by Lisa Wysocky
In the U-shaped back through I again misdirected Bob, and while we didn’t hit anything, our back through was anything but smooth. At another show those bobbles might not have meant so much, but here the competition was so stiff that they knocked us completely out of the placings.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Darcy said back at the stalls.
I thought it ironic that she was placating me after a poor showing, when for years I had done the same for her. But I was also a little bit proud. The girl was growing up.
“I mean, like, you’ve had a lot on your mind lately, the colts colicking, Dr. Carruthers, Mike, Annie, your fall from Reddi, the truck. You can’t do and be everything to everyone, you know.”
I smiled. Darcy was right. I did the best I could under the circumstances I had been dealt and couldn’t ask for more. Besides, in just about three hours I could gaze to my heart’s content at the handsomest man in the world, Keith Carson. Hot dawg!
Cat’s Horse Tip #19
“Horses use ear position, neck and head height, movement, foot stomping and tail swishing, among other things, to communicate.”
27
DARCY AND I WENT BACK to the hotel to gussy up. The exhibitor party was an event that was dying out at many of the major shows. The parties started out decades ago as a way to socialize and have some fun in the middle of a long competition. But more recently, many of the shows didn’t see the need because most of the exhibitors stopped coming. That’s because showing is a livelihood for many trainers and instructors. The last thing they need is to stay out late and drink one too many margaritas before an early morning class with a client’s horse.
I was glad, however, that Noah and the show management decided to have a party at this competition. My excitement about Keith Carson aside, many of us from the different breeds and associations still did not know each other. I hoped the party would be a nice way for everyone to meet each other.
I showered, then tamed my hair into something that did not look like a bird’s nest. I had saved my favorite pair of dress up Wrangler Jeans for the party, and swapped out my boots for a pair of leather Ariat clogs. The party was going to be held in a space that usually served as the holding pen, and I didn’t think they’d either remove or cover the dirt footing just for the party. So, no sandals for me. I’d let other women look good while they got dirt between their toes and bits of horse poop trapped up under the soles of their feet.
I topped my jeans and clogs with a shimmery sleeveless blouse that pretty much matched the color of Noah’s eyes, and daubed on some makeup. Done. Darcy always took much longer than I did to get ready but today I was impatient to get going. I called and texted her several times with no response before I began to get worried. Usually she answered quickly. What if something had happened to her? What if the killer was in her room right now? Our buddy system had gone by the wayside and I felt Darcy could be in real danger.
I grabbed my purse, phone, and room key, and dashed down the hall to Darcy’s room, where I proceeded to bang on the door. Darcy opened the door with her hair wrapped around enormous hot rollers and a puzzled expression on her face.
“Holy crap, you’re all right,” I said, hugging her.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’ve called and texted several times and you didn’t answer.”
Only then did I become aware that her shower was running and that steam was pouring from underneath the closed bathroom door.
“I know what you’re thinking and no, I don’t have company and no, you are not interrupting anything.”
I didn’t know if that’s what I had been thinking or not, but the fact that Darcy thought it was somehow unsettling.
“My jeans were wrinkled and I’m not great with an iron,” she said, going into the bathroom to shut off the hot water. She returned with a pair of damp, but wrinkle free jeans.
“I just don’t want to be too late for the party,” I said, hiding my relief under practicality.
“You just can’t wait to see Keith-y, can you?” teased Darcy.
Fact of the matter was, she was right. Even though Keith lived next door to me, I rarely saw the man. His wife, Carole, was a friend of mine but I rarely saw her either, unless I was giving her or one of her kids a riding lesson. Different people, different lives.
I do admit, however, to one episode of extensive brush trimming along our mutual property line on a day when Keith was hosing off his boat wearing nothing but his swim trunks. Surprising how much those bushes needed trimming.
Once Darcy and I finally made it back to the Miller Coliseum I first went to our stalls to feed the horses. I had hoped that Jon would be back in time to do it, but he had texted me that the truck was fine, but traffic was slow. Darcy and I each donned one of the many long sleeved blue denim shirts that Jon often wore and put them on over our nice blouses. Nothing like a piece of hay to snag fine fabric. We fed and watered the horses, then took off the shirts. Before we walked through the series of barns toward the warm-up arena we put our purses in a tack trunk, locked it, then locked the tack room door.
The walk took me longer than I anticipated, though, because we were stopped on the way to the party by Captain Donut and his younger partner.
“Now?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. If you don’t mind,” the young cop said.
I sighed. I would never get to see Keith. I sent Darcy on ahead and told her I’d be along shortly.
“You are not a suspect, ma’am, but we’d like to ask you some questions privately.”
“You are not taking me down to the station or wherever it was that you took Debra Dudley. There is somewhere I need to be.” At the party, looking at Keith.
“We won’t keep you long; just a few questions.”
Those were famous last words if I ever heard them, but I walked with the officers out the side of the barn to a patrol car. I was more mad than nervous, but I didn’t mind talking to them. In fact, I wanted to talk to them, answer their questions … but now? Now was a worse time than this afternoon.
I sat down in the backseat of the patrol car and sighed again. This time an eye roll of dramatic proportion accompanied my sigh. Good thing neither of the cops saw it. Didn’t want them to think I was uncooperative or anything, but come on. Tonight was my night to live inside my schoolgirl crush. I realized I was disappointed and tired, and gave myself an attitude adjustment. This would go quicker if I cooperated. I just hoped no one saw me being hauled off by the police.
Both officers settled into the front, then turned to look at me. The only other time I had been inside a police car was when I rode around with Martin when we were trying to find Bubba after he went missing. That was last February. From what I could tell, this patrol car didn’t look much different from Martin’s, except that there were a few more gadgets on the dash.
“We, uh, wanted to speak out of earshot of anyone else on the grounds because we wanted to ask you about your truck brakes,” said the older cop.
That made sense. Noah said the investigators wanted to keep private the fact that someone had tampered with my brakes. I gave them all the details I could think of, then added, “The only time the truck was unattended was between eleven and two, when we were all napping.”
“You’re sure both Miz Zinner and Miz Whitcomb were napping all that time?”
“Yes … well, I guess no, because I was sleeping. One of them could have gotten up. You’d have to ask them.”
“We will,” said the younger officer snapping shut his notebook and opening his door.
“Wait, you don’t think either of them had anything to do with this? That’s absurd.”
“We don’t think anything, Miz Enright,” said Officer Donut. “We just gather information and turn it in to the homicide boys.”
I blew out a breath. Now was not the time to pick a fight. The younger cop opened my door and I stepped out.
“I hope you find this person soon,” I said. “We’re all on e
dge and I hope I didn’t come across as rude. I didn’t mean to be.”
I walked back into the barn as soon as both officers hustled away. Apparently they were not going to hunt Annie and Darcy down for interviews right this second. I brushed any invisible traces of “cop” off my jeans, then finally walked to the party.
I knew the show’s ground crew had a lot to do in a short time to transform the space from a horse holding pen to a party place with a stage, but they had done a miraculous job. Dozens of tall, round café tables were draped in long white tablecloths. White bistro chairs were placed around the tables and shorter chairs were arranged into a number of conversational seating areas.
Twenty or so tall columns of blue, silver, and white balloons streamed upward ten feet or more, and danced in a breeze made by the many oscillating fans that were placed around the area. Small spotlights were hidden near the base of the balloons and interesting, moving patterns were created as the lights shone through them.
More than a hundred people were already there, dressed in attire that ranged from traditional barn clothes to business suits and summer dresses. A few people were even in shorts. At the far end was the stage. Behind it, the areas to the left and right were cordoned off with curtains, but there were a few people on the stage itself who appeared to be checking cords, microphones, and the placements of instruments. I knew Keith was performing here with a scaled down version of his band, a step up from “unplugged.”
I also knew that I was the reason he was here at all. When Noah was first hired to manage the show, due to my proximity to Nashville and a hoard of talented artists, he asked me for suggestions for entertainment for the party. You know which man was at the top of my list. Fortunately, the event was on a Wednesday, a day when Keith was not typically booked.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and I whirled around. I couldn’t believe I was so jumpy. Turned out that the tap was from Noah and my legs became shaky with relief. If I had one wish, it was that the killer be found this very second. I couldn’t remember when I had ever been more balled up with nerves.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Noah said. “Keith was hoping you could go backstage for a few minutes before his show.”
“Really?” I tried not to let my sudden giddiness show. Keith wanted to see me. Happy dance!
Noah’s all-access pass allowed us to pick our way over sound and light cables, through the backstage area and onto Keith’s bus, which was parked just outside one of the building’s large sliding doors.
I’d been on Keith’s bus several times, once when he performed at a large community picnic in Ashland City, and another time when Carole gave Darcy, Bubba, and me a tour of the vehicle. Each time that I walked up the bus’s stairs and into the front living area I was amazed at the opulence. Leather couch and booth-style seats, marble table and counter top, stainless steel refrigerator and microwave, large flat screen TV, and Berber carpeting took up most of the space.
Keith walked toward us from the rear of the bus and enveloped me in a huge hug. That was the thing about my obsession with Keith Carson, there was no sexual chemistry. I wasn’t attracted to the man himself, so much as I was a picture of him. He was just so gosh darn handsome.
“How’s my favorite neighbor?” Keith asked.
“Good,” I said. “We’re doing pretty well in the competition. Is Carole here?”
“No, she and the kids are visiting her mom this week.”
Drat, an entire week with Keith home alone and I wasn’t even there to enjoy it. Okay. Even I could see that this little obsession of mine was too much. I needed to back off.
For the first time that day I thought of Brent. It was not unusual for us to go several days without talking, as we both had busy schedules. Now I wished very much that he was here, but I hadn’t invited him. Not because I didn’t want to spend time with him, but because many weeks ago, when Jon and I began to finalize plans for the show, I knew I did not need the extreme distraction Honeycakes would provide. My loss.
A man I knew to be Keith’s tour manager climbed into the bus. “Thirty minutes,” he said.
I nodded, and said to Keith, “We’ll get out of your way, but I’m really glad you’re here. Everyone is excited to see you.”
Me, too. I was more excited than Hank was with a new stick.
Back at the party I mingled with Annie and Tony, who had just returned from a day spent with Star.
“This is the first time we could see a glimmer of Star’s personality, rather than just a very sick horse,” said Annie. “Until I saw that, I wasn’t sold on the idea that he could recover.”
“And now?” I asked. “Definitely.”
Annie smiled, then left to get a snack so I talked to Judy, and then to Melanie and Darcy, who were once again BFFs.
“Bubba is glued to the stage waiting for Keith, so we’re following Hill Henley,” Darcy whispered into my ear.
I looked at the girls. “Do not get separated. Do you understand me?”
Both Darcy and Melanie nodded. “
I’m serious. Better yet, find Hunter and ask him to join you.” I scanned the room. “Look, there he is, over by the door. Three of you will be safer than two.”
I watched as the girls made the connection, then I waved at Sloan and Reed as I flitted past them to make small talk with Debra and Zach. The (not-so) dynamic couple was off in a corner by themselves.
“No one wants to talk to us,” said Zach. “They are all convinced that we killed––”
“That I killed,” said Debra. “No one thinks you killed anyone, Zach.”
“Well maybe they should, because I’m just mad enough to.”
“You know you don’t mean that,” Debra said almost casually. “But other people might take you seriously.”
I looked at Zach and wondered if I was one of them. Could Zach be the killer? I moved on, and introduced myself to several people I had seen around, but had not yet met. Just as Keith was about to go on, I saw Jon and Cam in the drink line, and walked through the crowd to them.
“I was getting worried,” I said to Jon.
“Traffic,” he said. “But Cam was nice enough to follow me back, just in case anything happened to the truck.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, looking at both their faces.
“Cam gave me the ride into Nashville,” Jon said.
Wow, two nice things from the guy in two days. I thanked Cam and was surprised when I realized I was sincere.
“No problem,” he said.
Jon pointed to my cup. “Orange juice and Sprite?”
I nodded. He knew me well.
Jon ordered a lemonade for himself, a beer for Cam and, the OJ and Sprite for me. I wasn’t above enjoying a beer or a glass of wine at times, but never at horse shows. I had a strict “no alcohol” policy for my entire crew at events. I never wanted a client to be able to say I lost a class because I had been drinking the night before, or that an injury had happened to one of the horses because my crew had imbibed one too many.
The first few notes of Keith’s first song rang out and I went to the back of the room to watch. No front row groupie action for me. I wanted to enjoy looking at my idea of perfection in peace.
After a while, I began to walk around so I could enjoy the view from different angles. I lingered for a while near Jon, who was still talking with Cam, then squeezed playfully between Annie and Tony. Despite the many fans that were moving air around, it was warm, and several times people brought me a drink. I was grateful for both the people and the beverages. I moved one final time and stopped next to Sloan and Judy.
“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” said Reed with a nod toward Keith. I hadn’t realized Reed was on my other side. “I didn’t think I’d be keen on a country music show, but I am enjoying this very much.”
Just then Keith ended his next to last song. But before he kicked off the notes for his finale, he handed his guitar off to a roadie and stepped back up to the microphone.
“I’d like to thank y’all for being a great audience,” said Keith. “My wife and two of my kids ride some, and I’d like to give a shout out to their riding instructor, who is here tonight. Y’all might know Cat Enright. She’s our next-door neighbor and a good friend to my family. So Cat, this last song is for you.”
Keith then swung into his signature song, a song he knew was one of my favorites. I didn’t have time to enjoy it though, because when Keith mentioned he was my neighbor, it was as if everyone in the room was drawn into my orbit. That’s the way it is. Everyone wants a piece of celebrity, and for many at the party the way to scratch their itch was to hobnob with the celebrity’s neighbor. I met more people in the next ten minutes than I had during the previous week.
As the crowd thinned, Jon handed my truck keys to me and said he was going to take a shower. While not four-star quality, the showers in the barn bathrooms were clean and perfectly adequate. I felt a little funky using them, but Jon had never seemed to mind.
“He’s my neighbor too, ya know,” said Hill Henley, approaching in his usual quarrelsome manner. That man could start an argument in an empty house. “Why’d that superstar jus’ mention you? That’s what I wanna know. Why you an’ not me?”
I stepped back. Personal space was not something Hill had ever learned about and he always strayed a little too far into mine. It made me uncomfortable. What also made me uncomfortable was that Hill was still the top suspect on my list. He also smelled. I couldn’t say that he was as drunk as a skunk, but the wavering beer bottle in his right hand indicated that he was in a state of some impairment.
“I don’t know why he didn’t include you, Hill. Why don’t you ask Keith?”
“Damn shootin’ I’m a gonna ask him. Mr. Fancy Britches goes and opens his mouth an’ never mentions his ol’ pal Hill. Somethin’ the matter with that boy.”
Hill weaved off in the direction of the stage and I made a hurried escape.
