Free The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land by Gerald W. Darnell

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