The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land (9 page)

I told him my plan.
 
He listened and just kept shaking his head and saying, “you’re going to get hurt.”

“I understand your concern.
 
Let me put the first part in place and see how fast the rats run.
 
We can adjust if it doesn’t go as planned,” I argued.

“Okay, Carson.
 
But no guns and no rough stuff.
 
Agree?”

“Agreed.
 
Will I see you at the party tonight?”

“Sure, if you look out on the highway for traffic control.
 
Chief of Police, Raymond Griggs, and I have every man available to control this mad affair.
 
We’ve got the governor and lord knows who else flying into town – it will be one crazy evening.”

“Leroy, I would prefer to stay home myself, but I think I do owe it to Mary Ellen to show up.”

“Sure you do.
 
And I don’t suppose you’ll be seeing that Elizabeth Teague at the party – will you?” he grinned.

“Well, she might be there – not sure.”

“You’re a liar Carson.
 
Now I have to go.
 
You’re staying at Chiefs, I assume?”

“Yep – call me there if anything happens.”

“No, you call and stay in touch with me or one of my deputies.
 
And thanks for lunch.”

“You didn’t eat anything!” I shrugged.

“I know,” he chuckled walking back out the front door of the Ramble Inn.

~

I
had forgotten to ask Leroy about the license number on the car driven by the mysterious Brad Knuchols, so I headed to the sheriff’s office to make my request.

Jeff Cole was manning the desk.

“Jeff – I need a favor,” I asked when he looked up from his paperwork.
 
“Can you run a DMV check on a Memphis tag for me?”

“Sure, but it will take a while – I know you won’t want to wait.
 
Anything about the vehicle we need to know?"

“I’ll be able to tell you that when you get me the detail.
 
It may be nothing, but I have a hunch what we learn might be interesting.
 
Its Tennessee tag number 1-4J745.”

“Memphis or Shelby County for sure,” he seemed curious.

“Yep.
 
I’m headed to the party tonight, so if you find out before you leave to direct traffic, call me at Chiefs, okay?”

I didn’t intend to embarrass him, but he took it that way.

“You know Carson, we have much better things to do than direct traffic so some rich assholes can have a party.
 
Unfortunately, the guest list is so heavy that if we weren’t visible, Leroy would never hear the end of it.”

“Jeff – I know.
 
And, frankly, I’m glad you guys are going to be around – I just wish I were going to be somewhere else!”

“Sure you do Carson. Sure you do,” he said returning to his paperwork.

I had time for an afternoon drink before putting on my penguin suit and Chiefs wasn’t particularly crowded for a Friday. The jukebox was at its usual volume and the small TV behind the bar was on mute – as always.
 
Nickie brought me a Jack/Coke and I watched some muted Memphis TV reporter standing in front of what appeared to be a burned building or a house trailer and a car.
 
I couldn’t read her lips and I really wasn’t interested.

What I was interested in was the group of ladies sitting in the corner booth.
 
They were drinking some of Nickie’s cheap wine and completely engrossed in their conversations and themselves. They looked good, and I was thinking, perhaps a beauty review might break out in Chiefs – all we needed were judges and some different music!

“Hey Nickie,” I said loud enough for her to hear and, hopefully, no one else. “Who’s in the beauty review over in the corner?”

“I don’t know the names, but they are all former Strawberry Queens or Miss Something or Other.
 
Here for the party, I’m sure. Hey, I have a message for you.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You don’t pay me to take messages – although I wish you did.
 
Your lawyer – Jack Logan called and said he would see you at the party. Guess he had a last minute invitation. That was the message.”

“Okay – thanks.” I guess Judy Strong had invited Jack to the party – which was a good thing.

It was shaping up for quite a show.
 
I headed off to Cottage 4 for my shower, shave and penguin suit.
 
No cars in front of Cottage 5 – maybe they had already left for the party.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
T
he geography was perfect. Humboldt airport was located just across the highway from the Humboldt County Club and the Mary Ellen Maxwell house was situated less than a quarter mile from the runway.
 
Logistics were also perfect.
 
Caddies from the club drove golf carts, shuffling people from the airport to the club, to the Maxwell house and to/from the parking areas. Parking was either at the Country Club, at the Maxwell home or in a large parking area in a field just off Warmath Circle.
 
I chose the field.

The Humboldt airport was small – very small.
 
Aircraft operation after dark required pre-arrangement and payment upon use.
 
Nickie’s cousin, Ted Blaylock, ran the airport, and according to her, he had been contracted to keep airport operations open all weekend.
 
It was apparent many guests would be flying in for the party.
 
This was shaping up to be quite an event.

I’m not sure if I was early, late or right on time. I had just gotten the Ford settled in the parking area when a young man in a golf cart quickly picked me up and headed for the Maxwell residence. Passing the airport, he pointed out Governor Buford Ellington’s plane, which had arrived earlier.
 
It brought 8 passengers, including guests and security.
 

Based upon its size, I’m sure it was one of the larger airplanes to ever use ‘Humboldt International Airport’.
 
Yes sir - this was going to be one big event.

I spotted Jeff Cole at the end of the driveway and asked the cart driver to drop me off with Jeff – I would walk from there.

“Jeff, did you get a make on that tag number?”

“Oh, Hi Carson.
 
Yes, I did.
 
Walk over here to my cruiser, I’ve got it written down on my pad.”

His cruiser was parked in the middle of Warmath Circle with all lights on and flashing.
 
Jeff was assigned to keep vehicle traffic away from the house and direct them to parking areas in the field or at the Club.

“So who’s parked at the house?” I was curious.

“Just a select few.
 
Mostly family and some overnight guests.”

“Guess I didn’t make the cut – huh?”

“Well, your name isn’t on the list – I can tell you that.”
 
He reached into the cruiser and pulled out a note pad. “Here’s what DMV had on the tag number.
 
The vehicle is a Dark Blue 1961 Chrysler.
 
It is registered to C&R Distributors with an address on Beale Street – Shelby County, Tennessee.
 
That mean anything?”

“I’m not sure, but I have some ideas.
 
What I would really like to do is match it up with a Cadillac Limo – but I never got that tag number.”

Jeff was interested and ready to help. “We have several limos and they are all parked at the Club.
 
Tell you what – I’ll get their tag numbers tonight, and tomorrow see if we have a match.
 
That work?”

“Absolutely.
 
And if you can find out who is riding in that limo, I’ll owe you a case of beer and provide myself to help you drink it.”

“You keep the beer,” he chuckled. “Once everyone gets settled, this is going to be a long and slow night – so I’ll have plenty of time to check it out.
 
And if we’ve got some ‘bad guys’ at our party, I know Sheriff Epsee is going to want to know about it. Catch up with me tomorrow and I’ll tell you what I find out.”

I headed down the driveway, then walked toward the main house. Although not dark yet, they had lights everywhere – which meant plans included late night activities.
 
A small band had set-up around the pool and they were playing soft music as guests mingled, ate, drank and talked.
 
I counted two bars, with bartenders, around the pool and another in the yard area next to the lake – all crowded.
 
Finger food tables with ice carvings adjoined each bar and I figured maybe to eat something tonight besides a hamburger.

The main residence door was open and I could see guests coming and going through that entrance - as well as the pool door, which exited from the den area.
 
I entered the main door.
 
It opened into a large foyer located between the den and formal living room.
 
Sitting in the middle of the foyer was a large white fountain containing a statue of a young naked man standing on one leg.
 
 
The young man was relieving himself into the contents of the circulating fountain – which was constantly being replenished with champagne by two lovely young female attendants. This was not here on my last visit and certainly not a part of the normal furnishing – it had to be part of the catering service.

The fountain was drawing a lot of attention, and a lot of use.
 
I’m still trying to figure what I was looking at, when an attendant filled a champagne glass and handed it to me. “Welcome to the Maxwell home,” she said.

I’m STILL staring at the fountain when someone threw her arms around me from behind – it was Judy Strong.

“My favorite detective,” she said before giving me a kiss and a big hug with an ear nibble. “I am so glad to see you again and thank you for coming.
 
I know Mary Ellen wants to see you and I suspect her shadow does too.”

“Shadow?”
 
I knew what she meant, but had to play dumb.

“Elizabeth Teague – Liz.
 
And don’t pretend you don’t know what I am talking about.
 
Anyway, Jack is here – somewhere – I seem to have lost him.
 
But I have you, Jack and me a table reserved at the club so we can catch-up during dinner. That okay?”

“Absolutely.
 
Where is Mary Ellen?
 
I would like to say hi and thank her for the invitation.”

“Stay right here and watch that lovely little fellow tinkle the champagne – I’ll go find her and be back in a jiffy,” she said scurrying off into the crowd.

With that, she disappeared into the crowd and I had the little fellow freshen up my glass while I waited.
 

I didn’t know any of these people and assumed they didn’t know me either.
 
I was certain if they DID know me; I was totally unrecognizable in this tuxedo.
 
My instinct and training did have me scanning the room - trying to figure who some of the notables might be.
 
I thought I had spotted the Governor, when Judy came back with Mary Ellen in tow.
 
Only a few steps behind Mary Ellen was Gerald Wayne, of Wayne Manufacturing.
 
I was glad to see they had gotten together – I figured this was a good match for both.

“Carson, thank you so much for coming.
 
It is great to see you again and even nicer to see you under these much better circumstances,” she said as I was getting her standard hug and cheek kiss.

Then spoke to Mr. Wayne, “Good to see you Mr. Wayne – how are you?” I was shaking his hand.

“I am as well as can be expected.
 
Thanks to Mary Ellen, things have been much easier than I anticipated – I guess we owe you a thanks for that too.”

“
You do not.
 
I am just glad to see everyone moving along and forward with their lives.
 
How is Carrie Mae?”

“She is as great as ever.
 
I’ll tell her you said hi and please stop by to see her while you are in town.”

“Will do.”

Conversation had stopped, and just as I was going to ask Mary Ellen a question she said, “Carson - Liz isn’t here yet.
 
She is running late but is on her way.
 
Her message was for me to look after you until she got here – guess she’ll take over then!”

I had no comeback for that comment.

I followed them as they mingled through the crowd - occasionally stopping for some finger food or a fresh glass of champagne.
 
Mary Ellen introduced me to a lot of people, including both her sons – Lewis and Chuck.
 
Two handsome boys that I estimated to be very close in age.
 
The party occasion was Lewis’ 21 birthday, she repeated that several times.

Introductions to numerous other nameless people did, at least, have me headed in the right direction – toward one of the bars. Champagne is not my drink – bubbles give me a morning headache.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
It was during one of these introductions that I spotted her.
 
The scene reminded me of a queen bee at the hive and ‘in heat’ - with the male bees constantly circling.
 
She was sitting in a corner next to the open patio doors – just where people traffic would be the heaviest.
 
Men would stop, talk, shake hands then walk off – only to return again a minute or two later.
 
She seemed to greet each one with the same grace and charm – I doubt if she knew any of them – or cared, but she certainly had their attention.

As I got closer, I understood the reason for the activity.

It is difficult to define beauty.
 
While everyone recognizes it, they seem to have their own definition of what beauty is.
 
Those are personal definitions from the individual - and if you analyze them – they are all the same.
 
I challenge that this lady could be the sum total of all those definitions.

She was modestly dressed, when compared to most other women at the party.
 
That was a message in itself – regardless of what she wore, her beauty overshadowed everything.
 
Flowing blonde hair, flawless features, skin, and lips that glowed with just the right tone – along with the ability to carry all these in the proper manner.

Unlike what you expect from most women, I never heard her speak.
 
She would just nod, bow and shake hands. While her voice probably matched what you saw, she was smart enough to understand that words were not important – she wanted them to look at her – not engage in a conversation.

I didn’t know this woman – and I didn’t want to know her.
 
My professional instinct told me that the further away I was from this woman, the safer I would be.
 
Unfortunately, I, like many others, was simply overwhelmed with the beauty and I stared rudely
 
– enjoying the flavor to my eyes.

Arms around my waist and an ear nibble brought me back from paradise – it was Liz.

Embarrassed by my staring at this lady, I tried to cover up quickly. “Hey beautiful, I’m trying to pick up a woman – you got any suggestions?”

She gave me a wet kiss and said, “Well Mr. Reno – looks like you have already made your choice.
 
Do I still stand a chance?”

“Just looking at the candy – I haven’t unwrapped anything yet.”

“Close your mouth Carson – that is one piece of candy you don’t want to unwrap – trust me.”

I believed her.

We made it to the bar, had a real drink and then a slow dance to the music from the pool band.
 
It was comfortable to have Liz here – I felt much better.

The next excitement was the arrival of Phillip Chaney.
 
He, evidently, was the rich boyfriend of Charlotte Luckey and his plane had just landed.
 
Announcement was made that he would join everyone, including Charlotte, at the Club reception.

Eventually, we linked with Jack and Judy to make our golf cart trip over to the Country Club.
 
If you can imagine, it was even crazier at the Club.
 
The downstairs bar was overwhelmed, and the only solution was to find our assigned table and begin our drinking operations from there.