Bess shrugged. “But the horses are going to be okay, right? They’re not out of the race yet, so drugging them didn’t work.”
Nancy wrinkled her nose, thinking hard. “Do you suppose Cam drugged them to throw suspicion on someone else? It’s pretty risky. Or . . .”
Bess’s brows lifted in expectation.
“Or maybe we’re dealing with two separate crimes,” Nancy theorized. “Maybe the person who tried to kill McHugh isn’t the same one who drugged the horses.”
“Maybe the person who tried to harm the horses will try again,” Bess said.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said grimly. “Race officials are guarding the barns, but I want to get back to see for myself.”
• • •
Nancy and Bess cut across the stable area toward Pied Piper’s barn. “I don’t see how anyone could get past the guards,” Nancy said, looking up and down the row of barns. “But I’m still uneasy.”
There was a disturbance toward the far end of the stable yard. Eddie Brent was ranting and raving again, this time at the stable boy who was leading Flash, stretching the horse’s legs.
“Eddie really knows how to win friends, doesn’t he?” Bess asked sarcastically.
“Mmmm.” Nancy’s gaze was on Flash. The spirited colt was sleek and ready for any race. There was no evidence of listlessness.
“Flash looks great,” she remarked to Bess.
“He sure does. The drugs must be wearing off.”
“All the feed was changed,” Nancy said. Sighing, she added, “I can’t help being worried, though. Even with the guards, there’s so much activity that anyone could easily sneak by unnoticed, and—”
A shout and a horse’s high scream suddenly shattered the air. Hoofbeats thundered. Nancy and Bess whirled around, then froze.
Flash had reared up on his hind feet and was frantically pawing the air just over their heads!
Chapter
Thirteen
BESS SCREAMED and grabbed on to Nancy’s arm. Nancy shoved her friend to one side, falling on top of her as they both tumbled to the ground.
Just as they hit the ground, Nancy felt the air whistle beside her as Flash’s hooves crashed back to the hard-packed earth.
On all fours, the colt was now pounding toward the track. The shouts and screams of people scrambling out of the way followed in his wake.
“Bess! Are you all right?” Nancy asked, her voice shaking as she lifted herself up.
Bess raised her blond head. “I’m . . . okay. At least I think so,” she added, testing her right arm. Her elbow was scraped and bleeding. “What about you?”
“I’ll be all right.” Nancy glanced toward Flash. The colt was now galloping in frantic, tight circles, dodging several track security men and a group of stable boys and trainers. When they finally caught him, Flash kicked out with his hind feet once, then stood, snorting and pawing the ground, his flesh quivering.
“I wonder what made him take off like that?” Nancy asked out loud.
Eddie Brent and Ace Hanford reached them just then, breathing hard from their run. “Filthy, pigheaded monster,” Brent raged, glaring at Flash.
Ace pretended not to know Nancy, but he said quietly, “He might be all those things, but he’s a fast one.”
Brent nodded curtly to Nancy and Bess as he stalked toward the nervous colt. It was his only apology for the near accident.
Ace glanced back at Nancy and Bess. “Glad you weren’t hurt,” he said softly, then followed after Flash’s owner.
As Bess and Nancy walked back to Pied Piper’s stall, Bess asked, “Why does Ace put up with that awful Mr. Brent?”
“Good question,” Nancy murmured. She watched as the jockey grabbed Flash’s bridle, calmly walking the terrified horse around, cooling him down.
“Come on, Bess,” Nancy said to her friend. “Let’s get out of here.” Bess nodded in relief, and the two friends headed back to Pied Piper’s stall.
Thea hadn’t seen Flash’s escape, but she’d heard about it from the excited stable boys. Nancy filled her in on the details of their part in the incident.
“You could have been killed!” Thea gasped. “Flash is one of the most dangerous Thoroughbreds here.”
“I know,” Bess agreed with feeling, examining the bandage Thea was going to wrap around her elbow.
“Eddie Brent is so cheap!” Thea declared. “He won’t hire enough stable boys and grooms to take care of Flash. Ace has to do everything, and it’s too much for him sometimes. Like today . . . Flash broke away. If Eddie would just spend money where it counts—” She stopped short, her eyes flashing.
“Why does Ace put up with Eddie?” Nancy asked.
Thea’s mouth tightened. “For the horses, I guess. Eddie has winners. Ace has ridden for a lot of owners, and he wins the most on Eddie’s horses. A lot of jockeys would put up with Eddie’s tantrums just to ride a horse like Flash.
“With all his success, though, Eddie doesn’t understand a horse’s mentality,” Thea went on. “For instance, Flash works better without the whip, but Eddie won’t listen to Ace.”
“Brent seems to like to do things his way,” Nancy murmured. Remembering that Cam in anger had said Brent would drug horses, Nancy now wondered if the accusations could be true. Brent was thoroughly unlikable. Cam might have a strong motive to kill McHugh, but Brent might have an even stronger motive to eliminate the competition.
Except that Flash was drugged, too.
Nancy was still mulling that over later in the afternoon while she and Bess watched the day’s races from the infield homestretch rail. The crowd’s excitement was reaching a peak. As the Derby grew closer, Nancy could feel the excitement building. By the next day, when the Derby horses reached the gate, the crowd would be well over a hundred thousand.
“Let’s go inside the clubhouse for a bite to eat,” Nancy suggested to Bess as the last race finished.
The crowd was dispersing as Nancy and Bess entered the main clubhouse building. From the direction of Skye Terrace—the exclusive glass-enclosed seating area dubbed Millionaire’s Row—Evan and Laura Johnson appeared. Laura once again wore her mink coat, and teardrop diamond earrings twinkled at her ears.
Seeing Nancy and Bess, Evan boomed out jovially, “Well, if it isn’t Miss Drew and Miss Marvin. We were just coming to the barns to find you.”
“You were?” Bess asked, surprised.
“As Pied Piper’s representative owners, I wondered if you might join us at a party at our home this evening. I intend to invite Thea, too, of course. There’ll be other owners and trainers there as well.”
Mention of Thea brought a sulky look to Laura’s mouth, but then she quickly hid it behind a smile. “Cam will be there also,” she added.
“We’d be happy to join you,” Nancy accepted. “Thanks for the invitation.”
“Good. Good.” Evan nodded and pulled a card from a thick leather wallet. “This is the address.” He handed the card to Nancy. Tucking Laura’s arm through his, he led her toward the door, calling back, “We’ll see you around seven, then.”
“You think Walt will be there?” Bess asked excitedly as soon as Evan and Laura disappeared through the door.
“He is Toot Sweet’s jockey, so I’d bet on it.” Nancy’s eyes followed Evan and Laura’s progress down the steps. “I wonder if this party will be as eventful as the last,” she murmured thoughtfully.
“I hope not,” Bess said, steering her friend into the clubhouse restaurant. “I think it’s about time we had some plain old southern-style fun. Isn’t that why we came here in the first place?”
Nancy laughed and shook her head. “Okay, Bess, I get the point. Tonight we take a break from detecting.” Bess gave her friend a skeptical look. Nancy put out her hand to shake Bess’s. “I promise!”
• • •
The Johnson home was at the end of a long oak-lined drive about fifteen miles outside Louisville. White columns rose two full stories, and a wide porch extended
across the face of the house. Two huge brass lamps flanked the front double doors.
“I feel like I’ve stepped back in time a century,” Bess murmured, gazing at the house and the miles of fence rails that stretched over the hills, gleaming snow-white in the moonlight.
Nancy glanced at the other cars outside Evan Johnson’s home. There were only a handful of people there. Eddie Brent would undoubtedly be left off the guest list, Nancy thought, remembering the rivalry between the Kentucky breeders and the surly California horse owner.
“How do I look?” Bess asked as they walked up the front stone steps.
“Terrific as always,” Nancy replied absently. She gazed past the house to the fields beyond. No horses were in sight.
“You didn’t even look!” Bess complained.
Nancy glanced at Bess’s sky blue silk dress. It hugged her curves and made her blue eyes shine. Her hair was floating freely around her shoulders.
“You look mahvelous,” Nancy drawled. “Simply mahvelous.”
“My bangs are at least bearable now.” Bess giggled. “You look mahvelous, too.”
Nancy had pulled her reddish blond hair into a french braid. Her dress was blue, too, but it was a dark midnight shade, and the satiny material whispered as she walked. Around her throat was a rope of pearls.
“If we go to any more parties, I’m sunk,” Nancy remarked. “I don’t have another dress.”
“We could trade,” Bess pointed out.
“Oh, sure!” Since Bess was several inches shorter, Nancy laughed aloud. “Do you know what I’d look like in—that?” She pointed to Bess’s dress.
“I guess it was just wishful thinking, huh?” Bess agreed, glancing wistfully at Nancy’s gown.
They both laughed as the door opened, and a butler dressed in a formal black suit invited them into the house. He escorted them straight down a long, narrow hallway to the backyard. Nancy would have liked to explore the immense house, but most of the doors were closed. The brief glimpses she had inside some of the open rooms were a bit disappointing. She’d expected the decor to be right out of a glossy magazine, but most of the furniture looked old, massive, and a little worn.
The back porch and large sloping yard were lit by strings of colored lights, artfully arranged overhead in a fan-shaped design. A white fence glowed beneath misty rainbow colors. Beyond the fence stood a building that Nancy guessed was once the Johnson family’s well-stocked barn and stables. Now it looked empty and dark and faintly menacing. Nancy wondered where the horses were kept.
Spying Walt, Bess made a beeline toward where the blond jockey stood, looking slightly uncomfortable in his tuxedo.
Nancy was about to search out Thea when Evan Johnson suddenly appeared at her elbow. “Miss Drew!” he greeted her expansively. “You must have some punch.” He gestured to an ornate silver bowl on a table to one side.
“Thank you,” Nancy said.
As she went to get the punch, she glanced around. Wow, she thought to herself, noticing the large serving staff and elegant serving trays covered with all kinds of delicious-smelling entrees. Evan had spared no expense.
And yet . . .
Nancy’s gaze traveled up the back of the house. There were signs of neglect: the house needed painting, a rail around an upper balcony bowed out unsafely, flower boxes had been raked out and never replanted.
Why is Evan Johnson letting his house go like this? Nancy wondered as she served herself a glass of the fruity iced punch. Most people with his wealth and social connections would keep up their property for appearances’ sake if nothing else.
“Nancy!” Bess waved to Nancy to join her and Walt.
Walt’s normally cheerful face was serious. He was the only jockey at the party.
“Is something wrong?” Nancy asked him.
“No. I just didn’t want to come,” he admitted. “This isn’t my kind of thing, but Evan invited me, and Cam thought that since I’m riding Toot Sweet I ought to come.” He tugged on his collar. “So here I am.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Bess told him, her eyes twinkling. “I need someone to tell me what I can and can’t eat!”
“Stay away from that vegetable dip,” Walt said seriously. “It looks good, but it’s loaded with fat. I asked the caterers when I was in the kitchen.”
“You were in the kitchen?” Nancy asked, amused by Walt’s obsession with a proper diet.
“I mixed a special health drink,” he confessed, lifting a crystal glass which held a strange, dark purple mixture. “There’s more in the refrigerator if you want some.”
“Could I have a taste?” Bess asked bravely.
Walt brightened. “Sure. Come on.” He led her toward the kitchen. Bess glanced back once, and Nancy clutched her throat, pretending to choke.
“Better you than me, Bess.” Nancy laughed softly to herself and headed over to Cam and Thea’s table. On the way, Laura Johnson intercepted her.
“So, how are you enjoying the party?” Laura asked politely.
“It’s great. I haven’t had a chance to sample much of the food yet, but I’m on my way.”
Laura wasn’t really listening. Her gaze was on Cam. “Mmmm. That’s nice.”
Nancy bit her bottom lip, thinking hard. This was a perfect opportunity to ask a few questions. “I understand Cam actually owns Toot Sweet,” she said innocently, sipping her punch.
Laura whipped around as if her head had been pulled by a string. “Who told you that? Cam?”
“Thea.”
Color swept up Laura’s neck. “Well, it’s true. Daddy and I don’t really own Toot Sweet. We’ve never been that interested in racing. But this house is ours,” she said firmly, as if Nancy had questioned it. “U.J. might have left Johnson Farms to Cam, but he left me the house. It’s been in the family for generations. Johnson Farms, where the horses are stabled, is much newer. It’s on the other end of Louisville.” She waved vaguely toward the north.
Cam and Thea rose from their table, and Laura hurried over to them. The poor girl seemed oblivious to the fact that Cam cared for Thea. Both Cam and Thea excused themselves as soon as Laura joined them—Thea headed into the house.
As Nancy watched Thea’s retreat, Eddie Brent suddenly appeared on the porch. Evan Johnson walked stiffly toward him with his hand extended. Both men’s jaws were clenched tight.
Cam appeared at Nancy’s side then. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” he remarked. “I guess he decided he couldn’t deliberately leave Eddie out.”
This was the perfect opportunity to talk to Cam alone, Nancy thought. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Ken McHugh,” she said.
“He’s still in a coma,” Cam answered, anticipating her question.
“I know.” Nancy drew a breath. “Actually, it was something else I wanted to ask.” She paused for a moment, then dove in, trying to make her question sound as innocent as possible. “Why was McHugh going to ride Toot Sweet in the Derby? I mean, Thea told me you own Johnson Farms, and you didn’t seem to get along with McHugh. Why didn’t you choose Walt?”
“What are you getting at?” Cam demanded, his eyes narrowing. “McHugh’s a good jockey, and he knows Toot Sweet better than Walt. I still wish he were riding in the Derby.”
With that, Cam walked back to his table, putting a quick end to Nancy’s questions.
Dinner was served outside, and Nancy was seated with Bess and Laura and Walt. Laura kept casting wistful glances at Cam, but he had eyes only for Thea, who was sitting next to him at a small, two-person table.
After dinner Walt went to talk to Cam, and Nancy and Bess had a few moments alone. “I took one sip of Walt’s special drink and I couldn’t drink any more,” Bess admitted. “I poured the rest out behind a bush when he wasn’t looking. It had all kinds of terrible things in it, like wheat germ and whey and gelatin. Yuck!” She shuddered.
Nancy glanced at Walt. One of the caterers was bringing him another glass of his drink. “Well, he seems to like it.”
“Looks like the party’s ending,” Bess said.
“Let’s say good night to Evan and leave, too,” suggested Nancy.
Walt returned to their table and said to Bess, somewhat reluctantly, “I think I’d better go home. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel sort of tired.”
“That’s okay,” Bess told him affectionately. “We can celebrate after the Derby tomorrow.”
Walt, Bess, and Nancy all said good night to Evan then walked through the shadowed hallway to the front porch. Going down the steps, Walt suddenly stumbled, clutching at one of the columns. He started to gasp.
Bess looked at him in alarm. “Walt! Are you all right?”
Nancy was beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“I—don’t know! I feel dizzy. Weak. I think it’s—” Then, without another word, the jockey pitched forward down the steps and sprawled on the ground, unconscious.
Chapter
Fourteen
WALT!” BESS SHRIEKED, kneeling beside him.
“Quick! Loosen his tie!” Nancy cried, her fingers already performing the task.
“He’s breathing!” Bess cried in relief.
Walt’s chest rose and fell slowly, but the jockey was out cold.
“I’ll go back inside and call an ambulance. Stay with him,” Nancy told her friend.
Inside the house the first person she saw was a caterer. “Do you know where a phone is?”
“There’s one in the kitchen,” he answered, eyeing her dubiously.
“It’s an emergency,” she explained, already in motion. “Find Evan Johnson and tell him I’m calling an ambulance for Walt!”
Inside the kitchen Nancy found the phone, dialed 911, and explained about Walt. She was just hanging up when Evan burst into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Walt Collins,” Nancy quickly explained. “He started gasping, then fell down the steps and passed out.”
Win, Place or Die Page 7
