Homicide by Horse Show

by Arlene Kay

  The moment I reached the stall, my pal Becca swept through the door. She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard.

  “Perri. I figured you wouldn’t make it after what happened.” She averted her eyes. “About Jakes, I mean, and that nasty article by your sweetie. Goes to show you that a man can be hot and devious at the same time.”

  My own mixed feelings about Pruett surfaced. I wanted to defend him but could not dispute her description. I tried humor instead. “Hot? You thought Jakes was good-looking?”

  She reared back in horror. “God, no. I meant the reporter.” She scrutinized me. “You’re teasing, aren’t you? Should have known.” Her conversation reverted to animal matters. “I see you have a demo to do today. Saw it in the show program. You seem calm enough so good luck with it. Finding a dead body is bad enough but two—”

  That gave me pause. “Say, did you hear Jakes say anything lately about coming into some serious money? I know he hung around dog shows too.”

  She shook her head. “He was jawing with Ken about something that last day before he went all wacko on you. Seemed pretty smug, if you ask me but I didn’t hear much.”

  After giving me another hug, she disappeared into the crowd to attend to a canine client leaving me with a pressing need to find Ken Reedy.

  An influx of customers kept me occupied for several hours. At noon, I grabbed several collars, leashes, and harnesses and headed for the demo ring. This time I took Keats with me. He moved like a dream and would attract a good bit of attention from dog show insiders who would immediately recognize his style.

  To my surprise, a large knot of spectators surrounded the ring. Most were parents with their offspring trailing after them, but some were just pet loving adults. I stepped into the ring and adjusted the microphone just in time to note the sinewy form of a certain journalist walking hand-in-hand with Ella. As soon as she spied me, she jumped from foot to foot and squealed my name. I noticed that she was wearing her birthday gift and her dad’s engaging grin. I winked her way then started my tutorial. Keats played the perfect assistant by trotting back and forth and illustrating the finer points of each product. The spectators asked plenty of questions and queued up afterwards to purchase collars, leads and even a few belts. All in all, my performance was a profitable endeavor that served me and the dog-loving public well.

  Pruett and Ella were the last ones in line. She modeled her chaps by pirouetting back and forth, much to the amusement of her doting dad. “I love my present, Perri,” she said hugging my waist. “Thank you.”

  “Nice job, Ms. Morgan,” he said. “Quite a show.”

  “Thanks.” I still distrusted his motives and had no doubt that he knew how disarming Ella was. “What brings you here, business or pleasure?”

  His eyes were alight with mischief. “A bit of both, actually. Care to join us later for supper? Tomorrow is Ella’s official birthday but we’re celebrating a bit early.”

  “I promised to help out at Cavalry Farms this afternoon. Maybe Ella would like to join me.” I checked my watch. “Can you wait a few minutes while I close up shop?”

  He touched my arm, just a tap, not enough to explain the surge of sensation that I felt. “No problem. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

  I got the double entendre although I pretended not to. Was Pruett playing a game with me? If so, he had crossed the line from clever to cruel without skipping a beat.

  “Okay.” I hurried back to my shop just in time to see Ken Reedy prowling the aisle.

  “Hey,” I said. “Got a question for you.”

  He gave me that measured look he had long perfected. “Not for publication, I hope.”

  I threw up my arms. “Please! I’ve been dodging Bascomb ever since that stupid article appeared. He wants my head on a post.” I asked Reedy about his conversation with Jakes.

  “Oh yeah. He was blabbering about buying a new show truck. You saw that hunk of junk he drove. Anyhow, he was fixated on a Dynamax Force, one of those ‘Class A’ beauties with all the bells and whistles.”

  That took me aback. “Wow! Those things are pricey, even the used ones.”

  Top of the line models like Dynamax ran two hundred grand fully equipped. Babette paid that much for her glitzy vehicle we dubbed “Steady Eddie.”

  “Seemed like a stretch for Jakes,” Ken said. “But he was pretty cocky about it.”

  I evaluated the possibilities. “He had a senior level job with the Government. Pretty good pay. Maybe he saved his money.”

  Ken shrugged. “Maybe. Jakes said he was expecting a windfall of some kind from a grateful friend. Good luck at the farm today.” He hesitated a moment and reached into his pocket. “Thought of something that might interest you,” he said, handing me a slip of paper. “This is the fellow Jakes had been negotiating with. About the truck. He’s local so you can probably swing around and see him.” Ken gave an impish grin. “Unless you’re too busy learning the news business.”

  I seldom blush, but on this occasion I did so. After thanking Ken, I checked my stock, and locked everything up good and tight. No cause for excitement. After all, we were celebrating a little girl’s birthday, not planning a seduction. Applebee’s was scarcely a romantic spot, especially if we ordered Ella’s favorite hot wings. Afterwards, daddy and daughter would head back to Georgetown and I would snuggle up with Thatcher and my dogs.

  * * * *

  Ella squealed when I told her about our side trip to Cavalry Farms. She loved every kind of animal and was ecstatic about seeing the horses. We pointedly ignored the pained expression on Pruett’s face and forged ahead.

  Our assignment was simple: in addition to feeding and watering the herd, we agreed to lead the more biddable horses around the paddock for some exercise. I also promised to let Ella share some Raza time with me, just enough for them to get acquainted. The size of the massive Percheron and Clydesdale horses fascinated Pruett. Both were almost eighteen hands high at their withers and since a hand equates to four inches, they were very big boys indeed.

  As I suspected, Raza and Ella soon formed a mutual admiration society. The child’s reaction to the Arabian mare warmed my heart. Ella threw her arms around Raza’s neck, gently stroked it and hugged her. Even Pruett was charmed although he remained cautious. Raza pricked her ears forward, nuzzled both of us, and gently took the carrots we offered.

  “She’s beautiful, Perri. Is Raza your special horse?” Ella’s little face positively glowed while Pruett had the hunted look of a man condemned to equine servitude. I hoisted the child into the saddle, adjusted the stirrups and watched closely as she urged Raza into a trot and gentle canter. To Pruett’s relief, we had agreed on a no galloping clause—at least this time. Ella and Raza made a splendid pairing as they traversed the ring.

  “Your money wasn’t wasted on lessons,” I told Pruett. “Ella is a natural.”

  “I guess,” he moaned. “Hamilton Arms encourages all that horse stuff too. Part of good breeding, I suppose.”

  I signaled to Ella and she slowed Raza down to a walk. “You did great,” I said as Pruett helped his child dismount. “Raza loved it. Time for us to rub her down and groom her.”

  “Why did someone give Raza away?” Ella’s little face crinkled with emotion.

  How do you explain callous human behavior to an innocent child? I didn’t reveal that her prior owners discarded beautiful Raza when they found she was unsuited to competitive hunting, or that they were quite indifferent to her fate. According to Reedy, they planned to sell her at auction if Cavalry Farms didn’t take her. That meant a possible death sentence.

  “Not everyone takes good care of their pets,” I said. “Not like us.” I gave her a hug. “Come on. Let’s give my girl a good massage.”

  * * * *

  The birthday dinner was magical; there was no other way to describe it. Ella chattered nonstop about her pointe
r Guinnie, and the entire dog show experience. I enjoyed watching elegant Wing Pruett doing daddy duty. It revealed an endearing aspect of his character that few women, particularly me, could resist. When the staff stood around a birthday cake and sang to Ella, her joy was a thing of beauty. I was growing very fond of the little girl and that was dangerous for both of us. Surely, Pruett would never deliberately expose his daughter to the heartbreak of losing a friend. Our high spirits dimmed when Pruett paid the check and told his child it was time to go. “You have to leave early tomorrow, Ella. Your mom has something special planned for you.”

  Ella’s smiles vanished as she flashed a mutinous look at her dad. “I don’t want to go to New York. I want to be with Raza and Perri.”

  “Perri has to work tomorrow,” he said. “You can see Raza when you get back if Perri agrees.”

  I dredged up that fake smile adults summon to deceive small children. “And if your dad agrees and if you are really good you can exercise Raza when you get back.”

  I tapped my iPhone and produced a photo of the beautiful Arabian. “I’ll send you her picture every time I go to the farm.”

  “Perri, she’s so beautiful! Just like you.” Ella clapped her hands and gave me a fierce hug. That placated her although I knew it was only a temporary fix. Pruett’s jaw dropped but he wisely said nothing. Fortunately, children have a short attention span and I was positive that Ella would be all smiles the next day when her glamorous mother arrived.

  Pruett walked me to my truck and put his arms around me. “Thanks for today,” he said. “You made a little girl very happy. I’m not thrilled about this horse thing though. You know how Ella obsesses about pets. That’s all I need.”

  Something emboldened me. “How about her dad? How does he feel?”

  “You made me very happy too,” he said.

  “Good.” I showed him the paper Ken had given me. “The guy lives in Aldie. Maybe he’ll know something about Jakes that will help us.”

  Pruett took the paper. “Let me check it out first. I’ll call and let you know. No sense driving there if we can get answers other ways.” I drove home in a fog of emotion that was totally unlike me. Hard-nosed Persephone Morgan scoffed at love songs, and never read romance novels. Pip always said my heart was hard outside but mushy inside, like a Mallow Cup. It was one of our little jokes that I never shared with another soul.

  Just as I reached the front door, my cell phone shrilled in the night. It jolted me out of dreamland and catapulted me into reality.

  Sheila’s clear voice rang out in the night. “Where did you disappear to? I wanted you to join me for dinner.”

  After I explained about Ella’s birthday, the phone went silent.

  “Sheila? Still there?”

  “Yep. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Her voice was whisper soft.

  “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

  Sheila paused. “Ellis is in the next room and I don’t want him to hear me. You know how he feels about meddling.”

  Ellis Sands possessed many sterling qualities, but he was a major control freak. If he could manacle his wife and confine her to their mansion, he would gladly do so. It was probably an age thing. Sheila was attractive, a decade younger and much livelier than Ellis. Although she would never admit it, I figured Ellis suffered from a whopping case of performance anxiety as well.

  Sheila made a good point about Pruett though. On a whim, I decided to go bold. “Hey. Are you up for some detective work tomorrow?”

  Sheila didn’t miss a beat. “Sure! But don’t you have to work?”

  “Phooey. I just got a hot lead about Jakes’s killer. Want to be my Watson?”

  “You bet!” Sheila cried. “Tell me when and where. Ellis thinks I’ll be at the show.”

  We arranged a meeting time and place and rang off, feeling very smug about our clandestine operation.

  Chapter 26

  When Sheila reached my driveway the next morning, she had an additional passenger with her. Not Cecil. I was expecting him. The mystery guest was none other than my best friend, Babette.

  “Surprised, Perri?” Her grin was wider than Texas. “When Sheila spilled the beans about your little party, I decided to horn in. Three heads are better than two, right?”

  Sheila averted her eyes, a sure sign of guilt if ever I saw it.

  “We have to be cool about this,” I said, giving Babette the fish eye. “If Bascomb finds us meddling he’ll blow his top.”

  Babette shrugged. “Hey, why can’t three old friends discuss our options? Besides. I just happen to own one of those fancy rigs. You need my expertise.”

  Sheila and I rolled our eyes at that one.

  “Well, I don’t mind name-droppin’ if we talk with that salesman.” Babette folded her arms and glared. She rarely backed down once she took a stand.

  I on the other hand knew when to fold my tent and accept the inevitable. “Okay, ladies. Let’s make tracks.”

  Our spirits were high as we headed to Aldie, an unincorporated mostly rural area some forty miles from Great Marsh. Our strategy was simple but elegant: I would take the lead posing as a potential customer and Sheila and Babette would provide backup. No need to improvise. Babette was famous for spontaneity but on this occasion, it would be a liability and endanger our mission. Since Aldie boasted only one RV showroom, Red’s Roadrunners, it was simple enough to find and exploit. Once I parked the Suburban in the muddy parking lot, our adventure began. Babette immediately abandoned or forgot her pledge to remain in the background by leaping from the backseat and trekking toward the sales room.

  “Hey,” I called. “Wait up for heaven’s sake.”

  Sheila gingerly heaved herself out of the Rover and limped toward the parking lot.

  “You sure are slow today,” Babette said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” Sheila said. “I fell off my mountain bike last night and scuffed my knees. Luckily, I was wearing a helmet. Guess I’m not as limber as I thought.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Babette said. “Age creeps up on us all.” Her eyes were aglow, and her high spirits had returned. “And before you ask, Carleton is still at that hotel being comforted by God knows who.” More defiance by Babette. “I say she’s welcome to him. After all that heavy equipment of his won’t last forever. Depreciation, you know.”

  The thought of Carleton, equipment and all, was too grotesque to contemplate. On the other hand, any woman who could stomach his arrogance and constant complaints deserved some physical comfort. Apparently, he could provide it when he was motivated.

  “Don’t suppose you found out who she is,” Sheila asked. “If it were Ellis, I’d be on her trail for sure.”

  Babette sniffed. “Nope. Don’t know, don’t care.” She looked away and said in a small voice. “I stopped caring about the time that he did. Besides, he vamoosed so fast he left evidence behind.” She dangled a man’s gold cufflink at us. “He didn’t get this from me.”

  Frankly although it looked expensive but big and clunky too. Babette had far better taste than that.

  Sheila pulled out her glasses. “Cartier, I think. Not cheap.”

  Babette clenched her face in bulldog fashion. “Not hardly. Those babies cost big bucks. Not including tax. I bet his girlfriend doesn’t know he lost one of them.”

  That put both Sheila and me in permanent lockdown. What did one say to the ex-spouse of a cad? Babette continued her monologue.

  “Must be someone with big bucks. Of course, that’s about everyone we know in this town. Hope she got her money’s worth. Carleton knows to put out when it’s in his best interests.”

  I flashed back to my conversation with Charlotte Westly at that Hamilton Arms soiree. She hinted that Carleton only pursued wealthy women. Come to think of it, Charlotte and Jacqui were both women of means. Either of th
em might be the guilty party.

  Sheila proved her social skills by changing the subject. “Either way, I don’t think it’s relevant to the murders. Affairs are pretty routine these days.”

  She was right of course. One had only to peruse the Internet to confirm that. Still someone had committed two murders for a reason that must have seemed perfectly sound. Only a psychotic monster would kill out of blood lust. It was far more likely that someone we all knew, an outwardly rational being, had weighed the options, balanced risk over reward and taken two lives.

  “Remember,” I said before we reached the showroom. “Let me take the lead.” I gave Babette my fiercest stare. “We don’t want to spook this guy by mentioning Jakes’s death.”

  “How do you know who to ask?” Sheila asked. “This is a big place.”

  I reached into my pocket and found the slip of paper. “Ken Reedy gave me his name. Walter Johnson.”

  Babette gave me a snappy salute, but Sheila was leveled by a sneezing fit. She buried her face in her handkerchief and coughed violently.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “It’s nothing,” she said. “Hay fever has been driving me mad this week and I have a migraine that just won’t quit. Go on you two. I’ll catch up with you.”

  As it happened, the first salesman who approached us wore a big smile and a name-tag saying “Walter.” He was a swarthy man of middle years with the posture of a marine and an infectious air of good cheer. All things considered, Walter Johnson made one heck of a positive impression.

  Babette targeted him immediately. She puffed out her chest and shamelessly batted those fake eyelashes. “My friend goes to all the horse shows,” she said, “I told her it’s time to buy something big. I’m thinking one of those babies that have all the bells and whistles like I got.”

  Johnson’s eyes widened and I swear I saw dollar signs in them. “Were you thinking new or used?”

  Babette shrugged. “Show us around. We heard you’d give us a good deal.”

  I saw him preen a bit. “Well, that’s mighty nice. Reputation is everything in this business. Who should I thank for that compliment?”