Pruett left after we discussed our battle plans. Somehow, he knew this was not the right time for physical contact. Our relationship, or whatever you called it, was fragile. Building trust took time, but satiating lust was easy. Truth be told, while I appreciated sensitivity, I wished he had been more forceful. Sometimes lust is worth considering.
Babette was the ultimate night owl, so I took a chance and called her immediately on Skype. Her voice rose two octaves as she processed everything.
“Good Lord! He had the nerve to face you? I can hardly believe it.” She paused then heaved a big sigh. “Of course, any real man would have explained himself in person and like it or not, Pruett is all man!”
Amen, sister.
Her voice softened as she went in for the kill. “Forgive me, darlin’ but I must ask. Did you have makeup sex? Ooh, that always feels extra good, doesn’t it? Just thinking about it makes me miss old Carleton. I mentioned his assets, didn’t I?”
“Stop!” Babette was heading for a major rant and it was time to redirect her energy. “We did not have makeup sex or any other kind. Nothing like that. Our focus was squarely on the murders, where yours should be too. Thank you very much for your interest.”
Babette was irrepressible but never stupid. She shifted from carnal matters to the thorny issue of two murders. “I’ve been scratching my head, trying to figure out who did it. They’re my friends, Perri, not murderers. The only ones I ruled out were you, me, and Pruett and that was because we never left the room. The others were all over the place.”
As comforting as that was, it was unconvincing. Suppose Jakes had been murdered before our meeting started? That expanded the suspect list to include Babette, although Pruett and I were still in the clear. He had never been out of my sight from the time of his wakeup call to our arrival at Babette’s. Anyone else could have nipped out to meet Jakes, taken him by surprise, and administered the coup de grâce with my beautifully crafted belt. That told me this was no crime of passion. The killer had arrived with the firm intention of giving the blackmailer the final payment he so richly deserved—death.
“What about your cable show?” I asked. “Still planning on doing it?”
“Absolutely. Not to be crude but think of the audience I’ll draw with two murders to talk about. No more local cable. Could be the networks will come a-calling.”
At times, Babette astonished and even horrified me. She made no attempt to mask her emotions even when good sense or decorum would have dictated otherwise. Bascomb was busy searching for a suspect and Babette’s loose lips might indeed sink her ship. I gave her my mean sergeant stare.
“Pipe down. Until they find the murderer, you have to act as close to normal as you can. Bascomb is just itching to nail someone. Need I remind you that both bodies showed up on your property?”
Babette flashed a sunny smile. Nothing, not even the threat of prison, could dim the light of that grin. “Ah, Perri, chill. With you and Pruett on the case, I don’t have to worry.” She made kissing noises and signed off for the night.
* * * *
I overslept again. Sun streamed through my drapes flooding my bedroom with a burst of morning light. That awakened my dogs and one fractious feline, who demanded instant gratification. For once, I was thankful to live alone. After a restless night of interrupted dreams, I was certainly no beauty prize. My pups needed a potty break and a certain pygmy goat would soon be braying for food. At times like this, I was a model of efficiency, dispatching my chores in record time. When espresso’s siren song beckoned, I finally allowed myself to take a break and read the newspaper. I soon regretted that action. Our local rag, Great Marsh Gazette, was filled with tales of Jakes’s murder and the resulting drama. The author had cribbed a good deal of his account from Pruett’s earlier story.
Today’s schedule was horrendous. It was dog show day and as usual I had overpromised and overbooked. I’d agreed to conduct a brief seminar for new pet owners on proper leash and collar procedures, a session encouraged by the AKC. It was essentially a PR stunt but, in this instance, I agreed with them. Anything that encouraged the human-animal bond was a very good thing for both species. Besides, many of those attending would probably spring for a handsome leash or collar from my stock. Not a problem except it was also my scheduled time to exercise the horses at Cavalry Farms.
I battled Beltway traffic for an hour before finally entering the outer Maryland suburb of Timonium where commuters were scarce. Who knew if any of our potential suspects might show up at the event? Ken Reedy almost always did and Sheila seldom missed an opportunity to lead poor Cecil around the ring. Neither of them ranked high on my suspect list but I was anxious to hear speculation from the dog show crowd about Jakes. Had he confided in anyone about his get rich quick scheme? He had few friends but that never stopped Jakes from bragging to anyone in his vicinity. After wrangling a parking spot in the vendor area of the fairground, I freed Poe and Keats and headed for the side entrance. Fortunately, a fellow handler was overseeing the process, and he waved me and my entourage in without a fuss. Strictly speaking, only dogs that were registered for the event were allowed on the premises. Keats and Poe were fixtures, however, and far better behaved than many of their human counterparts.
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 pointer 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.