by Millie Mack
They had no sooner started to play their game at a different table than they heard voices.
“Nice shot, Carrie,” Charles said just as Brad Barrington and his wife, Linda, entered the room.
Brad didn’t have the same boyish good looks as Todd, but instead he had the square, chiseled jaw of most of the Barrington men. He stood head and shoulders above his brother in both physical height and respect from the family. He’d never had time to indulge in pranks like his younger brother. From a very early age, he’d been groomed to be the heir to the family firm. Charles also suspected that with Brad’s father taking a more active role in Country Club business, an announcement might be forthcoming about Brad’s new leadership role at the firm.
“I heard you two were in the Club tonight.” Brad’s tone was less than friendly. His wife said nothing, but her facial expression also expressed displeasure at seeing the couple.
“Hello, Brad. Nice suit. It makes you look like a stockbroker. Good evening, Linda,” Charles said, trying to be cordial. Linda was Todd’s age, though she gave the impression of being older. She was a well-groomed blonde and the perfect social partner for Brad. She knew how to dress, how to throw a party, how to volunteer, and how to agree with her husband.
“I can’t believe you two actually have the nerve to show your faces here.”
“Are you talking to us, Brad?” Charles answered.
“Don’t get smart with me, Faraday!”
“Now, boys, let’s not let things get out of hand.” Carrie knew Charles was goading Brad, but she also knew this wasn’t the time or place for such shenanigans.
“Get out of hand like they did the night you killed my brother?” Brad said.
“That’s enough, Brad. It’s time you and Linda find some other spot in the Club to spend the rest of your evening. Personally, I’m tired of teaching the Barrington family how to improve their manners. And no, that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with your brother’s death,” Charles said.
In a split second, Charles had Brad by the arm. Before Brad could react, Charles was able to pull him to the door, open the door, and move Brad into the hall. As fate would have it, Mr. Heathrow and Mr. Albright were passing by with their wives as the fracas occurred.
“Gentlemen, please. Mr. Faraday, you need to take these frays outside the hallways of this Club,” Mr. Heathrow said.
“I agree with you completely. The Barringtons need to learn some manners, since their behavior disturbs the ladies and the lovely atmosphere we have here,” Charles responded.
“Keep it up, Faraday. You’ll get yours,” Brad said
Linda and Carrie had followed the men into the hallway. “Let him go, Charles. I’ll get him out of here. Come on, Brad. Let’s go to the part of the Club that doesn’t have the riffraff,” Linda stated.
Charles waited a moment to make sure Linda had Brad under control before he released his grip. Then he calmly walked into the game room and shut the door.
Carrie clapped her hands. “You know, each time you protect this family, I’m becoming more impressed with your defense capabilities.”
“Thank you, darling. A little something I managed to pick up during my years in business school.” He smiled a broad grin. “Now where were we?”
“This is becoming a very long game. We’ve been playing this one game for over an hour.”
“Want to forfeit?”
“Forfeit to you? Never!” She grabbed her stick and made a perfect shot, but then her game went downhill. The rest of the game took only fifteen minutes to complete.
“You should have quit when you had the chance, Carrie.”
“It just seems to be your night, darling. I’m happy for you. Come on, let’s go. I’ve some other activities in mind for you tonight.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and headed for the door.
Out in the hallway, the sound of their names being called startled them. They turned to see James Marshall, president of the Club. James was a congenial sort of fellow. He usually spent Saturday nights at the Club, greeting people and just being president. Tonight he looked very natty in his navy-blue blazer, sharply creased tan slacks, and a tan turtleneck sweater.
“Hello, you two. I was hoping to catch you before you left.”
“Hello, James,” Charles responded cordially.
“You look very dapper tonight,” Carrie added.
“Thank you, Carrie. A compliment from a lovely lady is always appreciated. How was dinner? You two made quite a stir in the dining room. What brought you to the Club tonight?”
“James, we eat at the Club every other Saturday night when we’re in town and several other times a month. Why wouldn’t we be at the Club tonight?” A slight annoyance showed in Charles’s tone. “I hope you’re also questioning the dining motives of those folks who haven’t eaten here in the last two years but showed up tonight.”
“Charles, don’t get upset. I just meant that under the circumstances I was surprised to see you both. I hear you two had a rough time with the police.”
Charles was about to speak when Carrie touched his arm. “Actually, the police did stop by to ask a few questions, since we saw Todd at the dance. But I understand the police have been questioning everyone at the Club. It seems like asking lots of questions is the modus operandi of their investigation.”
“Why isn’t anyone questioning why the Barringtons are at the Club, as if nothing has changed in their lives?” Charles cut in. “This tragedy struck their family, while it had nothing to do with Carrie and myself. We just left the game room, where we ran into a very unpleasant Linda and Brad Barrington. I imagine some of the questions people are asking about us are based on the rumors Brad and Linda are spreading. And quite frankly, I don’t appreciate it,” Charles said.
“Unfortunately, it’s not just Brad and Linda. I think many of our members feel this tragedy may have something to do with you. The police are asking lots of questions, and they all seem to focus on what you two were doing on the night of the murder.”
“James, we’re very sorry that Todd was murdered,” Carrie said. “However, to be perfectly frank, it was an unfortunate set of circumstances that we saw Todd on the night of his murder. Perhaps they should be spending their time questioning who else that drunken young man annoyed.”
“Look, let’s not get too emotional. I think the Club has been under enough strain these last few weeks. What we thought of Todd is beside the point. The fact of the matter is, Edward Barrington is up for president of the Club. He wants…I mean, we all want this matter solved in a quiet and expedient manner,” said James.
“Our having dinner at the Club keeps that from happening? What you’re really saying is, Edward Barrington doesn’t want us at the Club. I think that was obvious by the way his son and daughter-in-law tracked us down.”
“That’s not what I said. It’s just that since you two seem to be the center of the investigation, every time you appear, the murder is back on the lips of the members. I just thought it might be better for everyone to wait until they find who committed the murder before being…well, quite so visible. I’ve also suggested to Linda and Brad that they allow the police to do the investigating and the accusing. It isn’t good for the members to have these little hostilities occurring in our hallways,” James said.
Charles realized that James did care about the Club. Charles took a deep breath. “James, I appreciate your concern, but there are two things to consider. First, if the police are concerned about our activities, then the worst thing we could possibly do is drop from sight. People would naturally assume…Well, they would assume the worst. Secondly, we pay the same dues to belong to this Club as Edward Barrington and everyone else. We like the food, we like the Club, and we’re particularly fond of the people. I think we’ll keep taking full advantages of all the privileges of our membership. Come, Carrie. It’s time to go.”
With that, Charles took Carrie’s arm and escorted her down the hallway toward the front door. In an alcove
near the door, they saw Brad and Linda, Mr. and Mrs. Barrington, the Chaneys, and the Armstrongs sharing drinks.
“Can you believe the nerve of that guy, asking us to curtail our activities at the Club? What’s he worried about? In just a few more weeks, he won’t be Club president anyway.” Carrie made the remarks as she stretched back in the front seat of the car while they headed home.
“Well, I’ve no intention of curtailing our activities. In fact, I’m planning on showing up a little more frequently.”
“By the way, are our membership dues current?” Carrie asked as she reclined her seat a little farther.
“We’re not only paid up, but I decided to pay for a year in advance. Remember the Club’s capital fund drive to get money for the addition? I was a good little Club member and helped the fund by paying ahead. Besides, my grandfather was a founding member. Therefore, we’re charter members and cannot be expelled as long as we pay our dues.” Charles turned into their lane.
“That’s the only way we can be thrown out, not for murder?” Carrie asked.
“Murder isn’t mentioned in the bylaws, but embezzling funds is listed,” answered Charles.
“Charles, have you embezzled any funds lately? All kidding aside, I’m not sure we should increase our visits to the Club.”
“You agree with that fool Marshall that we’re creating a disturbance?” he asked, annoyed.
“Not at all. I just think neither of our waistlines can take that kind of eating more than twice a month.” Carrie reached over and squeezed Charles’s arm.
“Have I told you I love you?” Charles said, pulling into their driveway.
“Not in the last several hours.” He leaned over to kiss her.
“Charles, look out!” Carrie yelled.
harles looked up in time to see a car racing down the middle of their driveway toward them. “Hold on!”
Charles swerved the car off the driveway between two trees, then turned back onto the asphalt surface. He braked hard and came to a sliding stop. Charles looked in the rearview mirror to see the dark shadow of a car careening into the street.
“Darling, are you all right?” Charles helped Carrie to sit up. The impact of hitting the grassy area and then braking had forced her even lower in the seat.
“Who the hell was that?” She struggled up with Charles’s help.
“Well, you sound OK. Did you see anything?”
Carrie was rubbing her elbow. “I saw the lights, and then when our car went off the driveway, I hit my elbow as I slid lower in the seat. How about you?”
“I couldn’t see the driver, but the car was a dark color. I don’t think black, but maybe maroon, dark blue, or green.”
“That narrows it down dramatically.”
“Now don’t be sarcastic. Did you see the driver?” Charles asked.
“No, but I did see one thing. The car had temporary tags.”
“Well done, Carrie.”
“Although I’m not sure how good a clue that is. Hundreds of people buy new cars,” she said.
“It’s still a smaller population of people, especially people associated with this case. But we’re going to have to work fast, because temporary tags are only good for thirty days. Depending on when he or she bought the car, they could be one day or twenty-nine days away from getting permanent plates.”
“Hey, you’re throwing cold water on my hot clue.”
“I’m sorry, darling. It’s a good clue.”
“I wonder what the driveway racer wanted. Come on, Charles. Don’t sit here. Let’s get up to the house and see what happened.”
Charles placed the car in gear and continued up the driveway. He glided smoothly into his parking place in the garage. Then he helped Carrie get out.
“Ouch.” She winced as the pain shot once again through her elbow.
“As soon as we get inside, I’m calling the doctor.”
“Really, I’m fine. This area of the elbow is very sensitive. It will be fine in the morning after I bathe it, rest it, and get something warm.”
“Something warm. Are you talking about me or something else?”
“I’m always talking about you, but right now I’m talking about a nice cup of hot chocolate.” She punched him gently in the ribs.
“You keep that up, and I’ll have to call the doctor for two injuries: your elbow and my ribs.”
The glass in the back door was broken, and the door stood slightly ajar. There was no doubt someone had been in the house. The kitchen cupboards were opened, and most of the contents had been thrown about the floor. The flour and sugar canisters had also been dumped.
“Holy mackerel! Will you look at this place! Is anything left in the cabinets?” Out of habit, Charles bent down and picked up several boxes.
“Charles, where’s Baxter?”
“I don’t know. Baxter! Baxter?” Charles called his name, knowing that cats have a tendency not to come when called.
“Charles, you don’t think the intruder took him, do you?” Carrie asked as tears welled up in her eyes.
Then they heard a scratching sound from the pantry. Charles and Carrie looked at each other as Charles took a kitchen knife from the holder and moved Carrie behind him. He carefully opened the door. Sitting on the floor, covered with flour, was Baxter.
“Oh, Baxter.” Carrie picked up the orange kitten, and he snuggled into her arms. “He’s shaking, Charles.”
“He’ll be all right.” Charles came over and ruffled the top of his head as flour clouds emerged from his fur. “He probably hid in the pantry when the intruder started throwing things.”
“Could a woman have handled the car, the way it sped out the driveway?”
“Absolutely. It could have been a woman driving. Why?”
“I think the lady with the shoes like mine was here.” Carrie stood over a small, pointed footprint outlined in the combination of flour and sugar.
“Don’t touch anything. I’m going to call the police.”
While Charles placed the call, Carrie checked the other rooms in the house. The living room and dining room had been spared the destruction. In the study, Carrie’s desk had been trashed. Multiple books from several of the bookcases had been thrown on the floor. The computer was still running, and Carrie’s disk box had been dumped.
“They’re on their way. Darling, you probably shouldn’t be touching anything.”
“I know, but I want to be sure my work is here.” Carrie picked up her disks. “It’s OK. The disks are all here.”
“Do you think she was after the paper we found at Todd’s?”
“If she was, she didn’t get it.” Carrie walked over to the calico cat bookends. She carefully unscrewed the paw and removed the paper. She waved it in the air. “Safe and sound in the calico cat. I wonder why she didn’t keep searching. Although she probably wouldn’t have known to unscrew the paw, nothing on this shelf has been touched.”
“I can answer that. Remember I said it would have taken two people to move Todd’s body. Murderer number two was at the Club and warned her we had left. Of course, she still cut her timing pretty close.”
“You don’t think it was James Marshall who warned her.”
“I don’t know. But I do know it had to be someone at the Club who saw us leave. The only problem is, I think most all the suspects saw us leave.”
“Marshall angered you, so you were driving pretty fast. If you hadn’t been, we probably never would have seen her coming down the driveway.”
“Are you criticizing my driving?” Before Carrie could answer, sirens could be heard coming into the driveway.
Carrie was amazed at how quickly the police looked the situation over and were ready to leave. When she questioned why they weren’t taking fingerprints or shoe prints, the police responded, “There have been a lot of break-ins in the area lately, and the intruders wear gloves. Since you indicate nothing appears to be stolen, we’ll file a report indicating that another break-in has occurred.”
&
nbsp; Even when Charles pointed out that the break-in might be related to the murder of Todd Barrington, he received nothing more than a raised eyebrow. When Charles insisted this link was important, the officer made a call to his sergeant.
“The sergeant has made a note to pass on to the detectives in charge of the murder investigation. You know, you folks should think about installing an alarm system. A good alarm system would have alerted us the minute the intruder was on the premises.” The officer closed his notebook, and he and his partner said good-night.
Charles and Carrie watched the police car slowly retreat down the driveway. “That was a fascinating experience,” Charles commented.
“I was going to take firsthand notes to use in my next book on precise police investigation at a crime scene,” Carrie responded sarcastically.
“In some ways they’re correct,” he said reflectively. “Nothing was taken. The thief more than likely wore gloves. We already know what shoe fits the print. In fact, why don’t you run upstairs and get the matching pair of shoes?”
A few minutes later, Carrie came down the back staircase to the kitchen. “Here they are, darling.” She opened the box and took out one shoe. “It looks like the right foot to me.”
Charles took the shoe and carefully placed it in the flour outline. “This print is slightly bigger than your shoe. Let’s see. You wear a size twelve,” he said with a grin.
“We’re having a good time tonight, aren’t we? I think it’s all that rich food you ate.” She laughed. “Just for the record, I wear a size seven and a half.”
“I know you do. I was just teasing. What do you think? Would this shoe print be about a size eight?”
Carrie stood directly over the print. “I think it’s a full size bigger, which would make it eight and a half. Of course, that is one of the most popular sizes.”
“By the way, where did you say you bought these shoes?”
“At Bentley’s Main Street Shoes. But Charles, this is a brand-name shoe, which means they’re sold in department stores as well as smaller independent stores like Bentley’s.”
