by Toni Leland
“The race track? You’re not in the city?”
“My barn is at the track. The theater building is in town.”
Kim frowned. “I had hoped to see you this afternoon. Any chance of that?”
“Actually, we have some things going on here at the barn that require my attention. I would prefer that you come tomorrow.”
Kim reined in her irritation. “Okay, I’ll be there. Will I be able to see any of the practice sessions?”
The woman hesitated. “I’m not sure. As I told you, we’re pretty busy.”
Kim said goodbye and disconnected. What the devil is going on? The horse theater business seems to be cloaked in mystery – my favorite activity.
Sipping a coffee, she watched the jam of cars on Michigan Avenue and the crowds of autumn tourists taking advantage of the last vestiges of decent weather. Bright and chilly, Chicago was lovely in the fall, but she sure wouldn’t want to be around when winter rolled across the Great Lakes. Opening the guidebook, Kim read about a few nearby attractions. As long as she had the rest of the afternoon to herself, she’d take a look at some of these famous places. At least until her leg protested about all the walking.
That evening, Kim dined at a small table next to a window overlooking the city. The glow of twinkling lights looked as though someone had thrown glitter across the buildings and streets. She sipped a glass of wine and melancholy crept into her heart. This was a view to share with someone special, but she had no someone special. She looked away from the panorama and chewed her lip lightly, still amazed, after all these years, that one circumstance could irrevocably change a person’s life forever. Even seeing the things she had seen as a cop, and knowing tragedy personally, she still wanted to believe that she could find happiness someday – that Peter and the broken engagement and the failed relationship of five years ago could just be something in the past – not a blueprint for the future.
Chapter 4
Riverway Park was once the heart of Thoroughbred racing in Illinois, even surviving several grandstand fires and the 1905 ban on horse racing that spanned seventeen years. Kim drove through the gated entrance, thinking it strange that a theater company would use a racetrack as a home base. She pulled into a parking space in front of the clubhouse. The building was older, but nice looking with well-kept grounds. Cadillac, Mercedes, and Porsche luxury vehicles gleamed in the parking lot.
Kim pushed through the glass doors to the reception area, a welcoming room filled with comfortable-looking chairs and wood-paneled walls covered with racing photographs. A man stood up behind the desk and smiled.
“Welcome to Riverway Park. May I help you with something?”
“I’m here to meet Natalie Danseur. She’s expecting me.”
A shadow passed briefly over the man’s face, then he nodded. “Just a moment. Have a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here.”
As he reached for the telephone, a petite woman with a cap of short dark hair appeared from a hallway. Her features looked strained, but she attempted a smile as she offered her hand.
“I’m Natalie. Are you Kim Kovak?”
“I am. Thanks for taking time to show me around.”
With a glance at the man at the desk, Natalie nodded. “No problem. We can go out to the barn and I’ll give you some background while we walk.”
As they stepped outside, Natalie’s phone rang. She threw Kim an apologetic glance and turned away to answer. As she murmured into the phone, Kim gave her the once-over. Natalie looked to be in her early thirties, certainly not more, maybe less. She carried herself like a dancer, her movements fluid and graceful, testament to the information that Kim had found in one small news article about the debut of the horse ballet company. The piece had been sparse on details, but it mentioned that Natalie Danseur had studied dance for her entire life, then an accident had ended a promising ballet career. The article contained no details about that. After descriptions of the plans for the new company, the article had finished with a single tidbit: Natalie Danseur had once performed regularly at the Knight’s Horse Theater.
Natalie pocketed her phone and forced a smile. “Sorry, there’s just so much going on and we’re only three weeks away from our opening performance.”
“You’re doing The Nutcracker, right?”
Natalie nodded and smiled thinly. “The holiday favorite. I have plans for some other more innovative productions next year, but for now, we’ll stick with tried and true.”
“Do you think the Knight’s Horse Theater presentation of the same story will hurt your attendance?”
Anger flashed in Natalie’s dark eyes. “This will be nothing like theirs.”
Startled by the intensity of the retort, Kim waited a beat to see if any further explanation would follow. Instead, Natalie turned and gestured toward a small dark green barn set far apart from the rows of shed-style racing stables.
“That barn was part of the original estate that my great-grandparents owned. I have ten horses in the troupe and my grooms live here at the track.”
“But your actual theater is in the city. How does that work?”
Natalie opened a sliding door. “Our performances are weekends only, so the horses are taken into the city on those days. It’s only a thirty-minute drive. I prefer to not have them stalled in the basement of the theater building. I know they are safe out here, and someone is always around to look after them.”
Kim nodded. Safe from what? Or whom? Some rotten horse thief? Kim’s jaw tightened at the reminder of the man whom she was sure had been involved in the theft ring that she and Quaid had uncovered in Ohio.
As she entered Natalie’s barn, a waft of outside air stirred up the fragrant smells of fresh hay, sweet feed, and the distinctive scent of horses, erasing Kim’s stressful thoughts.
Natalie stopped just inside the door. “What would you like to know about Dream Horse Ballet?”
Kim removed the lens cover and checked the settings. “I’m not an investigative reporter, so I only need enough information to put captions with the photographs I take.” She looked up and grinned. “But I’m fascinated with your concept, so you can tell me anything you like.”
The complimentary encouragement did not change Natalie’s neutral expression.
“These horses were all imported from eastern Europe. They are highly trained as performance partners. Some of them are what we call dancing horses, using techniques similar to dressage and the Spanish School.”
“How long does the training take to produce reliable performances?”
“Over six years, if the horse is especially talented and receptive. That training can be disrupted by a change in handlers, or even the environment – like moving them halfway around the world. One of these guys did a complete about-face. I’m not sure if he will ever be performance material again.”
Kim couldn’t help herself. A horse that changed completely? Her brain burned with the idea that maybe Natalie’s horse wasn’t the one she bought. With the international scope of horse theft, and Kim’s own recent experience with it, why not?
“Did you purchase that horse in person?”
Natalie gave her a peculiar look. “No, I used an agent. Why?”
Kim shook her head. Don’t go there. “No reason, just curious. Okay, would you describe exactly what a horse ballet does? I have no clue.”
“Our productions are highly artistic in presentation. We don’t do acrobatic stunts on horseback. The horses are trained to dance with the handler, and so we showcase both the beauty of the animal and the talent of the dancer.”
“Do your dancers ever ride the horses?”
“Sometimes, depending on the number. In The Nutcracker, no – all the performance is on the ground. I will give you a CD with some promotional video. That should help you visualize what we do.”
“Do you choreograph the dances?”
Natalie nodded, then gazed across the barn without speaking. Clearly, she had other things on her mind besides Kim’s
questions.
Kim stepped back against the wall and took several wide shots of the barn and stalls. “Okay, I’d like to meet the horses now.”
Natalie didn’t move, but pointed to the bank of stalls on the right side of the barn. “The first horse, the white stallion, is Goran. He’s a Lipizzan and will figure prominently in The Nutcracker. Then, next to him...”
Kim listened, puzzled that they were still standing at the barn entrance. Why didn’t Natalie take her over to the horses as she described them?
“I’d like to get some close shots of some of them.”
Natalie let out a small, sharp breath. “Oh, well, uh...okay. We can go see Farouk.” She strode across the aisle toward the last stall on the left side of the aisle. “He’s the partner for the dancer who plays the nutcracker character.”
Throwing a glance back at the white stallion, Kim followed. Something weird was definitely going on here. Why couldn’t she just take pictures of all of them? If not, then this photo assignment was going bust. She had to have pictures or she wouldn’t get paid.
Natalie stayed close while Kim framed the chestnut horse’s head. He was definitely Arabian, with fine features and large eyes, but those eyes had a dullness that was out of character for the breed. Kim took several shots, moving an inch each time to catch a different look. Natalie fidgeted nearby and Kim’s brain started asking why.
Using a full zoom, Kim closed in on the horse’s eye, trying to capture one of the close-ups for which she’d become known. Artsy stuff, but customers loved it. As she adjusted the view, the horse snorted. Kim moved the camera to include his nose. As she pressed the shutter, she spotted a dribble of moisture at the edge of one nostril. She zoomed a little more and captured just that area of the nose.
Natalie’s voice held an edge. “Do you need anything else, because–” Her phone rang and she frowned as she answered. “Yes? No, I’m with someone right now and – okay, just a minute.”
She turned to Kim. “I have to take this in the office. I’ll meet you outside.” She hurried toward the front of the barn.
Kim blinked. The tour was over. She’d been dismissed!
Instead of walking the diagonal to get from the back of the barn to the front, Kim strolled slowly along the front of the bank of stalls. As she approached each horse, a cold feeling pooled in her stomach. They were all sick. Every one of them had a runny nose of varying degrees, and they showed little interest in her presence. No wonder Natalie was so uptight. With only three weeks until her grand opening, she had a medical disaster on her hands.
Kim quickly zoomed in on the horses stalled on the other side of the aisle, photographing each one’s nose. A minute later, Natalie reappeared and frowned as she headed toward Kim.
“I asked you to wait outside.”
Kim started toward the door. “Just wanted a few more shots as backup.” She put on her best smile. “Will I be able to see the theater building in town?”
The strain on Natalie’s face didn’t lessen. “I have to be there tomorrow morning. You can meet me at ten.”
“I’ll be there, thanks.” Kim stepped outside, then turned back. “Oh, just one thing. I was wondering why you left the production company at Knight’s Theater.”
All the color drained from Natalie’s face and her dark eyes flashed.
“A difference of professional opinion.”
Chapter 5
Kim sat in her car for a few minutes before leaving the track, thinking about Natalie’s situation. If those horses didn’t recover quickly, Natalie stood to lose thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars she’d spent on training, costumes, advertising, and a myriad of other things needed to pull off a grand opening production of the scale she’d planned. Not to mention what it cost to rent the downtown building that served as the theater.
Kim scanned the long line of racing stables that faced the backstretch, then turned to look at the track itself. A beautifully maintained infield blazed with bright green turf, even this late in the season, and the dirt track had recently been dragged. A huge grandstand spanned the other side, an extension of the enclosed viewing stands that would include expensive hospitality rooms and box seats. Riverway Park was clearly a healthy enterprise. She looked again at the clubhouse. Natalie had mentioned that her great-grandparents had owned the original property. Was Natalie the heiress? Could that be why she chose to stable her performance horses out here? And why had she said they’d be safe? That still bothered Kim, and with good reason, given her recent encounter with the dark side of the horse business. Natalie apparently thought they might be in danger. Perhaps from whatever her “difference of professional opinion” experience had been? Kim wondered how she could find out the real story behind Natalie Danseur’s departure from the Knight’s Horse Theater. Not that it was any of Kim’s business.
On impulse – Kim’s usual M.O. – she climbed out of the car and strode into the clubhouse. The same man was reading a newspaper, but he laid it down as she approached the desk.
She gave him her best smile. “Do you have any literature about the history of this track? You know, things I can use as background for the article we’re doing on Natalie.”
He stared at her for a moment, glanced down at the newspaper, then back up before answering. “I think we do. Let me take a look.”
Kim drifted around the room to look at the photographs and, a few minutes later, the man reappeared with some leaflets.
“This is what we give the press at the beginning of each season. Will that help?”
Kim accepted the brochures and smiled. “Perfect, thanks. Say, I noticed the road is one way coming in. How do I get out?”
He described a convoluted series of lanes and turns that would take her back to the main gates. A few minutes later, she drove slowly along the back of the racing stables. On the opposite side of the road sat a newer-looking structure constructed of metal siding in a utilitarian style. At first, Kim thought it might be the equipment building, but that idea changed when she spotted three paddocks on the far side, all with openings into the building. Then she noticed a white van with an emblem of some kind on the door. She stopped and grabbed her camera for a quick zoom. The car was an official vehicle of the Illinois State Department of Agriculture. She snapped off a shot and set the camera aside. The building probably had something to do with racing and horses coming in from other parts of the country – maybe a veterinary facility.
By the time Kim found her way out of the race park and back into the city, the day was well into afternoon. She’d walked a lot the day before and, compounded with today’s activities, she was hurting. She let herself into the hotel room and sank into the easy chair by a window that didn’t give much of a view from the third floor – just buildings and a brief glimpse of the Chicago River to the south. She refocused from that scene to her own reflection in the glass and her thoughts centered on Natalie’s sick horses. Were they afflicted with something common? Like a cold? Or allergies? Did horses even get allergies? She didn’t think so. An uncomfortable feeling moved into the pit of her stomach. Were Natalie’s horses all infected with something serious, something that could wipe out the entire barn? What a crummy break that would be.
Kim shuddered and pushed up out of the chair. Moving to the desk, she fired up her computer. While she hooked up the camera, she thought about Bandit. With her diminished income, she’d had a tough time finding a place to board him that suited both her requirements and her pocketbook. Quaid had been helpful in that endeavor, making some calls and giving her some leads on good prospective barns. She smiled, remembering how brave he’d been when Bandit had walked off the trailer at the new barn. Quaid had just spent three months caring for Bandit while she recovered from her injuries, and she’d seen immediately that he didn’t want to let the horse go, but wouldn’t say so or show it. Maybe his experience with Bandit would inspire him to get a horse of his own, although Kim had no idea what his feelings were about that. Even though they’d
spent quite a bit of time together while they worked on the horse theft case, there hadn’t been much exchange of personal information. Only the basics. Had he ever owned horses? Or was his connection to them only through the Army and his tour of duty with the Caisson Platoon at Arlington Cemetery? But how would that have made him such an expert investigator with the equine insurance company? There had to be other history. Maybe she should call and invite him to come down and see Bandit. Dixie seemed to think it was a good idea. Kim laughed out loud. Dixie the matchmaker.
The computer chimed, alerting Kim that the photo download was complete. She opened the files and began looking through them. It was a good selection of images of both theater companies, though she still needed pictures of the Dream Horse Ballet building and stage. The wide-angle shot of Natalie’s barn was a good one. The lighting was perfect, but no horses showed. Kim frowned. They’d all been well inside their stalls instead of hanging over the doors, naturally curious about the activities in the aisle. She moved to the next shot of the big chestnut, the first horse she’d photographed. The close-up of his nose showed the nasal drainage in detail. She moved through the series, then stopped on the first close shot of one of the other horses across the aisle, a shot she’d taken with her long zoom. Her chest tightened. The horse had a runny nose too, but the discharge was thicker, more cream colored. She moved to the next photo, then the next. The horses on that side of the barn all had the same degree of opaque mucus oozing from their nostrils.
She sat back. How long had Natalie’s horses been sick? And why hadn’t there been any signs of a vet or medications or anything? In fact, why hadn’t any barn staff been around?
The image of the state vehicle flashed onto the screen and all the air escaped from Kim’s lungs.
“Quarantine.”
Chapter 6
Refreshed by a shower and a short nap, Kim drove out of the hotel garage and headed for the north end of the city. Though parking the car might be a challenge, she was uncomfortable with the idea of riding the El around the city late at night. Retired cop or not, cities were cities and it didn’t make much sense to ask for trouble, especially since she still hadn’t started carrying a gun again. She smiled grimly as she maneuvered through the evening traffic on Chicago Avenue. After the robbery at her condo three months ago, she’d retrieved her firearm from the safe, cleaned it, and kept it close at hand. Being immobilized by the cast on her leg had made her feel so vulnerable. But once she’d healed enough to be independently mobile, somehow the gun’s presence became unnerving and she’d returned it to the safe. At some point, she’d promised herself she would go back to the firing range and hone her skill with the weapon. One of these days.
