by Toni Leland
“Well, here’s another thing – putting the bacteria in a mister would spread it everywhere, with easy transfer to the race barns. Would whoever did this want that much devastation?”
Kovak contemplated her sandwich. “As intriguing as the idea is, I think the horses were contaminated the usual way, by transfer from the perpetrator to the horses. Question is, who is that?”
“What else did you find out? What was the significance of the Aurora farm?”
“While I was at the quarantine facility talking to Natalie’s vet, the state agriculture officer came back from Aurora.” Kovak shuddered visibly. “She’d had to destroy ten horses out there.”
Quaid exhaled sharply. “Jee-zus...but you still haven’t told me what that has to do with our case.”
“Dr. Forman made the comment that it was quite unusual to have two such large outbreaks of the disease, what with modern vaccinations and all.”
Quaid waited, knowing Kovak would fill in the blanks. She took a long drink of beer, then looked at him with a knowing smile.
“I woke up this morning wondering how anyone would get their hands on a sample of the bacteria in order to infect the horses. And since I don’t believe in coincidence, Breakstone Farm seemed like a good candidate for the source.”
Quaid raised his glass of beer. “Congratulations. That’s the stuff that makes a private eye successful.”
She chuckled and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “We’ll see.”
“And the outcome of your visit to the farm?”
“From the owner’s description of a male visitor, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that Mark Knight was there just about the time Breakstone’s horses got sick. Now if we can just find him on the security camera footage, we can solve this case and go home.” She took another sip of beer, then sighed. “I miss my horse.”
Quaid shook his head. “I hate to burst your investigative bubble, but I don’t think Knight had anything to do with it.”
Kovak’s enthusiasm visibly drained as he told her what he’d learned about the owner of Knight’s Horse Theater and his personal problems. Quaid felt a little sorry for Kovak, understanding completely the letdown feeling when a lead evaporated into nothingness. But it was what it was.
He tried to soften the disappointment. “I think there must be someone else at the theater who might have done it. Or someone on Natalie’s team. I’m just not sure that we are ever going to be able to prove anything.” He cleared away the sandwich wrappers and booted the laptop. “And Miss Danseur is none too happy with us right now. She tried to fire us this morning.”
“Really! Why?”
“She felt that her personal life should not have anything to do with this.” He laughed derisively. “Her personal life has everything to do with this, you just watch.”
“So...are we done? Going home?”
He grinned. “Not a chance. I want to know the whole story.”
“Doesn’t seem like a professional approach to me – not to mention being economically unsound.”
“Give her time to cool off. She’ll come around.”
Kovak handed over the surveillance disks and they settled back to watch long stretches of inactivity, or shots of Natalie or Dr. Forman coming and going. After two hours of scanning forward through the dead spots to frames of activity, Kovak suddenly leaned forward.
“Wait, go back, I think I saw something.”
Putting the player on half-speed, Quaid kept his finger over the pause button. They both saw it at the same time. Late afternoon on a Saturday, a small white car pulled up to the barn and a man got out and looked around. A moment later, he slid open the doors and stepped inside. Ten real-time minutes later, he came out, got into the car and drove away.
Kovak looked at Quaid. “Who was that? Is there any way we can get a zoom on it?”
“I can find out who’s in the area that has the capability. I’ll do that first thing tomorrow.” He frowned. “But at some point, I have to get back home. I have stuff to do and I promised my sister-in-law that I’d take care of Ricky while she’s out of town next weekend.”
“Are you excited to be moving closer to your family?”
“Yeah, I actually am, although I’m not crazy about the turmoil of the transition.”
“Listen, if Dixie or I can help you with anything, just let us know. Apartment hunting or whatever. And by the way, Dixie’s birthday is next weekend. Why don’t you bring your nephew and join us for dinner on Sunday.”
Quaid thought for a minute. “That would be nice. I’ll certainly give it some thought. And thanks for the offer of help – I’ll probably need it.”
A warm feeling filtered into his mind, the realization that living in Columbus would have some nice benefits.
They both stood up at the same time and, in the close quarters, Kovak lost her balance and stumbled forward. Quaid grabbed her upper arms. The warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her blouse sent a ripple through his pulse. He sucked in a silent breath. For a moment, their eyes met and he saw the vulnerability in hers. He’d only have to lean in slightly to brush a kiss across those full lips, then wrap his arms around her soft body and pull her close, feel the curves hard against him. Remembering another time he’d held her, his pulse thumped again.
He blinked. Good grief, the only thing missing is soaring music!
Kovak stepped back, clearly embarrassed. “Guess I can’t handle my likker.” She grinned, collected her bag and turned toward the door. “Thanks for the sandwich. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“What’s your schedule?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I found Damon DeMarco. I’m meeting him in the morning so he can assess my daughter’s gymnastic injury.”
Quaid laughed. “Your nose is growing, Miz Kovak.”
Kim walked slowly down the hall toward her room, her legs a little wobbly. Her arms still held the warm impression of Quaid’s hands, holding her, steadying her. More unsettling, the remembrance of the look in his eyes. Suddenly intense, then soft with meaning. He’d wanted to kiss her, she could feel it. How long had that suspended moment lasted? What would have happened if she hadn’t stepped back?
When she reached her door, she looked back down the hallway. The more she knew him, the more comfortable she became, and the more aware she was of her attraction to him. A definite problem if they were to continue working together. She shook her head. Where did that come from? In a few days, the case would be finished – whatever the outcome – and they’d go their separate ways. In a town the size of Columbus, the chances of bumping into each other were slim.
She let herself into the room and chuckled. Of course, she could always use Bandit as bait. Or Commander.
The memory of that impulsive action put a damper on the warm feelings.
Chapter 29
Kim walked into the Generations Fitness Spa at exactly nine o’clock the next morning. A perky redhead stood behind the sign-in desk and several people dressed in exercise gear chatted by the water cooler. A slim man with wavy black hair approached her.
“Mrs. Kovak?”
“Yes, are you Damon DeMarco?”
He glanced around, a puzzled expression in his dark eyes. “I thought you were bringing your daughter.”
“Could we talk privately?”
His eyebrows came together. “Okay, but I can’t assess your daughter’s injury unless I can examine her.” He gestured toward an alcove with chairs. “It’s pretty quiet over there.”
They moved to the area, but Kim didn’t sit. “Listen, I need to talk to you about Natalie Danseur.”
The color drained from DeMarco’s face and his eyes darkened. “What the hell? Who are you?”
“I’m an insurance investigator looking into criminal activity in her barn. I need to know what you can tell me.”
“Has she accused me of something?” He barked a nasty laugh. “Yeah, that would be Nat’s speed, always looking for someone to blame for her ow
n shortcomings.” He scowled. “I don’t know anything about her precious barn. What happened?”
Kim watched his body language. He appeared to be telling the truth. Nothing in his demeanor indicated that he was nervous or even familiar with what she was talking about. Either that, or he was a fantastic liar.
“All her horses got very sick, basically putting her out of business just as she was about to debut her production.”
DeMarco’s expression changed dramatically to one of concern. “Oh god, how...are they okay now? What happened?”
“Natalie thinks someone at the horse theater downtown had something to do with it. I thought you might be able to shed some light on that, seeing as you are married to her.”
“That’s been over for six months.” A shadow passed over his face. “She’s blaming the owner?”
Aha.
Kim cocked her head. “I didn’t say that, but since you mention it, is that what happened?”
He looked away. “I told you, I don’t know anything about it. I haven’t seen her in months.”
“But you do know something.” Kim softened her tone. “Tell me, Mr. DeMarco, after all those years of helping Natalie recover from her injury, and supporting her with the transition into a new life, how could your marriage have failed?”
He was silent for what seemed a very long time. Finally, he spoke.
“Ballet was Natalie’s lifelong dream, to be the prima ballerina with a prestigious company. Little girl fantasies and all that. She was talented and quickly picked up by the Joffrey, but the boating accident was the end of it all – at least the end of the actual dance career. But Nat couldn’t let go. She grieved over what could have been for too long, even after we married and she began performing with Knight’s. She was consumed with her own drama, to the exclusion of any other aspects of life.”
He gazed at Kim and shook his head. “I just couldn’t cope with it. I needed her and she was never there.” He looked away. “I strayed, and then that was the end of our marriage.”
“So you two broke up over an infidelity? No such thing as a second chance?”
“You obviously don’t know Natalie. When she’s done, she’s done.” DeMarco shifted his weight and glanced toward the lobby. “I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I don’t know anything that will help you.”
Kim wrote her cell number on the back of Quaid’s card, then handed it over. “If you think of anything, please give me a call.”
He looked at the card, then back at her. “One thing you have to understand about extremely talented people is that their egos drive them relentlessly. Whether they’re athletes or actors or dancers, they live in a world that reveres them, without question. Many of them are incapable of accepting defeat – their misfortunes are always someone else’s fault. Natalie is no exception.”
As Kim drove away, she pondered that last statement. What was DeMarco trying to tell her? So many pieces of the puzzle whirled through her head that she couldn’t get them lined up long enough to take a close look at the full picture. She needed her big work board from home. Barring that, she pulled into the parking lot of a neighborhood diner, then collected her notebook and laptop. Until she saw all the details in one place, she’d be unable to make any sense of the problem.
Settling into a booth at the back of the restaurant, she started sketching out a flow chart of her suspects and current status.
• Mark Knight – not likely, according to Quaid. Weak motive. But why was he at Breakstone? Follow up.
• Sophia Barevsky – not likely, no motive.
• Charles Lane – dumped rebound lover. Revenge? Seems extreme, but possible. Follow up on this one.
• Damon DeMarco – Ex-husband, dumped after Natalie found out about affair. Motive for attack? Emotional? Economical? (Natalie is wealthy). Did he really not know about the disease in Nat’s barn? Too much conflict here, pursue further.
• Bobby Sanchez – Natalie’s half-brother. Revenge over outcome of grandfather’s will? Have Quaid track this down. Money lust makes sense.
• Peripheral people in barns, etc. – Would any of them trace back to one of the above suspects? Would this possibly identify the woman who visited Breakstone?
Kim stared at the list, then underlined Lane and DeMarco, and placed three dark question marks next to Bobby Sanchez. As of that moment, those three were the only untested possibilities. She frowned. Quaid was so sure that Mark Knight had nothing to do with it. Simply being in the midst of a nasty divorce wouldn’t be a reason to shoot himself in the foot. It also seemed unlikely that he’d go after Natalie for leaving the company. Artists came and went all the time. Surely the directors of these places were used to that. Quaid was probably right. Knight wasn’t their man.
As to a reason for being at Breakstone Farm, maybe Knight really was looking for a horse for his daughter. Coincidence? Kim didn’t like it, but it might be nothing more than that.
Her breakfast arrived and she stared at the plate of steaming scrambled eggs. She had interviewed both Lane and DeMarco in person and neither of them had raised any red flags. She’d noticed nothing that would indicate that either of them felt guilty about anything. Even DeMarco had been offhand about his extramarital excursion. Why was that? If it had been serious enough to cause Natalie to throw him out, it must have been very serious. Maybe he hadn’t just enjoyed a roll in the hay. Maybe he’d fallen in love.
Taking a bite of breakfast and scanning the list briefly, Kim thought about her visit to Breakstone Farm. What else was she missing? She still had not figured out how someone had obtained the contaminant. Was it worth calling the wife to see if she could describe the woman who’d visited at about the same time as the man that Kim thought might be Mark Knight? As she dialed, she gazed out the window at the gray morning. November was quickly cloaking herself in pre-winter hues, and the dullness sent a ripple of melancholy through Kim’s chest. The holidays were never a happy time for her, but they rolled around like clockwork.
The Breakstone Farm answering machine asked for name, number, and a brief message. Kim complied, then examined her list again, remembering Quaid’s comment about Natalie’s personal life. The woman seemed determined to drive their investigation to where she wanted it to go. Did that seem odd?
Quaid called as Kim pondered the thought.
“Hey, we caught a break. A friend of mine gave me the number of a guy here in the area who does video enhancement. I’m meeting him in about half an hour with the disk.” He snickered. “And Danseur left me a voice mail apologizing for trying to fire us. She wants us to continue with the investigation.”
“How did you know she would change her mind?”
“Experience. Been there, done that, wore out two tee shirts. So, where are you? How did the interview with DeMarco go?”
“I caught him off guard with my questions, but I don’t think he’s our man. He swears he doesn’t know anything about Natalie’s sick horses. But, apparently, he strayed from the marriage bed and Natalie threw him out.”
“Sounds like a revenge motive to me. Maybe I should talk to him. Be nice if we could wrap this up today and get back to our real lives.” He chuckled. “Not sure I have a real life, but I do need to get back to it. What’s your next move?”
“I’m still trying to track down the source of the contaminant. And I’d like to talk to Natalie again, but I think we should both be there for that to solidify our cooperative efforts on her case.”
“Sure thing, just let me know when you’re ready. And listen – it’s likely that whoever did this knew about the strangles at the Aurora farm. Find that connection, and our case could open up.”
Kim thought a moment. “Good thought. This is one of those loose ends that really annoys me.”
Quaid chuckled. “You have the makings of a first rate private investigator.”
Kim disconnected, grinning like a fool. If Quaid thought she was good, then she must be on the right track. Maybe pursuing th
e investigative career idea wasn’t such a bad one. She sure as heck could use some income.
Chapter 30
On a whim, after breakfast Kim drove to Knight’s Horse Theater. The horses were out in the pasture and a figure that closely resembled Mark Knight was spreading hay on the ground in several places. Kim sat in her car, trying to decide how best to approach him. According to Quaid, Knight had no clue that he was being considered as a possible suspect in the vandalism at Natalie’s barn, but Kim still thought he might have the best motive – nasty divorce or not. Maybe the element of surprise would be the best way to ferret out some information. He’d certainly try to defend himself against the accusation, and perhaps Kim could ascertain his level of culpability.
She walked briskly across the street, removing the lens cover from her camera as she approached.
Knight looked up and his face broke into a smile. “Hey, you’re still in town.” He plucked a piece of baling twine from the ground, stuffed it into his pocket, and walked toward the fence. “Did you get to see any of the performances?”
“No, I just couldn’t get away from my conference. But I’d still love to have that tour, if you’re not busy this morning.” She held up the camera. “I’ll take lots of pictures and you can have any of them you want.”
His smile widened. “Great! I’m done with chores and have the morning to myself, so let’s go.”
Kim walked with him toward the fenced parking area, wondering how to transition from liar to investigator. Direct attack didn’t seem to be the best plan. She’d try coming in from the flank.
Knight led her through the back entrance and down the corridor. “We completely strip the stalls every other week, so it smells a little strong in here right now.”
Kim snapped off a few shots. “That sounds like pretty serious housekeeping.”
