I found that odd.
But at least he wasn’t at the racetrack.
I’d checked the race schedule on my phone, and there were no events going on now. However, Peyton’s truck was in the parking lot.
I bristled at the thought of running into her.
Did Peyton know about me? Did she know I’d dated Chase? Or was I still dating Chase? I didn’t know. Until I knew what the status of his relationship with Peyton was, I wouldn’t have an answer to that question.
“What now?” Jamie asked, staring at the huge Wyndmyer Park sign in front of us.
I glanced around the entrance, at a loss myself. Was there a connection between the racetrack and the panel van/dead body? I couldn’t be sure.
All I knew was that Chase had a connection to this track and Chase also had a connection to the dead body. That meant the racetrack was as good a place as any to start.
I pointed to a newsstand located near the entryway. “Do you mind grabbing a copy?”
“Sure thing.”
I pulled up to it and Jamie climbed out, paid for a newspaper, and then hopped back into my mom’s Lexus.
“Got a hankering for an update on the stock market?” Jamie asked, plopping the paper in my lap.
I rolled my eyes. Miss Manners would not approve of the reaction, but I did it anyway. “I want to see if there are any updates on the body we found.”
The scent of ink wafted up to me. There was nothing quite like the smell of newsprint. I found most of my news online nowadays, but I needed to change that. What was more old-fashioned than actually holding a newspaper in your hands?
As soon as I unfolded the paper, a face on the front stared at me.
“There he is,” I whispered.
I’d never forget him. The man from the woods. He looked much better in this picture. He looked . . . alive. And vibrant. Like he had his whole life ahead of him.
“Aidan Jennings. Twenty-four years old. He worked as a stable boy for Golden Equestrian,” I read aloud.
“Golden Equestrian? Equestrian means horses, and we’re at a racetrack. Maybe that’s our link. Maybe he’s our link.” Jamie peered at the paper. “Chase isn’t mentioned in that article, is he?”
My stomach tightened. “No.”
“Any persons of interest mentioned in the article?”
“A black van with at least two men, probably in their thirties, Caucasian.”
“That’s exactly what you told the police,” Jamie said. “At least they didn’t ignore you.”
“I wish I’d had more to go on.”
I flipped through the paper, seeing if anything else caught my eye. The front page of the business section contained a picture that seemed vaguely familiar.
“Jamie, isn’t that the man who was arguing with Chase?” I showed her the picture.
She studied the photo a moment. “It looks like it. Who is it?”
My eyes scanned the article. “His name is Alexander Cartwright. He owns three of the top two hundred fifty racehorses in the world.”
“Explains why he was by the stables.”
I shook my head. “But it doesn’t explain why Chase would be arguing with him. How does this fit in with everything else that’s happened?”
“You got me.” Jamie’s eyes lit. “But I have an idea.”
Chapter Ten
I put the car into park, waiting to hear her brilliant plan.
“I’m going to write an article on horse racing.”
“But you write community news for Cincinnati.”
“I know people in Cincinnati come here. I’m sure there’s some kind of community tie-in that we can find.”
“What do I do?”
She handed me something from her purse. “You’re my photographer.”
“Fine.” I held up the DSLR. “But what if we see Chase?”
“His car isn’t here. Your app says he’s not here. This is the only way I can think of to get information. Our lives are on the line here. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Then let’s do this.” When Jamie was determined to do something, there was no stopping her. I just hoped this all didn’t blow up in our faces.
We slipped past the gates at the track. The doors were unlocked, and no one was there to stop us. We paused once we were inside.
A few employees walked here and there. One carried a broom and dustpan. Another had a cloth and a spray bottle. Out on the field, someone mowed the grass.
“Where do we start?” I mumbled.
“I say let’s head to the office. It’s our best chance.”
Before we could step that way, a voice sounded behind us. “Can I help you?”
I turned around and saw . . . Peyton. My stomach clenched. Up close, she was just as beautiful as I’d imagined. I mean, really, people should not be that pretty. I could see why Chase had fallen in love with her.
She wore those skintight jeans that showed off her shapely legs, cowboy boots, and a tight black T-shirt. Her hair was glossy and neat, and her teeth were bright white, contrasting nicely with her tanned skin.
When she’d been married to Chase, she’d been a hairdresser. So what was she doing here now? Did she work here?
“I’m with the Cincinnati Times.” Jamie extended her hand. “I’m doing an article on things people can do in the Louisville area for weekend fun. I’m hoping to include the Wyndmyer Park.”
Peyton stared at Jamie’s outstretched hand a moment, cynicism in her gaze, before finally returning the handshake. “We usually like a phone call before agreeing to anything. Just to keep things on the up-and-up.”
Jamie shrugged. “I don’t really need any interviews. Just information. This is also my photographer.”
I smiled and held up the camera I’d strapped around my neck. I figured I looked more like a professional this way.
“We’re hoping to take some pictures, at least,” Jamie continued. “I can get the rest of the information via a phone interview later, if necessary.”
Peyton crossed her arms, still carefully observing the two of us. “We need approval from management.”
I noticed her gaze was on me, so I pushed my sunglasses up higher on my nose. Certainly she didn’t recognize me. I mean, why would she? We’d never met.
“You look familiar.” Peyton narrowed her eyes in thought.
I shook my head, trying to remain casual. “I have one of those faces.”
She continued to stare until I shifted uncomfortably. Finally, she looked back at Jamie. Either the woman was shrewd or she was paranoid. I wasn’t sure which.
Peyton’s phone buzzed. She glanced down at her screen, and her face went pale. Just as quickly, she slipped the phone into her back pocket again.
“Everything okay?” I ventured to ask. I didn’t want to cross any lines, but something had spooked her.
Her gaze flickered toward me, amber eyes blazing with some kind of unspoken emotions. “Yes, of course.”
But the way she glanced around only confirmed that something was wrong.
This was about more than Chase potentially getting back together with Peyton. Something else was going on in addition to that possibility.
Just then, a man walked up to Peyton and whispered something in her ear.
I looked away, trying to appear uninterested and like I was giving her privacy. But, of course, I was trying to hear whatever I could.
“Cartwright is out of town. Now’s the time,” he whispered.
Something raced through her gaze. Fear? Excitement? I wasn’t sure.
That had to be the same Cartwright I’d read about this morning. Alexander Cartwright. The man I’d seen arguing with Chase. The millionaire.
The tall, lanky man stepped back and, without a glance at us, started on his way.
“Thanks, Larry,” Peyton said.
Larry? That was the name Chase had used that night in the parking lot. Maybe we were getting clo
ser to the truth.
Peyton turned back to us, a new tension to her shoulders, to the set of her jaw. “I really do need to run. Call before you come next time.”
* * *
Jamie and I wandered back to the car, realizing we hadn’t gotten very far in our quest for more information. We had seen Larry, the same man Chase had mentioned in the parking lot. And we knew that Peyton had some kind of connection with the racetrack; we just didn’t know what.
Despite the fact that there were hardly any cars here, I’d still parked in the same general area near the stables. Perhaps I was a creature of habit.
We leaned against the car trunk a moment, still processing what had just happened and enjoying the unusually warm and sunny early autumn day.
“She’s not very nice,” Jamie muttered. “I’d say I could see why Chase fell for her, but I can’t.”
“Believe me, while he takes responsibility for their failed marriage, he never made her out to be a saint.”
“Did he try to get back together with her after he stopped drinking?”
“Yes, he did, but it was too late. She was either married or already dating someone. I can’t remember. Anyway, she didn’t want anything to do with him.”
“The words ‘gold digger’ came to mind when I was talking to her,” Jamie said.
“She definitely liked to live big.”
Jamie and I turned toward a noise in the background. A man was walking from the stables. He was probably in his thirties and looked a bit like a cowboy. His eyes lit when he saw us, and he tipped his hat.
“Morning, ladies.”
Jamie’s eyes lit. “This is our chance,” she whispered before stepping forward. “Hello there. You work here?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He stopped beside us, his chest puffing out. The man’s teeth were a jumbled mess and yellow to boot. He also had a spare tire around his midsection, and all the plaid shirts in the world wouldn’t cover it.
But the man’s demeanor made it obvious that he liked having attention from ladies. His hands went to his belt. His eyes sparkled with excitement. He leaned back, almost like he was attempting some swagger. His eyes clearly showed he thought he was doing us a favor.
And, little did he know, he was.
“What can I help you lovely ladies with?” He practically preened as he waited for our response.
“We’re just looking for more information on the track.” Jamie appeared more innocent than I’d ever seen her look before as she clasped her hands in front of her and tilted her head sweetly. “We’ve never been to the races before.”
He continued grinning. “What would you like to know? I’ve worked here for fifteen years. I can pretty much tell you anything.”
“Fifteen years? You sound like just the person we’re looking for.” Jamie actually batted her eyelashes.
I nearly rolled my eyes, but I stopped myself just in time.
“I started when I was fresh out of high school. I’ve seen this place go through a lot of changes—good and bad.”
“How are things here lately? On the right . . . track? Maybe I could look for a job here.”
I had to look away in fear I’d burst out laughing.
The man shrugged. “I wouldn’t recommend anyone work here at this point.”
“Things must be bad, then.”
“I don’t know. I just have a few suspicions.” He wagged his eyebrows. “None that I can talk about, of course.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Oh, I’m sure.”
Jamie shifted, obviously changing tactics. “I’m such a history buff, but I love current events too. I just adore stories about places and the people who work there. You know what really fascinates me? All the stories about horse racing. Hearing about the winners. The champions. The winning by a nose.”
“Oh, there are some good stories out there.” He seemed interested again. “I could talk about the races all day. I’ve seen some nail-biters.”
“Then there are also the scandals. The horse juicing, and tension between jockeys and horse owners, and risky gambling.”
“Those tales have been around for near a century,” the man said. “The industry truly is fascinating.”
“Any of that happen here?” Jamie asked, lowering her voice.
“Now, what kind of question is that? You trying to get me to lose my job?” He laughed nervously.
“Is that a possibility?”
“Oh, there have been threats of layoffs. No one wants to really talk about it, but I’ve heard the track is in trouble. I’d sure hate to see it go through a hard time again. It seemed like this place was just returning to its former glory, and now . . . it’s anybody’s guess what will happen.”
“Why is it in trouble?” I asked.
The man cringed. “I’d better not say. If my boss man finds out I was talking, I could get fired. I’m sure there’d be someone here waiting to spill the beans as soon as he returned from his trip.”
“He’s on a trip right now?” Jamie said. “In the middle of racing season?”
“I heard he’s visiting family. Let me tell you, it’s been a regular soap opera around here. He’s gone. His wife is hanging out with a new man while he’s gone. We’re all walking on eggshells.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I muttered.
“Yeah, his wife is a piece of work.” He shook his head, as if he wasn’t impressed.
“She stayed here while he went on a trip, huh?”
“That’s Peyton for you.”
My face went pale. “Peyton?”
He nodded. “Peyton Andrews. Yes, she kept her maiden name. Some type of last-ditch effort to maintain her independence or something. That’s not surprising. Everyone knows she married Winston for his money.”
Chapter Eleven
“Peyton is married to Winston?” I shook my head as I sat in the car. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“It’s like I said: gold digger.” Jamie did the Z-snap hand-on-the-hip Diva.
“And she’s been hanging out with someone else while Winston’s been gone. That would be Chase.” I sighed, not wanting to believe it.
“On the bright side, at least we’re getting somewhere. Wyndmyer is in trouble, right? Then we heard Larry whisper something about Alexander. Maybe he is connected with all of this.”
“Let’s find out.” I pulled out my phone and typed “Cartwright” and “Wyndmyer” into the search engine. Sure enough, I hit pay dirt.
“Well?” Jamie asked.
“There are numerous articles on the man. He has a stunning horseshoe collection. He’s going to be at an art show this weekend that features paintings showcasing equine life.” I scrolled down farther. “Oh, now we’re getting good. There have been allegations of horse doping against him. He’s had several award-winning horses. But other horse owners are accusing him of using steroids and paying off vets to remain quiet about it.”
“Interesting, but I’m not sure how it helps us.”
“Let me keep looking.” My eyes widened. “Get this: he owns Golden Equestrian.”
“The place where Aidan Jennings worked?”
“Bingo!”
“I say we pay a visit to Aidan Jennings’s family.”
“Really?” I’d done my fair share of difficult house calls as a social worker, but I would never purposefully put myself in a position to make someone’s grief worse.
“I know. Let’s look up the articles about his death,” Jamie said. “If there’s an article on him, maybe the reporter quoted someone—a friend, maybe. We could start there.”
I scanned the first article I came across and then nodded. “Sure enough, his best friend Calvin Williams was quoted. He might be a better starting point. But we’re going to have to choose our words carefully.”
“You know I don’t like doing this either, right? But considering there are homicidal maniacs chasing us, we don’t have much choice. It’s like you said earlier: either we
find these men or they find us again. If they find us again . . . I’m not sure what will happen next time.”
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. We had no choice but to push ahead.
* * *
Thanks to social media, we discovered that Calvin Williams was a mechanic at a local repair shop. We decided to introduce ourselves to him there. When Jamie and I walked into the bay area, the three men who were working stopped and gave us a look of approval. The youngest stepped our way first.
“How can I help you two ladies?” The man had blond hair that was a little too long. It was slicked back from his face and had a touch of wave to it. I wasn’t sure if it was gelled or greasy, but either way, I didn’t care for the look.
Not that anyone had asked me for my opinion.
“We were hoping to speak with Calvin,” Jamie said.
He tossed a stained rag over his shoulder. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“We wanted to talk to you about your friend, Aidan Jennings,” she continued. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“So am I.” A cloud seemed to darken his face. “What about him?”
I stepped forward. “We read what you said in the paper about your friend deserving justice, and we’re trying to figure out what happened to him.”
“Did you know Aidan?” Calvin asked, his eyes narrowed skeptically.
I decided to take a . . . gamble. Gulp. Bad thought choice. “We know of him from down at the tracks. Jamie’s a reporter, and she’s actually doing a story on the fall of Wyndmyer Park. We understand he has connections there.”
Calvin nodded slowly but surely. “Something’s going on. I’ve been saying that for weeks. Ever since Gold Standard won the Belmont Crown, everyone has hoped things will turn around.”
“But you don’t agree?”
He shook his head. “Bad leadership. Winston Kensington just bought the place for the prestige of it.”
“You know him?” I asked.
“No, but everyone around here knows that. Besides, my dad used to work at the racetracks. It’s a small world, and word travels fast.”
“Listen,” Jamie started. “We know you’re working, but we have more questions about Aidan.”
Random Acts of Malice (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 3) Page 7
