When the mobile phone rang, he jumped. It was Sally. “Elizabeth St. Pierre wants you to call her. Something about dinner tonight.”
Kent pushed memory and a number, and was talking to Elizabeth in less than two minutes.
“Thanks for returning my call,” she said politely. “Sorry for interrupting your rounds.”
“No problem. What’s up?”
“Hector Figurante invited me to dinner tonight at The Red Horse. He wants me to reconsider.”
“Reconsider what?”
“Selling Hubris.”
“What?” The words flew up Kent’s throat. “You can’t do that!”
“Of course not. I’d never sell Hubris.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, giving Kent a chance to regain his composure. “Let me back up. Remember yesterday when Figurante wanted to speak with me privately, after we gave him the tour?”
“Of course. And it was you who gave him the tour. Not me.”
“Okay. Have it your way. I figured he was up to something. And I was right. He made me an offer to buy Hubris.”
“You can’t do that!”
“You said that, already.”
“I know.”
“It was a very serious offer. His visit to VinChaRo was not as casual as he would have us believe. He and his friends have actually formed a syndicate to try and buy him.”
“You told him ‘no.’” Kent wanted to hear her say the word no. He wanted reassurance that Hubris was not leaving New York State. It was going to be tough, but the New York Bred Program would survive the loss of Simpatico, Charter Oak, and Solar Wind. But, if they lost Hubris, it would be finished. He had no doubt about that.
“I said, ‘No.’ But I have to admit, he caught me flat-footed,” Elizabeth said. “I had no idea he was even interested in Hubris until he blurted out his offer. And, let me tell you, they are willing to pay a remarkable amount for him.”
“How much?”
“A new record.”
“Jesus!”
“He got hot when he realized that I had no intention of selling Hubris, no matter what he offered. Finally, he made some rather rude remarks about my business sense and left in a huff.”
Kent breathed again. “Good riddance.”
“That’s what I thought, until I got a call from him this morning asking me to dinner. Ostensibly he wants to apologize for his behavior, but I suspect he wants to renew his offer.”
“Refuse his invitation.”
“I almost did. Then I thought, we still have a lot of loose ends to tie up regarding Charles, Simpatico, and the other horses. Maybe we should keep talking to the guy.”
Kent gave a soft humorless laugh. “Elizabeth, you are one sly lady. But, no, he’s too dangerous.”
“Oh, I’m not about to meet him alone. I want you to join us.”
“If you’re going, I’m going.”
“Excellent. Then I’ll see you at The Red Horse. Seven o’clock.”
Kent loaded up the girls and pulled out of the cemetery. His brain was sagging under the weight of what he had just heard. He drove so slowly, a car behind him honked. Emily and Maria gave him odd looks.
Figurante and a crew from Kentucky wanted to buy Hubris. Now there was a testimonial to the success of the New York Bred Program. Let them drool. Elizabeth would never sell Hubris.
Kent crept along down the highway. With each mile, his stomach twisted tighter and tighter. Figurante was not one to take rejection gracefully. He’d go nuts once he realized Hubris was not within his grasp.
The mobile phone rang again, and he pounced, startling the girls.
“What?” he said, sending his question flying at whoever was at the other end.
“Kent, it’s me,” Aubrey’s voice came back at him. “Are you all right? You sound upset.”
“I’m fine.” He hesitated, returned Emily and Maria’s bewildered looks with a defiant one. “No. I’m not fine. Actually, I’m anything but fine.”
“What’s the matter?”
He considered dropping Elizabeth’s bad news on Aubrey, but changed his mind. He needed to think about it more. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted Em and Maria to hear it yet, either.
“I’ve got a dinner meeting at the Red Horse at seven tonight. I’ll call you after that. We’ll talk.”
“With who?”
“I’ll tell you tonight.”
“You may not want any dinner when you hear why I called you.”
“What’s up?”
“Elizabeth just got a call from the police. They want her at the morgue to identify Burton Bush’s body.”
“Burton’s dead?”
“According to Elizabeth, the police figure he jumped off the Falls Creek Bridge. Fishermen found him downstream.”
For a brief moment, thoughts like you reap what you sow, he had it coming, and no great loss sailed through Kent’s head. He held the phone behind his head so Aubrey would not hear the growl that rose from his throat. Even with all the ill will he felt toward Burton, he did not wish him dead.
“When did they find him?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I just got off the phone with Elizabeth,” Kent said. “Has she left yet? For the morgue, I mean.”
“No. She says she can’t do it. Too much death for her lately. She asked me to go in her place. Will you come with me?”
“Of course I will.”
This was nothing the girls needed to see, Kent thought as he pulled up in front of Community General Hospital. Their horrified reaction when he told them what Aubrey had said about Burton’s death was enough for him to know that, for sure.
“You ladies sit tight and keep an eye on Lucinda. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Jefferson’s morgue was in the back of the hospital on the ground floor. It was nothing more than a walk-in cooler the size and design you’d see off the kitchen of any good-size restaurant. There was no wall of roll-out drawers containing bodies, no pathologist performing autopsies over wet tables — just chilled, empty space to park gurneys. Three would fill it. Today there was only one.
Kent was familiar with animal death, but human death was something different, it’s impact more profound. He braced himself and took Aubrey’s hand as the doctor who had escorted them into the cooler pulled the sheet off Burton’s face.
He felt Aubrey cringe at the sight of Burton’s gray skin. The bloated face was waterlogged from hours in the creek. It was no longer the face of the Burning Bush. Burton’s trademark limbus of bright red hair was reduced to a brown mat pasted to his scalp like a helmet.
The doctor held the sheet, letting them look, watching their faces for a reaction.
As he perused at the body, Kent noticed an odd mark on Burton’s left temple.
He pointed it out to the doctor. “What’s that?”
“He probably landed on a rock. The creek’s not deep. Skin wounds look weird after they’ve been in water.”
Kent leaned over for a closer look. He stared at the odd welt on Burton’s punky skin. It was exactly like the one he’d seen on Snow Din’s neck after Figurante struck the horse for misbehaving. Kent was positive, it was a perfect imprint of a spiraled serpent — the one on Figurante’s cane.
He stood up straight and signaled the doctor that it was okay to re-cover the body. “That’s him,” he said. “That’s Burton Bush.”
CHAPTER 37
The red hues and horse themes were continued into The Red Horse Inn’s dining room; burgundy carpet, russet leather chairs, and soft lit walls hung with nineteenth century paintings of fox hunts and sleigh races.
Kent and Hector Figurante sat at a table near windows with many panes and carved cherry moldings. Pedestrians pass by on the sidewalk only a few feet outside.
“You can’t buy Hubris. Period. He�
��s not for sale,” Kent said, for the third time of the evening.
“I really want to hear that from Elizabeth, herself,” Figurante returned.
“Look, Hector. That’s not going to happen. Like I told you, Elizabeth is no longer interested in dealing with you. She authorized me to give you that message. The Snow Din deal is off and Hubris is not for sale at any price.”
“Why doesn’t she tell me that face-to-face?”
“What does it matter? You get the picture.”
In fact, Kent knew it really did matter. That’s why he was at the table right now instead of Elizabeth. He and Elizabeth had agreed that Figurante was too dangerous, too manipulative for Elizabeth to handle. After all, they knew positively what he did to Maria and Burton Bush. Even though they didn’t have proof, there wasn’t a doubt in their minds that he was behind the catastrophes that had befallen Charles and their three great stallions. Besides, Kent wanted one last chance to look the monster square in the eye.
“I deserve a chance to convince her.”
“You deserve nothing. Just pack your bags and go back to Kentucky.”
At that moment, Kent felt a presence at his shoulder. He looked up into the attentive face of their waiter.
“Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Stephenson. You have a phone call.” The man gestured toward his hosting podium. “You can take it at the desk, if you’d like.”
“I’ll be right back,” Kent said, as Figurante waved him away, dismissively.
When he answered the phone, a faint, almost inaudible whisper came over the line. “I poisoned Hubris.”
Kent brought the receiver around and glared into it, then turned away from the noise of the dining room. “Who is this? What did you say?”
The whisper came again, this time even fainter.
“Say that again,” he ordered. “Speak louder. I can’t hear you.” The voice was forced, labored. Whoever was speaking was straining to get the words out.
“I killed Hubris. I’m so, so sorry, Doc. I want to die.”
Suddenly, Kent recognized the voice. “Maria? Is that you, Maria?
The line went dead.
For a moment, the shock of the call immobilized him. He struggled to regain control of himself. Aubrey was supposed to be watching Maria. He dialed Aubrey’s number.
Her voice came over the line. “Hi, Kent. I thought you were at The Red Horse.”
“I am, but something weird just happened and I need your help.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Can you, or Barry, to take a quick walk over to the barn and check on Hubris? See that he’s all right, and then give me a call back.” He recited the Red Horse number.
“Barry’s working with Peter again tonight at the CVC,” she said, resolved to her son’s commitment. “But sure, I’m on my way. No questions asked, which is pretty good for me.”
“And one more thing, Aubrey. Where is Maria?”
“She and Em are upstairs asleep. Why?”
“Check on them, too, will you?”
“Okay.” A tinge of alarm crept into her voice. “Now you’ve got me. Anything special I should be looking for?”
“No. Just make sure that everything is as it should be.” Kent looked at his watch. “What will all that take you? Fifteen minutes?”
“About that.”
“Okay. Call me back in fifteen minutes.”
He alerted their waiter to expect another call. “Business,” he said, with an apologetic smile, and the waiter gave him an understanding nod.
When he returned to the table, Figurante made no attempt to conceal his interest. Kent ignored him and sat in broody silence. He envisioned Aubrey dutifully setting aside her book and forcing herself off the sofa, mumbling something about how he better not keep her hanging on this, then donning her jacket and boots, and trudging to the barn. She would cross the small parking lot and enter through the side, bypassing the office — fewer doors to open.
Inside the stallion barn, she’d pause in the dimness of the night lights. Like most good horse people, Aubrey could detect as much with her ears as her eyes. After assuring herself that everything sounded normal, she’d tiptoe down to Hubris’s stall, peek in, and see him with his head in the corner, muzzle inches above the straw, standing asleep. She might step in and arouse him just to be sure, just because Kent had seemed particularly concerned. Then back to the house. A quick trip upstairs to see that Maria and Emily were safe and sound, and she would call him back — All is well.
The flash of Figurante’s lighter startled Kent back to reality as the Kentuckian ignited a fat brown cigar and released a cloud of blue smoke. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.” Kent gave Figurante an accusatory look. “That phone call was from . . . well, whoever it was, said Hubris may be sick. At least, I think they said that. They were speaking so softly it was hard to tell.”
The information brought no change to Figurante’s impassive expression.
“So I called Aubrey and asked her to check on Hubris and the girls . . .”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kent caught a wave from the waiter, and saw he was holding the phone. Instantly, he headed for it.
“Kent,” Aubrey’s voice was distraught. “Something awful has happened to Hubris! He’s really sick. How did you know? What’s going on?”
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s shaking all over. Really hard. He’s got this wild-eyed look, and he’s breathing like a freight train.”
“Is anyone with him now?”
“Yes. I got Osvaldo to stay with him.”
“Okay. Call Peter, he’s already at the CVC. He can get there with a mobile unit faster than I can.”
“I already did. He and Barry are on their way.”
“Perfect. When they gets there, tell Peter Hubris has probably been poisoned, but we don’t know with what. Peter will take it from there. Did you find the girls?”
“Emily is here. She’s upstairs. But I don’t know where Maria is. Neither does Em.”
“Then see if you can get someone to find her. I’ll be there as quick as I can. Okay?”
“Kent, how did you know all this? How do you know Hubris has been poisoned? And about Maria?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I get there. Get someone to find Maria, and you help Peter.”
“Okay. Hurry.”
Maria! Now there was no denying it. Why? The thought of it broke his heart. She lived in his home. She was like family.
“I’ve got to go,” he told Figurante, when he returned to the table. He was pulling out his wallet to leave some money when the waiter flagged him for a third time.
“Lot of sick animals tonight, Doc?” the waiter said, as he handed Kent the phone.
Kent ignored his little dig. “Hello,” he said into the phone.
“Kent, I’m so glad I got you.”
He recognized Margaret’s voice and his head whirled with a dozen bizarre scenarios for why she would be calling him at this moment.
“A terrible thing just happened.”
“You mean Hubris?”
“I don’t know anything about Hubris. I’m talking about Maria.”
“She’s there at Pine Holt? With you?”
“Yes. She was, but I just had an ambulance take her to the hospital.”
“The hospital? Why?”
“I heard a lot of noise and commotion coming from Maria’s room. So I went to check it out, and there she was, having a seizure. The room was a wreck. She was delirious and flailing around. I called for an ambulance. She’s on her way to Community General.”
“You did the right thing, Margaret. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Listen. I need you to hold things down at Pine Holt for me?”
“Of cou
rse. And, Kent, there is one more thing.”
Kent winced. What more could go wrong?
“I found an open canister of horse medicine in Maria’s room. A powder. The label said Ventipulmin.”
“Ventipulmin? Where?”
“On the floor next to Maria’s bed.”
It took a moment for Kent to register the significance of that discovery. Then his face darkened, “You mean she tried to kill herself?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I found.”
“Okay. Call the hospital and tell them that Maria very likely has been poisoned with clenbuterol. Tell them it’s a bronchodilator used in horses. Read them the label. They’ll know what to do.”
He hung up, ignored the disgruntled look from the waiter, and dialed Elizabeth’s number at the mansion. He studied Figurante while he waited for Elizabeth to answer. The evil bastard was staring back at him with the expression of a choirboy.
“Elizabeth, it’s Kent,” he said, when she picked up.
“I’ve been waiting for your call,” She said in her usual friendly voice. “How did it go with Figurante? You’re back early. You must not have wasted any time telling him to take a hike.”
“Actually, Elizabeth, that’s the least of our problems. The night has gone to hell in a hand basket. They tried to get Hubris. Poisoned him, I think.” He heard her gasp. “Aubrey is with him now. Peter should be arriving at VinChaRo any minute.”
“Lord, have mercy.”
“I’ll tell you about it later. But that’s not all. Maria just had a seizure. She’s in an ambulance headed for Community General.”
“Dear Lord.”
“What I need you to do is find Emily. She’s either with Aubrey at the barn or at Aubrey’s house. She’ll want to be with Maria. Can you take her to the hospital, then stay with the girls there until we know what’s going on?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I couldn’t bear to see Hubris suffering. I’ll be more help with Emily and Maria.”
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