Murder at the Racetrack (8 page)

“Please call me Eric.”

She rolled her eyes, not all that differently from the way Jimmy rolled his. “All right,
Eric,
same question.”

“Yes, although there were parts I will admit I don’t really grasp as yet, being new to all this. You were just saying that
you doubt blood tests would show anything, but you’d like to have some done just in case, and to have a different vet take
over the care of Zuppa.”

“Yes.” She stayed silent, but a helpless look came over her face, as if she were struggling to come up with a way to explain
rocket science to a four-year-old with a head injury.

“Do you have any objection to explaining this again in front of Jimmy?”

The look of frustration vanished. But she hesitated, then said, “Jimmy has had a lot to deal with lately. An awful lot. You
sure you want to put this on his shoulders, too?”

“I don’t think anything having to do with that horse will be a burden to him.”

She smiled. “No.”

“How did you meet him?”

She laughed. “At the track, of course. He came up to me and told me that he had been watching the horses I trained and was
trying to talk his mom and dad into moving their horses over to my barn. He must have been just shy of ten. I figured, ’cute
kid,’ and thanked him, but as he kept talking, I thought, ’little genius,’ instead. He’s sharp, and he knows horses. More
than most of the adults I meet—uh, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“I’m not saying that he doesn’t have more to learn. But what amazes me about Jimmy is how
fast
he learns. And he’s got the gift, that way of knowing horses—it goes beyond anything anyone can tell you about them, or anything
that’s just in your head—but horses know who has it and who doesn’t. They can tell.” She suddenly blushed. “That probably
sounds like a lot of nonsense to a science guy like you. It’s hard to explain.”

Eric thought of the way Zuppa had responded to Jimmy. Maybe someday someone would do a long and careful study that would reveal
what signals or cues a horse reads from a person with the “gift.” But in the meantime, Eric was willing to call it that. “I’m
not a behavioral scientist,” he said, “so your explanation is fine. I’m a glorified tinker, a guy who likes to fool around
with mechanical things and make them work better.”

“Yeah, right.” She added with an even mix of skepticism and amazement, “Jimmy said you make robots.”

“Not as smart as the ones you’ve seen in movies. Anyway, I think I have an idea of what you mean about Jimmy’s way with horses.
Some idea, anyway. So you found a kindred spirit that day?”

“Absolutely. Next thing I know, he’s bringing Carlotta around, and he’s got her convinced.” She paused. “I didn’t know your
sister-in-law for all that long before she died, but we just hit it off from the start. We were friends—I liked her a lot.”

“So did I.”

“She thought highly of you. ’Mark’s smarter brother,’ she used to say. Told me how good you were to them.”

He was surprised to hear this, but shook his head. “Not so much, really. And Mark was smart. Just in a different way.”

She looked as if she would counter that but must have changed her mind, because she stayed silent.

“I don’t think he knew quite how to live without her,” Eric said, offering her the same excuse he offered himself. “He changed,
after Carlotta died.”

She nodded. “Mark used to let Jimmy stay over here sometimes. Jimmy liked it, I think mostly because of the horses, but also
because he just needed a change of scenery, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes. Yes, I think I do. And thanks for letting him do that.”

“He’s good company. He is bright and good hearted, and he’s had too much bad luck that he didn’t deserve. Although I’m not
completely convinced that luck…”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Anyway, he just needs someone to stand by him, you know? I hope you—” She broke off, apparently
realizing she was lecturing a client.

He smiled. “I agree. Don’t worry, I have no plans to abandon him.”

“Of course you don’t,” she said quickly. “I could tell that, and I’ll bet anything he can, too. Anyway—I’ll call the barn
and get them to send liim over here.” She used the intercom on her phone to talk to one of her workers. The worker kept her
on the line with some questions about another horse. While she talked to him, Eric stood and stretched.

He looked out the window, seeing the house across the way. How much of a risk would it really be to move out here, let Jimmy
be close to someone who cared about him so much? Eric doubted the asking price would be outside his ability to meet it. He
wouldn’t have to sell Mark’s place—keep that in case Jimmy decided he wanted it later on. He felt certain that Donna Freepoint
viewed him as someone merely to be tolerated, but so what? Couldn’t he be an adult about it, for Jimmy’s sake?

“Sorry about that,” she said, coming out from behind her desk.

“The place across the road that’s for sale—know anything about it?”

She studied him for a moment, then said, “Sure. I grew up here, so I know most of my neighbors.” Her description of the house
was straightforward: built about sixty years ago, modernized about two years ago by new owners, and kept in good repair. Owners
were “perfectly nice folks” who had dreamed of country living and then couldn’t handle the isolation once they were out here.
“They’ll take quite a bit less than they’re asking for it,” she said. “Thinking of moving?”

But Jimmy came in before he could answer. Eric was still amazed at the transformation being around the horse had made in the
boy. He was chattering excitedly about how well Zuppa had settled in, telling Donna how happy he was that she was going to
be training Zuppa. “Finally,” he said in the tone of someone who often has to wait for adults to come to their senses.

“You have your uncle to thank for that, so don’t forget it. And if you’re going to be advising Eric, you need to listen up,
all right? I explained all this to him, but he wanted you in on the decisions.”

He looked at Eric with obvious gratitude.

“I don’t know manes from tails, remember?” Eric said.

Jimmy looked embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’ll learn. This is just all new to you.”

Donna began again, and hearing the information a second time, Eric found he was taking more of it in. Jimmy stopped her every
once in a while to explain things in greater depth to Eric or to ask her questions.

“So,” he said, “Shackel might have been doping him?”

“I have no proof of that, Jimmy, and it’s probably too late to find any trace of it at this point.”

“Nobody ever finds proof of anything he does,” Jimmy said bitterly. “My mom knew he was crooked, and I think my dad was… well,
that doesn’t matter now.”

Eric wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this. He turned to Donna. “Did Carlotta mention this to you?”

“Carlotta didn’t like Shackel. Said the more she got to know him, the more he gave her the creeps. She wanted Mark to move
the horses here. But he didn’t agree, and I have to say I totally understand why he didn’t. First, that’s not the kind of
change anyone makes without a lot of thought. Second, not smart to make someone your trainer on the basis of a friendship.
Third, I have a famous trainer for a father, but that hasn’t won me the trust of horsemen. As long as my dad was still around
here to keep an eye on things, people figured he was the real reason the horses I trained won. Once he retired…” She shrugged.

“Carlotta always had good business sense,” Eric said. “So I doubt she would have made the decision on an emotional basis.
Over the years, I noticed she could usually convince Mark to change his mind if she thought he was making a bad decision.”

“They got mad at each other about it,” Jimmy said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Donna said. “But when it came to Shackel, your mom didn’t have more to go on than a gut feeling.
She knew your dad would need more than that to end a long working relationship—and Shackel didn’t have a bad record with your
dad’s horses. They were doing well. You know that, Jimmy.”

“I also know that sometimes people are wrong about other people. They get fooled. Shackel fools people.” In a quieter voice,
he added, “He fooled my dad.”

Eric said, “Maybe not, Jimmy. Maybe selling all his other horses was a way for your dad to have less to do with Shackel.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He was just… you know, giving up.”

Although Eric had thought this same thing, he found he didn’t want Jimmy to look at it this way. “Then why keep Zuppa Inglese?”

“Who knows?” he said. “He did all kinds of crazy stuff after Mom died.”

“Did he know you didn’t like Shackel?”

“Yeah. We used to fight about it, too, before Mom died.

After that—well, we tried not to fight about anything after she died.” He pressed his palms to his eyes, then took a deep
breath.

“I think maybe he was moving away from Shackel, Jimmy,” Eric said. “Think about what he added to his will about Zuppa. He
didn’t tell me to ’do what Shackel says.’ He trusted you, and you just told me he knew you didn’t like Shackel. We’re here
at Copper Hills because he knew you’d have the strength to take Zuppa to the best trainer. I think he knew you’d bring him
here.”

Jimmy looked up at him and said, “You think so? ”

“Sure.”

After a moment, Jimmy said, “Maybe people will finally catch on about Shackel.”

“If Zuppa Inglese suddenly starts winning races,” Donna said, “people are definitely going to have questions about him.”

Eric thought about this for a moment, then said, “Excuse me, but why would someone want a horse he was training to lose races?”

“With a juvenile—a two-year-old horse—probably betting odds,” she said. “But I don’t think it can ever really be worth it.”

Horses might not be Eric’s specialty, but probability and statistics were not foreign territory. “Oh, I see… so, he waits
to place a bet when the odds are favorable, when he knows that whatever has been slowing Zuppa down is no longer in the horse’s
system.”

“Yes, and when Zuppa’s being put in company that Shackel knows he can beat.”

“Hmm. You think he’s doing this with drugs?”

“Maybe,” Donna said. “Or sponging—putting a sponge far up in the horse’s nostril before he races.”

“Good God…” Eric said, appalled.

“It can kill a horse, but it doesn’t show up in a drug test. Even a drug—drug testing is done on a limited basis. Horses can
be slowed in a number of ways, and not all of them show up in blood tests.”

“Jockeys pull up,” Jimmy said. “Or the horse is fed certain kinds of food—”

“Right,” said Donna. “So we’ll do what we can to figure out what’s going on with Zuppa. And remember that all of this is just
my guess at a distance. Shackel deserves some credit for bringing Zuppa along as far as he’s come, even if Zuppa hasn’t finished
in the money. Lots of horses never do. I may find out that he’s just a morning glory—a horse that can run like the dickens
in a workout, but simply isn’t a competitor.”

“He’s a competitor,” Jimmy said with confidence.

•    •    •

They were to test Jimmy’s assertion just a few weeks later, when Zuppa was entered to run his first race after being moved
to Copper Hills. Zuppa’s new vet had pronounced him fit, with no signs of mononucleosis or other health problems that might
have slowed him down. “Good news,” Donna said. “And we don’t need to worry about harming him with some work.”

Donna had given Jimmy the task of training Eric while she trained Zuppa. As a result, Eric came to the track much better informed
than he had been on the day he walked into Shackel’s office.

Eric placed only a few bets on the day’s card. He had decided to begin cautiously. Jimmy had taken Donna’s assignment seriously.
He awakened his night-owl uncle at an ungodly hour each morning to watch Zuppa’s workouts. Living in the house across the
road—as they did now—allowed Eric to get about forty-five more minutes of sleep, for whatever that was worth. He no longer
groused about it, though—grumpiness had been replaced by pure anticipation. He didn’t have the connection to Zuppa that Jimmy
did—he would have sworn that the horse showed off when he knew the boy was watching. All the same, Eric came to love watching
the way the big colt moved. He supposed he took pleasure, too, from seeing how excited Donna and Jimmy were with Zuppa’s times
and the way the colt was responding to other aspects of his training.

Eric’s own lessons didn’t end with watching workouts. They watched horse races on television or from videotapes Jimmy had
made. Eric was required to study them endlessly. Jimmy gave him stacks of racing publications and taught him how to read past
performance data in the
Daily Racing Form.

Eric was still too overwhelmed by the combination of new information and other changes in his life to suddenly become a heavy
bettor, but at least Jimmy no longer worried that his uncle would place a bet based on the color of the horse, or the design
of the stable’s silks, or the appeal of the horse’s name—and knew that he no longer believed completely in the old advice
about the relationship of the production of road apples to friskiness in a race.

He placed losing bets on the first two races and decided that since he didn’t have any strong preferences in the third, he’d
not bet that race. Still, he was off to a bad start and wondered if Jimmy would despair of him. But the boy shrugged and said,
“You’ll bet right on the fourth race. Let’s go visit Zuppa and wish him luck.”

The fourth was Zuppa’s race—a mile and a sixteenth, a maiden race. ( “No, Uncle Eric,” Jimmy had said with disgust a few weeks
ago, “they don’t have to be fillies!” )

They went down to see Zuppa, who called to Jimmy the moment he saw him. Donna had other horses running in other races that
day, and Eric decided that he would do his best to stay out of her way. She seemed glad to see them, though, and introduced
them to the woman she had been talking to, Debbie Arrington, horse-racing writer for the
Sacramento Bee.
The reporter had been interviewing Donna about a favorite she had trained for a stakes race being held later that afternoon.
Arrington seemed taken with Zuppa Inglese, and after asking about Jimmy’s connection to the horse, she ended up interviewing
him as well, and took several photos of Zuppa and Jimmy together.