Win, Place or Die

by Carolyn Keene

  Chapter

  One

  BORED, BORED, BORED!” Nancy Drew said, picking up a news magazine. She thumbed through it, tossed it aside, and flopped down on the living room sofa. “I’m bored!”

  The girl detective stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain that had plagued River Heights all week. She’d had to cancel her tennis lesson that afternoon, and unless the weather broke soon, her match that weekend would have to be postponed, too. Tapping her foot on the sofa’s armrest, she checked her watch. Bess Marvin had promised to stop by around five o’clock, after her hair appointment, but it was already almost six.

  Hearing the back door open, Nancy jumped to her feet. “Dad? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Nan,” Carson Drew, River Heights’s famous criminal lawyer, called out.

  Nancy hurried into the kitchen, where her father was just laying his briefcase and the evening paper on the table. “Am I glad you’re home. I’ve had the dullest day in history! Hannah’s visiting friends, George is on that trip with her parents, and Bess is almost an hour late!”

  Her father laughed and gave her a quick hug. “And you don’t have a mystery to occupy your time.” He paused. “I think I may have a cure.”

  Nancy’s detective instincts went on red alert. During the course of his work, her father stumbled on many mysteries. Maybe he’d found one now.

  Carson unfolded the newspaper to the sports section. Above a black-and-white photo of horses thundering down a racetrack, the headline read: “Top Three-Year-Olds Ready to Run for the Roses.” Beneath that, in smaller letters, it stated: “Derby Crowd Expected to Be Largest Ever.”

  Nancy glanced at her father quizzically. “The Kentucky Derby?”

  “The greatest two minutes in sports,” her father added. “Now that we’re owners of Pied Piper—” he started to say, pointing to the horse in the center of the field.

  Nancy stared at her father, amazed. “What do you mean we own a racehorse?” she interrupted.

  Carson Drew’s handsome face broke into a smile. “I just bought into a three-year-old Thoroughbred with some business associates of mine. We now own a quarter share of Pied Piper.”

  “You’re kidding!” Nancy’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Dad, that’s great! Does Pied Piper have a chance of winning the Derby?”

  “Well, I certainly hope so. Thea Rodriguez, the colt’s trainer, seems to have confidence in him.”

  “Pied Piper’s trainer is a woman?” Nancy asked.

  Carson nodded. “One of the best in the business, I understand.”

  “Wow!” Nancy quickly scanned the article. “When exactly is the Derby?”

  “A week from tomorrow—Saturday.” Carson frowned. “I’d like to go, but a case I’ve been working on is scheduled for trial next week. I’m afraid I can’t make it.”

  “Oh, Dad. That’s lousy!”

  Carson grimaced. “It certainly is. Someone will have to go and watch out for my interests.”

  “One of the other owners?” Nancy guessed.

  “Unfortunately, all of the owners have commitments they can’t break,” he said regretfully.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Who?” Nancy’s blue eyes danced at the teasing smile that spread across her father’s lips. “Not me?”

  “If you’re not too busy.”

  “Busy! Dad, this is great!” She flung her arms around his neck as the front bell pealed loudly. “That’s Bess!” Nancy cried. “Could I ask her to go along with me?”

  Carson laughed. “Ask away. In fact, I’d be happy to know you had a friend with you.”

  Nancy raced to the door. Bess, her blond hair trimmed and freshly styled, stood on the porch. Before Nancy could tell her the good news, Bess wailed, “My hair! Look at my hair! No, don’t look at it!” She tried to cover up the front of it.

  Nancy’s brows lifted. “What’s wrong? Your hair looks great!”

  “The front!” Bess moaned. “She cut bangs and she cut them too short—they’re all jagged and weird. The whole haircut makes me look like a Fashion Don’t!”

  “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.” Nancy pulled Bess’s hands from her forehead. “You look terrific. The bangs are fine. No problem.”

  “You really think so?” Bess asked doubtfully.

  “Would I lie to you?” Nancy answered. “Come on. Forget about your hair for a minute. I’ve got tons to tell you.”

  She led Bess into the den and then quickly filled her in on the Kentucky Derby and Pied Piper.

  “Your dad owns a Thoroughbred and wants us to go to Louisville?” Bess repeated when Nancy finished. “Oh, I can’t wait!” She paced the den floor, muttering under her breath. “I’ve got to convince Mom and Dad, and I’ve got to go shopping. But this hair!” She closed her eyes in remembered misery.

  “I can see you two have a lot to talk about,” Nancy’s father said dryly, standing in the den doorway. “I wrote Thea’s hotel number on the pad by the kitchen phone. I left word you’d get in touch with her tonight. There’s a hotel reservation waiting for you, too. One of my partners made it months ago. Since he can’t go, it’s all yours.”

  “Let’s call her,” Nancy suggested after her dad left.

  “Right after I talk to my parents,” Bess agreed.

  Although it took a little convincing, Mr. and Mrs. Marvin agreed to let Bess go with Nancy. Bess whooped with delight when she replaced the receiver.

  Next Nancy phoned Thea Rodriguez, but the trainer wasn’t in her room. Nancy left a message saying she and a friend would be arriving in Louisville sometime Monday afternoon. “I’d better make the flight reservations right now,” she added, grabbing the phone book.

  Thirty minutes later all their plans were set. “I can’t believe it!” Bess said before she left the Drews’ later that evening.

  “Well, start believing it.” Nancy grinned. “Early Monday morning, we’re heading for the Kentucky Derby!”

  • • •

  As soon as their flight landed in Louisville, Nancy’s pulse began to pound wildly. She and Bess picked up their bright red rental car and drove through Louisville’s busy pre-Derby streets to their downtown hotel. Hurriedly they changed into shorts and light cotton blouses. It was only a little after one when they were on their way to Churchill Downs, the famous racetrack of the Kentucky Derby.

  Bess adjusted the baseball cap she’d stuck on her head to cover her bangs. “Look, Nancy!” she cried excitedly. “We’re almost there!”

  Nancy glanced through the windshield. In the distance the twin spires on top of the grandstand were etched against a powder blue sky. “Just a few more minutes,” Nancy agreed. “I can’t wait to meet Thea. She said she’d be with Pied Piper at the barn ten.”

  “What did she sound like?” Bess asked.

  “Nice. Busy though. We barely had a chance to talk. She spends practically every minute with Pied Piper.” Nancy pulled to a stop at a red light. “She told me she even sleeps on a cot in the barn most nights, so she can be near him.”

  Nancy parked as near as she could to the wire fence that surrounded the stable area. Horse trailers were everywhere. According to the pamphlet she’d picked up at her hotel, Derby hopefuls weren’t the only horses housed in the barns. Other Thoroughbreds slotted for races run earlier in the week were also stabled there.

  Although it was only about ten miles from Louisville to Churchill Downs, Nancy noticed the carnival atmosphere of the city had disappeared. The mood was subdued by the racetrack stable area. Race people obviously took their sport seriously.

  “Which one is barn ten?” Bess wondered out loud, glancing around at the row of buildings.

  Nancy studied the numerous buildings and shrugged. “Let’s ask.”

  They passed t
hrough a narrow gate. Ahead lay the brown ribbon of track as it swept one and a quarter miles in front of the sheds, barns, grandstand, clubhouse, and bleachers.

  “Wow,” Bess said, awestruck by the scene in front of her.

  The place was busy with people and horses, alive with noise and the sharp scent of the Thoroughbreds. “Maybe we should go to the secretary’s office,” Nancy said, remembering Thea had said that was where everyone checked in.

  “Wait a minute,” said Bess. “Here comes somebody. Do you think he’s a jockey?”

  The short, red-haired man heading their way could easily be a jockey, Nancy decided. She knew all Derby horses carried one hundred twenty-six pounds during the race. The jockey had to weigh even less because the saddle accounted for some of the weight. The guy coming toward them looked about a hundred and ten and was several inches shorter than Nancy.

  Nancy smiled in greeting, but just before he reached them, the redhead turned toward the fence near the track, digging into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a piece of paper and scowled down at it.

  “He doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood, does he?” Bess murmured.

  Tucking a strand of reddish blond hair behind her ear, Nancy wrinkled her nose. “Not exactly. Let’s find someone else to ask.”

  They had taken only two steps when a heavyset older man with a flattened nose marched straight toward them and almost collided with Bess. Bess stopped short, and the man brushed past her, bumping against her shoulder. He strode straight for the red-haired jockey without a word of apology.

  “Well, excuse me,” Bess muttered under her breath.

  “He doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood, either,” Nancy remarked. The jockey started yelling at the heavyset man as soon as he joined him.

  “I said I’d get you your money, didn’t I? Now leave me alone!” the jockey shouted.

  The older man snapped back an answer in a low voice, too soft for Nancy to hear. Intrigued, Nancy eased back a few steps, pulling Bess with her.

  “What are you doing?” Bess whispered in her ear.

  “Shhh—I’m listening.”

  The jockey was glaring at the older man, his face ghostly white. Nancy leaned close to Bess, pretending to talk to her. In reality her attention was on the two men.

  “I’m not stiffing,” the jockey asserted, his voice lower now but shaking with emotion. “You’ll get your money the right way!”

  The man with the flattened nose suddenly glanced over his shoulder. His dark scowl centered on Nancy.

  Nancy’s heart lurched. Heaving a deep sigh, she complained dramatically, “Oh, I don’t know, Bess. It’s all a little disappointing, don’t you think?”

  Bess gazed at her in blank disbelief. “Well, sure,” she said slowly. “I mean, I guess so.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Are you serious?”

  “Of course not,” Nancy whispered back through a plastered-on smile. Something strange was going on between the jockey and the heavyset man, and she was going to find out what.

  The heavyset man, apparently reassured, turned back to the jockey. This time she caught the words he whispered to his friend. They sent a chill down her spine.

  “By race day, McHugh,” he growled in a raspy, threatening voice. “Or you can kiss more than the Derby goodbye!”

  Chapter

  Two

  BEFORE NANCY COULD HEAR another word, the two men moved out of earshot. She did notice, though, that McHugh had turned even whiter at the other man’s words.

  “What was that all about?” Bess asked.

  Nancy shook her head thoughtfully. “I don’t know, but it sure sounded like a threat to me. What did you think?”

  Bess rolled her eyes. “You’re not trying to scare up a mystery by any chance, are you?”

  “Maybe,” Nancy admitted, her blue eyes twinkling. “It has been a while between cases.” She glanced at the two retreating figures. “I just wish I knew what they were talking about.”

  She and Bess asked directions to the barns. As they peeked in one they could see a long row of stalls. The smell of horses and hay and feed hung in the dust-filled air. Pawing hooves, soft nickers, and snorts mingled with the shouts of stable boys. All contributed to the constant din.

  As they approached barn ten, they heard a voice on the loudspeaker announce that the afternoon races would begin soon.

  Barn ten was a beehive of activity. Grooms, stable boys, and trainers surrounded each horse.

  “Which one is Pied Piper?” Bess asked as they walked in front of the stalls. “Do you think Thea will know us?”

  “She told me she’d be—”

  “Nancy Drew?” a woman’s voice called out.

  “—looking for me,” Nancy finished, smiling at the young, trim, dark-haired woman approaching them.

  “Thea Rodriguez.” The trainer introduced herself, shaking Nancy’s and Bess’s hand in turn. Nancy liked the no-nonsense appeal of Thea’s jeans and plaid work shirt. “I’ve been waiting for you. Wait till you see him. Pied Piper’s the best horse I’ve ever trained!”

  With no further introduction she led Bess and Nancy toward Pied Piper’s stall. The colt looked at them over the top of the gate, his tail switching nervously. The gloss of his fiery chestnut coat indicated he was well cared for. An off-center white star was nearly hidden by his forelock. As if sensing they were admiring him, he suddenly tossed his head and nickered.

  “He’s beautiful,” Nancy said, feeling more than a little proud.

  “Oh, I hope he wins,” Bess said fervently. “Wouldn’t that be the best?”

  “It certainly would,” Thea answered, her serious face breaking into a grin. “There are a lot of terrific horse races that a champion colt, or filly, can enter, but there’s only one Derby. And only one chance to win it.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Bess.

  “The Derby’s only for three-year-olds,” Thea explained, “so a horse can enter it only once.”

  “How did you become interested in being a trainer?” Nancy asked.

  “My father was a trainer. A really good trainer,” Thea added honestly. “I’ve been around horses all my life, and because my father was respected, the Thoroughbred owners respected me, too.” She rubbed her hand down Pied Piper’s long, silky nose. “When my father died, I wanted to take up where he’d left off, but it hasn’t been as easy as I’d hoped. This is mainly a man’s profession still. Some people don’t think a woman can do the job.”

  “I know what you mean,” Nancy said with feeling. “I have a similar problem sometimes.”

  “Your father told me you’re a detective,” Thea responded. “I’d like to hear about your cases sometime.”

  “Nancy’s the best,” Bess put in loyally as a short, wiry young man walked up to Thea.

  “This is Jimmy Harris,” Thea said, introducing them all. “Pied Piper’s jockey.”

  “I’m heading out to the races now,” he told Thea after saying hello to the girls. “Unless you need anything else.”

  Thea shook her head, and Jimmy gave Nancy and Bess a friendly smile before he left. He reminded Nancy of the red-haired jockey she’d seen earlier. She found herself wondering again what his quarrel with the heavyset man had been.

  Nancy asked casually, “Is there a red-haired jockey here named McHugh?”

  Thea glanced at Nancy with a worried frown. “McHugh rides for Johnson Farms. He’s Toot Sweet’s jockey in the Derby. Toot Sweet is the favorite.”

  “Toot Sweet is the horse’s name?” Bess asked.

  Nancy smiled. “In French tout de suite means ’right away.’ Is that why the horse is named Toot Sweet?”

  “Exactly,” said Thea. “Apparently when Toot Sweet was a foal someone said, ‘That little filly really moves across the field tout de suite.’ So they named her Toot Sweet.”

  “Her?” Nancy repeated in surprise. “A filly’s the favorite? Isn’t that unusual?”

  “Very,” Thea agreed. “I see you’ve d
one some research,” she added, obviously impressed. “Only two fillies have ever won the Derby—Regret back in 1915, and Genuine Risk in 1980. The colts are generally bigger and stronger. But Toot Sweet’s a hefty girl.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Nancy caught sight of a handsome man in his early twenties moving their way. His blue denim work shirt set off piercing blue eyes and the balmy breeze ruffled his midnight black hair. He wore jeans, like Thea, and he walked with an easy gait that suggested he was part of the horse-racing scene.

  “Well, here’s the man to ask,” Thea said, a smile finding its way to her lips. “Cameron Parker, I’d like you to meet Nancy Drew and her friend—”

  “Bess Marvin,” said Bess, staring at Parker with stars in her eyes. Trust Bess to zero in on the one sensational-looking guy around, Nancy thought, amused.

  “Cam is Toot Sweet’s trainer,” Thea added. Her eyes met Cam’s and held steady on them for a minute.

  “So you’re with Johnson Farms, too,” Nancy said. “We saw Toot Sweet’s jockey a little while ago.”

  Cam’s dark brows pulled together in a frown. “Where?” he asked tersely.

  “Standing by the stable area fence near the racecourse.” Cam’s reaction heightened Nancy’s curiosity. “He was talking to a heavyset man with a flattened nose.”

  Cam’s blue eyes turned wintry. “Was he?” he asked, his tone making it clear he wasn’t happy. “Ken’s supposed to be getting ready for Toot Sweet’s public workout between races” was all he said, however. Turning to Thea, he added, “I just came to ask you if you’d like to see her run.”

  “In just a minute,” Thea agreed. In a little while she invited Nancy and Bess to join them. “The public workouts are so people at the track can see the Derby horses in action. Toot Sweet’s time will be announced over the loudspeaker. Let’s go check out the competition,” she said, swinging into motion.

  On the way to the dirt track, Cam said to Nancy and Bess, “Thea and I pay close attention to all the horses and what they’re doing. It’s all part of the business. It’s better to get the facts from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, than from some misinformed stable boy or racing enthusiast.”