” I was resigned to my fate but determined to make a getaway before Bascomb nabbed me. After all, I had a business to run, pets to tend, and a gorgeous male at my side. Let the law come to me.

  Pruett was waiting inside the Suburban. “Well. What did he say? Need a lawyer? I heard those women in there, squawking about calling high-powered attorneys. Bascomb’s in for quite a tussle when the one-percenters bring out the big guns.”

  I explained the situation and suggested a quick exit strategy. “You go first, and I’ll trail behind. Just show them your press credentials or something.”

  We made our escape and headed back to my house, leaving the chaos and confusion of Jakes’s murder scene behind us. I felt a twinge of conscience when I thought of Babette facing Bascomb and his minions by herself. My poor friend would become fodder for every tabloid on the East Coast with lurid accounts of sex, blackmail, and murder. Pruett advised her to capitalize on the scrum and rail against the proposed closure of Cavalry Farms whenever she was interviewed. That cheered her up immensely and she plunged into the narrative with gusto.

  I hunched over the steering wheel during the entire trip home, positive that Bascomb was on my trail. Every flashing light or siren raised my stress level beyond endurance. Only the sight of my fence posts and the looming menace of Zeke brought blessed calm to my mind. Pruett pulled in behind me and leapt out first. He kept a wary eye on Zeke and bravely stayed the course when the dogs emerged.

  “How about some coffee?” I asked.

  He checked his watch. “If I weren’t driving, I’d opt for a stiff drink. I guess coffee will have to do.” As we walked toward the house, he put his arm around me. “I wish you could just come home with me until this mess subsides. Doesn’t quite work when you have a zoo, does it?”

  “I’ll get that coffee.”

  Pruett was right behind me. “No need. I’m not helpless, you know. Feed your pets. I’ll make the coffee.”

  We finished our tasks in record time and settled in around my old walnut table to sift through our thoughts.

  “I guess we need to wait for the coroner’s report,” I said. “Then we’ll know when Jakes died. I couldn’t tell if his body was still warm but then I didn’t touch him either. The look on his face was enough to stop me.”

  Pruett nodded. “I thought he looked surprised. He wasn’t a big guy but still. Most women couldn’t take him down.”

  I considered that for a moment. “I’m not so sure. Look at me. I’m five-nine and fit. If I took him by surprise it might work. Jacqui is certainly tall enough and as you noted, she’s strong too. Even Sheila is tall and fit.” I excluded Babette from the conversation. No way was my pal a match for Jakes, even if she got the drop on him.

  “Reedy and Carleton are on my list,” Pruett said. “Carleton is a wimp but if Jakes threatened him, he could be dangerous. Like a cornered rat. Reedy seems like a nice guy but you can never tell. Maybe he snapped if Jakes threatened Cavalry Farms too.”

  I slugged down my coffee and reached for another cup. Better to risk a caffeine overload than brain freeze. When Pruett’s cell phone buzzed, he rose and stepped out of the kitchen. I forgot my manners and leaned forward but couldn’t hear one thing that he said.

  “That was my editor,” he said when he returned. “News travels fast and he wants the scoop on Jakes and his murder. I promise to leave you out of it as much as possible.” He drained his coffee cup and gathered his things. “Listen to me, Perri. I worry about you. Stop playing detective before you get hurt. This killer has already murdered twice, one more body won’t bother him one bit. Don’t let it be yours.”

  Chapter 24

  I think best when my mind is focused on work. That meant dismissing thoughts of murder and returning to my leather business. A girl has to eat after all and if Raza joined our pack that meant another mouth to feed. Correction. I hoped Raza would be mine. For all I knew some upscale yuppies might have alrea
dy claimed her.

  With the dogs cradled on the office floor in their beds, I tackled five orders for lace martingales, my most popular item for smaller dog breeds. Those little beauties had a padded throat piece made of softest leather and slide beading for style in the show ring. Owners of toy and terrier breeds loved them, and their precious pets seemed to agree. During three hours in my workshop, I dismissed thoughts of mayhem and Pruett as well. No good would ever come from obsessing about that man. I knew it, but like all vices, it was easier said than done. Memories of our morning rendezvous stole back into my mind unbidden. Pruett was a hard guy to dismiss.

  I stopped working and spent time with Zeke, currying, combing, and feeding the ungrateful little beast until his tummy filled and his coat gleamed. He tolerated my presence as a necessary evil but longed to romp with Keats and Poe. Zeke was a stubborn cuss with firm principles—he refused to settle down until he had his fun.

  His truculence stirred a memory of something Babette had said this morning when her bra strap snapped. Something like, no decent woman would consider undressing in front of a man. Ethel had undressed, neatly folded her clothing, and prepared to don that horse costume. Would she have done that in front of Jakes or any other man except a trusted lover? On the other hand, most women disrobed around their women friends and acquaintances without even thinking about it. Was her killer female?

  I stretched out on the couch to think but ended up dozing until Bascomb pounded on my door. Since the dogs have extremely acute hearing, their typical cacophony of barks preceded his arrival and prepared me for the onslaught.

  As usual, Bascomb skipped social niceties and immediately went for the jugular.

  “What’s this about Jakes blackmailing someone?” he growled. “Awfully convenient that you remembered it after he was murdered.”

  I sought forbearance. The only path to progress was to humor this cop and ignore his insults. “I meant to tell you but finding his body shocked me. I forgot.”