by Jory Strong
“Someone wants to shut down the track.”
Cady untied Joker’s lead rope from the hitching post. “If it were more organized, then I’d say the AFF was behind this. But if they were paying protestors, then they’d want their money’s worth. Even then, I’m not sure if they would risk hurting the horses.”
“So you’re thinking that someone in construction or real estate development is behind this, someone who wants to put condos or apartments where the track sits?”
“Maybe. But I don’t know for sure. Do you remember that portrait I did of the African Gray parrot standing on his owner’s shoulder with the Wall Street Journal as a backdrop?”
Erin laughed as they headed toward the gate leading to the pasture. “That was a great shot. Wasn’t that bird’s name Wall E. Street?”
Cady grinned. “Yeah, Wally to his friends and family. His owner is an investment guy. I thought I’d give him a call and ask him to look into the Bay Downs stock. I think I need to know what it would take for someone to get their hands on the land that the track is on.”
Erin whistled softly. “Great idea. You might also find out that someone’s been buying up the stock in order to force the issue.”
They stopped long enough to open the pasture gate and lead their horses through before releasing them and watching as Ace and Joker galloped off to rejoin their herd. Cady smiled, actually feeling lighthearted. Yeah, there was just something about horses…
Turning back toward the parking lot, Erin sighed. “Well, I’m off to a photo shoot. Then Bulldog has invited me over for dinner.”
Cady’s eyebrows shot up. Not that she and her sisters weren’t frequently invited to their grandparents’ house, but usually it was Grandma Montgomery who did the inviting.
“What’s up?”
Erin shifted uncomfortably. “I turned down a case today.”
Cady was so shocked that her feet stopped moving abruptly and she almost pitched forward. “Bulldog asked you to take a case and you turned it down?”
“Yes.”
Cady grabbed Erin’s upper arm. “Okay, you listened to me blubber and cry about Kix, now it’s my turn to listen to you. What gives?”
“Dasan Nahtailsh.”
“The bounty hunter?”
Erin nodded. “He met with Bulldog this morning. He wants Crime Tells to investigate cheating at an Indian casino.”
Cady frowned. Now Erin was making no sense at all. “You’ve worked a casino case before.”
“Not like this. Dasan told Bulldog that the best way to go in was undercover, posing as his wife.”
“Well, that knocks out Braden, Shane, and Cole. And I can’t see Kieran agreeing to let Lyric pretend to be someone’s wife—even if he and Dasan know each other. So that leaves you and me, and I’m still not sure why you said no.”
Erin grimaced. “I’m attracted to him.”
“You’d have to be dead or extremely gay not to be attracted him, Erin. The guy is a walking fantasy. At Lyric’s wedding reception Grandma Maguire practically had to beat the women off of Dasan with her cane in order to get close enough to talk to him.”
When Erin remained quiet, Cady studied her sister more intently and felt the first stirrings of amazed disbelief. “You’re worried that you’re going to sleep with him.” Not that Cady couldn’t understand the temptation, but Dasan was a bounty hunter and Erin had always been adamant that she would never get involved with any man whose job put him in danger. Though truthfully, Erin hardly ever got involved with anyone.
Guys had been hitting on Erin since before she’d even had breasts. But instead of making Erin vain, it had made her more conservative. And though Erin would never admit it out loud, Cady had always thought that her sister secretly wanted a dominant man who’d take charge so that she wouldn’t have to stay so controlled.
Dasan could be that man.
Not that Cady had spent a lot of time around him. But he made her think of historical romance novels where Native American braves took their captive women out into the wilderness and thoroughly mastered them.
Shivering, Cady forced her mind back to the conversation. “You’re worried that you’re going to sleep with him?” she repeated.
Erin nodded slightly and rubbed her palms against her jeans in a nervous gesture. “You know he’s a shaman, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Ever since that day Lyric got shot, I’ve been dreaming about him.” She licked her lips. “Sometimes the dreams are…um…sexual, but not always.” She shrugged. “I can’t explain it, but they don’t feel like ordinary dreams. They don’t feel like they’re just my dreams.”
“Have you talked to Grandma Maguire about them? Maybe you’re…”
Erin shook her head vigorously. “It’s not the Maguire sixth sense. Look at Lyric and Braden. They’ve both had some of it since they were kids. This is different…like it’s coming from outside of me, not inside.”
Cady hesitated before plowing in. “Are you saying that you think Dasan is responsible for the dreams…that it’s some kind of shaman magic?”
Erin shrugged and rubbed her arms. “I sound crazy, don’t I? Too much work, not enough sex, that’s what Braden, or Shane, or Cole would say. Hell, Lyric would probably say it too.”
Cady chewed on her bottom lip. She’d never seen Erin like this. “I think Lyric would say that you should go for the gusto. Maybe you should…”
Erin interrupted with a shake of her head. “No. Not with Dasan.”
* * * * *
Nathaniel Bradshaw’s house was designed to entertain clients. It was plush, spotless, tasteful, and like Adrienne McKay’s house, it could have been featured in Architectural Digest.
Trophy wife number four showed Cady into Nate’s study where Wally the African Grey parrot was sitting on a play-tree and vigorously attacking a human-shaped toy while his investment guru owner hovered over a small table, glasses perched precariously on his nose as he studied the papers in front of him.
Nate looked up when Cady walked in. “I’ve been studying the numbers. Nothing spectacular here. Any particular reason you like this stock? There are a couple of other stocks out there right now that I’m very hot on.”
Cady shook her head. “This has to do with a case that I’m working on. It’s not exactly confidential, but it’s sensitive.”
Nate straightened and there was a speculative gleam in his eye. “Discretion and I are well acquainted. Does this have anything to do with the jockey they found in the bay?”
“Maybe.”
“So what are you after?”
“I’m looking for a money motive to explain some of the things happening at the track. Specifically, I’m trying to sort out a rumor that Bay Downs might close so that the land can be used for condos and apartments. But I’m open to suggestions. You’re the expert on this kind of thing. So if something jumps out at you…”
Nate had already started shuffling through the papers on his desk, the fingers of one hand dancing across the keys of a fancy little calculator. There was a muted exclamation and then he moved to the computer and worked there. The next time he looked up, his eyes were shiny with excitement.
“If the rumor is true, this stock is undervalued by a substantial amount. It could be worth almost four times its current trading price.”
“How can you tell?”
He tapped one of the papers on his desk. “The primary asset of Bay Downs per the financials is the grandstand area, in other words, the building. The land is carried at cost. But the cost doesn’t reflect fair market value. That land would be worth a fortune to a developer, especially someone who wanted to put residential property on it.”
Cady tried to translate what he was saying into something that fit with the case. If she was hearing Nate correctly, then the stock of Bay Downs was a great candidate for someone to make a killing on—but only if the track was going to shut down.
Her thoughts stilled. Adrienne said she’d made five million l
ast year between race winnings and betting on her own horses. And then there was the well-known fact that Adrienne came from money. Between her and her family, they could probably buy enough stock to prevent the closing of the track and maybe even run up the cost of the stock so it wasn’t undervalued.
That would be plenty of motive for drugging Adrienne’s horses and getting her license suspended…but was it enough motive for killing Meyers and Valdez or setting fires to three of the barns and ruining lesser known trainers?
Cady sighed, frustrated. If she could just talk to Roberto Gonzalez… Maybe he had the last piece of the puzzle, the piece that brought it all into focus. Ernie had said that Gonzalez was willing to talk to her…well, she needed him to talk now.
“Anything else jump out at you?” she asked Nate.
“There’s been an increase in the number of shares changing hands since last year. Not enough to turn it into this week’s hot tip in a brokerage house, but definitely enough to make me interested now that you’ve pointed it out.”
Cady thanked Nate and headed to the track to dig around for some more answers, and to make herself accessible if Gonzalez was ready to talk.
Chapter Seventeen
The stench of failure and alcohol hit Cady as soon as she walked into the small dark space that served as Jamie Johnson’s office. The trainer grunted and said, “Let me guess, you’re the detective I’ve been hearing about. Would have figured you’d be off celebrating now that Adrienne McKay has her license back.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a clouded glass and set it next to the one on his desk. “Drink?”
Cady shook her head, a small tremor of concern sliding along her spine. She hadn’t anticipated…this. She’s assumed that Adrienne would get her suspension lifted and that there would be rumors. But she’d expected Kix to star in them, not her.
“Okay if I sit?” Cady asked, moving to a dust-covered chair.
Jamie waved a hand. “Sure, sure.” He took a swallow of the amber-colored drink in his glass.
When he didn’t say anything else, Cady waded in. “There’s a rumor that Bay Downs is going to close. Have you heard anything about it?”
Jamie snorted. “You mean the rumor about Bay Downs moving to Sonoma, about the fancy showpiece barns, and how it’s going to save horseracing in Northern California?”
Cady’s pulse skipped through her veins. She’d been testing the waters only to be pulled under. She bluffed her way through her ignorance. “You don’t believe it?”
Jamie opened his arms wide. “I’m still in this same stink-hole, waiting for a lucky break. Somehow I don’t see that big shot beating a path to my office and sharing his vision with me.” He polished off his drink then reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, splashing some of it into his drink.
“By big shot, do you mean your brother Luke?”
Jamie’s face twisted with distaste. “You want to keep talking to me, don’t mention my brother’s name.”
“So whose vision is it to move the track to Sonoma, then?”
“Mr. Big Shot Barwig. The guy who owns Expansion and a couple of other nice horses. A little taste of the winner’s circle and he thinks he’s got all the answers.”
Cady almost plowed into Luke Johnson and another man as she left the barn housing Jamie’s office. “Sorry,” she said, recognizing Luke from the research she’d done on the Johnson family. The man with him also looked familiar. “You’re Luke Johnson, right?” She saw recognition flash in Luke’s eyes but he nodded and said, “And you are?”
Her first instinct had been to ask him about the rumor, but his pretending that he didn’t know who she was sent a whisper of caution through her. “Cady Montgomery.”
“Ah, Bulldog Montgomery’s granddaughter.” His eyebrows drew together. “What brings you here? I thought I heard that Adrienne’s suspension was revoked.”
“I heard that, too,” Cady said, dodging the question and refraining from confirming that she’d been investigating on Adrienne’s behalf. She checked her watch and lied, saying, “I’ve got to head to a photo shoot. It was nice to meet you.”
She’d planned to stay on the backstretch a little longer, walking around and making herself accessible in the hope that Roberto Gonzalez would come forward. After the encounter with Luke Johnson, she gave up the idea in favor of getting back to Crime Tells and doing an Internet search on Barwig, the owner of Expansion.
But when she got to her truck, there was a torn and folded piece of paper underneath her wiper bade. Roberto Gonzalez was finally ready to talk. He was waiting for her at Sticklers.
She got in the truck and drove the short distance to the diner, her heart aching as she retrieved her phone messages and heard Kix’s voice. She’d see this case through to the end, but she wouldn’t lie to herself. She wished that Kix was here with her—not for protection or for his expertise, but because being with him, sharing with him, made the colors in her life more brilliant.
Cady took a shuddering breath and pushed thoughts of Kix aside as she deleted his messages. Sharing had to work both ways, just as trust had to go both ways.
She got out of the truck and went into Sticklers. Russell wasn’t there, but the waitress who’d been working the night Cady treated Red, Ernie, and Jimmy to dinner was. She smiled at Cady. “Take your choice of a place to sit. Besides the guy in the back booth, you’re the only other customer.”
“I’m supposed to meet someone.” Cady looked toward the back booth and the Hispanic man sitting there. “Do you know who he is?”
The waitress’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sure, that’s Roberto. He trains over at the track.”
Cady nodded in relief. “Thanks.”
Roberto stood and offered Cady his hand when she got to the booth, and since he was eating, Cady took the time to order, then let silence hover over the table after the waitress moved away. There were a hundred questions that Cady wanted to ask and she knew it was a gamble not to plunge right in and try to get some answers before he changed his mind about talking to her, but her instincts told her to let Roberto start the conversation, to let him proceed at his own pace, in his own way. He didn’t start until the waitress had returned with Cady’s food.
“Angel didn’t kill himself,” Roberto said, his voice unaccented despite his Hispanic features. “He was Catholic and he had family that depended on him in Mexico.”
“Then who do you think killed him?”
Roberto looked around the diner even though no one had entered since Cady’s arrival. “Luke.”
A shiver of uneasiness danced along Cady’s spine as she remembered running into Luke Johnson and his casual, unspoken question about why she was on the backside of the track. “Why Luke?”
“He told Angel to drug Adrienne’s horses.”
Excitement shot through Cady. “Angel told you that?”
“Yes.”
“You were friends?”
A struggle with grief took place on Roberto’s face. A long moment passed before he said, “Yes.”
When he didn’t say anything else, Cady asked, “Did you know that Angel used coke?”
Another nod. “He had a fall and lost his nerve.”
“Did you know he bought it from one of the protestors?”
“No. I never asked him where he got it.”
“Why did you leave a note on my truck?”
“You know I work for Tiny?”
“Yes. Is he part of what’s going on at the track?”
“Not part of it, but he knows something.” Roberto settled more heavily into the vinyl bench seat and Cady got the impression that whatever war he’d been waging on the inside was finally over. “I don’t have a green card,” he said and she made the leap with him.
“So you can’t go to the police about Valdez or anything else because you’re afraid that you’ll be deported.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t promise anything except that I’ll try to keep your
name out of it and I’ll ask Bulldog if he knows anyone who can help you with immigration.”
Roberto hesitated for a second, then said, “Mostly Tiny has lousy horses and lousy owners. Last year he was scrambling for money. The hay man wanted cash on delivery, the farriers wouldn’t shoe the horses unless they got paid up front, and a couple of times I bought food for the grooms because Tiny didn’t have enough to pay them. But a couple of months into the first meet of the year, suddenly he has a lot of money. He told everyone that he won it in Vegas and that it was just the beginning of a lucky streak.” Roberto shrugged. “I didn’t care where it came from as long as I could keep training horses. But one night I stopped by the barn to check on a horse. Tiny was in his office with a stack of money. He’s not a drinker like Jamie is, but that night he was drunk and talkative, laughing about how stupid Luke was, how only an idiot documented illegal activities in a business plan.”
“So you think Tiny was blackmailing Luke.”
Roberto nodded and sent Cady an anguished, half-pleading look. “I didn’t understand what Tiny meant about the illegal activities. I closed my eyes and didn’t think about it. It was such a relief not to have to worry about money. All I wanted was to get enough experience so that I could eventually train on my own. I didn’t understand what was happening until Angel broke down and told me about drugging Adrienne’s horses and a couple of other ones besides them. Luke knew about the coke, and he knew that Angel needed money for his family in Mexico.” Roberto took a deep breath. “He also knew that Angel’s papers were fake, that he was using his cousin’s social security number so he could stay in the US and ride. Angel didn’t have any choice but to do what Luke said.”
“Do you know where Tiny is?”
Roberto hesitated for only a minute before writing the address down on a paper napkin. “He’s staying at his girlfriend’s place. She looks after the horses on lay-up there.”
* * * * *
Frustration seethed along every one of Kix’s nerve endings. He felt like he was standing in front of a wall and banging his head against it. The cops working both the Meyers’ case and the jockey’s suicide had pretty much said the same thing, “Thanks for the information. We’ll take it from here,” with a subtext of, We don’t need some out-of-jurisdiction cowboy to show us how it’s done in the big city.
