by Toni Leland
Chapter 38
Kim drove through the blowing snow, rehashing the conversation with Natalie. Quaid had pulled an about face, making her feel like a heel, but she had to admit that his approach had gained more answers than her own “in your face” questioning. Natalie seemed a chameleon, her responses and emotions swinging wildly throughout the investigation. Kim had felt terrible as she’d listened to Natalie’s admission that she’d lost her baby, but even that tragedy could be the fuel for revenge. After all, Natalie had seemingly lost everything as a result of Damon DeMarco’s inability to keep his pants on. Was there still a chance that Natalie was at the bottom of the plot? Kim almost gagged on the bile that rose in her throat at the thought of that woman intentionally dosing her horses with the strangles bacteria.
Pulling into the hotel parking lot, Kim wondered if Quaid saw it the same way. He seemed less invested in the personal side of this crime, but perhaps that was because he had been poking his nose into people’s personal lives for so long that he’d become immune to the human factor. She grabbed her phone off the charger and headed inside. She’d know soon enough.
Quaid was sitting in the lobby, watching the news.
He looked up and grinned. “You ready for some dinner?”
“Could we talk first?”
He glanced at the desk clerk, then stood up. “Your room or mine?”
Remembering their brief physical contact the night before, Kim felt a warm flush creep beneath her jacket. She looked away. “If you have the laptop still set up, I’d like to have another look at something on one of those disks.”
A few minutes later, Kim sat down at the table to wait while Quaid’s computer booted. She watched him from beneath her eyelashes, wondering what it would be like to actually work together officially as partners. That would never happen, of course, since he’d accepted a job for the insurance company. Would she ever see him after he moved to Columbus? For sure, Dixie would try to organize that, but you couldn’t force a relationship, regardless of how much one of the parties wanted it. The horses might be more of a draw. Oh, God, I forgot about Commander. What am I going to do about that if Quaid doesn’t take him?
“Hello?”
She jerked out of her thoughts and gazed at Quaid’s puzzled expression. Her cheeks warmed.
“Sorry, just thinking about Bandit.”
“You said you wanted to talk. Are you upset over my questions to Natalie?”
“Yes and no. I realize that I came on a little strong, but I think you’re a little too sympathetic. She is, after all, still our main suspect in this mess. If she’s really the villain, I’d like to nail her but good.”
“Three days ago, you believed she was a victim.”
“Wow, has it only been three days? Feels like a week. A lot of new information has surfaced during that time.”
“Okay, but if she did this to herself, where’s the crime? Why would she pay us to snoop around? Take the chance that we’d find her out?”
Kim rose from the chair and paced the room. “I know...it doesn’t seem to make sense, but we haven’t found anyone that had motive.”
“We haven’t talked to her half-brother, or anyone on her staff. I don’t see how the investigation is over. And you haven’t yet shared your conversation with her before I arrived.”
Kim sat down again, fidgeting with her phone. “I got off on the wrong foot with her because I entered the building thinking she wasn’t there. Her car wasn’t around, so I just let myself in through the open service door.”
Quaid started to respond, but Kim cut him off. “I know, stupid move, but I did it. Anyway, she’d parked her car inside and she caught me. I told her about the fire and I can tell you with certainty that she did not know anything about it. Her reaction was genuine.”
“Yes, I watched her reactions to your questioning and got the same feeling. That’s why I question your conclusion that she is the instigator of this.”
“She’s just lost so much, it seemed that she might go off the deep end. I did ask her about the baby.” Kim let out a soft sigh. “She was, indeed, pregnant, but took a bad fall from a horse about a month after she left Knight’s. She lost the baby.”
“That’s tough, especially right after losing her husband to another woman. But, you know, I think DeMarco still loves her. He’s sorta screwed if she won’t talk to him or consider a reconciliation, but I sensed something uneasy about his relationship with Susan Knight. And he did not know that Natalie was pregnant.” Quaid shook his head. “That piece of information didn’t go over too good with Susan.”
Kim gestured toward the computer. “I want to look at that footage with him on it again. The arena behind Natalie’s barn gives perfect secret access to the horses, with no chance of being on the surveillance cameras. If he went there to do harm, he’d know that, so why would he use the main entrance?”
The computer screen flickered, then went black before the footage appeared. Quaid pressed the scan button, stopping at the time stamp he’d written down. They both sat forward, watching the video closely as the white car pulled up to the barn and DeMarco climbed out. A few minutes after he entered the building, Kim pointed.
“There! Back it up, I saw something.”
Quaid scanned back, frame by frame.
“Okay, stop right there. Look at the car. Someone’s in the passenger seat. Can you get that guy to blow this up so maybe we can see who it is?”
“I already did, but I just printed the close up of DeMarco coming out of the building. Let me see if I can find it.”
Quaid moved through some folders on the computer, then opened one and clicked on an image. DeMarco stood beside the passenger side and a woman was clearly visible through the open window.
Kim squinted. “Do you think that’s Susan?”
“Probably. Seems reasonable, doesn’t it?”
“What does she look like?”
Quaid thought for a minute, then his puzzled expression faded to one of profound realization. “She looks just like Natalie.”
“Have we been chasing the wrong clues?”
Quaid’s brow furrowed. “It would seem so, but nothing jumped out that would point in that direction.” He grabbed a notebook. “What, exactly, do we know about her?”
Kim pursed her lips. “She was unhappy in her marriage. Perhaps she felt that Mark took her for granted, didn’t care about her anymore.”
“That would be a good basis for having an affair, but Susan is a partner in the horse theater, so it’s unlikely that she would abandon it, monkey business or not. She said Mark wanted to buy her out, but she hadn’t yet decided. I sensed a deep commitment to her involvement in the theater.”
“And what does that have to do with Natalie? Why would Susan want to damage her? It doesn’t make any sense. She got the guy.”
Quaid sat back and gazed at the carpet. “We’re missing something – something important. I’ll go talk to Mark first thing in the morning, see if he’ll give me any background on his wife.”
“I’ll take a photo of Natalie out to Breakstone Farm, see if the owner can positively identify her.” Kim exhaled slowly. “I’m sure tired of this case. Are all of them this complicated?”
Quaid grinned, sending a ripple through the pit of her stomach.
“Most of them are worse – you’ll get used to it. C’mon, let’s go eat.”
Chapter 39
The following morning, Kim awakened from a restless sleep, her brain already sorting details of the strangles mystery. Quaid’s assessment of Natalie’s motives for damaging her own horses rang solid and true. Kim had reviewed the medical information about the disease and come to the conclusion that the whole thing could still simply be nothing more than an unfortunate accident, perpetrated by an unknowing person who’d visited a strangles-infected barn, then visited Natalie’s barn. The Streptococcus bacteria could live for up to a week on common surfaces such as floors or walls, longer in water buckets or pasture troughs. Unless the
carrier had walked through an infected area, then driven immediately to Natalie’s barn, it seemed unlikely that the bacteria would have survived days of walking around in other places. Clearly, the contaminant had to have been carried in on something else.
An hour later, Kim entered the hotel breakfast room and made a beeline for the coffee. An older couple sat in the corner, watching the morning news on a small television mounted to the ceiling. Once Kim got her heart started, she would drive down to Breakstone. She took a careful sip of the steaming brew, thinking about the conversation over pizza the previous night. Quaid’s take on the whole mess was interesting – she’d never thought much about what private investigators actually did to earn their fees. Apparently, they simply gathered information and passed it on to whoever was footing the bill. No accusations, no formal charges, no arrests. It seemed strange. Her own police background would make it hard to walk away from someone she knew was guilty. Like the theft ring perps. Kim knew that one of them had been arrested and was probably in jail somewhere. But the others? Had they faded into the background, buying time, waiting for the dust to settle so they could continue their diabolical schemes? She clenched her jaw. As Quaid had said, it wasn’t over, but she sure wanted it to be.
Returning her thoughts to Quaid’s conversation, she toyed with her napkin. His last statement at the end of the evening had been a surprise: they didn’t need to prove anything to Natalie – simply give her the facts and let her decide what to do with them, whatever they might be.
Kim chuckled. Exactly the advice she’d given Quaid about the suspicious wife in Cleveland.
Quaid eased into a chair at her table. “Care to share the joke?”
His hair was damp and he smelled of some delicious masculine aftershave. His eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses, giving Kim the sense that he could read her thoughts. She immediately ditched the mental images of his towel-wrapped torso sparkling with the remnants of a shower, but not before a flush warmed her cheeks.
“Thinking about the day Bandit dumped me,” she said.
“Yeah, he’s like a teenager – always testing. He’s such a great horse.”
Quaid’s features softened with genuine affection, and Kim held onto the hope that the beautiful Commander would fill a spot in her partner’s life. Partner. Is that really where we’re headed?
She cleared her mind of personal thoughts and gave him a serious look. “You said Susan was upset by the news of Natalie’s pregnancy...do you think she might go after her? If Damon really still loves his wife, Susan would stand to lose a great deal for nothing.”
“Until I know a little more about her, I can’t say, but Damon was definitely emotionally affected by the news.” Quaid set his coffee cup down abruptly. “Who all knows about Natalie’s miscarriage?”
“No one. She said that she never even told anyone she was pregnant, except Charles Lane.”
Quaid stood up. “I need to talk to both Mark and Damon. See if you can get a positive ID from the woman at Breakstone, then call Natalie and bring her up to speed.”
As he turned to leave, the television volume increased and they both stopped to look at the screen.
A ruddy-cheeked young man gestured expansively across a large map, pointing out the highs and lows and the systems and wind patterns that had brought the area’s first winter storm to Chicago. “We could see up to eighteen inches of snow over the next forty-eight hours and possibly another six or so after that, depending on the direction this front takes. So be prepared for school closings and tough commutes tomorrow.”
Kim tossed her Styrofoam cup into the trash. “Great. Just great.”
Quaid shook his head. “I’ll call you with whatever information I find out, then I need to get on the road home while I still can. I’m supposed to collect my nephew on Friday.” Another charming grin. “You can wrap this up. It is, after all, your case.”
Kim drove up the lane at Breakstone Thoroughbred Farm, glancing at the quarantine sign that still guarded the entrance. She remained in the car and waited for someone to come out. No way was she going anywhere near the infected areas. In a few minutes, a sturdy woman appeared on the front porch, then hurried down the steps toward Kim’s car. Maybe in her fifties, the woman wore jeans, work boots, a heavy sheepskin jacket, and a ball cap. Her long thin hair blew loose in the wind.
Kim rolled down the window. “Lottie? I’m Kim Kovak. We spoke on the phone yesterday about your farm visitors.”
The woman’s features were those of someone who’d led a tough life. “Oh, yeah. Is there a problem?”
Kim reached for the picture of Natalie. “No, I just wanted to ask if this is the woman who visited your barn.”
Lottie took the picture, then shook her head. “No, real close, but the woman who came here had blue eyes – really blue, like she was wearin’ those colored contact lenses.” Handing the picture back through the window, she asked, “Does that help?”
“You bet it does. Thanks a lot.” Kim glanced toward the barn. “How are you making out now?”
“Vet’s got everyone on drugs and the worst seems to be over. We just have to wait.” Her shoulders sagged. “But losing our whole crop of youngsters will set us back a piece...but such is life in the horse business.”
Quaid winced as he watched surprised anger contort Mark Knight’s features.
“Damn! Don’t you people have something else to do besides harassing me?”
Quaid took a step back to diffuse the battleground. “Hey, listen, Mark – I’m really sorry to keep bothering you, but we’ve come up with some disturbing possibilities in the Natalie Danseur case and I need your help.”
Knight considered for a moment, then gestured toward the lobby of the theater. “Okay, but make it quick. The insurance adjuster is due here any time now.”
“Boy, that was fast. Did the fire marshal figure out who did it?”
“It wasn’t arson. Turned out to be some old wiring that didn’t get upgraded in the renovation. Just crummy bad luck.” He turned and frowned. “Now – what’s your story?”
Quaid’s data processing brain quickly filed the information about the fire. That would be one less marker for Susan Knight’s involvement in Natalie’s problems. Did that weaken the premise? He wasn’t sure.
“There are some gaps in our information regarding Natalie’s sick horses. Most of them involve outside contacts, people she might have pissed off enough to attack her. Do you have any ideas?”
Knight sighed with resignation. “Natalie wasn’t particularly likeable. As with many highly artistic and creative people, she had an ego bigger than she could handle. She didn’t appear to have made any lasting friends or connections, other than her husband.” A scowl furrowed Mark’s eyebrows. “Obviously, that wasn’t too strong either.”
“I understand that this isn’t a pleasant subject for you, but can you tell me a little bit about your wife’s involvement here at the theater?”
Wariness clouded Knight’s eyes. “What does that have to do with your case?”
“I know that she’s a partner in the business, but she told us that you were trying to buy her out. Isn’t that an emotional reaction for business partners?”
“Susan is no longer a corporate partner, but she does have some financial interest in the theater.”
Quaid remembered Natalie’s comment about Sophia Barevsky’s appointment to the board of directors.
“So, you and your Ukrainian acrobat voted your wife off the board. For what possible cause? Just because she slept with another man?”
Knight’s stunned expression was almost comic. He stammered, then responded with a shaky voice.
“Susan not only abandoned me and our little girl, she abandoned the business. That is just cause for removal.”
“Women don’t usually walk away from their children, Mark. Is there something else you aren’t telling me?”
Knight’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Susan has a
long history of mental problems. She’s been treated for depression and schizophrenia over the past fifteen years.”
“Does Damon DeMarco know this?”
Knight pulled a wry face. “I couldn’t say, but I suspect their pillow talk wouldn’t have included details about her stint in a mental hospital.”
Quaid wanted to walk away, but he had to ask. “Would Susan try to harm Natalie for any reason?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Knight’s eyes took on a faraway look. “When we were first married, she was the light of my life. But it’s been a long time since we had any personal connection. She’s a stranger to me now.”
Ten minutes later, Quaid strode across the street toward his truck. If Susan Knight was mentally ill, she might easily find justification to eliminate Natalie Danseur from Damon DeMarco’s life.”
Chapter 40
Quaid grabbed his phone to call DeMarco, then changed his mind. Better to have a fresh conversation without giving the two of them time to prepare canned answers. As he headed for the apartment complex, Quaid wondered briefly if Damon had concocted the story about the marriage “mistake” just for Susan’s benefit. As they’d talked, Quaid had the distinct feeling that Damon’s emotions were under wraps. The expression on his face and the pain in his eyes upon learning of Natalie’s pregnancy weren’t in character for a man who’d moved on from a relationship. Looking back on that exchange, Quaid remembered Susan’s reaction, too, though she’d clearly made an effort to keep it under control. She’d been pissed. No two ways about it.
One parking spot in front of DeMarco’s apartment was fairly clear of snow, with only a light dusting over the bare pavement. Someone had left not too long ago. As he trudged up the walkway to the unit, Quaid hoped the empty parking spot wasn’t Damon’s. A sharp gust of wind seared across Quaid’s bare hand as he rapped on the door. Best get this interview over and be on his way home before the storm made it impossible. He knocked again and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Now his feet were cold. The door opened and DeMarco frowned.
