Sheila Sands bit her lip as she pondered my request. “The Orangerie. I should have known. It fascinated that stupid slag.” She locked eyes with me. “Oh, why not. I saw Pruett’s Jag in the garage, so I expect he won’t be joining us. Not for a while at least. Be a shame to destroy a beautiful specimen like him.”
She remained perfectly composed and exquisitely attired while discussing her crimes. We had played this scene so many times before—just two gal pals shooting the breeze.
“Ethel.” Sheila spat the name. “A small time grifter who thought she hit the big time. I hadn’t planned to kill her, but she taunted me. The fire extinguisher was there and boom. The bitch deserved it. She was on the lam, you know. Ellis’s security guys got the scoop on her. Pure poison.”
“And Jakes?”
“Pathetic! He saw me riding my mountain bike the day Ethel died. Hadn’t counted on that. That’s how I got to Babette’s without leaving tire tracks. Anyhow, Jakes saw me, so he had to go. I got there early and finished him off. Grabbed his phone too.”
No wonder. Jakes was long dead by the time I got that text. “And Carleton,” I asked. “Why clobber him?”
Sheila grimaced. “Now that was pure pleasure. Should have finished that creep off as a public service. I knew you and Babette were in Georgetown, so I gave Ethel’s digs a once-over in case she really had stashed something there. Carleton interrupted me and paid the price.”
I marveled again at her composure. Murder and mayhem didn’t faze her at all.
“You have everything, Sheila. What in the world was worth risking that?”
It was the wrong thing to ask. She glared at me through the slitted eyes of a stranger.
“For Christ’s sake, Perri, Ellis is eighty-two. No amount of Viagra can hoist up his flag. I’m a passionate woman. You may not care about sex, but I do. Ethel loved snooping. She overheard something indiscreet and followed me. End of story.”
Was it really that simple? A cheating wife defending her turf? The whole thing seemed so pointless.
“Surely Ellis would forgive you. He loves you.”
“Status means everything to men like Ellis. More than any wife, for sure. Ten years ago, I signed a prenup that would send me right back to the trenches. I’m too old for to restart my nursing career, Perri. Not a chance.” She motioned to me with the Glock. “Let’s get this over with.”
I was almost out of time. “Let me crate the dogs first. Please Sheila. That way they won’t give you any trouble and you won’t have to hurt them.” I bet my life that she was first and foremost a person who would never harm an animal.
“Okay. Nothing tricky, though. I’m a crackerjack shot.”
I stepped back, just as a piercing shriek filled the air, jolting both of us. Zeke at his most vociferous. When Sheila turned toward the window, I saw my chance.
“FASS!” I called to the Malinois. Those brave boys hadn’t forgotten their training, or the Schutzhund command for attack. They leapt at Sheila as one, dislodging the Glock from her hand and throwing her to the floor. I moved swiftly to capture the gun and signaled my dogs, with Pass auf!, the guard command.
Sheila didn’t move a muscle. She was motionless, ossified, the ultimate stone sculpture. I watched her closely as I dialed Bascomb’s number.
* * * *
Everything after that was anticlimactic. Police cruisers, sirens and one highly perturbed police Lieutenant arrived within minutes. Babette and Pruett were right behind them.
“Good Lord,” Bascomb cried. “That’s Mrs. Sands. There must be some mistake. Do you know who her husband is?”
For once, the power of the fourth estate came in handy. Pruett stood at attention taking in every word and recording each detail. Despite the gods of commerce and money in Great Marsh there would be no cover-up this time. Not today.
Babette sidled up to Bascomb and clutched his arm. “She’s got Perri’s horse, Titus. Please let me go with your guys to get her.”
I strode over to Sheila before he could stop me. “Tell us, Sheila. Where is Raza? It’s the least you can do.”
She tossed her stylish bob and grinned, making me forget for a moment that this was a double murderer not my friend. “Really, Perri. Use your imagination. Raza is enjoying my barn. Stall right next to my gelding. I truly love that horse. Promise me you’ll find him a good home. Ellis might have him put down.”
Bascomb nodded at Babette and signaled to his officers. “Go on. I can always say we have Mrs. Sands’s permission.”
Pruett had disappeared into the bedroom, smartphone in hand. I knew he was contacting his editor, phoning in the biggest scoop to hit DC that year. It was his job after all and he was good at it.
* * * *
Sheila Sands was booked for two counts of aggravated murder but didn’t go to trial. Her husband dispatched a battery of high-powered attorneys who descended upon the Fairfax County police with all the impact that money and influence can bring. A team of eminent psychiatrists testified that Sheila suffered from paranoid delusions and was not competent to face her accusers. A plea bargain was arranged, and Sheila was confined to a luxurious facility to receive the treatment she so badly needed. When their schemes came to light, no one mourned either Ethel or Glendon Jakes. They were soon forgotten as more sensational crimes captured the public interest.
Pruett received accolades for his expose and I got a valuable prize as well by becoming the proud owner of Raza, the beautiful mare who captured my heart. That was one love match that would never fall asunder and even Pruett admitted that he was slowly warming up to the equine experience. Despite Sheila’s murderous intent, I also felt obligated to safeguard her horse. With Ellis Sands’s agreement, his wife’s beautiful gelding was gifted to Hamilton Arms where he would receive lifetime care and love. Throngs of horse-crazy little girls would see to that.
Cecil got a happy ending too when Ken Reedy welcomed him into his home and his life. Under his tutelage, the Ridgeback pup gained confidence and points toward his AKC championship. Something magical happened when those two joined forces, the odd confluence of canine love and human need. Ken suddenly exuded a zest that I had never seen in him before. By saving Cecil, Ken had reignited his own passion for life and something more. Although we never discussed it, I knew that Ken was the secret lover Sheila had cherished. Sometimes things work out after all.
The future of Cavalry Farms was also safeguarded. A coalition of veterans’ groups, animal activists, and children’s advocates combined to repurpose the facility as a haven for abandoned horses and human souls damaged by PTSD or physical ailments. The powers-that-be in Great Marsh proudly touted it as a crown jewel in the town proof positive that the affluent community had a big heart.
Pruett and Ella now spent most weekends at my place. We continue to take our relationship slowly, caring more for each other day by day. For the first time since losing Pip, I felt whole again, freed from the crushing burden of doubts. A brush with death can do that to you.
By circulating a vastly inflated account of our heroics, Babette enhanced our reputation as amateur sleuths and solidified her claim as a change agent. Although I downplayed the entire incident, she eagerly sought opportunities to showcase our detective skills. According to Babette, our next adventure is right around the corner. I’ve learned to never bet against her.