Lucky Thirteen (9 page)

“Not well,” I assured him. “She’s talking with the track officials now. What do you think will happen?”

“This track prohibits all forms of doping, ma’am. I don’t believe it will go well for the Miss. I suppose the worst they can do is
remove
her from the board and take away her private box.”

“That would be terrible.”

“And you don’t know the half of it.”

Charles wandered away after making this tantalizing declaration. I followed his movements with my eyes until he disappeared into the milling crowd beyond the barrier. I continued to wait, exchanging brief tidbits of conversation with Alex as we watched for Miss Hightower to exit the door she’d previously entered. The wait was a long one. When I saw the official Miss Hightower had previously argued with exit the door, I approached him to find out what was happening.

“Excuse me,” I said, getting his attention. “Do you know what time the meeting between Miss Hightower and the track officials will be over?”

“It was over thirty minutes ago,” the official said. “Miss Hightower has already left the meeting.”

“But she said she would be meeting me here.”

The official simply shrugged his shoulders before moving on. I was left behind to ponder my options. After waiting another half hour, Alex suggested that we return to Miss Hightower’s box to see if she might be there. She wasn’t. I took a seat and began to fret. Alex tried to soothe my nerves with idle conversation, but I could not be distracted. I knew that there was something terribly wrong.

“Have either of you seen the madam?” a familiar voice asked from the door.

I looked up to see Charles standing in the doorway looking concerned.

“No, we haven’t, and I’m getting worried,” I replied.

“No need to fret,” he replied. “I’m sure she’s just wandered off to have a think over things. I’ll find her and be right back.”

With that, he was gone back out the door and I was left to wait. I hate waiting. I don’t have the temperament for it. I waited anyway, not knowing what else to do. During my wait I ignored the races occurring on the track. I could think of nothing but Miss Hightower and what she must be going through. One hour later, Charles returned to the door.

“Did you find her?” I asked the moment he showed his face.

“Not yet, ma’am.
And I have to admit that now I’m growing concerned.”

Rather than leaving again, Charles entered the room and took a seat with us at the table. I could see by his expression that he had something he wanted to say. It didn’t take too long for him to start spilling the beans.

“Earlier I let drop the fact that you only knew part of the story, and that’s true. I’m afraid that Miss Hightower has found herself in a terrible pickle. You see, this wasn’t just any race. This was the most important race of her life.”

“How so?”
I asked.

“When her father left her his estate,
includin
’ the mansion, surrounding property, and a considerable chunk of cash, there was a stipulation in his will. The stipulation was that Miss Hightower was to turn the property into a winning horse breeding and training facility.”

“And if she didn’t?”

“The property would revert to his son, Hillary.”

“But she’s already succeeded in producing a winning horse breeding and training
facility,
didn’t she?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. You see, the will stipulated the number of wins that she needed to gather within a particular amount of time.”

“How many wins does she need?”

“One more.”

“By when?”

“By the end of this month.”

“Oh no,” I exclaimed. “But wait, won’t she be able to continue to work at the facility once Hillary takes possession?”

“Maybe, maybe not.
You see, Hillary has plans to sell the property the moment he gets his hands on it. No doubt to that overblown windbag Harrigan.”

Alex and I shared a knowing glance and nodded our heads in unison. Charles caught the exchange and looked to us questioningly.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Both Hillary and Harrigan had motives for wanting Soft Spoken Hal to lose the race.”

“That’s true,” Charles conceded. “But you can’t mean.…”

“Yes. That makes them both suspects.”

“But Mr. Harrigan, for all his faults, is a member of the racing fraternity. Surely he’s above the doping of a horse. As for Hillary, he’s too stupid to think up the idea and too lazy to commit the crime.”

“Nevertheless, we’ve identified two important leads in the case.”

“The case?
What case?”

Again, Alex and I looked to each other. This time only Alex nodded his head to give me the go-ahead.

“Charles, what would you say if I told you that I work for the Hope Falls police department where I quite often help to solve some of their most difficult criminal cases?”

“I’d say you’re having me on.”

“Well I do, work there, and I’m not, having you on. I’d like for you to help me carry out an investigation into the culprit behind the doping of Soft Spoken Hal. Are you up for it?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. I mean, I trust you and all, that’s not the problem, but such an act is stepping over the boundary of the employer/employee relationship.”

“Step one.”

“Yes?”

“Find Miss Hightower. Not only because I’m concerned for her safety, but because she had something important to tell me before she disappeared.”

“Right.
Now that I can agree to,” Charles said.

After exchanging cell phone numbers, Charles, Alex, and I set off in different directions to canvass the track for Miss Hightower. Charles chose the stables, Alex the viewing stands, and I opted to comb the lobby and other public areas inside the structure. After an hour spent searching, I’d found nothing. Charles and Alex each called to report that they’d found no trace of Miss Hightower. We gathered in the parking lot to see if we could locate her car. It wasn’t difficult to find since it was a baby blue vintage Thunderbird. Alex found the car parked in a public space and gave us directions to find him in column L9. The car was locked.

“Now what?”
Alex asked.

“I say we call the police,” Charles offered.

“We’ll eventually have to. But first, maybe we should notify the track officials and see if they have any luck locating her.”

“Good idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself,” Charles agreed.

While Charles headed off to discuss Miss Hightower’s disappearance with the track officials, Alex and I returned to Miss Hightower’s viewing box to wait. Charles eventually arrived and we waited together. While we waited, I took no interest in what was happening on the track. What had once thrilled me could no longer interest me in the slightest in the wake of my friend’s unexplained disappearance. The skies outside became overcast to reflect my mood. Two hours later, we received a call informing us that the track officials had conducted a thorough search of the grounds for Miss Hightower and turned up nothing.

“I’m calling the police,” Charles said.

“You do that, but they’ll most likely insist you wait twenty-four hours before opening a missing
persons
case,” I informed him.

Alex and I listened in on Charles’ side of the phone conversation. Based on what I heard, he was running into exactly the difficulty I thought he might come across. The police didn’t want to begin investigating until twenty-four hours had passed. Charles argued the matter the best he could and after telling the person on the other end of the line the name of the missing person and the circumstances, seemed to make some headway.

“They’re putting me in touch with a Detective Phillips to hear my story,” Charles informed us, holding the phone away from his face.

Charles returned the phone to his ear and after waiting several minutes began relating the situation once more. Again he was rebuffed, but he continued to press for assistance. Finally, he thanked the detective and terminated the call.

“The detective says that he gets off work in an hour and that he’ll stop by the track on his way home to take our statements.”

“Good going, Charles,” Alex said.

I smiled at him. Charles returned a weak smile and we once more found ourselves waiting.

An hour later I watched in frustration as the stands emptied after the final race of the day. An hour after that, there came an authoritative knock on the door of the viewing box. Charles rose to admit a gentleman in his late fifties wearing a rumpled sports coat and slacks. He needed a shave and looked tired. His presence would most likely have been improved if only he would have stopped frowning for a moment. I immediately recognized him as your standard police detective.

“I’m Detective Phillips,” the man said, stepping into the room and flashing his badge.

Detective Phillips stood and examined us all. Charles offered him a seat and remained standing as the detective fell into his chair and removed a notepad and pen from his coat pocket.

“What time did Miss Hightower go missing?” he began.

Two hours of grueling questioning and the detective had gathered the salient facts. He raised a questioning eyebrow when Alex and I tried to explain our odd relationship with the missing person. Other than that, he seemed bored as he recorded our responses. In any case, he asked all the right questions and I concluded that he was most probably very good at his job.

As night fell over the track, the detective tucked away his notebook and pen as he rose from his chair.

“I can’t promise you anything,” he told us. “In most cases, the missing person shows up of their own accord within a few days. From the sound of things, Miss Hightower has had a terrible shock. It could be that she simply needs some time alone.”

“I hope you’re right, Detective,” I replied, trying to sound optimistic but failing miserably.

After distributing business cards and admonishing us all to call if anything should turn up, the detective left, and Charles went to retrieve the Rolls. When we were alone, Alex turned to me with concern written all over his face.

“So, what do you think?”

“I suspect foul play. I think that Miss Hightower is in a great deal of danger and that we’d better find her soon.”

Alex nodded his head gravely in agreement. We left the building to find Charles waiting at the curb holding open the back door of the Rolls. Alex and I climbed in. Everyone was silent during the drive to our hotel, no doubt mired in their own confused thoughts.

I was worried, but at the same time I felt a sense of exhilaration. Because, you see, I was back on the case.

I sat on the edge of the bed in our hotel room, my cell phone still in my hand which was now lying in my lap. I’d just gotten off the phone with Charles. Miss Hightower had yet to show herself at the estate and neither he nor the family had received any word from her. Charles sounded quite upset by the whole situation. I tried to analyze the case using my deductive powers but found that I had too few facts with which to work. Somehow I needed to gather more information to feed my frantic brain and could think of only one place to find exactly what I needed to know.

“Alex, I’m going to drive out to the Hightower estate today and see what I can dig up,” I called toward the bathroom.

“I expected no less,” Alex admitted as he stepped from the bathroom freshly shaved and buttoning the cuffs on a clean white dress shirt.

I thought he looked quite sexy in slacks, an open-collared work shirt, and bare feet, but there was nothing I could do about that now if I was going to get cleaned up and make it to the estate before noon. I set my cell phone on the end table and sauntered past my husband on my way to the bathroom. I dropped the robe off my shoulders and peeked playfully behind me. Alex was watching my every move as I hoped he would be doing. I entered the bathroom to shower with the expectation of amorous goings-on during the coming night.

As soon as I stepped out of the shower and started to dry, I heard the hotel room door open and close, followed by conversation between Alex and someone I couldn’t identify by voice alone.

“Alex, who is it?” I called through the door.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” This time I clearly recognized the voice of Mark Halifax. “Why don’t you come out and say hello?”

“I will when I’m dressed.”

“I won’t mind if you come out now. After all, I’m almost
family
.”

“Knock it off, Mark,” I heard Alex scold, followed by a hearty laugh from Mark who was beginning to get on my nerves.

I worked on drying my hair and applying a light layer of makeup before putting on my underwear and pulling on a pair of my favorite jeans and a western shirt. I left the bathroom in search of a pair of socks and sneakers to complete my casual attire.

“Oh, you got dressed,” Mark quipped. “I’m disappointed, but I must say the parts that are exposed are exceptionally sexy.
Especially your feet.
Alex, have you ever noticed how sexy a woman’s feet can be when no other parts are exposed?”