Homicide by Horse Show

by Arlene Kay

  My pal showed a talent for deception that was truly awe-inspiring. Frightening too.

  “Glendon Jakes.” She sighed. “His hunter wins everything in sight.”

  Apparently, news traveled slowly in Aldie. I watched him closely and Johnson didn’t react at all to Jakes’s name.

  “We haven’t closed the deal yet,” he said. “Mr. Jakes had to win over the missus. Said he was expecting a big windfall soon. He wanted to go for our deluxe model brand new but that is a sizable investment. You know how it is.”

  We exchanged polite laughs over the power of women to thwart the dreams of their spouses.

  “Mrs. Jakes holds very strong opinions. She’s really something isn’t she,” I asked. “So lovely. I think she’s the one with the money too.”

  Johnson looked puzzled, but he gamely played along. “I really didn’t get a good look at her. She stayed in his truck with their dog. But that explains it. Money talks.”

  I traded sympathetic smiles with him. “It always does. Which dog did they have with them?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not much of a dog person. Something big.”

  Both Jacqueline and Charlotte had sizable dogs and to a non-dog person wary of large canines, a standard poodle, pointer or Lab were interchangeable. I gave Johnson a pinch of encouragement. “Maybe you could show us the kind of models Glendon liked. Not that we’re competitive, you understand. It’s just that he can be a little pushy.”

  Playing our part required that we traipse through the lot and examine various high-end specimens. Quite frankly, some of those models were damn impressive. Sheila joined us just as we finished our tours. I noticed the acquisitive gleam in Babette’s eyes and for a moment I feared that she might sign on the dotted line, and head for home in another motor coach.

  Babette did her aw-shucks routine. “I made my own decision, but my friend will have to drag her husband out here.” She handed Johnson her card. “I’m kind of stuck on that big baby out there.” She pointed to a gigantic class A Thor.

  Guilt welled up in me as I watched Walter Johnson’s face. No doubt the poor man was already calculating his commission on the big sale.

  “You’ve been very helpful,” I said. “Thanks for your time.” As we headed back to the car, Sheila frowned. “Makes you wonder where a guy like Jakes would get that kind of dough. Two hundred thousand bucks is hardly chicken feed no matter how wealthy you are. Not so easy to accumulate or disburse without being traced.”

  One snippet of information had cheered me up. With that sum of money involved, Reedy was now in the clear. Ken was financially comfortable but not wealthy enough to finance Jakes’s new lifestyle.

  “Sounds like something you should discuss with your planning group,” I told Babette. “We’ll bring up luxury motor homes and watch their reaction.”

  Meanwhile, for a number of reasons both personal and professional, I couldn’t wait to call Pruett.

  * * * *

  My calls went directly to Pruett’s voice mail. He left a terse message stating that he would be out of town for a few days and would stay in touch. That shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. After all, Wing Pruett was totally free to do whatever caught his fancy even if it involved another woman. Visions of a certain superstar floated through my mind, but I ruthlessly suppressed them. Such thoughts were counterproductive and did no good at all. Work was the perfect antidote to melancholy. I attended to my pets and spent the rest of the evening in my workshop with the dogs and Thatcher curled up around me. Mercifully, Zeke was nestled peacefully in his outdoor stall.

  Sales of my custom belts had really taken off. That augmented my income stream and brought in a host of new clients for the dog and horse products that were my mainstay. Based on Ella’s reaction, I considered adding a line of custom-made children’s chaps. So many little girls adored horses that it might be a great marketing ploy. I hunched over my drawing table, working feverishly to design several eye-catching versions with fringe. Most of my patrons rode English versus Western so chaps wouldn’t be worn in competition. Youngsters would still enjoy strutting around in them however. My efforts paid off and the final results pleased me. I considered doing a tie-in with Cavalry Farms and splitting the profits with them. By the time I turned off the lights and rounded up Keats and Poe, I was exhausted, but in a very good way that didn’t include Pruett at all.

  Chapter 27

  Babette had also been busy. True to her word, she had scheduled a televised discussion entitled “Uniting the Community,” for a week from tomorrow. The lure of a television appearance, even on a seldom-watched cable channel, had appealed to our little group and all the usual suspects had agreed to participate, even Carleton. No word on Pruett’s availability.

  To my surprise, I also received an urgent request from Babette to accompany her to a cocktail party at Hamilton Arms. Carleton had begged her to play nice, but she refused to go unless I served as her wingman. I couldn’t miss the chance to quiz Jacqui and Charlotte even without the golden lure of Pruett.

  I spent time the next morning rehearsing various strategies and subsequently rejecting all of them. My wardrobe was less problematic. Babette assured me that a little black dress, that panacea of the style challenged, would allow me to blend in with the staid crowd of one percenters. I took her at her word and paired it with a lovely Loro Piana stole that Pip had given me. The beautiful garment fed my fantasies, encasing me as his arms once had. I felt loved and protected again; Pruett be damned.

  Babette Croy was hard to miss in a red satin pantsuit with a lacy camisole. As soon as I pulled into her driveway, she rushed out to greet me, twirling around for my approval with Clara at her side.

  “Very nice, Mrs. Croy. Very nice indeed.” I looked around. “Where’s Carleton?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He left from his hotel. Supposedly had a faculty meeting before the reception but I think we know better.”

  I locked arms with her. “Who cares? We’ll have a better time without him.” I explained my plans for Charlotte and Jacqui. “Since you two are friends, you better take Jacqui. I’ll try to get Charlotte to warm up to me.”

  “Too bad Wing’s not there. He can warm up any woman.” She threw a superior smirk my way. “Heard anything from him?”

  I shook my head but said nothing. My cell phone was still in the truck. I’d deliberately left it there as an act of self-discipline or masochism, I couldn’t decide which. After all, Pruett was a reporter. A good one. If he wanted to contact someone, he knew how to do it.

  Babette dangled the Mercedes key fob under my nose. “Well come on girl. Let’s get this show on the road. I’m taking Clara for backup. She won’t mind staying in the car.” She winked. “See if you can spot my ex’s latest conquest while you’re at it.” Gallows humor had become more typical of my friend lately. I understood that Carleton was a piece of detritus not worth even one of her tears. Still. Rejection was always a bitter pill to swallow.

  As we sped down Georgetown turnpike, Babette grew introspective. “Do you really think a woman did this? Two murders? Seems like overkill.”

  That was one way to look at it. Personally, I was creeped out by the whole thing. My girlhood fantasies of being Nancy Drew had been replaced by a solid feeling of dread. If only things could go back to normal even if normal meant the absence of Pruett.

  * * * *

  Hamilton Arms was primed for opulence that evening. Every imaginable luxury vehicle from Rolls Royce to Ferrari decorated the vast parking lot of the humble Quaker school. I chuckled at the irony of that scene although I kept my thoughts to myself. When it came to the vagaries of wealth, Babette had no sense of humor.

  After surrendering our ride to the parking attendant, we strolled into the entryway, stopping to adjust our eyes to the dim light. Chandeliers supplemented by crystal sconces illuminated the room casting a rosy glow on the participants. I scanne
d the crowd for signs of Carleton, Jacqui, or Charlotte. What I saw instead left me sickened and sad. Pruett, surrounded by a host of sycophants, stood arm in arm with Monique Allaire, spreading charm and dispensing bon mots. The splendor of that golden duo was so astounding that even I felt their gravitational pull. Pruett wore an exquisitely cut suit that had to be Italian. As for Monique—what can I say? She was luminous, arrayed in a silken confection that showcased her incredibly long legs.

  In comparison, my little black dress was closer to a nun’s habit than a symbol of sophistication. I turned aside, pulling Pip’s stole tightly around my shoulders. What made me think for even one moment that I could compete? Desire must have made me delusional.

  Fortunately, a heaping dose of common sense and some tough self-talk rescued me. I was certainly no glamor girl, but I had plenty to be proud of. Pip had loved me and someday so would another man. If not, I could stand on my own with a little help from my friends. Pruett belonged with Monique in another world, a parallel universe where horse shows and leathersmiths didn’t exist.

  At the far-right corner of the ballroom a discreet illuminated sign marked the ladies’ lounge. Sounded like a plan. I glided toward it at a dignified pace, hoping against hope that Pruett had not seen me. Unfortunately, I had not gone unobserved. Charlotte Westly spotted me instantly and hailed me with saccharine smiles and words as poisonous as blow darts.

  “Perri Morgan. Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. I see Wing has another date.” Her mean little eyes glittered with malice.

  I stared at her and waited a full minute before responding. Silence made her antsy as I hoped it would. “Oh, you mean Monique Allaire. Isn’t she lovely? Their little girl Ella is in pre-school, as I’m sure you know.”

  Charlotte rocked back on her heels, crestfallen. “Yes. She’s a darling child. Just what you’d expect with those two as parents.”

  I plunged into my prepared narrative with more vigor than I originally planned. “I guess you’ve heard about the blackmail scheme? With Jakes and Ethel, I mean.”

  Charlotte’s mouth hung open like a gaffed fish. Clearly, this was not the conversation she was expecting. Her completion paled as she sputtered out a response. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  My smile was smoother than Italian silk. “Ah come on, Charlotte. What did they have on you? Jakes bragged about a big pay day.”

  She craned her neck looking for any eavesdroppers. “Quiet. They’ll hear you. Besides I never paid Jakes a damn dime. Ethel put the squeeze on me but not Jakes. When she died, I was finally free.” She sniffed. “I never even had a conversation with that dreadful Jakes creature. If you spread any rumors expect to be sued.” With that, Charlotte Wilkerson stalked off to join her husband, leaving me curious but not much wiser. I combed my hair, adjusted my shawl and ventured out to join the fray.

  Babette was far more proficient at prying information from the unwary. I watched her joke and head toss as she chatted up her old pal Jacqui. To be fair, Jacqui was preoccupied by the many moves of Pruett and his partner. Who could blame her? I sipped my glass of punch, cursing the abstemious Quakers who had robbed me of an alcoholic lift. A shot of false courage would have really buoyed my spirits under duress.

  “I see Babette roped you into coming tonight,” said a snarky voice. It could only be one person. Carleton, looking fully recovered from his injuries, slimed his way toward me.

  “I enjoy parties,” I lied. “You like the spotlight, Carleton, so I’m sure you agree.”

  He snarled a response and sped toward a Chanel clad matron whose wide grin told me she welcomed his attentions. I glanced at my watch, hoping against hope that this shindig would soon be over.

  Then I felt his touch and inhaled a faint whiff of his cologne. “You look lovely tonight, Perri.” Wing Pruett said. “Seeing you makes this torture worthwhile.” He gently tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear and gave me the full wattage of his smile. I felt rather than saw Monique glowering from across the room.

  I took a deep breath to slow my rapid heartbeat. Surely, he could hear it even from afar. By focusing on business, I might spare myself from utter humiliation.

  “Nice to see you too. Babette wrangled me an invitation and I couldn’t resist knowing that three of our suspects would probably show up. We made some progress recently.” My voice was even and my tone polite but not intimate. I was proud of that.

  Pruett’s frown told me he was puzzled. “Maybe you can fill me in tonight,” he said. My eyes widened at the audacity of such a suggestion and Pruett held his hand up. “No double entendre meant. I just wanted to see you. I’ve missed you, Perri. More than you know.”

  I’m a country mouse, not a simpleton. Wing Pruett’s patent leather line would never sway me.

  My smile was wholesomeness itself. “Sure. Let me check with Babette.” I turned toward the podium, confronting the stony stare of one displeased photojournalist. “Oops. Looks like your date wants you back.”

  Pruett grasped my arm. “It’s not what it looks like. The school makes both parents show up at least once a year for these extravaganzas. I had to force Monique to show or risk having Ella dropped.”

  It sounded plausible, perhaps because I desperately wanted to believe it. “How is Ella?” I asked. Just thinking of the little girl made me smile.

  He took my hand and squeezed it. “Ella misses you too. All she talked about was horses and you. Drove Monique bonkers. I had to fly to New York to sort things out.”

  Picturing that scene made me laugh. Before I responded, Babette and her bosom buddy Jacqui barreled into our conversation.

  “Thought I saw you,” Babette said rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Jacqui and I were just discussing our television show. You will be there, won’t you?”

  Pruett nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it. Now if you ladies will forgive me, I better get back to Monique. She’s going to present some special award to the fundraiser of the year.” He locked eyes with me once more, then strode gracefully away.

  Jacqui’s sigh was loud and deep. “Damn, that man is hot. Just look at his backside. Wouldn’t I love to get him in the sack again.” She elbowed me in the ribs. “Don’t mind sharing either, Perri. How about it?”

  I was too startled to respond but Babette saved the day. “Cut that out, Jacqui. You’ve got enough trouble as it is.” Babette dished up her most charming and deceptive grin. “By the way, sugar, did I hear that you’re buying an RV? Deluxe model with all the bells and whistles?”

  Jacqui shrugged half-heartedly and leaned back. “Hardly. I’m not the camping type. Not practical.”

  My pal motored on as if she hadn’t heard a word. “We heard that Jakes planned to buy one. Said he was getting a windfall from some woman.”

  Unless she was an award caliber actress, Jacqui was not the woman involved. She yawned and kept her eye fixed on Pruett as he spoke with Monique. “Suit yourself, Babette. You always do anyway.” She sailed off headed toward the podium like a guided missile.

  “Well that misfired,” I said. “What else did you find out?”

  Babette held up her hand. “Hush. I want to hear Monique.”

  Monique ascended to the platform and spoke in a breathy voice with the faintest touch of a French accent. Even I was charmed by her brief remarks that focused on the school and not herself. Afterwards she posed for pictures with the honoree and several of the board members. Pruett stood by her side the entire time with his arms folded. His expression was impenetrable, impossible to determine whether he was enjoying himself or acting a part. I hoped he was miserable but feared he was not.

  “She’s really something, isn’t she?” Babette said. “Damn near perfect.” She pointed toward her ex-husband. “Look at Carleton with his tongue hanging out. That hound-dog just won’t quit.”

  I changed the subject before Babette said something else to sink my spirits. “Did
you find out anything useful from Jacqui? She didn’t react at all to that stuff about the RV.”

  “Nothing that I didn’t know or suspect before. According to Jacqui, my dear ex-husband has more than one honey stashed away.” Babette avoided eye contact. She looked straight ahead as she spoke. “I knew or suspected anyway that Charlotte was involved, but apparently he hooked another rich one too.”

  I squeezed her shoulder. “Not Jacqui? She might be trying to throw you off the scent.”

  Babette shrugged. “Who knows? According to Jacqui, Ethel caught him kissing someone at one of those posh fundraisers. Knowing what we now do about Ethel, she probably put the squeeze on him and his girlfriend.” Babette’s stiff upper lip trembled as she said that. “Of course, Jacqui screwed around with plenty of married men, so she might be the one. Wouldn’t stop her for a damn minute.”

  I weighed the options while sipping yet another cup of that anemic punch. Either my taste buds had given up the ghost or the stuff had actually improved. “Wow! This isn’t so bad after all.”

  Her snarky grin stopped me in mid-sip. “Nope. A slug of bourbon improves the taste of almost everything.” Babette opened her purse, revealing a tiny silver flask.

  “You are incorrigible,” I said. “Hey, I was thinking… Jakes said he knew who killed Ethel. That means he saw or overheard something the day she was murdered. Something that made him pretty cocky about getting a payoff.”

  Babette sneered. “Something that killed the slime bag. Served him right.”

  “You’re not listening,” I said. Her habit of jumping in before I finished was irritating beyond belief. “Don’t you see? Everything goes back to that group at your house the day Ethel died. The same crowd was there when Jakes bought the farm.”

  Babette hesitated. “Okay. Four guys were there—Jakes, Reedy, Carleton, and Pruett although Pruett had no motive. You, me, Charlotte and Jacqui were around too.”