Kimberly laughed. “Seriously?”
“Yes,” Agnes acknowledged. “But we always manage to get ourselves out of danger.”
Kimberly’s eyes widened. “Like how?”
“Well, I credit the sheriff back in town with arriving at just the right time, but let me just say that I know how to talk my way out of dangerous situations.”
El winked. “She is quite a talker as I’m sure you have noticed, Kimberly.”
“Oh, yes, but sometimes us women need to be. Otherwise, who knows where we’d be.”
“So true, dear, but maybe it would be best if El and I left now. You’ll need plenty of sleep before our trip tomorrow.”
Jeremy came back with the glass of water. Agnes took it and asked, “Why did it take you so long getting the water? I hope you didn’t call Clive, giving him a heads up about our suspicions.”
“Not at all. Although I think you’re on the wrong track with Clive, but you have to follow all the leads you’re given. I’m trying to keep my mind clear for the moment. I just don’t feel like Clive is the killer. I’ve known him for a long time and I guess it would be a complete surprise to me if he turns out to be the one who killed Clare and Sasha.”
“I admire you for that, Jeremy. I’m trying not to make any judgment calls here either, but right now, Clint is looking like a suspect.”
Agnes and Eleanor gave Kimberly a brief hug and went back to Mrs. Barry’s house, which was dark when they got there. They dragged themselves up the hallway to their rooms and parted ways. When Agnes hit the sheets, her mind swirled with the events of the day and how they had all dodged the bullet tonight, and before she knew it, she nodded off to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Kimberly yawned when Agnes tapped her shoulder to awaken her. “We’re here, Kimberly.”
Running the sleepiness from her eyes, Kimberly asked, “We’re where?”
Agnes’s lips curved into a cat-like smile. “Don’t you remember, dear? We’re at the McGregor Hotel in Harrington. We’re here to interrogate the other women who filed a sexual harassment lawsuit against Clive Baxter.”
Kimberly blinked her eyes several time before saying, “Oh, how could I have forgotten that.” She patted her head. “I swear ever since I’ve been pregnant that I have a case of brain damage.”
“I understand, but us older folks are the ones who are supposed to forget things.”
Kimberly got out of the car and smoothed her pink and white polka dot dress into place, clacking her sky-high heels along the paved sidewalk that led to a set of glass doors etched with roses.
“Wait for us,” Eleanor said, the yellow cotton sundress she wore rippling along her knees. She patted her curls into place.
Agnes followed Kimberly and Eleanor inside. Unlike the others, Agnes had opted to wear white capris with a spaghetti-strap blouse and flats on her feet. She had no idea how Kimberly managed to wear heels in her condition, but then again, Agnes had never been one for wearing heels, not even when she was younger.
Agnes strode to the counter and tapped on a bell, waiting until a man with a hawk-like nose came to greet them. “Hello, I hope you have a reservation because we’re all booked up.”
Agnes arched a brow. “Oh, what’s all the excitement about?”
He grinned. “I’m not sure what you mean. Do I sound excited?”
“Not exactly, but your face is quite red.” Agnes pointed to a sign behind her. “What exactly is an Aerial show?”
He pulled at the neck of his shirt. “We have a couple of girls performing over the pool today. I’m sure it wouldn’t be your thing, madam.”
El’s eyes widened. “Oh, really, and why not?”
“Well, for one they are scantily dressed. I’m sure you ladies wouldn’t approve.”
“I see,” Agnes said. “I don’t suppose the performers are Teresa Magnes and Samantha Brite?”
His mouth slacked open. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t, but I’m a private investigator. My name’s Agnes Barton, and we’re here to ask Teresa and Samantha a few questions. I don’t suppose you could fetch them for us?”
“I-I don’t know. I’ll have to ask my manager.”
“What on earth for?” Agnes spied a group of men walking through the lobby and heading through a back door. “Never mind, we’ll find the girls ourselves.”
Agnes whirled away before the man at the counter had a chance to respond. She knew the girls were behind her as she heard the clack of Kimberly’s heels across the marble floor. They passed several men who grimaced when they saw Kimberly’s growing belly, like they were the ones responsible.
Eleanor held open the French doors that led to the patio area. Here, iron chairs and tables were scattered along the edges of an oval in-ground swimming pool and above it was an apparatus of some sort with cables that reminded Agnes of the high-wire act in the circus. She gasped in amazement. Such an act must be taking place here today.
A man dressed all in black and wearing sunglasses approached the group. “The show isn’t for a few hours yet.”
Kimberly stepped through the crowd of gawkers milling about. “We’re here to question Teresa and Samantha. We’re investigators.”
“But they are getting ready for the show.”
“Oh, come now. It won’t take more that ten minutes, I promise,” Kimberly said with a sly smile.
He grinned. “Where have I seen you before?” He waved a hand as if to stop her from replying. “Oh, I know. You’re a spokesmodel for the Pretty and Pregnant lotion line. I saw an article about it in the Detroit Free Press today. It’s too bad about Clare Barnett’s death.”
Kimberly smoothed her pink nails against her dress. “Yes it’s awful, and that’s why we’re here. We’ve been trying to find out who killed Clare.”
He rubbed his chin. “So you’re a spokesmodel slash investigator?”
“Yes, well, the truth is—”
“That we need to question Teresa and Samantha before their show,” Agnes interjected. “We’d hate to interfere with the show.”
“I appreciate that.” He led the trio of investigators into a small dressing room near the pool that Agnes figured must have been a pool house.
Two blondes stared at Agnes in confusion. “Can we help you?” one of them asked.
Agnes’s mouth couldn’t form words as both girls were dressed in black leather corsets and panties.
Eleanor rushed forward. “We’re investigators. We have a few questions we’d like to ask you ladies.”
“What about?” one of the women asked. Her blue eyes darkened as she looked at them suspiciously.
“Are you Teresa or Samantha?”
“Teresa. That’s Samantha. What is this about? We’re not in any trouble, are we?”
Agnes finally found her voice and said, “Not if you answer our questions honestly.” Kimberly looked on as Agnes continued, “We’d like to know how you both know Clive Baxter?”
Samantha’s eyes widened. “We don’t know any Clive.”
“Your eyes speak otherwise, dear,” Agnes said. “We also know that you both had filed a sexual harassment suit against Clive, too. So don’t bother wasting all of our time with lies.”
Teresa batted her eyelashes. “You see, the thing is we can’t talk about Clive. We signed a confidentiality agreement to zip our lips. If we start talking, we’ll owe him big.”
“So he paid you two off, then?”
“I already told you, we can’t talk. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming all the way here.”
Agnes narrowed her eyes. “We won’t tell anyone what you told us, I promise, but you don’t understand how important it is for you to tell us what you know about Clive.”
Kimberly stepped forward, rubbing her abdomen. “It’s very important that we know the details about Clive. We’d hate to have something happen to either of you like it just did to Sasha Reynolds.”
Samantha stepped forward, her eyes bulging slightly. “
What happened to Sasha?”
“Frankly,” Agnes hesitated. “She’s dead. She was murdered last night.”
Both girls gulped. “I was afraid that would happen eventually,” Samantha said. “That’s why Teresa and I settled the suit.”
“Was there any truth to the suit, or were you girls just jumping on a convenient bandwagon?”
Teresa sighed. “Oh, why not. It was all a set up. Sasha’s seducing Clive was just part of it. We were having a devil of a time getting decent auditions. Sasha told us all we had to do was press a lawsuit against Clive after she did and he’d pay us off just to make it go away.”
“Did either of you sleep with Clive?”
“No. The truth was that he’s really a nice guy, but Samantha and I needed the money. We had debts up the ass, and if something didn’t happen real soon, I’d have had to move back home.”
“So you basically ruined the man’s life just so you two could live comfortably?”
Teresa wrung her hands. “I feel just awful, but we can’t undo what we did, and it wasn’t without repercussions.”
“How’s that?”
“Vincent Barnett helped pay us off. After that, neither of us got another audition. I heard Vincent lost a ton off the movie when it went out of production. I also heard he took a large insurance policy out on his own daughter, Clare.”
Agnes tried to calm her pounding heart. “How did you hear about the insurance policy?”
“I have a friend whose brother sold him the policy. It was for a million dollars.”
“That makes no sense. Do you really think Vincent is cold-blooded enough to murder his own daughter for the insurance money?”
“He’s a huge Hollywood player, and Clare had become an embarrassment to him when she took up with Sasha, who he had to help pay off.”
“Then why did he involve himself with Sasha?”
“Who knows, but it’s not like he’s young anymore. When you don’t have money in Hollywood, there’s no way you’ll be able to attract young women.”
Agnes gave this some serious thought. Would Vincent really murder his own daughter for the insurance money? It seemed implausible that he was that hard up, but then again, he was flirting with Mrs. Barry just the night before and she just didn’t seem like his type at all—or was she? Was conning old ladies out of their hard-earned savings Vincent’s new plan?
“I appreciate you ladies helping us out. I just wonder what Clive ever did to any of you to make you do what you did to him?” Agnes looked at them both, waiting for an answer.
Both girls remained silent, and as they hung their heads, Agnes led Eleanor and Kimberly back outside. None of them expected the models to answer.
***
Once they were back in the car, Eleanor said, “Whew, those girls were really underhanded. Poor Clive.”
“We don’t know for certain Clive is innocent just yet,” Agnes reminded El.
“But Vincent bought a hefty insurance policy.”
“That’s what they say, but do you really think their word can be trusted?”
“I’m with Agnes on this one, El,” Kimberly said. “I don’t know how we’d be able to verify that the policy was even bought.”
“Good point, Kimberly. I don’t think we can, so we might want to keep that bit of information to ourselves for the time being. What I’d really like to do is question Clive.”
“So, what’s your plan, to just blaze in there and start grilling the man?” El asked.
“Not the best approach,” Kimberly said with a sigh. “Maybe I could give it a go, though. He might be more inclined to tell me the truth than either of you. He trusts me, I think.”
Agnes gripped the steering wheel. “That’s the issue. We really don’t know for certain.”
“Well, it can’t hurt to try. Before I married Jeremy, I thought Clive was even a little sweet on me. Please let me give it a girl scout’s go.”
Agnes nodded, but the turmoil inside of her was rampant. She just felt that the case was too strong against Clive, but at the same time, Vincent had also turned into a person of interest. If only there was a way to prove an insurance policy had been purchased. Mrs. Barry bothered her, too, and how Vincent had doted on her at Rooster’s Inn the night before. What was Vincent’s real interest in Mrs. Barry? Maybe he really had gone on hard times, but surely Mrs. Barry didn’t have any money to speak of, or did she?
“Where are we heading?” Eleanor asked.
“To question Clive, of course.”
“Well, you do realize you just missed the turn for M-25, don’t you?”
Agnes did an aggressive u-turn to get back to M-25, but in the process, she miscalculated the width of the lane and landed the car in a ditch. “Oh, great!” she shouted. “What else can happen now?’
Eleanor leaned forward. “How many times have I warned you not to say things like that, Aggie?”
Agnes tried to open the door, but the car was completely sideways in the ditch. “Are you okay, Kimberly?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “But we really need to get out of this car.”
Agnes nodded, but all her efforts to open the door were to no avail. She pulled out her cell phone and made a call, but it didn’t go through. “Great. We must be in a dead zone.”
Kimberly tried her phone and had better luck. She called Jeremy but only got his voicemail. She left a brief message letting him know that they were in trouble and needed help. “How on earth are we ever going to get out of this car?” she asked.
“Calm down, dear. I’m sure someone will come around to help us, eventually.”
“I sure hope so,” El said. “I’m about ready to have a panic attack.”
Kimberly moaned with a hand pressed to her belly. “Oh my, I feel a cramp coming on.”
“Don’t you dare go into labor, young lady. I delivered my granddaughter Sophia’s baby, but we’re hardly in the position to do that here.”
“I’m only six months. If I go into labor now, the baby won’t make it!”
“Calm down; breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose. I’m sure it’s just all the excitement.” Agnes clammed up when she heard someone knock on the car door.
“Is anyone in here?” a voice asked.
“Yes,” they all screamed in a panic.
With a rending of metal, the door was flung open and an arm extended down through the door. Relieved, Agnes gripped the hand with all her might, wincing at the pressure around her wrist. As she unbuckled the seat belt, she tried hard not to kick Kimberly in the face. It was bad enough Kimberly was seated on the passenger side of the car, which was all the way in the ditch. Agnes finally managed to get a knee against the steering wheel and pushed against it to propel herself forward. When she was pulled free of the vehicle, she fell to the ground, nearly hyperventilating. Her hip throbbed in pain and when she glanced up to look upon the face of her rescuer, a wild panic gripped her as she stared into Vincent Barnett’s stone cold, gray eyes. She had to bite her lip. The last thing she needed to do was overact. Eleanor and Kimberly were still in the vehicle, waiting to be freed from the car.
Vincent whisked a hand through his gray hair. “This won’t do. I need to pull the car out of the ditch.”
“No, you don’t. There’s a pregnant woman in that car.”
“That may be, but how do you think that woman will be able to crawl out? Or your friend, Eleanor, who is on the hefty size?”
Agnes wanted to sock him in the eye. She ran to the car door and called out, “Do you girls think you’ll be able to get out of this car with his help?”
Kimberly released her seat belt, sliding her backside upward and hooking her heel in the steering wheel. From there, she shimmied her way out the door with Vincent’s help. Once Kimberly was free, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of her rescuer. “Thanks, Vincent.”
He gave her an odd look, but jerked open the back seat door. “You’ll have to help yourself out,” Vincent called out to Eleanor.
“I can’t lift you.”
“I don’t think I like the way you said that. I’m perfectly capable of getting out of this death trap all by myself.”
Eleanor unhooked her seatbelt and grabbed the back of the front seat and worked her way to where Vincent was waiting. Vincent took ahold of both her wrists and yanked her out the door. He stood and winced, rubbing his back profusely. “You ladies sure are a pain in my ass.” He glanced up the road both ways and a grin played about his lips. “It looks like you ladies certainly got yourself in a fix today, but no worries now that I have you in my clutches.” He laughed. “After this, I might even write a screenplay featuring you all as characters. It will end quite tragically, though.” He pulled out a revolver from the back of his pants, motioning to the car. “Get moving, ladies.”
Agnes’s eyes widened. “Not on your life.”
He grabbed Kimberly’s arm, pressing the gun against her temple. “You were saying?”
“That we’ll be happy to go with you,” Eleanor said, as she walked toward Vincent’s car, getting in the backseat.
Agnes didn’t have much of choice; she tried to get into the passenger’s side, but Vincent blurted out, “Not so fast. Blondie is sitting in the front.”
Kimberly sat in the car with a blank expression on her face, while Agnes climbed into the back. Vincent slid behind the wheel and burned out and down the road with a spray of stones that clanged against the car. Agnes jerked upright when a thumping sound echoed from the back of the car, like someone was pounded on it.
“Is someone in the trunk?” she asked.
He stiffened at that. “Oh, it’s Clive Baxter.”
“Why would you put Clive in your trunk?”
“Because, dear lady, he killed my daughter and her friend.”
“Then why isn’t he in jail?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Agnes Barton. I know full well you don’t believe Clive was responsible for Clare’s murder. Not since you had a chat with those models at the McGregor Hotel.”
“How do you even know where we were today, or who we went there to talk to?”
1 Pretty, Hip & Dead Page 14
