by Abigail Keam
“Yes. I will wait for you.” Pressing my ear against the door, I heard Jake retreat down the hallway.
Much to Baby’s chagrin, I pulled the draperies closed. But I made it up to him when I pulled out a pint of ice cream from my little freezer and gave it to him. It was the least I could do for his gallant protection. I rubbed his head as he lapped up the ice cream.
Sensing someone was eating something they were not, the cats stuck their heads out from beneath my Hans Weger bed. They looked at me with total dismay. Chuckling, I got out another pint of ice cream and spooned it onto the floor. I would clean up the mess later.
Realizing that I was still in the dark, I turned on the lights, tinkled, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, washed my face and my nether regions as I had . . . you get the idea. I changed into sweatpants and top, then sat at my dresser waiting.
It seemed like an eternity before voices sounded in the hallway. I looked through the peephole. Lights throughout the house were turned on. Jake strode down the hallway, knocking on the door. “Josiah, it’s me. Unlock the door.”
“Anyone with you?”
“Yeah. Charles and a cop.”
“I’m going to let Baby out. Everyone should stand very still until Baby checks them out. I won’t be able to hold him. He’s too wound up.”
“We’re ready. Let him out. I’ve got a leash.”
I slowly opened the door, giving Baby ample room to rush out. I didn’t want my 225-pound guard dog to knock me down in his excitement. Baby quickly smelled Jake and started to pound past him when Jake grabbed his collar and attached a leash. Baby turned and snapped at Jake. Taking the other end of the leash, Jake tapped Baby’s nose and commanded him to sit. Baby snarled. Jake jerked on the leash and commanded again, this time straddling Baby. Seeing that he was dominated by an Alpha, Baby finally gave in.
Jake rubbed the dog’s ears and gave him a biscuit treat.
I pushed past them and went into the great room where Charles and a cop were waiting. The cop’s eyes grew very big at the sight of Baby following me.
“Just stand still and let him smell you,” I cautioned. “He’s scared and not very well trained. Oh dear, I guess I shouldn’t have said that.”
Charles held out his hand for Baby to sniff. Recognizing Charles’ scent, Baby thundered past to the cop.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a good hold on him,” reassured Jake. “Just hold out your hand and talk to him.”
“You sure he’s not gonna bite me?”
“Mastiffs rarely bite. They knock people down and sit on them. I’m not kidding. This breed is several thousand years old. Julius Caesar brought them back from England to fight in the circuses. Knights took these dogs with them on the Crusades.” Jake rubbed Baby’s scarred head. “He comes from a noble lineage. A warrior race of dogs.”
The young cop reluctantly held out his hand. Baby sniffed him, gave him a curious glance with his good eye and snapped up another treat that Jake gave him. Seeing Baby’s haunches had relaxed, Jake let him go. Immediately Baby stuck his snout in the policeman’s crotch.
I pulled Baby away, mumbling an apology. I threw a chew toy into a corner where Baby retrieved it and laid down, but not before circling three times. Why do dogs do that?
The cop audibly breathed again and sat down where I motioned. Charles followed suit.
Hearing the front door open and close, we looked up as Asa strolled in. She was covered in soot and smelled like a chimney. I noticed then that Charles was filthy too. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his face.
Leaving for a moment, Jake came back with water bottles and hot wet washcloths. They were gratefully accepted.
“What happened?” I asked.
We looked to Charles to do the explaining. “Some crazy woman tried to burn down one of the horse barns!”
“Is everyone alright?” I asked, alarmed. Barn burning was a very serious and horrible thing to witness.
“We got everyone and all the horses out of all the barns. Not a scratch on them.”
I looked at Asa and Jake.
“Everything is fine at our place,” replied Asa. Jake and I have doubled checked all the animals and hives. They are fine.”
“Someone threw a chair at my patio door and I heard a scuffle.”
Glancing at his dirty washcloth, Charles stated, “That was Jake and this boy, Officer Snow, tackling that crazy woman. Snow and I had chased her across my land onto your property till we met up with her here. Didn’t you hear the fight?”
“Yes, I did,” I replied, ashamed of my own cowardice when everyone else had been outside trying to put out the fires – literally. “Who was she?”
Office Snow looked up. “She said her name was Lacey Bridges. She was rambling about some story that Lady Elsmere was using her influence to hide a murder at her house and stuff like that.”
I looked hard at Snow. He looked familiar. “Do I know you?”
Turning red, Officer Snow replied, “Yes ma’am. I sat in your driveway for weeks this past summer. You gave me some vegetables one time.”
It was my turn to feel heat rise on my face. “Of course, Officer Snow. Sorry I forgot.” Trying to change the subject, I offered, “I know this Lacey Bridges. She approached me at Addison DeWitt’s funeral. She claimed to have been Addison’s girlfriend and that he was going to leave Doreen but that Doreen killed him. The reason why Doreen would murder her husband was rather confusing. Anyway, she wanted me to help convince the police that Doreen was behind Addison’s death. Where is she now?”
“She’s on her way to jail,” responded Officer Snow. “In the morning, she’ll go before a judge. She will most probably be turned over for a psych evaluation.”
“So she was burning down the barn in protest?” I asked again.
Charles looked tired and sad. “It seems so. Just plain mean, if you ask me.” He looked at his watch. “I gotta go. See you folks later on tomorrow. Lady Elsmere is waiting for me.”
Asa rose and escorted Charles out. She was fond of Charles and thought of him as an uncle. Asa had known him all her life. Charles was one of the few people that had believed her story when she had been hounded out of Washington.
I realized then that Matt was missing. “Where’s Matt?” I asked, holding my breath that nothing had happened to him.
“It was Matt who called the fire department. He said he awoke for some reason and looked out the back window and saw flames coming out of the barn. He called me and I woke up Asa. We rushed over to help.
He’s with Meriah now. I think Matt will stay at the big house the rest of the night.”
“That’s good,” I replied.
“You were never in danger,” said Jake. “I made sure.”
Smiling, I said, “I know that. I was just of no help at all though.”
“Your time will come again, Mom. Just keep getting better,” encouraged Asa, coming back in the room.
I patted her arm.
She yawned. “I’m going to take a shower, get this stink off me and then go back to bed. This has been too much excitement for me.”
“Same here,” concurred Jake.
I took my cue. “I’m going back to bed also. See you both in the morning.” Realizing that I wouldn’t see Jake again until breakfast, as he stayed in his own room when Asa was home, I padded off to bed with Baby.
Darn!
15
Mike Connors and I looked at what was left of the barn – not much. Smoke was still rising from some of the fallen beams. I shuddered. A barnburner. It reminded me of the movie The Long Hot Summer with Paul Newman playing Ben Quick. In the countryside, a barnburner was almost akin to a murderer.
Firemen and the insurance investigator were in the ruins poking around and taking readings.
Finally the Fire Chief conferred with some of his men and stepped out of the charred wood and over to Connors. He looked dubiously at me.
“What started the fire?” asked Connors.
“Just like the lady told u
s last night,” grumbled the Chief. “She started it with gasoline in the back.”
“It’s a wonder all the horses got out,” I marveled.
“She stated that she let all the horses out before she set the fire,” replied the Chief.
“Those horses are very high-spirited and hard to handle. I don’t think one woman could have gotten all those horses out.”
“You got them accounted for?” asked the Chief.
Connor nodded.
The Chief shrugged. “A determined person can do almost anything, if she’s got her mind turned to it.” He looked to me for confirmation.
“You sure she didn’t have help?” asked Connor.
“Nothing to indicate that,” replied the Chief. “Everything will be in my report. Even the recommendation last year when I told you to put in a new water line to the barn complex. There is not enough water pumping through now. What if she had set two barns on fire, especially the one with the mares and foals? That would had been a tragedy for sure, Mike.”
Mike threw up his hands. “I know. I know. I just didn’t expect someone to set fire to the place.”
“This all started with Addison’s death,” I interjected. “Chain reaction. No one could have foreseen these events.”
The Chief patted Mike on the back. “Don’t mean to be so hard on you, Mike. All the facts will be in my report.”
“I know that you’re doing your job. I’m just mad at myself for not doing mine,” groused Mike before stumping off.
Giving the Chief a brief nod, I started the motor in my golf cart and headed back to the Butterfly when I spied Shaneika with Comanche strolling over to Lady Elsmere’s track. Her trainer and Velvet Maddox were with her. A rider was atop Comanche. I went to intercept them.
“Are you sure you want to train today?” I asked, riding along side them walking.
Shaneika shot a look at Miss Velvet.
“Comanche is totally oblivious to the commotion,” stated Miss Velvet. “He is a true narcissist. If it doesn’t interfere with his feeding or safety, he could care less.”
We got to the track and a prancing Comanche entered it. Everyone else took places around the railing. The trainer took out a stopwatch and cried, “Go!”
Comanche took off in his usual lackadaisical gallop.
Shaneika turned to Miss Velvet. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Not sure of anything,” said Miss Velvet. “But that horse won’t do nothing if it is not in his interest to do so. That’s why you’re going to give him a treat if he comes round that bend running like the Devil is after him.” She pulled Shaneika over to the railing and instructed, “Now when he comes round the last bend, you hold out your arm real far and let him see that peppermint. He’s got to see it.”
“You think a peppermint is going to inspire that lump of meat to win a race?” I snorted.
“Hush,” commanded Miss Velvet. “That horse loves only two things, his companion goats ‘cause they look up to him and peppermint.”
I rolled my eyes and shot a look at Shaneika but she was earnestly watching for Comanche. When Comanche came round the bend, Shaneika leaned over the railing and waved the bag of red and white candies.
It didn’t seem like anything had changed but then Comanche thundered past us, depositing little bits of the turf on our heads.
The trainer stopped the clock. Miss Velvet and Shaneika bent over to take a look at it.
“Well, I’ll be,” said the trainer. “Four seconds better. He wouldn’t win a race still, but this is the best time he’s ever had.”
Miss Velvet gave me a smug look. “Now, honey, you give him some peppermint right now and tell him if he does better tomorrow, you will give him more peppermint. Make him understand that the faster he goes, the more peppermint he will get. He has to earn it. No more free treats. Go on now. Tell him,” coached Miss Velvet pushing Shaneika towards the sweating horse.
Shaneika stole a glance at me before telling Comanche in a no-nonsense voice that she expected him to work like the rest of us and that he would only get peppermint if he kept increasing his speed. She also went into length about how she would have to sell him if he didn’t start doing better at races because she couldn’t afford him.
Comanche gave her a wide eyeball stare before snorting and pawing the ground.
“He understands,” said Miss Velvet. “He’ll do better. My work is done here. I’ll send you a bill after he wins his first race.”
“That’s all?” asked Shaneika.
“Horses aren’t that complicated. He’ll work for sweets. If I thought for one moment that you would sell him for horse meat, I wouldn’t help you.” Velvet Maddox smiled. “But I can tell you love him.” Always one to have the last word, Miss Velvet strode back to the barn where she’d left her big farm truck.
Shaneika looked at me and shrugged. Could it be that simple?
Comanche winning a race for peppermints?
There is a first for everything . . . I guess.
16
Lady Elsmere agreed. It was time to have a little talk with Doreen Doris Mayfield DeWitt.
“But we shouldn’t spook her,” I cautioned.
Lady Elsmere took a sip of her tea, lost in thought. Her ruby and diamond bracelet clanged against the fine china cup.
“I know,” chirped Meriah. “My book is being released at Morris Book Shop in several days. Why don’t I ask her personally to come?”
“Is that the book about me?” I huffed.
“No, silly. Just someone who resembles you,” Meriah pouted. “Now don’t spoil this book for me. It’s a good mystery and the heroine will do you justice.”
“Is she good looking?” I asked.
“Stunning!”
“Okay,” I said sarcastically. “As long as I look good.”
“I will call Doreen,” declared Lady Elsmere, “and ask her to come. She knows me better. I know for a fact that she’s going to Florida after Matt and Meriah’s wedding.”
“Then we all three can approach her at different times and ask her questions,” said Meriah, looking very pleased. Instead of writing about solving murders, she was actually investigating one. What a great story this would make for her Hollywood friends.
“I will write down a list of questions that should be asked,” I directed, “and then we can divide them. Now, you realize that you just can’t blurt them out. They need to be asked with some finesse.”
“Really!” sputtered June. “You’d think you were the only one in the room with some sophistication.”
“I’m just saying that if she did indeed murder her husband, then she might react in a negative fashion – like, oh, I don’t know, maybe trying to knock us off too.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” rejoined June, turning towards Meriah. “She’s always such a drama queen.”
I threw up my hands.
Meriah had the grace to look sheepish. “She did fall off a cliff trying to solve a murder,” she replied, coming to my defense.
“That was only because Josiah was too fat to outrun that nasty policeman.”
Looking amused, I said, “and how do you think you are going to get away from nasty Doreen when you are older than Methuselah, you old bat?”
“Charm, my dear, charm,” answered Lady Elsmere, taking a sip of her tea.
Shaking my head, I wrote down a series of questions and gave sections to Lady Elsmere and Meriah.
After discussing the subtle ways of interrogating Doreen without her getting wise to us, I took my leave of the lady of the manor and her court jester.
I called Jake and told him I was heading home. It was his protocol that he liked to be waiting for me.
When I arrived home, he was on his cell phone looking very disturbed. I couldn’t hear what he was saying due to the thunder of the waterfalls coming from the fluted gutter of the Butterfly’s second roof. Jake’s face was flushed and his expression was one of formulating an opinion on something foul. He looked
like he had just been given something rotten to eat.
I wanted to ask him who he had been talking to but didn’t.
He acted aloof all evening, just giving grunts when I talked to him.
Hearing him take a shower later that evening, I quietly entered his room. Finding his cell phone, I pushed the buttons to see where his calls had originated. His last call was from a Pauline Dosh.
I felt the ground move beneath my feet.
Pauline was the name of his ex-wife.
Putting the phone back, I went to my room. I rummaged around until finding my best negligee. I combed my hair and put on some blush. Then I sat at my dressing table waiting for Jake.
Seeming like forever, he finally strode into the room. Seeing me, Jake stopped short and gave a questioning look.
I went over and locked him in my arms. “It’s time, Jacob,” I whispered. I tilted my head up and caressed his lips with mine. And then it began.
Jake picked me up and carried me to the bed.
17
I was at my booth at the Farmers’ Market selling my honey when Doreen suddenly popped up. She was wearing a lemon-colored jumpsuit. She looked like a walking banana. It played hell with her florid complexion.
“Hello,” she said, pulling a bottle of clover honey off the table and into her canvas bag.
“Hello, Doreen,” I replied. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
We shook hands. She had already switched her wedding ring to her widow hand and had placed the rocks to underside of her finger, causing them to dig into my skin when we clasped hands. That was okay if she wanted to play dirty. I dug my fingernails into her flesh and didn’t flinch until she released my hand.
What a little bitch. I’ve met women like her before who “accidentally” step on your foot or give you a cut while handing you paper and then apologize profusely. Nothing is worse than a paper cut.
Doreen gave me a distasteful smile.
I gave her one back. No way was I going to check the damage on my hand with her around. She must have thought the same thing, as she didn’t check her palm either. I felt smug as I saw a little blood on her hand. Served her right.
