“Well, we just won’t let her,” Nancy said firmly.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Phil smiled at her again, and Nancy couldn’t help but smile back. But then Phil looked awkwardly down at the floor.
“Nancy . . .” Phil began. Then he clenched one hand into a fist and pounded the palm of the other one. “How could I have been so stupid?”
Reaching out, Nancy caught his hand in hers. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about?” she said gently. “Does it have something to do with the blister?”
Abruptly Phil glanced over at her, his dark eyes wide with pain. “How did you know that?”
“You were at Colleen’s that night, you know about things like blisters, and you had a motive.”
Phil let out his breath. “That obvious, huh? I guess you know about my letting Nightingale out, too.”
“You let her out here? At the show?”
“No. No way.” Phil shook his head emphatically. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You probably think I’m involved with what’s going on at the show, but I’m not!” His voice rose. “Once Colleen decided to come to the show, I was behind her one hundred percent. I know you think I’m a first-class jerk, but I really do love her and want the best for her. I would never do anything to hurt Colleen.”
“Then you were the one who let Nightingale out at Colleen’s barn?” Nancy asked.
“Right. But I didn’t poison her hay!” he insisted. “That would have been going too far.”
Nancy frowned. “I thought the blister was going too far.”
Phil shook his head. “I only used a little. I thought that if Nightingale wasn’t in top form, Colleen wouldn’t go to the show. I was afraid if they did go, and Nightingale did well, then Colleen would decide not to sell her. If that happened, I knew I’d lose her.”
Nancy said nothing.
“At first I thought the poisonous weed in the hay was an accident,” Phil continued. “But then, when we got to the show and you found the nails, and someone let Nightingale loose, I realized something fishy was going on. I wanted to talk to you about it earlier. You kept shooting me suspicious looks, so I knew you thought I was the culprit. But we got so busy, and then . . .”
“Colleen fell,” Nancy finished his thoughts.
He nodded. Nancy thought Phil’s confession sounded sincere. He’d admitted some painful things. And in her heart, she knew Bess was right—Phil may have acted stupidly, but he really did love Colleen. Which meant she needed to concentrate on finding the real culprit.
“Tell me about Scott Weller,” Nancy said. It was a question she’d wanted to ask Colleen, but it couldn’t wait. “Why is there such hostility between you two?”
Phil shrugged. “Scott and Colleen were dating when I met Colleen. That was also the year his horse had the accident. Colleen assured me that the relationship was breaking up anyway, but Scott still took it hard when Colleen stopped seeing him as a boyfriend.”
Nancy frowned. “But he seems so friendly now.”
“He got over it, and Colleen went out of her way to be nice to him. She knew he felt pretty bad about his horse. I guess that’s what put a strain on the relationship in the first place. Scott just wasn’t himself.”
Nancy looked at him sharply. “Because of the horse’s accident?”
“Yeah. His mare was injured in a jump-off with Colleen at the Columbia Classic. Colleen went on to win the class, as well as high point amateur-owner for the year. Scott acted like that was okay, but he really couldn’t handle it.”
“Wow. So that’s what Scott meant by a repeat performance.” Nancy rose and began to pace up and down the aisle. “And it was a repeat performance in more ways than one—only this time Colleen got hurt instead of his horse.”
“What are you getting at?” Phil asked.
Nancy stopped in front of Phil. “Scott was never on my suspect list because he didn’t seem to have any motive. But now I’m not so sure. He might have the best motive of all—revenge!”
14
Evil on Horseback
Phil shook his head. “Scott’s doing so well as a professional rider. Why would he want to risk his whole career just to get back at Colleen? Besides, they were used to competing against each other. Sometimes she’d win, sometimes he’d win.”
“I guess you’re right,” Nancy said slowly. She slumped next to Phil on the hay bale. “And I can’t forget about all of the evidence pointing to the San Marcoses. That mask and fiber of yarn were pretty incriminating.”
Phil stood up. “Well, I’d better get back to the motel and check on Colleen. I guess I have some explaining to do.” He gave Nancy a pained look. “Do you think Colleen will forgive me?”
“Forgive you for what?” a voice asked from down the aisle.
Nancy twisted around. “Colleen?” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Phil took two giant strides toward her. “You’re supposed to be in bed,” he said, wrapping a protective arm over her shoulder.
She shrugged it off. “Like an invalid? I feel fine. And I’m riding in the Worthington Cup, no matter what anyone says.” Feet firmly planted, hands on hips, Colleen glared at the two of them. “The doctor told me I’m okay, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t.”
“I’ve got a reason!” Nancy jumped up. “If you ride in the class tomorrow night, it might be the last time you ever get on a horse.”
Colleen frowned. “What do you mean?” She looked at Phil, searching for an explanation.
“Nancy’s decided it wasn’t just Nightingale our culprit was after,” Phil said. “It’s you, too.”
“Me?” Colleen squeaked. “But what about all those terrible things that happened to Nightingale?”
“Uh . . .” Phil glanced nervously over at Nancy.
Nancy looked away, hoping he’d tell Colleen the truth.
“We’ve got to talk, Colleen,” Phil said finally.
Colleen’s mouth dropped open as she looked at Phil’s flushed face. “So it was you!” Her voice rose in anger. “Nancy was right.”
“Colleen, I . . .” Phil reached out and touched her arm. Colleen pulled away from him and marched over to the hay bale. Crossing her arms, she plunked down on the bale.
“At least listen to his explanation,” Nancy said, sitting next to her.
Colleen shot Phil a nasty look. “Maybe,” she said tersely. “Right now I’m too angry.”
Phil let out his breath. “I don’t blame you.”
There was an awkward silence until Nancy spoke. “Look, I’ve just thought of a way to catch our culprit. It’s about time we turned the tables on him . . . or her,” she added.
“Do you think it will work?” Colleen looked hopeful.
Nancy nodded. “I’ll bet my life on it.” She checked her watch. “It’s only ten-thirty. Now, listen carefully. Colleen, you need to walk down the aisles and tell anyone who asks that you’re feeling great. So great that you’ve decided to ride in tomorrow night’s costume class.”
“But I didn’t even register for it,” Colleen said, frowning.
“That doesn’t matter,” Nancy said. “The important thing is to tell everyone that you’re going to try out your costume early tomorrow morning. You want to wear it riding Nightingale in the main arena to make sure it doesn’t spook her or something.”
“You’ve lost me.” Colleen shook her head. “How is that going to catch our culprit?”
“You’ll be all alone,” Nancy pointed out. “By now our bad guy’s getting desperate. He or she will figure this is the last chance to get you.”
“Whoa. Hold on a minute.” Phil held up both hands. “I don’t like this idea at all. You’re using Colleen as bait.”
“Not Colleen,” Nancy explained. “Me. I’ll be dressed in the Arabian Nights costume. I’m hoping the person won’t know the difference. And I can ride well enough to fool them into thinking it’s you—for a little while, anyway. By that time you and the arena s
ecurity will have nabbed them.”
Colleen and Phil looked at each other with doubtful expressions.
“What’s going on here?” a sleepy voice called from the extra stall. Bess was standing in the doorway, squinting in the light.
“We’re going to catch whoever’s after Colleen,” Nancy said. “And we’re going to need your help.”
Bess’s eyes snapped instantly awake. “You can count on me!”
“Me, too,” Colleen added. “I’m tired of worrying and wondering what’s going to happen next.”
“Phil?” Nancy looked expectantly at him.
Phil grinned. “I’m with you guys. I just hope I’m the one to catch whoever hurt Colleen.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” Nancy’s eyes twinkled. “Colleen, you and Bess start telling people about the costume class. Phil, you guard Nightingale. I’m going to talk to security personnel. Then I’m going to try on that costume—and see how much I can look like Colleen!”
• • •
“Whoa, Nightingale,” Nancy crooned as Bess bent down to give her a leg up. Nancy stuck her knee in Bess’s cupped hands, then hoisted herself into Nightingale’s saddle. The filmy material from the Arabian Nights costume fluttered around Nancy’s legs. On her feet she was wearing gold sandals.
Nancy and Bess were standing at the entrance to the main arena. It was five A.M. No one else was around. Phil was already hiding in the arena seats. With his telephoto lens attached to his camera, he was planning to shoot several pictures—just in case the person got away. Despite her protests, Colleen was safely stashed back in the motel. Nancy knew it was too dangerous to have her anywhere on the grounds.
Silently Bess helped Nancy adjust the stirrups. “You be careful,” Bess said in a hushed voice. “Especially since those arena security people didn’t think much of your idea.”
“I can’t blame them,” Nancy whispered back. “But I think it’s the only way. Remember to leave the gate open in case I have to beat a hasty retreat, okay?”
“Right. Then I’ll alert security to get into position.”
“Don’t forget to wait until the last minute,” Nancy warned. “I don’t want to scare away our bad guys.”
Bess nodded.
Nancy reached down and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. Then she draped the costume’s transparent veil across her face and adjusted the scarf over her hair. She wanted to make sure she could be mistaken for Colleen.
Collecting the reins, Nancy urged Nightingale into the main ring with a slight pressure of her calves. Colleen had warned her that the mare was very sensitive.
Nightingale danced forward in an eager trot. The Arabian costume’s baggy pants fluttered against the mare’s sides. Arching her neck, Nightingale broke into a nervous canter. When the mare spied several pumpkins arranged on a straw bale, she skittered sideways.
“Easy, girl. They’re just decorations for Halloween.” Nancy glanced up into the seating area. The dim lights from overhead and at the exits cast spooky shadows along the empty rows of seats. Orange and black crepe paper streamers were strung along the railings circling the arena. She couldn’t see Phil anywhere.
Then all of Nancy’s attention was focused on controlling Nightingale, who snorted and pranced sideways nervously. “I know I’m not Colleen,” Nancy told the mare in a reassuring voice. “But I’m trying.”
They were almost to the other side of the ring when Nightingale suddenly spun around in alarm. Leaning forward, Nancy grabbed the mare’s mane and hung on tight. Something must have startled her, Nancy thought. And then she saw it.
A horse and rider were galloping across the arena—straight toward them! Nancy gasped and pulled Nightingale to a halt. Her heartbeat quickened as she tried to figure out who—or what—it was.
The rider charging toward her had no head or neck. He wore a long black cape, which billowed behind him. In one arm he carried a small, lighted pumpkin, a wicked grin carved in its face.
Nancy’s mouth fell open. It was the Headless Horseman!
Or Headless Horsewoman, she thought grimly. Pulling herself together, she sprang into action. Quickly she tightened Nightingale’s reins and squeezed the mare’s sides with her legs. Nightingale leapt forward and, cantering toward the opposite side of the ring, passed the galloping black horse. Nancy halted Nightingale in the middle of the ring, and with a cry, the Headless Horseman reined the horse to a stop at the far end.
A deep, nasty laugh came from the chest of the horseman. “You can run all you want, Colleen Healey,” the voice boomed across the ring in a hoarse cry. “But this time I’m going to get you—for good!”
Great, Nancy thought. The person mistook her for Colleen. Now, if only Nancy could find out who the horseman was. Phil’s camera would be useless. Nancy knew she needed to identify the person, in case he or she escaped before security arrived.
As she cantered Nightingale toward the gate, Nancy tried to think of who could be hidden under the Headless Horseman costume. The costume over the person’s face muffled the sound, so that Nancy couldn’t recognize the deep voice. He or she was a good rider, and slim—probably too slim to be Diego. Was it Marisa under the costume, talking in a disguised voice?
Unfortunately, Nancy didn’t recognize the horse. He was chunky and black, and the rider was reining him with one hand as if he were a cow pony.
When Nightingale reached the end of the ring, Nancy quickly checked the gate. Someone had shut it. With a jolt of fear, she noticed that the gate had also been secured with a padlock.
She was trapped!
Nancy’s mind raced. Had the horseman locked the gate when she’d first entered the ring? She’d been concentrating on Nightingale and wouldn’t have noticed. Or was someone else involved? Someone waiting in the stands? Nancy glanced nervously into the seats, but they still looked empty.
“Oh, hurry up, Bess,” Nancy pleaded softly. “Get those security guards down here—pronto.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” The eerie laugh echoed through the stands. “You’ll never get away from me now, Colleen, because I’m the better rider! Nightingale’s too good for you. She belongs to me!”
Nancy twirled sideways in her saddle in time to see the Headless Horseman dig his heels into his horse’s side. The black horse reared, and with a whoop the two raced toward her across the ring.
Nancy’s heart flip-flopped. Quick, think of something, she told herself. Maybe she could jump off Nightingale and escape into the stands. But what if someone was hiding there waiting for her? Besides, she didn’t want to leave Nightingale.
Quickly Nancy scanned the seats. Where was Phil? she wondered. Had he double-crossed her?
Nancy took a deep breath. No one was coming to her rescue. She had to get the horseman before he got her. Then she’d find out for sure who it was.
With a racing heart Nancy turned Nightingale so that they faced the charging horse. “Okay, girl. Pretend you’re in a jumping class, and it’s time to win,” Nancy told the mare in as calm a voice as she could manage.
Nightingale’s ears twitched, as if she were listening to Nancy. Then they pricked forward as the horseman drew closer. Nancy urged the mare away from the gate, toward the center of the ring and the black apparition racing toward her.
Raising the pumpkin to shoulder level, the Headless Horseman gave a yell of triumph. Then he threw the pumpkin at Nancy.
“Now!” Nancy leaned forward in the saddle and dug her heels into Nightingale’s sides. Startled, the mare leapt into the air. The pumpkin hurtled past, just missing Nancy’s head.
At the same time, Nancy grabbed Nightingale’s mane with one hand, then reached out and grasped the horseman’s flowing back cape with the other. Gritting her teeth, she held on. The jolt almost pulled her off Nightingale, but she held tight to the mare’s mane. With all her strength Nancy tore the cape from the rider.
“Ahhh!” The horseman screamed angrily as he was jerked from the saddle. The black horse continued to gallop forward a
s his rider flew off and landed with a thud in the tanbark. The pumpkin crashed beside him and splattered into several pieces.
“Whoa.” Nancy tugged on the reins and turned Nightingale in a circle, halting the mare about fifteen feet from the fallen rider. The horseman’s body lay still. All that was left of the pumpkin’s carved face grinned wickedly at her.
Nancy shuddered. “Bess? Phil?” she called into the stands. There was no answer. Something must have happened to keep the two of them from coming to her aid.
Slowly Nancy slid from Nightingale’s back. When she got closer to the body, she gasped. Through the dim light she saw a black mask with red sequins staring up at her. Could it be Marisa?
Tears pricked Nancy’s eyes. There was no reason for this to have happened, she thought. She and her friends all liked Marisa. Colleen probably could have worked something out with the promising young rider. And now it was too late.
Approaching the body, Nancy noticed that the hair was dark, but to her surprise, it was too short to be Marisa’s. Crouching down, Nancy saw that the masked rider was definitely male.
With trembling fingers, Nancy pulled down the mask. Then she gasped once again. The Headless Horseman was Scott Weller!
15
Desperate Choices
“Scott!” Nancy whispered in shock. Her hunch had been right. Colleen’s charming, concerned friend must have been putting on an act. All this time he’d been plotting revenge on the rider who’d beaten him in the show at which his horse had been injured.
He’d been so obsessed, he’d almost killed Colleen, Nancy thought angrily. Still, she needed to get him help. With a quick glance at the stands, Nancy saw that they were still empty. Jumping up, she began to lead Nightingale toward the padlocked exit. Maybe if she yelled loud enough, someone would hear her.
“Don’t move!” a voice suddenly growled beside her. “It’s not over yet.”
Nancy whirled to her right. A raised rifle barrel pointed at her from the stands. Gloria Donner was squinting down the gun sight, only ten feet away. “Just because Wonder Boy messed up doesn’t mean I will.”
The Mystery of the Masked Rider Page 9
