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 them 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?”
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.