Murder at the Polo Club

by Dianne Harman

  “Yes, they told me you were coming. My name is Lupe. Mr. Rutledge said to show you into the library. They’re next door in the barn. He likes to check on his polo ponies every day.”

  “Does he have many ponies?” Marty asked as she followed Lupe down a long hall to the library.

  “He has sixteen. In addition to the ones he rides, the ponies for the rest of his polo team are also kept in the barn. I’ll be back in a moment. May I get you some iced tea?”

  “No, thanks,” Marty said. She stood in the middle of the huge room, staring in awe at the walls lined with bookshelves. Two of the walls had moveable wooden ladders, so the books on the top shelves could easily be retrieved. Since this was Jack Rutledge’s estate, Marty assumed that the books were his. She looked at them a little closer and noticed that about every genre written was represented, and the shelves were filled with what looked to be priceless antique books as well as contemporary novels.

  She gasped involuntarily when she noticed a Rookwood lamp on a desk which she judged to be worth thousands of dollars. She’d never seen one that spectacular, even when she’d visited the Rookwood Museum in Delaware.

  “I see you recognize that lamp,” a male voice said from behind her. Startled, Marty turned to face a tanned handsome older man with a mane of white hair and a petite dark-haired woman by his side, and said, “Yes, that lamp is simply incredible. I’ve never seen one quite like it.”

  “I’m not surprised. From what I’ve been told, there isn’t another one like it, and that’s what makes it so valuable.” He walked over to her and extended his hand. “I’m Jack Rutledge, and this is my fiancée, Pia Marshall. Welcome to the Polo House.”

  “If your other art pottery and art glass items are anywhere near the quality of this lamp, I’d bet you probably own two of the best collections in the United States.”

  “I do bet on polo,” Jack said, “but never when my team is playing, but that’s a bet I won’t take. You see, I’ve been collecting art pottery for years. I was lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time, I sold some start-up high tech companies of mine which allowed me to indulge in my collecting habit and eventually to fulfill my dream of owning a polo facility.”

  “Well, I, for one, am glad you were able to collect the pottery, or we probably never would have met,” the short Italian brown-eyed woman standing next to him said. “If I hadn’t gone to the antique show to try and get some idea of what my parents had left me, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

  “That you wouldn’t,” he said smiling indulgently at her. “Mrs. Morgan, I believe that was the name on your business card that Dick gave me, how do you want to go about this?”

  “Well, first of all, the name isn’t Morgan anymore. I just returned from my honeymoon, and now my name is Marty Combs.”

  “In that case, I imagine congratulations are in order. Pia and I are getting married in three weeks, and that’s the purpose of the appraisal.”

  “Please, tell me a little more. When I talked to Dick at the insurance company all he said was that I was to appraise an art pottery collection as well as an art glass collection.”

  “That’s true, but there’s a little more to it than that. My art pottery collection was appraised several years ago, although I never had it insured. I was just curious what it was worth. What I want you to do with it is update the values listed on it and appraise the pieces I’ve collected since then, so I can have it insured. Here’s the appraisal that was previously done.” He handed Marty the appraisal.

  She took it from him and glanced at it. “I don’t know who did it, but it looks to be quite thorough. Is there any chance I could have a copy of it? I also need to personally see the items listed in the appraisal to make sure you still have all of them, and that they’re in the condition as noted in the appraisal.”

  “Not a problem,” Jack said. “I’ll walk you through the collection when you’re ready to do it. I’d like you to do Pia’s collection first. She inherited a number of French and American art glass pieces from her parents who recently passed away. Her mother and father collected the glass for years, but they never had any of it appraised. They didn’t trust appraisers, and the items weren’t insured. Pia just moved into my house a few days ago, and all of the pieces contained in their collection are still in the boxes Pia packed them in when she brought them out to California in a U-Haul truck.

  “We thought the easiest way to do this would be for you to take the pieces out of the boxes and appraise them one by one. When you’ve finished we’ll figure out where we want to put them. By the way, Pia and I have signed a trust agreement, and these pieces are going to be included as part of the trust.”

  Pia looked at Marty and said, “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what’s even in the collection. That’s why I was at the antique show. I realize I should know something about them if I’m going to own them.”

  “If we’re going to own them,” Jack said smiling. “Kind of old school, but what’s mine is yours and yours is mine.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Rutledge,” Lupe said walking into the room. “There’s a man at the front door, Kevin Sanders, and he says he needs to talk to you. He said to tell you it is very important.”

  Jack Rutledge flushed, and an angry look passed over his face. “That no-good…”

  “What’s this about, Jack? I’ve never heard of him, and I’ve never seen you like this,” Pia said with a look of concern on her face.

  “I better go talk to him. Let’s just say if there’s one person I hate in the polo world, he’s the one,” Jack said as he turned and followed Lupe out of the room.

  CHAPTER 4

  “I know, Mom. I can’t believe it either,” Jensen Rutledge said, “I found out a few days ago. I wanted to be the one to tell you, so you didn’t read about it in the paper or hear about it from one of your so-called friends.”

  “I really never thought this would happen,” Debbie Rutledge said in a teary voice. “I know we grew apart, and he never forgave me after he found out I was having an affair. That’s why he divorced me, but as hurt as he was by that, it never occurred to me he’d remarry. Have you met her?”

  “Yes. She moved in two days ago. Mom, she’s nothing like you. You’ve got more class in your little finger than she has in her whole body. I don’t understand what he sees in her.”

  “Tell me what you know about her,” Debbie said, struggling to keep her voice under control.

  “Well, she’s Italian. She has long jet black hair and big brown eyes. I suppose Dad finds her attractive, but I’d think she’d have a little grey in her hair at her age. Probably uses a bottle to keep her hair that color.”

  “Sweetheart, hate to say it, but most women my age use the bottle to cover up a few gray hairs. Speaking of age, how old do you think she is?”

  “She’s younger than Dad. I’d say she’s probably in her late forties, maybe early fifties. She’s short, and I guess I’d have to say she has a nice figure.”

  “What’s her background? Has she been previously married?”

  “I don’t know. Neither she nor Dad has mentioned what kind of work she did while she lived in Los Angeles or if she’d ever been married.”

  “What’s her name? I’m going to Google her and see if anything comes up,” Debbie said, her voice much stronger now that the initial shock of what her son had told her was over.

  “Pia Marshall. That’s all I know. Hold on, Mom. I’m going into the kitchen and get a beer. I’ll be back in a minute. Why don’t you Google her while I’m getting my beer?” Jensen put the phone down and looked across the polo grounds at the barn and his father’s luxurious home. Most people would say that Jensen’s home was simply a smaller model of his father’s home and quite luxurious in its own right. It was several hundred yards from the main house and in close proximity to the polo grounds.

  Being the manager of a polo club and polo grounds owned by your father isn’t a bad gig, Jensen thought. Sometimes I think
it’s all about being born to the right parents, and I was lucky enough to win the lottery.

  With a freshly opened beer in his hand, he walked back into his office and picked up his phone. “Find out anything, Mom?” he asked.

  “Jensen, not many things shock me at this point in my life, but I have to say I’ve never been as shocked as I am at this moment.”

  “What do you mean? What did you find out?”

  “She worked as a shoe clerk in Los Angeles, but that’s not the worst of it. If you’re not sitting down, you might want to. Her ex-husband was convicted of drug trafficking and spent ten years in prison. I Googled him and found out he just got out of a California prison. She’s a nobody. I can’t understand what your father sees in her. I’ll bet she’s a gold digger. If you don’t want to be working as a shoe clerk yourself down the road, you better do something to stop the marriage, because your new stepmother is an absolute nothing who was previously married to a felon. I can’t believe what your father’s doing.

  “Since he seems to have lost his senses, I’ll bet he’ll leave everything to her, and the polo grounds and the home you’ve shown me pictures of will be nothing but a nice memory for you. Since she’s obviously younger than he is, he’ll probably go first, and she’ll get everything, although what a shoe clerk would know about owning a polo club and polo grounds is beyond my imagination,” Debbie said snidely. “Do you know if they’ve signed wills or created a trust? You’ve got to protect your interests as well as mine. I’m still getting alimony from your father. If he dies, I’m sure I’ll never get another dime.”

  “I know Dad’s attorney came to the house yesterday, because I recognized his car, but I have no idea what took place. Mom, you’re really making me nervous.”

  “Jensen, you better be nervous. Let me be very clear about this. If they get married and he dies first, which common sense says he will, your days as the manager of the Rutledge Polo Club are through. I doubt she’d keep you on out of the largesse of her heart. Since she probably doesn’t know anything about polo, I’ll bet she’d sell all of it and move back to Los Angeles. With what she’d get from your father’s estate, she could buy just about any mansion she wanted in Beverly Hills.”

  “Mom, I need to sign off. Dad’s having a big cocktail party here tomorrow night, and he’s put me in charge of making sure the barn and the grounds are spotless. The crew and I have quite a bit more to do. Let me think about this, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Do that, Jensen, but you better figure out some way to keep their marriage from happening.”

  *****

  In the middle of the night Jensen awoke with a start, his mind having devised a plan while he slept. He looked at his clock mentally calculating how many hours he had until the store opened. He wanted to be the first one there and needed to be back at the house as soon as possible. With the cocktail party this evening, there were a number of last minute things that needed to be done. He smiled, knowing that the problem his mother had described could be taken care of rather easily.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Marty,” Pia said, “I know you must think I’m an idiot for not knowing how much my things are worth or even what they are, but I left the family home many years ago and moved to Los Angeles. My family lived in New Jersey. My father owned several supermarkets, and my mother was a lawyer. They did very well financially, and it allowed them to indulge in their passion of collecting art glass.”

  “Not at all, Pia, a lot of children have no idea that what their parents own may have some significant value.”

  “Well, it’s a little more than that in my case. My parents didn’t approve of the man I married, and we were estranged for many years. As it turned out, they were right. After I divorced him, my parents and I reconciled a few years later. My father died shortly after that, and then recently my mother died. My sister lived near my parents, but for some reason I was the recipient of their art glass collection and their house. I was also named by them as the executor of their estate. My sister was not very thrilled that I essentially got everything. I’ve often wondered if my parents felt guilty about those years of estrangement.”

  “Who knows? Families are funny, but it looks like you’ve started a new life, and from what I’ve seen, it’s going to be a very good life,” Marty said.

  “Just between you and me, I sure hope I don’t do something to embarrass Jack. He’s a wonderful man, and I can’t believe how lucky I am that he loves me and wants to marry me. I’m a little nervous about it because I’ve never been around anything like this,” Pia said gesturing wide with her arms. “I often had to work two jobs to make ends meet. My husband’s work was unsteady, so I was never exposed to dinner parties or polo. This is a completely different world for me. For instance, I don’t have a clue how to be the hostess at a dinner party, although tonight I’m going to be tested as the hostess of a large cocktail party.”

  “Pia, it really is a small world. I live in what could loosely be called a compound. There are four houses which surround a large courtyard. One of the men who lives there is a chef, and he happened to mention at breakfast this morning that he’s going to be the caterer for your cocktail party tonight. Since I’ve eaten more meals of his than I can count, I can assure you the one thing you don’t need to worry about is the food that will be served. He’s a genius when it comes to cooking.”

  “Good. By the way, I have a favor to ask of you. I just moved here from Los Angeles two days ago. As Jack mentioned, we met at an antique show in Los Angeles and continued to see one another, but other than Jack’s son and my sister, who arrived unexpectedly last night, I don’t know anyone who will be coming to the cocktail party tonight. I’d feel a lot better about it if you would come as my guest. At least that way I’d know one friendly face in the crowd of strangers.”

  “I’ve never been to anything that has to do with polo, but I’d love to come,” Marty said. “Thanks. I’ll call my husband, who’s a detective with the Palm Springs Police Department, and see if he can join me. Do you think it will be alright with Jack?”

  “Of course,” she said laughing. “He just wants me to be happy, but who wouldn’t be happy living in a beautiful mansion like this? My collection is in my half of the wing on this side of the house, down this hall.”

  Marty realized that the two wings of the house she’d seen when she arrived extended back on each side of the central part of the house and flanked a large swimming pool and outdoor entertainment area.

  “I can’t believe I actually have all this room. Jack said I can change the furniture if I want to, but I think the decorator did a good job. What do you think?” Pia asked as she opened the door to her suite.

  “It’s beautiful,” Marty said looking at the tastefully decorated sitting room with Navajo rugs scattered on the highly polished tile floor, old chests that served as storage containers and tables, as well as couches which had been covered in bright Southwest colors, reminiscent of the peach, pink, and purple colors of the desert sunsets. Large white wooden shutters opened out onto the enormous pool and brightly striped cabanas next to it.

  “Here’s my bedroom. It’s decorated pretty much the same. My suite is bigger than the entire apartment I lived in for years in Los Angeles. There are times I feel like I grabbed the golden ring on the carousel. Look at this bathroom. It has everything anyone would ever need, and the walk-in closet is enormous.”

  “Looks to me like Jack designed it with you in mind. This really has been decorated beautifully. What’s this?” Marty asked, pointing to a needlepoint sign on the door that read, “Welcome.”

  Pia smiled abashedly. “I know it sounds silly, but I want to keep the romance alive when we’re married. I remember reading one time that if a woman was lucky enough to have her own bedroom, she should have a sign on the door that specified when someone was welcome. That way you’d always look good for the person you were trying to impress. I don’t want Jack to be disappointed he married me.”

&
nbsp; “I’m no psychologist, but from what I’ve seen of Jack, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Marty said. “Did you do the needlepoint on it?”

  “Yes. You’ll notice a number of pillows on the couch and on the bed. I’ve done all of them. I’m a lousy cook, gardening doesn’t excite me, I know very little about art, music, or polo, but I’m very good at needlepointing.”

  “Pia, I think you’re going to be a very quick study. I see a number of boxes at the far end of the sitting room. I’m assuming your parent’s art glass collection is in them.”

  “Yes. I went back to my parent’s home and arranged for the house to be sold. Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t much money in the estate. I didn’t feel comfortable taking both the art glass collection and the proceeds from the house, so I gave my sister the money from the sale of the house, since she was the one who’d really taken care of my parents for the last few years. They spent pretty much everything they had on this collection. I have no idea what it’s worth, but based on the fact they both had successful careers, I would think there must be some good pieces in it.”

  “There’s only one way to find out. I need to get a few things out of my car before I start. Why don’t you take the pieces out of the first box, so I can get started? What does Jack think of your collection?”

  “He’s only seen a couple of the pieces. I boxed them up, and as I said, I drove a U-Haul truck from New Jersey to my apartment in Los Angeles. My apartment was very small, so it was easier to just keep them boxed up, and I really didn’t have anywhere to put them. This has all happened pretty fast. Jack and I only met two months ago, but like he said, at our age what are we waiting for? I was a shoe clerk in a large department store, so I gave notice and moved in with Jack a few days ago. It’s been a whirlwind with lawyers, moving my things, planning the wedding, and getting settled here. Now, why don’t you go get what you need, and I’ll start taking the pieces out of the first box.”