Lucky Thirteen (10 page)

“Knock it off, Mark,” was Alex’s standard response.

I ignored him and pulled up a spot on the edge of the bed to shoe my feet.

“Come on, Mark, we have to get going,” Alex said. “Chloe, I’ll be
back
late this evening. Call me if you uncover any important news.”

“I will,” I assured him.

The men turned to leave. Before they made it to the door, I had a thought that seemed worth pursuing.

“Mark, before you leave,” I began.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Where did you go the previous night after you left us at the Hightower estate?”

“Chloe!”
Alex protested.

“Wait a second now,” Mark said, holding up a hand to ward Alex off. “Am I a suspect in the recent goings-on that Alex has been telling me about? After all, Alex told me that you’re something of an amateur detective.”

“Amateur,” I replied, raising my eyebrows.

“Chloe,” Alex replied in exasperation.

“I’d just like to know where you were, to clear the record so to speak.”

“Well, for the record, I returned to the hotel here where I went straight to bed.”

“Alone?” I couldn’t believe I’d actually asked.

“Chloe, that’s enough!” Alex insisted.

“Alone,” Mark answered with a chuckle.

“And I suppose that fact can be corroborated by someone,” I prompted.

“Afraid not,” Mark replied. “I didn’t run into a soul on the way back to my room. Are you ready to arrest me now?” Mark asked, holding his wrists out as if to be handcuffed.

I frowned at his childish antics. Alex grabbed Mark’s arms and guided him back toward the hotel room door.

Alex had been looking for a partner for a while and I hadn’t been willing to quit work to come onboard full time, but I was not certain that Mark was the best choice.

“Come on, Halifax. I’ll see you tonight, Chloe.”

After the men had left, I walked around the room gathering up my things in preparation for my own departure. Luckily, I was able to store all my stuff in a fanny pack which I carried with me out the door. I hate carrying a purse, especially during an investigation. After all, you never know where a lead will take you and in many situations a purse was nothing more than an encumbrance.

I left the hotel and a doorman held the back door of a taxi for me while I climbed in. I gave instructions to be taken to the nearest rental car agency. Once there I rented an inexpensive economy car and obtained directions and a map to the Hightower estate in the country. In no time at all I was back on the highway speeding my way toward the next stop in my investigation. I felt my heart beating wildly at the prospect. In an attempt to calm myself, I put my mind to work ordering the information that I’d so far been able to gather.

Someone had sabotaged the crucial horse race required for Miss Hightower to retain control of her estate. The most likely culprits were either Hillary and his family or Harrigan. Miss Hightower herself was about to provide an important piece of information just before she disappeared. I suspected foul play in her disappearance connected with the doping of Soft Spoken Hal. I assumed that if I identified the individual behind the doping that I would also uncover the whereabouts of Miss Hightower—please, God, alive and not dead. Finally, I made note of the fact that time was not on my side. The longer my investigation took, the greater the probability that I would never see my friend again. These facts were sobering and helped to both steel my resolve and settle my nerves.

It required almost two hours of driving before I arrived at the front gates of the Hightower ranch. I drove through the open gates without hesitation and parked my car on the gravel drive before the mansion. At the front door I knocked and was pleasantly surprised when Charles opened the door. He looked both shocked and relieved when he saw me.

“The family is just
sittin
’ down to lunch in the dining room,” he said, which I suspected was his way of directing me to where my investigation should begin.

“Still no word of Miss Hightower?” I asked hopefully.

“No,” Charles declared with a frown.

I decided to take advantage of his lead by following him to the dining room, where I stepped into the room as he announced me. There was a stranger at the table who was guiding Hillary through signing a stack of papers while Hillary continued to eat. I assumed it was Hillary’s lawyer and that they were already working out the details of the property transfer.
And with his sister missing.
I was disgusted.

“Good God, Ms. Boston,” Hillary declared, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “What the blazes are you doing here?”

“Your sister has disappeared, or hadn’t you heard?” I replied. “I was hoping that I might be of some assistance in finding her.”

“Who invited you?”

“Your sister did.”

“Well, now I’m uninviting you,” Hillary said, setting his napkin aside on the table and standing to better confront me.

“You aren’t the master of the house yet, Hillary,” I volleyed back.

“I am when my sister is absent. Tell her, Mr. Samuels,” he said, gesturing to his lawyer.

“I’m afraid that he’s right, miss,” the little man concurred.

“Charles, would you please escort Ms. Boston from the property?”

“Not so fast,” I said, stepping forward to take a seat at the table.

Hillary appeared positively apoplectic at the effrontery of my presence. I for one was disgusted by the fact that he and his family were able to carry on their routine business in the absence of his beloved sister. And I had questions, which I was determined that Hillary was going to answer.

“Where were you the night before Soft Spoken Hal was found to have been doped?” I began.

“I don’t have to answer your questions. You’re not the police.”

I decided to throw in a Hail Mary pass.

“What would you say if I told you that I saw you come downstairs the night that I stayed and drive one of the golf carts to the stables?”

“I would say that you’re a liar. I was sound asleep in bed the entire night. It sounds as if you were the one creeping around that night and therefore the one who should be investigated.”

“And I suppose your wife can verify your alibi?”

Instead of replying to my challenge, Missy lowered her head and looked away.

“Yes, she can,” Hillary replied for her.

“And what about you, Sissy?”

While I asked my questions I paid particular attention to the family’s responses. Hillary’s hostility and Missy’s timidity I expected. What I did not expect was Sissy’s reaction. She looked genuinely terrified by my presence.

“Enough!” Hillary declared. “Charles, I insist that you lead this woman from the premises immediately.”

“Come, Chloe, it’s time you left,” Charles said from behind.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” I said, standing.

I allowed Charles to guide me from the room; after all, I didn’t want for him to get in trouble with his employers. However, before exiting I turned to insert one last barb.

“Hillary, I suspect that you had a hand in your sister’s disappearance. And I’m going to prove it.”

I then left before he could have the satisfaction of getting in the final word. Or so I thought.

“I’ll have you arrested if I find you on my property again,” he threatened from the other room.

Charles and I shared a smile and a shake of our heads as he led me out the front door of the mansion.

“I’m glad you’re here, Chloe. I’m concerned about the madam and have been considering what you told me about starting an investigation.”

“Have you heard anything from Detective Phillips?”

“He called to say that he would stop by sometime this afternoon to take statements from the family.”

“I can assure you that will uncover nothing of any help. I’m sure they’ll be as closed-mouthed with him as they were with me.”

“I fear you may be right,” he replied solemnly.

“Has anything peculiar been going on around the house lately?” I asked.

“Other than the appearance of Hillary’s lawyer, nothing strange.
Except the new master of the house has begun
fattenin
’ himself up by having additional servings of food sent to his room.”

I stood for a while, unsure of what to say to give Charles hope. He looked just as lost for words.

“Charles, before you throw me off the property, I was hoping you’d allow me to have a look around the stables.”

“It’s fine with me,” Charles replied. “Just keep a low profile. The
master
will throw a fit if he finds out you’re still here.”

“Thanks. I’ll be sure I’m not seen.”

I gave Charles a hug, which surprised him but ultimately evoked a smile in return, before climbing into my car and driving to the stable which housed Soft Spoken Hal. I parked behind the stable in the hope my car would be harder to see and walked inside like I owned the place. The stable hands ignored me. I found Soft Spoken Hal’s stall empty and was about to enter when I was challenged by a familiar voice.

“You there, what do you think you’re up to?”

I turned to face Jerry Dietz, the head trainer. He was carrying an ominous-looking pitchfork in his hand. Since I knew that he had others to muck out the stalls and distribute hay, I suspected that he was brandishing the tool as a threat.

“You,” he seemed to snarl. “What do you want?”

“I came to ask a few questions about the doping of Soft Spoken Hal and the subsequent disappearance of Miss Hightower.”

“What would any of us here know about any of that?”

“That’s what I plan to find out.”

Jerry set aside the pitchfork and came to stand well within my personal space. I stood my ground, unwilling to let him intimidate me with his size, proximity, and worst of all, his smell.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

“Miss Hightower.”

“How could that be if she’s missing?”

“Suppose I ask the questions and you provide the answers,” I replied, having taken enough of his guff.

“Shoot,” he spat in my face.

I was surprised by his response but eager to take advantage of the fact that he was actually willing to talk to me.

“Where were you the evening that I was here for dinner, afterward?”

“I was here in the stable looking after Soft Spoken Hal.”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

“Any one of the stable hands.”

“Do you mind if I ask one of them?”

“Be my guest.”

“So, at no time was Soft Spoken Hal left alone the night before the race?”

“No. Someone was always looking after him.”

“More than one person at a time?”

“Always.”

Why was this man talking to me? I asked myself. For one thing, the more he talked the more I felt that he may be innocent of any wrongdoing. I wondered if that was his ploy.

“What about previous nights?”

“Someone is always here in the stable, twenty-four hours a day.”

“Looking after Soft Spoken Hal?”

“Not necessarily.”

“And not necessarily two at a time?”

“No.”

“How much to you know about horse doping?”

“No more than anyone else who’s spent their life around racehorses.”

“How long would evidence of a stimulant remain in the urine?”

“I would imagine no more than a week.”

“And to the best of your knowledge, would someone be able to dope a horse without drawing the attention of someone watching over the stable?”

“Not likely,” he said with a suspicious smile.

“Then the doping incident involved someone here looking after the stables?”

“I think that I’ve answered enough of your questions.”

I was sorry he’d decided to clam up but felt that I’d found out what I needed to know. I watched as he picked up a glass from the floor and filled it with water from a portable cooler. He downed the beverage in several large gulps and placed the glass on the edge of the stall. He looked surprised to find me watching him when he was done.

“What? You’re still here?”

“I was wondering if you’d mind if I examine this stall.”

“Be my guest,” he replied. “Just be gone by the time I return.”

While Jerry walked away to talk with one of the stable hands, I unlatched the stall door and let myself in. I looked back to see Jerry pointing at me before he left the stable. After he left, the stable hand he’d been talking with set his broom aside and stood watching me.

I was disappointed to find that the stall had been recently cleaned. I was sure that any evidence it might have held would be long gone, but spent several minutes poking around through the fresh straw covering the floor. I was about to quit when I saw something sparkling in the corner. I bent to find something wedged between the boards of the stall. After I pried it loose, I was surprised to be holding an elaborate diamond earring in my hand. I knew that none of the stable hands could have lost the earring, and also that Miss Hightower never wore such elaborate jewelry. There was one person who could have left it. I even thought I recognized the piece of jewelry from when I’d last seen it worn. I slipped the earring into my fanny pack.