Agnes nodded to Jeremy as she left with Eleanor. Once they were settled in the car, Agnes said, “Jeremy really needs a wake up call. It makes me wonder how close he really was with Clare.”
“Hogwash. He just doesn’t know what to think, you can’t blame the guy, but he should have more faith in his wife than to second guess her like that. I’m sure it comes off like Kimberly had a vendetta against Clare, but she sounds like she made Kimberly’s life hell.”
“We’re doing a horrible job finding additional suspects here. I just hope the cops hold off until we can find something useful.”
Agnes and Eleanor arrived back at Mrs. Barry’s house to find it quiet except for the sounds of snores coming from the living room, where both the bird sisters and Mrs. Barry were each sitting on a chair. Birdie was perched on a nearby table and he said, “Shhhh.” Agnes had to laugh at that; even the bird had enough sense not to want to wake the trio.
Agnes and Eleanor both trailed off to their rooms for a much needed afternoon nap themselves. Soon more snores filled the house, just as rain began to tap on the rooftop.
Chapter Twelve
Agnes woke up to the sound of pans clattering up the hallway. She stumbled toward the sound and found Mrs. Barry in the kitchen, frying up hamburger. Mrs. Barry gave Agnes a strange look, and remarked, “You might want to take a brush through your hair. It looks a fright.”
Agnes ran a hand through the tangles. “I’m sure it does. Where are the bird sisters and that loud-mouthed bird of theirs?”
Mrs. Barry turned with a spatula in hand. “It’s just Mrs. Peacock’s bird, but you hardly ever see the girls alone.”
“I wondered, but you three sure seem to get along.”
“Yes and no, but lately we’ve grown closer. I can thank Kimberly Steele’s wedding for that. Did you know that the bird sisters made her wedding dress?”
“No, but that’s good to know. My boyfriend, Andrew Hart, just proposed to me, and even Eleanor is getting married soon.”
“You two should have a double wedding. I’ll talk to the girls about sewing you each a wedding dress.”
“Sewing who a wedding dress?” Eleanor asked from the doorway, cleaning her glasses with a tissue.
“Us, she meant. She says the bird sisters are handy with a needle.”
“That might come in handy if your men folk ever decide on a wedding date,” Mrs. Barry said.
“How did you know we hadn’t decided on a date yet?” Eleanor asked.
“Just an educated guess. This is the first time you have said anything about a wedding. Dragging a man to church to wed you is like trying to win the Mega Millions.”
“True, but we won’t be doing much of anything if we can’t solve this case” Eleanor said.
Mrs. Barry poured a packet of taco seasoning into the pan and stirred it into the meat. “So, not much luck, eh?”
“No, but we have a few more men to question.”
“Who?”
“Earl Sams and Richard Dailey.”
“Never heard of either of them, but I don’t go to bars, either.”
“Didn’t Kimberly say that Richard Dailey has a drinking problem?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes, where are you going here?”
“Just that he might be at the Peyton’s Pub already. We could question him there. He might be more forthcoming if he’s had a few.”
“Good idea. We’ll do that after we eat.” Agnes walked over, her mouth watering in anticipation of having tacos for dinner. “That sure smells good, Mrs. Barry.”
Mrs. Barry smiled as she stirred the meat a few seconds more and then cut off the heat. She carried it to the table, setting it down on a hot pad. Eleanor retrieved paper plates that were filled diced tomatoes, lettuce and grated cheese, plopping them on the table. They loaded up the fixings in taco shells and ate in silence— at least, until Kimberly Steele came clomping in.
Agnes couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Girl, please start wearing sensible footwear.”
Kimberly lifted a shapely leg and admired her pink high heel. “They look pretty sensible to me.”
“Yes, if you’re in a strip club dancing, that is,” Agnes said with a raised brow.
Kimberly giggled. “I’m afraid I don’t have the shape for it right now.”
Agnes let the subject drop. “Let’s go to Peyton’s Pub before Richard Dailey is too drunk to talk.”
“Good idea, Agnes,” Kimberly said with a wink. “I’m glad I arrived before you two left without me.”
“You’re husband hired us so you need not be present on every interrogation.”
Kimberly massaged her belly. “We’re a team, remember?”
“Yeah, some team at that, a couple of old broads and a pregnant woman who looks about ready to pop out her baby anytime soon,” Mrs. Barry cackled. When Agnes glared at her, she quickly added. “I was just ... you know, making an observation.”
“I’ll have you know, El and I have done just fine handling our cases even when we were in jeopardy. Not too many people take us too seriously until we have them under our scope of investigation.”
“She’s right,” El said. “Once we are on the trail of a murderer, we don’t stop for a minute.”
Kimberly started out the door ahead of Agnes and Eleanor and waited for them at the Impala.
Agnes joined her and asked. “How far along are you?”
“Six months; just because I look like a fat penguin doesn’t mean I’m set to have the baby soon.”
Kimberly carefully sat in the backseat and when Agnes crawled into the driver’s seat, she made sure to adjust it so that Kimberly had plenty of room although it scrunched Agnes horribly.
They made their way to Peyton’s Pub in relative silence. The gravel lot was packed to capacity and before Agnes had time to reflect on it, Kimberly announced, “It’s karaoke night.”
Eleanor smiled. “Great, I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Agnes nearly snarled as she retorted, “We’re not here to sing, we’re here on business, remember?”
“Aww, you ought to let her give it a whirl. It’s super fun and it might just ease up the crowd,” Kimberly said. “Who knows what useful information we might learn if the natives decide they like you?”
Agnes laughed nervously. “You make it sound like we’ll encounter a pack of animals inside.”
As they clamored out of the car, Kimberly said, “You’ll see.”
Inside it was quite dark, with dimmed Tiffany lamps overhead, as Agnes and Eleanor made their way between packed tables, following Kimberly to the karaoke table. Eleanor grabbed a songbook and took it to a nearby table that was open, making themselves at home.
Eleanor enthusiastically flicked through the pages with a pencil clutched tightly in her hand, like she feared someone might take it at any moment.
Agnes rolled her eyes. “I just know you’re not planning to actually get up in front of this packed group and sing karaoke, El.”
Without looking up, Eleanor scrawled a song title and artist with the accompanying code. “Oh, and why is that?”
“Because, dear, you’ll make a complete fool of yourself.”
Eleanor locked eyes with Agnes. “Thanks for rallying for support, Aggie. Maybe if you let loose now and then, you wouldn’t act like a broom was stuck up your—”
“Hey,” Kimberly interjected. “Behave yourselves, ladies. We’re trying to clear my name, not squabble like school girls.”
Agnes and Eleanor glared at Kimberly, who smartly trotted over to the bar and came back with three sodas, setting them down. “Drink up, ladies. It might be a long night.”
“Why is that, exactly?” El asked, with her back to Agnes. “Is Agnes planning to pick me apart all night?”
“I-I don’t know, but you two sure act odd for friends,” Kimberly said.
El took a healthy sip and slammed the glass back down. “Oh, and are you some kind of expert with how friends should treat each other? Far as I can see,
your only friends are Mrs. Barry and the bird sisters.”
Kimberly sucked in a breath and her lower lip protruded.
“Eleanor Mason, I hope you’re happy with yourself. You just made Kimberly cry,” Agnes said, glaring at her partner.
“I-I’m not c-crying. I’ve just lost track of my high school friends. They all went to college and here I am, fat as a cow.”
“I’m sorry, Kimberly. I didn’t mean to be like that. It’s just that Agnes and I have an unusual relationship, but she started it this time. Boy, does she ever know how to push my buttons.”
“I’m sorry, El, but you know how people can be sometimes. I just don’t want anyone to laugh at you, that’s my job,” Agnes said.
“Oh, we’ll see Miss Smarty Pants. Have you ever thought that I might actually pull this off?”
“Sing you mean, or something else?” Eleanor asked.
“See why she irritates me, Kimberly? She’s always so damn critical.”
“I am not,” Agnes insisted. “I just think we should find Richard Dailey and question him, not singing God awful songs with a screechy voice.”
“Speak for yourself.” El stood and handed her slips to the DJ, who beamed at Eleanor, giving her a quick once over. When Eleanor returned to the table, she ignored Agnes, who was whispering to Kimberly. After that went on for a few minutes, Eleanor finally asked, “What are you two whispering about?”
Kimberly glanced in the direction of a tall man who was leaning over a giggling buxom blonde. “That’s Richard Dailey.”
The DJ’s microphone screeched, much to the chagrin of the crowd, who, for the most part, plugged their ears. “Sorry,” he said. Then he made his announcements and called out names from the slips of paper he had stacked on his music player. First up was a thin blonde by the name of Brittany Bitch. “Obviously not her real name,” Agnes remarked.
“Yeah, but she sure loves to play it up when she’s out,” Kimberly explained.
Sure enough, a Britney Spears tune began and the blonde’s loud voice echoed around the place as she sang. Agnes tapped her foot in time with the song.
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “I can do much better, you’ll see.”
After what seemed to be an eternity, Eleanor’s name was called and she leapt up and took the microphone from the DJ’s hand. “This one is for my best friend, Agnes Barton,” she announced. A familiar twang of the guitar began and Eleanor sang the beginning of a Grand Funk Railroad tune, Some Kind of Wonderful. Her voice might have wavered a bit, but soon the bar full of patrons sang along with her, about drowning her out. Eleanor shook her tail feather and the crowd roared in laughter, pounding their feet in approval. When the song was over, Eleanor pranced back to the table, her face all aglow. “That was fun. You should try it, Aggie.”
“Not a chance, but you did a great job. I’m sorry I was such a doubting Thomas. You really know how to shake it. I hope that wasn’t twerking.”
“No, not at all,” Kimberly said with a smile. “I think they’re about done now. It might be a good time to question Richard about Clare.”
The trio of investigators, led by Kimberly Steele, marched over to where Richard was nearly face-first in his drink, minus the woman now.
“Hello, Richard,” Kimberly said.
His eyes bulged and he shook his head as he stared at Kimberly’s belly. “It wasn’t me. I swear, you got the wrong guy.”
Kimberly’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the problem with you men, you never want to own up to your responsibilities.”
“Actually, we’re here to ask you a few questions about the woman who was murdered recently, Clare Barnett,” Agnes said. “Do you remember her?”
He attempted to sit upright, but fell back to the bar. “I’m not good at names. I’m more the loving ‘em and leaving ‘em type.”
“Really?” Agnes said, with a haughty glance. “I can’t imagine a man in your condition would be much use to any woman.”
“Th-That’s not true. I’m a real lady killer.”
Eleanor walked over and spouted off, “Oh, so you’re admitting you killed Clare Barnett. Why’d you do it?”
His brown eyes bugged out. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t even know the woman, or I don’t think I do. Was she someone important?”
“She was a spokesmodel for a perfume line, but otherwise she’s not anything special,” Kimberly said with a wicked grin.
“Oh, her?” He laughed. “I was wondering when someone would come around and ask questions about what happened that night.”
“What night is that?” Kimberly asked.
“I don’t know, but maybe if I have one more drink I’ll remember.” When he took to glancing from Agnes to Eleanor to Kimberly, Agnes said. “From the looks of it, you’re too drunk already. Maybe we should talk to you when you’re sober.”
“Good luck with that one,” the bartender said.
“Just start talking before I call the sheriff in on the questioning. It should be easier talking to us than the law.”
He gave Kimberly another sidelong glance. “I will if you lose the blonde. Pregnant women make me nervous.”
Kimberly’s eyes widened. “Of all the nerve. It’s no wonder Kathy broke up with you.”
“It wasn’t my fault. She just didn’t understand how important my social life is to me.”
“Social life? You sit in the bar all the time getting shit-faced. I hardly know how you keep a job.”
“Kathy is just a shrew about it, that’s all. It wasn’t my fault I was arrested for driving under the influence.”
“No? From what I heard it was twice the legal limit,” Kimberly said.
“That Deputy Danworth has it out for me, I tell you!”
“Kimberly, please. Maybe you should let me take over now. Go powder your nose or something,” Agnes said.
“But I—”
Eleanor led Kimberly a short distance away and whispered, “You’re agitating Richard. The way you’re going, he’ll never tell us anything.”
Kimberly cocked her shoulders back and strutted away.
Richard let out a belch and muttered, “Thanks, ladies.”
Agnes sat on the barstool nearest to Richard. “When was the last time you saw Clare here?”
“It was the night before I heard she was found murdered. She usually picked someone up every night, but that night she came in with that blonde.”
“I’m not sure what blonde you’re referring to.”
“She was quite a looker, and whenever she came in with Clare, they were all over each other.”
“Bryan Donner told us the same thing.”
“Bryan is one lucky man. Clare never showed any interest in me. I’m not really that much of a sweet talker and I sure don’t have Bryan’s looks.”
“He sure is tall, dark and dreamy,” Eleanor pointed out. “But looks aren’t everything. I bet you attract plenty of ladies.”
He shrugged. “The thing is that watching two chicks make out is pretty cool, but that night it was different. Clare and the blonde were not getting along that night.”
Agnes flagged down the bartender and bought Richard another beer. “Were they arguing?”
He took a sip of the new beer. “Yes. I was trying to mind my own business, but their voices carried over the music from the jukebox.”
“That heated?”
“Yup, and they were arguing about some man. The blonde said she was tired of Clare’s antics and that she should just forget about him and move in with her.”
“Did you hear the man’s name?”
“Jeremy Preston. It’s no secret in town that she was angry when he married another woman. Hey, is that pregnant gal Jeremy’s wife?”
“Yes, she’s also the one cops think might have offed Clare.”
“She looks harmless, but I’m telling you that whoever that blond is, she obviously wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. She told Clare if she didn’t leave town with her that she’d make her regret it.”
“How did Clare respond to that?”
“She didn’t have time to. The blonde stormed out, toppling a table as she left.”
“I see. What happened after that?”
“Clare left not long after; the bartender escorted her outside.”
The bartender swaggered over. “She told me she was afraid that Sasha might be waiting outside for her.”
“Oh, so she told you the blonde’s name was Sasha?”
“Yes, and Clare was very rattled, too. I’ve never seen her look so nervous before. I asked her if she wanted me to follow her home that night, but she declined. She told me that after the photo shoot, she planned to go back to California to sort things out.”
“Did she say what she wanted to sort out?”
“Nope. I sure wish I had asked her for more details, but it was really none of my business.”
“Did you sleep with Clare, too?”
“No, we talked a few times at the bar, but I’m a married man. One who wants to stay that way.”
Agnes thanked the men and they joined an irritated Kimberly. Eleanor proceeded to inform her about the details of what both Richard and the bartender had told them.
“That’s doesn’t make any sense. If Clare and Sasha were at such odds, then why did Sasha drop Clare off for the photo shoot that day?”
“That’s a good question, Kimberly. We need to find Sasha, and soon. She seems to be a viable suspect now.”
“But what about all those men she dallied with?” Eleanor asked.
“We have no reason to believe that any of the men meant her any harm. Sasha is the only one who was irritated with her. Did Clare mention anything about leaving town, Kimberly?”
“Why, no. From the way she acted, she planned to stay until she managed to win Jeremy back.”
“I doubt that would happen, but she sure delighted in making you feel bad, it seems. Maybe that was her ploy—to upset you so much that you’d just leave Jeremy.”
Kimberly smiled. “It’s not that the thought didn’t cross my mind. She did a good job of making me doubt myself and my quickie marriage.”
“That’s silly. It’s obvious your husband is crazy about you, even if he makes lame-brained decisions at times, but what man doesn’t?”
1 Pretty, Hip & Dead Page 10
