Win, Place or Die

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy shoved her shoulder against the door and pushed, trying to break the lock with her weight. The wood groaned, but the door remained locked and in place.

  Hefting the scythe, Nancy hurled it at the door with all her might. The wood splintered beside the lock with a loud crack. A small hole opened. Nancy gulped in fresh air, then slammed the scythe against the door once again. With a last squeal of metal the padlock on the outside broke free, and she and Bess tumbled into the sunshine.

  They ran far from the burning stables, both girls coughing and choking. By now flames were licking at the roof. Nancy and Bess stood still, gulping in lungfuls of fresh air.

  “What are you doing here?” a stern voice called out.

  Nancy looked up. A policeman was standing in front of her, staring at her as if she were a criminal!

  “We were caught in the barn. We just escaped,” Nancy explained. A wave of relief passed over her as she heard the far-off wail of a fire engine.

  “Come with me,” the stern-faced policeman ordered. “You, too,” he said to Bess.

  “We need to get to a phone,” Nancy protested. “Someone tried to kill us! We were supposed to meet Evan Johnson here. This is his home, but then we heard a gunshot, and—”

  “Save it for Lieutenant Masterson,” the policeman ordered. “You can tell him the whole story at the station.”

  “The station!” Nancy echoed in amazement. “You’re taking us in? On what charge?”

  His gaze was cold. “Vandalism and arson,” he said flatly.

  Nancy was shocked. She tried to tell him that he was wasting time, but the policeman wouldn’t listen. The officer ordered her and Bess into the backseat of a police cruiser and quickly drove them to the Louisville police station.

  Lieutenant Masterson was a tall, thin man with red hair and a no-nonsense attitude. “Are these the vandals?” he asked the policeman who’d brought Nancy and Bess in.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Vandals?” Nancy couldn’t believe her ears. “We didn’t vandalize anything! We were set up!”

  Nancy stared at the lieutenant, her chin determined. Someone must have tipped the police off. How else had they gotten to Evan Johnson’s so fast?

  “How did you know about the burning stables?” Nancy demanded, watching Lieutenant Masterson’s face closely.

  “We had an anonymous phone tip,” he admitted.

  “An anonymous phone call. Someone called and told you the stables were burning?”

  “We were informed that vandals had started a fire.”

  Nancy blinked several times, her mind racing. “Was it a man who called?” she asked. When Lieutenant Masterson nodded, she added soberly, “It must have been Evan Johnson. He was the only person who knew where we would be.”

  Lieutenant Masterson cleared his throat and said dryly, “Ms. Drew, realize what you’re saying. Mr. Johnson is a respected member of this community.”

  “Who may be a criminal,” Nancy said tersely.

  “Do you have any proof to substantiate your claims?”

  “He locked us in the stables and left us to die!” Bess cried in disbelief. “What more proof do you need?”

  “He was going to bring in a pitcher,” Nancy put in, her words tumbling over one another in alarm as she realized she’d been duped by Evan. She quickly explained about Walt’s drink being drugged. “Did he bring a pitcher in? He said he was going to have it tested for drugs.”

  Lieutenant Masterson frowned. “No pitcher was brought in to my knowledge, but let me make a call.”

  While the lieutenant checked with the crime lab, Nancy glanced anxiously at the clock on the wall behind his desk. The minutes were ticking away. It was already two o’clock! Somehow she had to convince Masterson they needed to chase down Evan and Laura Johnson before it was too late!

  She realized now that Evan and Laura must have been working together—and it probably was all because of money. They must be near bankruptcy to be so desperate. That’s why one of them—probably Laura—had drugged both Pied Piper and Flash. She and Evan wanted both horses out of the race. Then they gave Toot Sweet a much lighter dose to throw suspicion off them.

  “No one brought in a pitcher for testing,” Lieutenant Masterson said. He looked a little confused, as if he were finally starting to believe Nancy and Bess were innocent victims.

  “Walt Collins was drugged last night,” Nancy said, hammering her point home. “Ken McHugh was drugged a few days ago. Someone’s done it on purpose, and I’m almost certain it had to be Evan Johnson and his daughter, Laura.”

  “Maybe you should start at the beginning,” Lieutenant Masterson suggested.

  Once again Nancy glanced at the clock. Quickly and concisely, she brought the lieutenant up to date, telling him everything she’d learned over the past week. She told him about Dollar Bill, U.J.’s will, Evan and Laura’s probable need for cash, and even her suspicions about Cameron Parker and Eddie Brent. Finally she pleaded, “We’ve got to get to the racetrack! Come with me and I’ll prove I’m right!”

  “Okay.” Masterson nodded. His attitude had changed. Nancy realized that she’d convinced him that she was no criminal and that she needed help.

  “There are too many things that have happened that don’t add up,” he told her. “At the very least, Mr. Johnson owes us an explanation. Let’s go.”

  Nancy and Bess followed the lieutenant out to one of the patrol cars. She and Bess and another officer climbed into the back seat. Lieutenant Masterson and a third officer settled themselves in the front. Lights flashing and siren wailing, Masterson drove them toward the racetrack.

  Nancy sat on the edge of her seat. Derby post time was five-thirty! How would they ever find Evan Johnson in the huge crowd?

  “Oh, I wish I knew that Walt was okay!” Bess moaned as they sped through a now-deserted Louisville. Everyone was at Churchill Downs. “Do you think Walt’ll be riding Toot Sweet?”

  “Let’s hope so,” Nancy said grimly.

  The officer sitting in the front passenger seat craned his neck, turning to look at them in horror. “Not racing? Toot Sweet is the filly of the decade! She’s got to race!”

  The filly of the decade. Thoughts clicked in place in Nancy’s mind, like the tumblers of a lock. Toot Sweet was the filly of the decade. She’d received national attention. She was a newsmaker. With Ken McHugh’s and Walt’s attempted murders, the filly was an even bigger story! Her fame had undoubtedly grown outside of racing circles.

  In fact, Nancy realized, if Toot Sweet won the Derby, she would be famous. Laura Johnson, as owner of Toot Sweet’s breeding rights, would have other owners pounding on her door, begging to breed their stallions to Toot Sweet.

  “I think I just figured out why Walt was drugged,” Nancy murmured, explaining how the extra publicity would help the Johnsons.

  But why McHugh? she asked herself.

  Churchill Downs was a madhouse. Traffic was jammed for miles around the track and even the police couldn’t get through. After fifteen minutes of barely moving, Lieutenant Masterson said, “Come on, let’s go.” With that, they all climbed out of the car and ran to the grandstand gates.

  Nancy, Bess, and the officers stuck together, fighting their way through the crowds to the stables.

  Nancy recognized a heavyset man arguing with one of the other Derby jockeys in the stable area. Grabbing Lieutenant Masterson’s arm, she cried, “That’s Dollar Bill—the bookie I heard threatening Ken McHugh.”

  “Come on!” Lieutenant Masterson ordered the other two officers. “Let’s get him.”

  Dollar Bill glanced up, saw the lieutenant and his men, and pushed the jockey toward them, blocking the officers’ way. The bookie zigzagged toward the main grandstand, shoving people out of his way.

  Nancy grabbed Bess’s arm. “Let’s look for Evan and Laura. I’m sure they’re both here. Evan thinks he’s gotten rid of us, so he probably feels safe.”

  “Where could they be?” Bess asked. “We’ve s
earched the grandstands and the stable area.”

  Nancy glanced toward the clubhouse. Skye Terrace. Millionaire’s Row. “It’s almost post time, Bess. They must already be seated. Come on!”

  Nancy practically pulled Bess through the crowds as they headed for the outdoor stairs to the exclusive seating area.

  A burly security guard stood halfway up the steps, guarding the glass-enclosed seating area. Nancy rushed up to him. “I’ve got to speak to someone inside.” she explained. “It’s an emergency!”

  “Yes, ma’am. It always is,” he answered in a sour voice.

  “No, really. I have to find someone. It’s important.” A matter of life or death! was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her if she said it.

  “Sorry, ma’am. No one enters without a ticket.”

  Bess tugged at Nancy’s sleeve. “The horses are walking to the gate!” she cried.

  The guard glanced over his shoulder, and Nancy took advantage of his lapse to dart around him, taking the stairs two at a time. Shouts and screams filled the air. The crowd was roaring, cheering for their favorites.

  At the top of the stairs Nancy was reaching for the doorknob as the door opened.

  Laura Johnson stepped into the door frame and stopped short right in front of Nancy. Her eyes filled with shock. “You’re alive!”

  “That’s right,” Nancy said grimly.

  With a scream, Laura ran past her and down the stairs, her shoulder bumping Nancy’s. Nancy stumbled, losing her balance and landing against the stair rail.

  Suddenly she was slipping backward over the rail. Her hand reached out, clutching for a hold, but grabbed only air.

  It was no use! She was going to fall fifty feet onto the crowd below!

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  NANCY’S ARM FLAILED OUT one last time and she hooked the rail with her right elbow. She was dangling from one arm now. Closing her eyes, she willed her racing heart to slow down. The crowd’s screams filled her ears.

  “Nancy!” Bess’s frightened voice sounded above all the noise.

  Arm aching, Nancy gritted her teeth and swung her free hand around, grappling for a hold with it. Her fingers connected with the rail and she hung panting, facing the stairs.

  Opening her eyes, she looked up. Bess was reaching over the rail, struggling to reach her.

  Then a young man leaned over to help Nancy, his longer arms reaching her.

  “Bess, go after Laura!” Nancy cried.

  “But—”

  “I’ve got her,” the young man said.

  Bess waited long enough to make sure Nancy was going to be all right. Then she took off. Nancy’s rescuer helped her climb back upward. She saw Bess’s blond head bobbing through the crowd in a direct line behind Laura’s dark one.

  “Thanks,” Nancy said breathlessly, barely glancing at her rescuer. She looked instead toward the clubhouse’s glass doors. Evan might still be inside. Bess could take care of Laura, but it was time for her to go after Evan. He was the real murderer!

  The security guard reached Nancy’s side. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked in concern.

  Seizing the opportunity, Nancy lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. “I could use some water,” she said faintly.

  He turned back to the entrance door. Quick as a flash Nancy followed him into the Skye Terrace’s main seating area. Now to find Evan!

  Skye Terrace wasn’t too jammed. People were seated comfortably, many holding binoculars to their eyes. The race was about to begin.

  Nancy spied Evan in the first row, by the front half-wall. His silvery hair was neatly combed, his suit immaculate. No one could tell from his appearance that just a few hours earlier he’d coldly left her and her friend to die in a blazing fire!

  Suddenly a bell clanged, the gates crashed open, and the announcer’s voice boomed, “They’re off!”

  Nancy jerked her gaze to the windows. The horses were pounding around the track! The Kentucky Derby was on!

  Sidling up behind Evan, Nancy thought fast. Should she grab him? Confront him? Make a scene?

  “The horses are approaching the turn,” the announcer called excitedly. “It’s Flash O’Lightnin’ out front, followed closely by Pied Piper and Toot Sweet. . . . ”

  Nancy’s heart hammered with excitement. She wished she had some way to keep Evan Johnson from taking off as soon as he saw her. If only she’d waited for Lieutenant Masterson’s help!

  “Now entering the backstretch, it’s a three-horse race, folks! Flash O’Lightnin’ has increased his lead to four lengths. Toot Sweet and Pied Piper are neck and neck. The rest of the field follows in this order. . . .”

  Nancy closed her ears. This was the moment to grab Evan, while he was distracted by the race.

  A gasp surged from the crowd. The announcer’s voice yelled even louder. “Wait! Flash O’Lightnin’ is falling behind in the homestretch! He’s losing ground. Toot Sweet and Pied Piper have caught him!”

  Nancy couldn’t help glancing down to the race below. Toot Sweet, the filly of the decade, was making her bid! Pied Piper was pacing her exactly. They swept down the last furlong as one, but with a final burst of speed Toot Sweet swept under the wire first.

  The crowd was on its feet, shrieking with excitement. Nancy’s eyes searched the remaining horses still thundering toward the finish line. Flash O’Lightnin’ had run out of gas completely. The grueling last quarter mile had finished him. He had come in tenth.

  Nancy found herself screaming with the rest of the crowd, thrilled that Pied Piper had managed second place. Evan Johnson chose that very moment to glance behind him. His face contorted with the shock of seeing her there.

  Nancy’s gaze met him squarely. “It’s over,” she told him above the noise of the crowds. “The police are everywhere—looking for you.”

  He glanced beyond her and his face turned gray. The security guard was purposefully heading their way, and just behind him strode two of Lieutenant Masterson’s men.

  Evan Johnson searched for an escape but Nancy grabbed on to his arm and held him back. The police surrounded him.

  Drawing a breath through his teeth, he said in disgust, “You’re right, Ms. Drew. It is over.”

  • • •

  It was dark and the Derby crowds had almost completely gone by the time Nancy, Bess, Cam, Thea, and Walt managed to meet in the clubhouse restaurant to hash over the case.

  “Tell us everything, Nancy!” Thea pleaded, pulling her chair in closer. She, Cam, and Walt—who had recovered in time to ride the filly to victory—were still flushed with the success of both Toot Sweet and Pied Piper. The horses were back in their stalls, resting after their thrilling triumphs.

  “I hardly know where to begin,” Nancy said. “I guess it all came together when I realized it was Laura’s earring I saw outside of Flash’s barn that night,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “When I figured out Laura had to be involved, the first question that came to my mind was, why? Why would she want to drug the horses?”

  “And?” Cam prodded.

  “Well, after seeing the state of the Johnsons’ mansion, I realized Evan and Laura must be strapped for cash. They certainly weren’t putting it back in the house. And knowing how they would want to keep up their social position and appearances at any cost, I figured the money must be gone.”

  “But how?” Walt wanted to know. “I thought they were loaded!”

  “Everybody did. But something wasn’t right. Remember when McHugh made that remark about Evan fixing a race?” Cam and Thea nodded. “Well, it made me wonder if Evan might be a gambler like his brother, U.J.” Nancy’s eyes twinkled. “It turned out he was a gambler!”

  “How do you know?” asked Thea.

  “Dollar Bill told Lieutenant Masterson. He admitted Evan bet on a lot more than just horses. Evan was into everything, from football pools to private poker games to horse racing. He owed Bill a bundle.”

  Bess’s brow drew into a frown. �
��So how was McHugh involved?”

  “McHugh knew about Evan’s gambling debts. Another jockey had told him that he’d stiffed a horse for Evan in a race last March. Evan bet on the next best horse and ended up winning a lot of money.”

  “If Evan won so much money, then where did it go?” Cam asked.

  “According to Dollar Bill,” said Nancy, “Evan only exchanged one problem for another. As soon as he found out about the race fixing, McHugh started blackmailing Evan. He swore he’d tell racing officials if Evan didn’t pay up. Even if his accusations couldn’t be proven, McHugh knew Evan would never risk losing his social position by being put through the scandal.”

  “So that’s when Evan decided to get rid of McHugh!” Bess cried, her eyes wide.

  Nancy nodded. “Evan cut the girth strap, and it was Evan who gave McHugh the sedative that led to his accident. By the way, Lieutenant Masterson told me McHugh’s come out of his coma.”

  “Just in time for the law to prosecute him for blackmail,” Thea remarked sadly.

  “So Laura drugged Pied Piper and Flash to make sure Toot Sweet won,” Cam said with a whistle.

  “But Toot Sweet was drugged, too,” Thea reminded them.

  “And someone wanted me out of the way, too,” Walt added with a grimace.

  “It was Evan who drugged you, Walt,” Nancy revealed. “All the publicity surrounding the filly only added to her worth as a potential brood mare. When Evan saw how well McHugh’s accident helped bring Toot Sweet to national attention, he decided to drug you, too, just to keep the filly in the news. He knew they’d get you to the hospital on time—at least he was counting on it.”

  “So it was Laura’s shadowy figure you followed around the barns,” Bess said, thinking aloud.

  “That’s right.” Nancy nodded. “And it was Laura who hit me over the head. But it was Dollar Bill who we saw following McHugh that first night. After the girth strap incident, he didn’t know what to think. He was worried the whole thing was going to blow up in his face, so he’s laid low these past few days. That’s why we haven’t seen him around.”

  Thea sighed, leaning her head on Cam’s shoulder. “At least they’re all in custody now,” she said with relief.