by Toni Leland
“Quaid, I’m sure that she’s withholding something critical from me, a detail that will help make sense of this whole thing. If I could just find out more about her background, her history, I’d feel better about going forward.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard. I can start digging on her tonight, see what comes up.”
“I’m meeting her in the morning at the theater. Once I have a check and the security camera data, I’ll feel more comfortable asking her some personal questions.”
“Perfect. While you’re with her in town, I’ll go to the race track and see what I can find out.”
Kovak shook her head. “She isn’t part of the racing operation–”
“I know, but you’d be surprised at what some of those old-timers have seen and heard.”
“Good thought.” She pushed her plate away and sat back. “So, tell me what brought you to Chicago, so conveniently?”
Quaid shook his head. “Unfaithful spouse. My worst nightmare. I hate these jobs.”
Kovak nodded. “I can imagine. Did you catch the guy in the act?”
“No, but I saw him with another woman, who later told me that she was his daughter. But according to my client – the wife – they don’t have any children.”
“Oooh, not good. For him, at least.”
“Unfortunately, my client doesn’t believe what I told her, wants me to prove that this woman is her husband’s child. I have circumstantial proof, but nothing confirmed.”
As Quaid talked about his case – something he never did – he saw the wheels turning in Kovak’s head as she processed the information.
“The woman was born in Cleveland and remained there until she moved to Chicago to be with her widowed mother. Other than that, I’m not sure how to confirm that Ferguson and the mother had an affair thirty-seven years ago.”
Kovak cleared her throat. “I don’t think you have to. You’ve gathered enough information to make the idea credible. DNA would prove it, if necessary. But now it is your client’s responsibility to confront her husband. And I’d bet you a hundred bucks that once she confronts him, he tells her all of it. Poor guy has been carrying this around all his life. Must be hell in that household.”
Quaid didn’t say anything for a minute, considering how spot-on she was, what excellent deductive reasoning she used. A woman’s point of view was always a little different, usually more emotional or insightful into what made people do the things they did. Dixie Davis had proven that to him several times, and now he was seeing the same qualities in Kim Kovak.
“You’re right. Other than giving her my report and collecting my fee, I’m done.” He grinned. “So, let’s find out who’s terrorizing Natalie Danseur.”
Chapter 20
Quaid gathered up his bags and took one last look around the expensive hotel room. Too bad he hadn’t had much chance to enjoy it.
The halls were quiet at that predawn hour, and while he waited for the elevator, he thought about the sparse information he’d been able to find about Natalie Danseur. He’d confirmed that she was from old money, but as was usually the case, wealthy families kept their private lives off the radar, if possible. The Riverway Park dynasty had been, for the most part, legitimate and without any black eyes. Perhaps the family had kept their blossoming ballerina out of the public eye to protect her.
The elevator doors opened and Quaid narrowed his eyes. Natalie Danseur had a history and somebody would know about it.
An hour later, he parked behind the racing sheds at Riverway Park. Just barely dawn and already the horses were being exercised. He climbed out of his truck and took a deep breath of the crisp air, listening to the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats on the dirt track and the low murmurs coming from inside the barns. A groom led a horse out and nodded to Quaid as he stepped through the open door. The temperature inside the barn was warmer, and saturated with the smell of horses. The occasional snort, plenty of snuffling and thumping. A familiar, comfortable atmosphere. He stood for a moment, looking down the row of stalls, most standing empty, but a few with horses hanging their heads out to observe the morning activities. Midway down the aisle, a man sat in a folding chair, reading a newspaper. Quaid headed that way.
“Morning. Looks like it will be a nice one.”
The man looked to be well past seventy, with wrinkled black skin and a couple days’ growth of silvery beard. His bright eyes crinkled with his crooked smile.
“Yep, perfect track day. He’p ya, son?”
Quaid grinned and stuck out his hand. “I’m Ellis Anderson from Ohio. I’m writing a novel about racing and thought I’d do a little first-hand research.”
The old man nodded. “Pop’lar sport. You should sell a lotta books.” He eased up from his chair. “What would ya like to know?”
Quaid pulled out his notebook. “General background, for starters. Regular routines and stuff.”
“Huh, pen ’n’ paper. Thought everyone used them computer things.”
“Not me. I’m old school. Everything written by hand.”
The old man started talking about how a normal non-racing day progressed, what and when the horses ate, when they exercised, and other bits of general information. Quaid dutifully wrote down everything. During a pause in the conversation, he gestured toward the far end of the stable.
“I saw a nice looking barn at the far end of the backstretch. What goes on there?”
“That belongs to the owner. She keeps some fancy horses over there.”
Quaid widened his eyes in mock awe. “Really? Fancy racehorses? Can I see them?”
A scowl knit the old man’s eyebrows. “They ain’t racehorses. She don’t have nothin’ to do with racing.”
Quaid caught a hint of scorn in the man’s tone, but kept quiet, hoping more would come. A minute passed without any further comments, so he took another tack.
“Hmm, lady racecourse owner. That’s interesting, might use it as a twist in my book. How long has she owned it?”
The old man sighed. “Since her grandfather died and left everything to her. But like I said, she ain’t involved in the racing end of it – just the business.”
“But she does have horses. You said–”
“She has horses in her blood.” A memory softened the old man’s expression. “When she was just a little bit of a girl, she followed her granddad around all day. She was the joy of that old man’s life, the only kind side we ever saw of ’im.”
Quaid shook his head. “Being around horses all her life, it seems strange that she didn’t follow the family tradition.”
The old man sat back down in his chair and heaved a long sigh. “Her grandmother had a lot to say about that. She wanted Natalie to do something important with her life. The old man had groomed the girl, taught her everything he knew. She could take care of a horse with the best of ’em, but she didn’t have that ‘bug’ for horses like some young girls do. The old lady won the battle and the child took dancing lessons.”
He fairly spat out the last words.
“Wow, this is fascinating.” Quaid cocked his head and gave the man a puzzled look. “But why does she have horses if she’s not part of all this?”
“The dancing didn’t work out. She got hurt, so I guess she had to fall back on her inheritance.” A frown creased his forehead again. “Say, you’re asking an awful lot of questions that don’t have nothing to do with racing.”
Quaid grinned and looked sheepish. “Sorry, I’m just nosy. Authors are like sponges. If it’s interesting, they want to soak it up.” He stuck out his hand. “Thanks very much for talking to me.”
Walking back to his truck, he reviewed the information he’d gleaned. Nothing special stood out about Natalie Danseur, other than the fact that her dancing career had been cut short by an injury of some sort. Maybe Kovak would learn something more later this morning.
In the meantime, he had a client report to write and a phone call to make.
Kim parked behind the black Lexus she’d se
en the night before. The back of the car sported a vanity plate bearing the letters DRM HRSE. No doubt about who owned the car.
She took a deep breath and thought for a minute about how she would get to the personal questions she needed to ask. Natalie’s brittle personality formed an effective barrier to “up close and personal.” Perhaps getting the business details and money handled first would smooth the way.
A movement at the loading dock caught her eye. The huge door rolled up and Natalie stepped out and waved. Kim picked up a small spiral notebook and got out of the car.
“Good timing! Nice morning.”
Natalie smiled, but with no warmth. “Yes, perfect day. Come on in.”
Kim followed her into the dim interior of the building, listening to the door roll back into place with a clank. Natalie walked briskly toward a door marked stairs.
“We can go up to my office. It’s much warmer.”
Kim glanced at the door leading to the room with the ramp. “Natalie, how many performers are with your company?”
Natalie stopped and turned, a tiny frown rippling her eyebrows. “Six, but no one in my company would have done this to me.”
Kim shook her head. “That isn’t why I asked. It was just curiosity.”
Natalie’s features relaxed. “Sorry, I’m just so stressed about the whole thing.” A couple of minutes later on the upper level, she opened a door, gesturing Kim through. “Have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea?”
“No, thanks, I just came from breakfast.”
Natalie’s office rivaled that of any corporate executive. Wood paneling, luscious designer color scheme, expensive furniture.
“Nice place – you must love working here.”
Natalie threw a perfunctory glance around the room and shrugged. “I prefer working with the horses and performers, but yes, it’s not a bad place to manage the business.” She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a checkbook. “How much do you need?”
Kim stared at the top of Natalie’s head as she started filling out the date on a check. Good grief, I never even thought about what to charge! I should have done some research on fees – or asked Quaid. Natalie looked up, a question in her eyes.
Kim kept a neutral expression. “A thousand.”
Was that too much? Too little? Natalie’s expression didn’t provide an answer.
“Make it out to Kim Kovak. K-O-V-A-K.” She pulled out the simple contract she’d printed, then slid it across the desktop. “And I need you to read and sign this agreement.”
Natalie gave her a peculiar look, then read the paper. A moment later, she signed at the bottom and handed it back.
“Anything else?”
Kim smiled. “No, that’s it.” She refolded the contract, tucking the check inside and slipping them both into her shoulder bag.
Settling back in her chair, she crossed legs. “Tell me about how you decided to start Dream Horse Ballet.”
A brief shadow passed through Natalie’s eyes before she answered.
“As I told you, Knight’s Horse Theater and I had a difference of professional opinion and I felt that I could do a better job of entertaining the public with horses and culture.”
Kim opened her notebook. “What, exactly, was the difference of opinion?”
“It’s personal and doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“I beg to differ. You’ve made a serious accusation about these people, so I need to know what’s behind it.”
For a fleeting moment, Natalie looked like a frightened prey animal. Then, she took a deep breath and looked away.
“The owners wanted me to share billing with a new acrobat who was joining the company. I felt it was inappropriate to reward a top spot to someone so new to the organization.”
“I’ll need the name of that person.”
“Sophia Barevsky. She’s from a well-known performing troupe in the Ukraine and Knight’s owners got all excited about her, thought she’d bring in a lot of new business. Apparently, she was quite famous in her own country. I can’t imagine why she left it.”
Having seen Sophia Barevsky’s beauty and skill, Kim understood Natalie’s displeasure. Still, simply flouncing off in a huff over artistic ego didn’t seem reason enough for the owners of Knight’s to try to destroy her. But right now wasn’t the time to question Natalie about that. She was too hung up on her own point of view. The detailed questioning could come later.
“Natalie, I’m curious. Why didn’t you call the police when you thought someone had deliberately infected your horses?”
“The publicity would be a death knell for the production. I prefer to handle it quietly and come up with some other reason why the grand opening is postponed.”
The response was valid, but of low priority in the general line of questioning.
“Okay, so let me get some general background information about you. When did you start dancing?”
Natalie produced a rare smile. “When I was seven. My grandmother had great plans for me, to my grandfather’s dismay. He so wanted me to join up with him at the track, make horse racing my life, like the rest of the family.” She actually chuckled. “But he had to live with my grandmother, so she won.”
“Didn’t your parents have some say about it?”
“I never knew my father. My mother had an addiction problem, so I lived with my grandparents from the time I was four.”
Kim bit her lip. She’d always thought that she was one of the few children to be raised by grandparents, but it seemed to be not such an exclusive club.
“I had a similar childhood, except I was only two when my parents died.”
Natalie sat back and nodded. “I think being raised by older, calmer people allowed us to find our inner selves sooner.”
“Interesting. You could be right. I never thought about it. So, where did you study?”
“The Joffrey Ballet Company, where else?” Natalie’s features softened with what could only be happy memories. “I auditioned first when I was nineteen, then again at twenty. That’s when I secured a spot to begin my career.”
“How long were you a ballerina?”
Natalie’s demeanor changed immediately. “I was never a ballerina. There is only one ballerina in a company, the prima. The rest are referred to as ballet dancers.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“You and most of the population. Anyway, what does my dancing have to do with this?”
Kim leaned forward. “Natalie, you’ve hired me to find out who’s trying to destroy you, so if you want my help, you’ll need to start answering my questions. All of them.”
Natalie’s lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry. This is all just so...”
“I know, and we’ll get to the bottom of this mess. Now, why did you leave the ballet?”
“I injured my foot and ankle in a boating accident.” She smiled without humor. “No foot, no dancer.”
Kim smiled to herself at the play on the old horseman’s adage, “No foot, no horse.”
“What happened?”
“We were out on the lake when a freak summer storm blew in. The water was extremely choppy and my friends were trying to take the boat back to the marina. They weren’t experienced with bad weather sailing, so it was a rough ride. I got really seasick in the pitching waves. I almost fainted several times, I felt so awful. When we finally made it back, I was dizzy and still sick to my stomach. The water was still churned up and, as I tried to step off the boat, I slipped and caught my ankle on one of those mooring cleats. It tore clear through to the bone, destroying the tendons and muscle.” She sighed. “A freak accident – someplace I never should have been. But that’s life, isn’t it?”
Again Kim was stunned by the similarities in their lives. If she’d been off-duty on the day of the football game...
She shook off the thoughts, understanding Natalie’s pain and the emotions involved in losing the profession one loved.
“I’m so sorry. How long d
id your recovery take?”
“Three years. The ankle still bothers me sometimes, but I wrap it when I’m performing.”
“So was Knight’s Horse Theater your first job after the accident?”
“Yes, and I was thrilled to have that chance. I had visions of being unemployed forever.”
“I know what you mean. It’s a scary feeling, being in limbo. But couldn’t you work for your grandfather?”
“He died right after my accident.”
Kim clucked her tongue. This just got worse and worse.
“What about your grandmother?”
“She’s been in a home with Alzheimer’s for almost eight years.”
“Oh, my, what a shame.” Kim waited a beat, struggling to find a genteel way to continue her questioning. There was no easy answer.
Natalie sighed. “For a time, I really thought my life was over, but the work with Knight’s kept me going.”
The perfect opening. “Is there anything else you can tell me that might help track down who made your horses sick? Did you find any evidence of an intruder in your barn?”
Natalie shook her head. “I’ve told you everything I know. I searched the stalls and the trash for evidence, but found nothing.” She leaned down and unlocked a desk drawer. “I need to give you those disks from the barn cameras.” She slid two CDs across the desktop. “I looked at them, but I don’t see anything obvious. But I’m not a detective.”
“I’ll have a look. Oh, and my partner, Garrett Quaid, might call you. He’s in town and helping me with some things.”
Kim had to suppress a smile at her use of the term partner.
Then she tilted her head. “Tell me again how you tracked me down?”
Natalie shrugged. “When your picture showed up on the front page of the morning paper, I thought to myself, ‘Now there’s a gutsy woman’. It was actually simple curiosity about who might do something so dangerous and brave to save an animal.” She narrowed her eyes at Kim. “I mean, those carriage nags are big and not real bright. You could have been killed.”
