Win, Place or Die

by Carolyn Keene

  “What was that all about?” Bess wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know. Thea seemed eager to talk until I mentioned Cam.”

  “Do you think something serious is going on between Thea and Cam?” Bess asked, glancing wistfully at the handsome, dark-haired trainer.

  “Yes, I do,” Nancy told her friend, following Bess’s gaze. “But it looks like Laura Johnson hasn’t figured it out yet.”

  At that moment Laura detached herself from her father and Cam and wandered in Nancy and Bess’s direction. She was sipping from a champagne glass, glancing over the crowd. Nancy put her age at somewhere in her mid-twenties.

  “You’re Laura Johnson, aren’t you?” Nancy asked politely when Laura came within earshot.

  “That’s right,” she said, a friendly smile curving her lips.

  “I’m Nancy Drew, and this is my friend Bess Marvin.” Realizing she needed some way to connect herself, Nancy added, “I guess you could say I’m a part owner of Pied Piper. My father has a quarter interest in the colt.”

  “That’s interesting,” Laura murmured, her eyes scanning the crowd.

  “I understand you’re Toot Sweet’s owner,” Nancy pursued.

  Laura’s lashes swept her cheeks and her lips tightened a fraction. “That’s right.”

  “I saw Toot Sweet work out today,” Nancy began, still trying to get the girl’s attention.

  “That’s nice. Look, will you excuse me? There’s someone I need to talk to.” With that, Laura headed for the crystal champagne fountain.

  “For someone so rich, she obviously never was sent to charm school,” Bess said, shaking her head. “Should we head over to the punch bowl and get something to drink now?” Bess asked. “I’m thirsty.”

  “Good idea,” Nancy agreed, her gaze landing briefly on Evan Johnson and Ken McHugh, who were directly in her line of vision. Johnson held a champagne glass in his right hand. At that precise moment the glass suddenly shattered into pieces. Nancy gasped. He’d squeezed it so tightly it had broken!

  Blood flowed down Evan’s hand and onto the ballroom’s black-and-white tile floor. A sudden chill made Nancy shiver.

  She followed Evan’s gaze, which was still fastened on Ken McHugh. There was murder in his eyes!

  Chapter

  Five

  KEN MCHUGH casually lifted his glass to his lips. When the jockey lowered the glass, Nancy saw he was smirking as he spun and sauntered toward the door.

  Evan Johnson jerked forward, ready to follow the jockey, but Laura quickly moved to his side and stopped him. A waiter handed Evan a towel. Even as he wrapped it around his bleeding hand, he never took his cold gaze from McHugh.

  “What just happened?” asked Bess.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Nancy answered as she shifted around several people to join Evan Johnson’s group.

  As Nancy approached them, Johnson stalked away with Laura trailing after him. Cam and Thea, who were standing nearby, stared after them.

  “Do you know what he meant?” Thea was asking Cam as Nancy reached them.

  “You know McHugh,” Cam said. “He always talks like that.”

  Nancy and Bess approached the two trainers. “Like what?” Nancy asked pointedly.

  Cam’s jaw was set, and Nancy didn’t think he would answer. Finally he muttered in disgust, “Like he knows secrets about everybody. It’s all a big front. He just likes goading people. One day he’ll go too far with that big mouth of his!”

  “What did McHugh say to upset Evan Johnson so much?” Bess asked curiously.

  There was a moment of silence as Thea and Cam glanced at each other. Cam cleared his throat uncomfortably. Nancy could practically feel the tension rising from the two trainers.

  Cam sighed and finally spoke up. “McHugh said to Evan, ‘Well, you really fixed things last March, didn’t you?’ It’s just the kind of crack he’s always making, and it infuriated Evan.”

  “What did he mean by that?” Bess asked blankly.

  The wheels were turning in Nancy’s mind. “Was McHugh accusing Evan of fixing a race?” she guessed.

  “That’s what he made it sound like.” Cam shrugged. “But the only way Evan could fix a race was if he bribed a jockey to deliberately hold his horse back during a race.”

  “Why would he want to do that?” Bess asked, puzzled.

  “To eliminate the competition,” Nancy explained.

  “Don’t take anything McHugh says seriously,” Cam warned. “He just likes to stir things up.”

  Nancy was about to ask Cam what he meant when Jimmy Harris, Pied Piper’s jockey, looking uncomfortable in his tuxedo, came over and asked Thea to dance with him.

  Thea accepted graciously, then someone asked Bess to dance. Left alone with Cam, Nancy was pleased when he suggested they hit the dance floor, too.

  “Sure,” Nancy said, happy for the chance to follow up on their conversation.

  Cam tucked Nancy’s hand in his and led her to the center of the floor. He held her lightly in his arms. Nancy had to admit that Bess was right. Cam had a real presence.

  “Could Evan have fixed a race?” she asked when she felt the moment was right.

  Cam smiled faintly. “Thea told me you were a detective. Don’t you ever take any time off?”

  “Not often,” Nancy admitted a bit sheepishly. Cam laughed.

  “It would be a pretty tough thing to do,” he answered after a moment’s thought. “One way would be to have a jockey deliberately hold his horse back. It’s called stiffing a horse.”

  “Stiffing!” Nancy exclaimed, remembering what McHugh had said to the heavyset man with the broken nose.

  “That’s right. But the catch is, you’d have to have every jockey stiffing except the one riding the horse you bet on. That’s a lot of jockeys to buy off if the field’s big.”

  Nancy was thinking fast. The heavyset man had apparently wanted McHugh to stiff Toot Sweet in the Derby, but McHugh refused. She decided to try to talk to McHugh as soon as possible to find out if she was right.

  “Is there any other way to fix a race?” she asked Cam.

  He nodded. “Horses have been drugged to increase their speed, but now after a race each horse is tested. If there are any drugs present, the horse is disqualified.”

  Sensing their dance would soon come to an end, Nancy changed the subject to Cam himself. “How long have you worked for Johnson, Farms?”

  She felt his muscles tense beneath her hands. “A few years,” he answered cautiously.

  “Thea said you worked for U.J. first, Evan Johnson’s brother,” Nancy prodded.

  “That’s right.” He smiled again. “U.J. was one of a kind.”

  Nancy couldn’t tell by his comment whether Cam had liked U.J. or not. “How do you mean?”

  “Oh, he loved to rub people the wrong way—kind of like McHugh. They were a lot alike, and I guess that’s what U.J. saw in Ken. They were both gamblers, too. Ken’s still a pretty heavy bettor at the track.”

  “I didn’t know jockeys could bet on races,” remarked Nancy.

  “They can bet on their own horse, but the bet has to be placed through the horse’s owner or trainer.”

  “Do you place bets for him?” Nancy asked curiously.

  “No way. McHugh and I just barely tolerate each other. I wouldn’t go out of my way to do him a favor.”

  “McHugh and Evan Johnson don’t seem to get along too well, either,” Nancy observed.

  “It goes with the territory, I suppose.” Cam shrugged. “McHugh’s too much like U.J. for Evan.”

  “Evan didn’t like his brother?”

  Cam laughed. “Evan hated his brother. U.J. knew it and loved making things worse.” Cam’s gaze fell on someone near the door, and Nancy turned to look. “Take Eddie Brent,” said Cam. “U.J. hated him, too. Brent’s a California breeder and U.J. was a die-hard Kentuckian. They were bitter rivals right to the end.”

  “It sounds like U.J. didn’t have many
friends,” Nancy murmured. “How did he die?”

  “It wasn’t foul play, if that’s what you think,” Cam said quickly. “He’d been sick a long time and died peacefully. I know because I was with him at the end.”

  The music ended and Cam led Nancy back to where Thea and Bess were waiting. Nancy would have liked to continue their talk, but Cam drew Thea into his arms and onto the dance floor, gazing at her in a way that left no doubt about his feelings.

  “So much for wishful thinking.” Bess sighed, focusing on Cam.

  “I think you’re better off without him, anyway,” Nancy informed her. “He did tell me a lot about Johnson Farms, but I got the feeling he was holding something back.”

  “I don’t really care what he’s hiding,” Bess declared. “He’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “On that,” Nancy said, catching Cam’s handsome profile, “we agree totally!”

  • • •

  The next day Nancy slept late and woke with late-morning sunlight streaming over her face. After tossing back the covers, she dashed to the shower.

  “Wake up!” she yelled at Bess, who was sound asleep in the other double bed. “The Derby Trial is today, and Thea told me Ken McHugh’s riding another of Johnson Farms’ horses.”

  Bess’s only answer was a groan.

  By the time Nancy had finished showering and was changing into a pair of khaki shorts and a green polo shirt, Bess was staggering around the room, bleary-eyed.

  “What time did we get in last night?” she mumbled, heading for the bathroom.

  “Only midnight. But it was a long day.”

  “Too long,” Bess said with a yawn.

  Half an hour later Bess stood in front of the dresser mirror, frowning at her reflection. Her lemon yellow sundress looked cool and comfortable. “Do you think my bangs have grown at all?” she asked hopefully.

  “Maybe a little,” Nancy said.

  “Hah. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Bess snatched up a floppy straw hat with a yellow flowered band and plopped it on her head. “I love hats,” she declared happily.

  They arrived at the racecourse to find the parking lot even more crowded than the day before. The noise from the grandstands was deafening. Each day closer to the Derby meant bigger crowds, Nancy realized.

  “What’s the Derby Trial?” Bess asked, peering over Nancy’s shoulder at a brochure.

  “The main race of the day. It’s the last one, at five-thirty, so we’ve got most of the afternoon to kill. Let’s find Pied Piper.”

  Bess and Nancy stayed near the barns during most of the afternoon. By the time of the Derby Trial, Nancy had checked out Pied Piper and the other thirteen horses who would be racing in the Trial. They all were strong and powerful.

  “One of the Thoroughbreds, Midnight Express, is also from Johnson Farms,” Nancy said out loud, reading from her program. She and Bess had gone down to the track and were crowded against the infield rail at the far turn. “He’s the only one in this race who’s slotted for the Derby.”

  “There are Cam and Thea!” Bess cried, waving across the track at the couple. They waved back.

  “I can’t see the starting gate from here,” Bess complained, standing on tiptoe to peer over the sea of heads.

  “We’ll see them when they get to the homestretch,” Nancy reassured her. “Besides, we can see the finish line from here, and that’s better than the starting gate.”

  Suddenly they heard the clang of the gates. A roar went up from the crowd and almost drowned out the thundering hoofbeats.

  Nancy strained to see. Johnson Farms’ colors were black and red. Would Ken McHugh’s black-and-red silks be in the lead?

  “I can’t see!” Bess complained again.

  “Just wait. They’re coming!”

  Horses pounded around the curve, leaning in, four or five bunched together. Nancy craned her neck to see Ken McHugh. Where was he?

  Her gaze fell on the sixth horse. Hugging the rail, Midnight Express was straining hard but losing ground. Then she saw McHugh in the lead. Instead of crouching gracefully over the horse, he was weaving on top of the charging colt as if he could barely hold on!

  Gasping, Nancy watched as he swayed far to the left. The jockey’s head bounced against the infield rail, and his helmet unsnapped and fell off.

  McHugh then plunged from the colt in a tumble of black and red, smashing full force against the rail and landing facedown in the dirt track. The pounding field of horses was thundering straight toward his still form!

  Chapter

  Six

  WATCH OUT!” Nancy cried, her voice lost in the screams of the crowd. The nearest horses leapt over McHugh’s body, saving him from their pounding hooves.

  Nancy struggled to get through the crush of people and over the rails to McHugh, but the track marshals and medics got to the jockey first.

  “Get back, everyone!” one of them ordered. “Get back!”

  The wail of a track ambulance siren sounded. Nancy, Cam, and Thea watched as a medic gave Ken McHugh artificial respiration. Another medic then clamped an oxygen mask over his face, and the two men lifted him into the back of the waiting ambulance.

  Quietly, the others headed back toward the barns. Thea was pressed close to Cam’s side, his arm around her. Nancy and Bess walked a few paces ahead, giving them some privacy. Still, Nancy could hear the conversation between the two trainers.

  In a low, shaky voice, Thea said to Cam, “If Ken dies, the rumors will start again. I just know they will.”

  “Shhh,” Cam warned.

  “We’ve got to do something, Cam,” Thea whispered. “Before it’s too late!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,” Cam reassured her softly.

  Nancy desperately wanted to know what Cam could handle, but right then didn’t seem like the time to ask.

  By unspoken consent, they all stopped at Toot Sweet’s stall. Cam was checking the filly, when Nancy heard sharp, rapid footsteps behind them.

  She turned to see Laura Johnson, in a stunning white silk dress and jacket, hurrying toward them. Her face was nearly as white as the fabric.

  “Oh, Cam,” she cried. “Isn’t it awful? I’m so afraid!” She threw herself into his arms. Cam looked surprised, but he didn’t push her away.

  Thea sucked in a breath. Swallowing, she turned on her heel and strode away.

  “Thea! Wait!” Cam called, but Thea kept on going. He started to follow after her, but Laura hung on to his arm.

  “Ken’s not going to die, is he?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  Nancy and Bess left Cam with Laura and followed Thea back to Pied Piper’s stall. The girls found her inside the colt’s stall, brushing him down, her face set.

  “I need a little time alone,” she told them, without looking up from the colt’s glossy coat.

  “Sure,” Nancy said, seeing there was nothing to do to console the girl. She nodded at Bess. “I think we’ll go back to the hotel. Let us know if you hear anything about Ken McHugh.”

  • • •

  Nancy and Bess had been back at the hotel about two hours when Thea called with the news. “He’s in a coma,” she said quietly. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

  Nancy’s stomach turned. “Thanks for letting us know,” she answered softly before hanging up.

  The look on Nancy’s face was enough explanation for Bess. “Oh, no,” Bess murmured.

  The phone rang again. This time it was Nancy’s father. “How’s everything going?” Carson asked.

  “Not so great, Dad,” Nancy admitted, telling him about the jockey’s fall.

  Carson listened quietly. “What a terrible accident,” he said finally, “but it happens in racing sometimes.”

  “I know,” Nancy murmured. “But it worries me that McHugh said he thought someone wanted him dead.” Remembering the cut girth strap, she added, “Maybe his accident wasn’t really an accident.”

  “I’m sure the track officials
are looking into it,” her father assured her.

  “I hope you’re right,” Nancy said grimly. After talking for a few more minutes, she hung up. Bess convinced her to go down to the hotel coffee shop to have a bite to eat, and afterward the two girls went back to the room. While Bess watched TV, Nancy lay on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, reflecting on her father’s words. “It happens in racing. . . .”

  But does it? Nancy asked herself. Someone had obviously cut McHugh’s girth. Did that same person somehow cause this accident? Why hadn’t she checked out the horse and saddle? Nancy chided herself. Now she’d have to get her information secondhand.

  • • •

  Wednesday morning Nancy had promised Bess they would sightsee and shop in Louisville for a couple of hours. They spent the time strolling down the town’s main streets, but Nancy couldn’t think of anything but getting back to the track.

  Over a snack at an outdoor cafe, Nancy finally burst out, “Bess, do you mind if we go out to the track? I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on.”

  “No problem,” said Bess. “I have to admit, I don’t really feel like shopping today.”

  “That’s a first,” Nancy teased, but she understood. McHugh’s accident had put a damper on their spirits.

  When they arrived at the racecourse everything looked like business as usual. Several horses were working out on the track with the ever-present race reporters, stopwatches in hand, lining the rail.

  “Too bad about McHugh,” Nancy heard one of the reporters mutter as she and Bess walked by.

  “Yeah,” his companion answered. “Could cost the filly the race.”

  Eddie Brent stood near the stable area fence next to a heavy man. Nancy did a double take, but a second look told her Eddie’s companion wasn’t the man she’d seen talking to McHugh that first day. This guy was writing down notes. Another reporter, Nancy realized.

  “McHugh was just reckless,” Eddie was saying in an offhand manner. “His heart was never really in racing. He liked the money. Period. Ask anybody. But he always put a little too much of it down on the horses, you know what I mean?” he asked slyly.