by Leigh Hearon
“Interesting. You may be right.”
“Well, there’s one way to check. There were six thermoses in the dumbwaiter when Hollis and I first looked inside. If one of them is filled with Lady Grey tea, then it’s got to be the one Chef Gustav prepared and was swapped out. As you know, Chef Gustav tossed the first batch. I don’t know if she knew that, and this was her second poisoned thermos, or if she just waited until after seven to make the switch.”
“Where’s Deputy Collins now?”
“I left him around one forty-five in the house. He was staring at the mason jar I’d locked in my room. I believe he decided that your explosives team should be involved in its transport from the property.”
“Complete overkill. Between that and his Dick Tracy watch, I’m beginning to lose patience with the lad.”
“There’s more. And this is what’s bothering me. Hollis took us down to the stables this morning in his old vintage cars. But he told everyone this was the plan last night, when everyone was down at the stables checking on their horses. So, our killer could have brought the poison with her this morning. No one gave us a pat down when we got here.”
“Hell and damnation.”
“Yes, and I can’t find Lucy or Tabitha. I’ve asked people to round up every houseguest they see and to congregate at the hospitality bar. Oh, and Gwendolyn left in her Porsche, after her ride. She was in a bit of a huff.”
“Over what?”
“Unrequited love.”
“Oh, that’s all right, then. Wait—weren’t she and Lucy supposed to have tails?”
“That’s what Hollis told me.”
“I’ll be there within the half hour. Meanwhile, I’ll find out from Collins what’s happened to the deputies who were supposed to be covering the two women and why it’s taking so damned long to put ajar into evidence. By the way, what’s the status of the horse show?”
“It’s going well, and only one more rider from the house is still on deck.”
“Who’s that?”
“Nicole Anne Forrester. But I’ve asked my boyfriend to keep her in sight. She should be in the warm-up arena now, waiting to ride. So she’s safe. It’s the other two I’m worried about.”
“With good reason. See you in a jiffy. Oh, and Annie?”
“Yes?”
“Good work. Have you ever considered a job in law enforcement?”
“When pigs fly.”
“Just thought I’d ask.”
* * *
Annie ended the call and walked out through the stables into the entrance area. She peered past the dressage court into the warm-up ring. There was Nicole, slowly trotting her Andalusian in a large circle, her head bowed in deep concentration. Marcus stood a discreet distance away, his arms draped over the top rung of the white fence.
She felt better knowing one more houseguest was safe. If only she could find Lucy and Tabitha. Then she heard the jingle of the judge’s bell, and paused. It was Nicole’s time to ride.
Chapter Twenty-four
SUNDAY LATE AFTERNOON—EVENING, OCTOBER 15
For one fleeting second, Annie was tempted to watch the diva’s performance. But the urgency of finding Lucy and Tabitha was far more compelling. She turned back to look again in the stables and nearly ran into Marcus.
“I just saw you by the warm-up arena!”
“Yes, but once the bell rang, I figured it was recess, so I came around to find you. I’d spotted you coming out of the stables.”
“Thanks for keeping track of Nicole. I knew it was a long shot that anyone would try to get to her, but still, it was good to know she was covered.”
“My pleasure. It was completely humdrum. She preened a bit when she thought no one was watching, led her horse out to the pen, then went into a deep repose on the horse’s back.”
“What, she fell asleep?”
“Looked like it. As if she were meditating on her upcoming performance. Rather picturesque, actually.”
Nicole meditating? Annie couldn’t even imagine such a thing. Whenever she’d seen the woman astride her horse, she was trying to get results, and as Annie had seen, at times had tried rather too much.
Marcus’s use of the word meditate stirred something in her brain. Where had she heard the word used recently? Oh, yes, it had been during the round-robin interview with Detective Wollcott yesterday, which seemed a long time ago now. In fact, it had been Tabitha who’d used it. She’d said she’d arisen early on Saturday morning and meditated for an hour before going down to breakfast.
Annie suddenly stared at Nicole in the ring. She was cantering Andy down the centerline, the first rider she’d seen start in that gait, and this one was exceptionally precise and elegant.
Then she and Andy began riding on the diagonal, transitioning from what looked like a collected trot to an extended trot and back to the collected trot, the one that Amy had done so well. Annie looked closely at the rider. Nicole and her horse appeared very much at the top of their form today. At letter B, Nicole asked Andy to make a tiny circle, and she watched the Andalusian make very small steps that matched the rhythm of his trot. The performance looked similar to the one Annie had seen Nicole do in practice, but there was some small difference in the way it was performed now. She wished Patricia were by her to point out what that tiny distinction was. If she only knew more about dressage, she’d know. Because right now, what she was thinking seemed totally preposterous.
Marcus was still standing next to her. She glanced over at him and noticed his quizzical gaze.
“Is there something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll know in a minute.”
She turned her eyes back to the dressage ring. Andy was cantering around a corner of the arena. His head was lowered, and his front legs produced big and extravagant strides, one after another. Now he was performing a half pass with a gracefulness she did not know a horse could possess. In a few moments, Annie saw the movement she was looking for, the flying lead change. A few seconds later, he did the movement again, changing the direction of his lead in midair. Each was perfection itself. There was no hesitation from his hindquarters; they moved perfectly in sync with his front. As the Andalusian turned at the far corner, Annie took her gaze from the horse to the face underneath the radiantly colored helmet. And then she knew she was right.
Without a word to Marcus, she turned and ran as fast as she could to the office, where Brianna was immersed in paperwork.
“Come with me!” She tugged on Brianna’s arm. Startled, Brianna rose from her chair and let Annie quickly lead her into the center aisle of the stables.
“What is it?”
“Nicole. We have to find her. You take the dressing rooms to the left of the office. I’ll do the right. If we don’t find anything, let’s meet in the middle and figure where else to look.”
Brianna nodded and ran away from Annie to inspect her designated area. If she thought it was strange that Annie was asking her to find a rider who gave every appearance of performing outside at that very moment, she didn’t say so. Annie ran in the opposite direction. A moment later, she heaved open the door to the ladies’ restroom and quickly ran her hands through the cotton shower curtains on one side. Nothing. All the stalls were empty. Where else could she look? She yanked open the door to a small linen closet in the back. There lay Nicole, on the floor and on her back, wearing only the skimpiest of lingerie. She was writhing as if in deep pain and clutching her stomach. Annie heard the sound of footsteps approaching her, and Brianna was suddenly behind her, peering over her shoulder.
“I’ll call the medic,” she said abruptly, and turned to leave.
“Have her bring the respiratory kit this time, and any activated charcoal if it’s on hand.”
Brianna nodded and was gone. Annie bent down and took Nicole’s pulse. It was weak, but not as weak as Judge Bennett’s had been, and she was still conscious.
“Nicole! Can you hear me? Nicole!” Annie very gently moved the woman’s shoulders to
try to get her attention.
Two eyes lolled back at her, wide, dilated, but aware on some level that someone else was now with her. Annie slowly helped Nicole to a sitting position and wrapped a towel around her, then took two more from the closet to place around her head.
“Nicole,” she said softly. “We’re getting help for you right now. Please try to stay awake. I want you to concentrate on your breathing right now. Can you do that? Let’s do it together. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. That’s it. You’re doing fine.”
The show medic banged the door open. Brianna was behind her, holding a bag.
“She’s conscious. I think if she can expel the poison herself, she should be all right.”
The medic nodded curtly and crouched down beside her. Annie stood up.
“I need to go,” she told Brianna, and without waiting for a response, ran out the door and back outside. The first person she saw was Detective Wollcott, who was talking to Marcus in the same spot where she’d left him two minutes earlier. The next thing she noticed was the Andalusian, who was now in the warm-up ring, being inspected by a volunteer steward.
Annie rudely inserted herself between the two men. Thrusting one arm out, she pointed to the rider.
“Arrest her. Arrest Tabitha. She’s just tried to kill Nicole.”
* * *
Many things happened at once.
In her desire to expose Tabitha, Annie had neglected to keep her voice down. In retrospect, that was a mistake. Not only did several bystanders overhear her indictment, but the accused also got the message loud and clear. Andy surged forward, nearly toppling the steward as he bolted away at Tabitha’s command. Tabitha headed for the exit gate, but an intelligent volunteer had just finished locking it, and Annie saw another one running to secure the one to the dressage court.
At that moment, Lucy appeared in front of the stables, leading Prince on a rope attached to his halter. His coat was still wet, and he looked exceptionally clean.
Annie ran up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Lucy! Where have you been?”
She looked surprised. “In back, giving Prince a bath. Why? Did I miss something?”
“But I looked there! We all did!”
Annie glanced in back of her. Tabitha was still in the warm-up ring, wildly looking for an escape route, and the Andalusian was visibly upset. Unlike the polite manner in which the person on his back had asked him to move just a few minutes before, she now was running him into corners, desperately trying to find a way out. No one was foolhardy enough to approach the horse; Annie was sure Tabitha wouldn’t hesitate to run anyone down who got in her way. She saw Detective Wollcott talking on his phone as he attempted to climb over the fence, not very successfully. Annie turned back to Lucy, who was trying to explain where she’d been.
“Annie? The ones behind the stable were full. But a nice stall worker showed me the old ones I could use, in that building over there.” She pointed in back of her.
“Well, I’m sorry, Lucy, but I may need to borrow your horse.”
She handed the lead rope to her without a word.
Annie feverishly tied the end of the rope to the halter and slung it over the Hanoverian’s head. She looked for a place to mount. Prince was so incredibly tall. She could jump on just about any horse, but not this one. She glanced over to the warm-up pen again. Now Tabitha was backing Andy up very quickly. The Andalusian’s eyes were wide and white around the edges. His mouth was pried open and his chin pulled down from the hard pressure Tabitha was exerting on the reins. Annie heard Detective Wollcott drop heavily on the other side of the fence and watched him run toward the horse and rider.
Marcus was suddenly beside her, cupping his hands. She put one foot in his makeshift mounting block and was on Prince’s back a second later. The view was perfect for what she next saw. Tabitha tapped her spurs into Andy’s side and made a hard run for the arena fence. They sailed over and landed in the pasture beyond and out into an open field. Detective Wollcott stopped, and she heard him swear. Annie didn’t wait to see or hear more. She leaned forward, and Prince took off at a fast canter through the aisle separating the arenas, through the astonished spectators and around the corner of the warm-up pen. Annie had done little jumping in her lifetime, but she instinctively leaned forward to give him his back. Prince practically floated over the four-foot fence separating the Darby property from their neighbor’s. He landed lightly and continued to canter, while Annie looked around for a glimpse of Andy. She saw his back far in the distance and almost out of sight. Tabitha was determined to flee, it seemed. She’d driven Andy at a gallop, soaring past the singlewides in back and out into an empty field Annie had never seen before.
Prince’s back was quite broad and Annie wished she had a saddle. Her svelte, eat-all-you-want-and-never-gain-a-pound Thoroughbreds were much easier to ride bareback than this massive gelding, but she didn’t have a choice. Annie slowed the Hanoverian down to a soft, slow trot to try to get a better look at what lay before her.
She saw two small farmhouses, one on each side of her. By the moss on their roofs and the antiquated farm machinery parked neatly out back, they looked as if they’d been there for generations and owned by the same families. Along slope led to both. If Tabitha really wanted to hide, she’d find an outlying building on one of these old structures, ditch Andy, and take her chances on foot. Riding a beautiful Andalusian down the highway would only draw attention to herself. Even in full dressage regalia, the press would tag her as a modern-day Lady Godiva.
Relief poured through her when she realized the hard knob on her right thigh was the outline of her cell phone. She asked for a halt. Prince stopped on a dime, and Annie had Detective Wollcott’s number on redial.
“Where are you?” His voice sounded urgent.
“In a pasture, looking at two farms. She has to be holed up in one. I’m going to scout out the closest one, on the west side.”
“We’ve got the roads blocked. She can’t get out, on horseback or otherwise.”
“If she’s walking by now, she might. But let’s hope she isn’t thinking that clearly.”
“Is there a road back there? One for vehicles?”
“Haven’t seen one yet. The farms will have them, of course. I’ll let you know when I’m closer. You could always take the tuk-tuk.”
“The what?”
“The golf cart.”
Annie heard sputtering on the other end but decided to ignore it.
* * *
She hung up and trotted down to the first farm, keeping her eyes on the horizon just in case Tabitha had decided to go farther afield. She saw nothing but soft, undulating brown hills. Not even a small herd of grazing cows broke up the landscape. Of course, by now, there was nothing to graze on.
As she suspected, the farm had a number of old buildings in back, probably used to store old equipment. She’d seen plenty of these back where she lived. But were any of them big enough to hide a horse? A sudden whinny below gave her the answer. It came from a dilapidated old shack with a sloped roof that had half fallen in. The remnants of an old stile fence surrounded the shack on three sides. An overhang extended from one side of the rotting roof, and Annie wondered if it had once been the area where a farrier had done his work on horses, perhaps mules. The side of the shack facing her was made up of solid boards. Andy and Tabitha had to have entered on the other side. The slope of the roof was tall enough to accommodate a horse, even an Andalusian of Andy’s size.
Unfortunately, Prince felt compelled to return Andy’s call, and his own sharp whinny emerged seconds after Andy’s. Annie not only heard it but felt it reverberate throughout his body. Her cover, such as it had been, was blown.
She walked Prince down the slope. When she was twenty feet from the shack, she halted him again and called out.
“Tabitha? It’s Annie. I think we need to talk.”
Silence. A breeze fluttered across the pasture, causing a wooden board to creak. Or h
ad a human made that sound?
Annie quietly slid off Prince and hoped sometime in his lifetime he’d learned to be ground tied. She walked ten noiseless paces toward the shack and looked back. Prince seemed content to pick at whatever nubs of grass still remained. She continued walking toward the shack, looking for any sign, any movement that showed Tabitha and Andy were there.
The sound of a chair scraping on the floor coincided with her arrival at the overhang. She paused and heard a long, ragged breath inside.
“I’m not going to take it.” It was the voice of a young man, who sounded terrified.
“But you have to. It’s for your own good.” The female voice sounded so sweet, sweeter than Annie had ever remembered hearing. But she still recognized it as Tabitha’s.
In one step, she whipped around the corner, and with one more, she was inside the shack. As she’d suspected, she was in an old abandoned horse barn. Despite the sun outside, it was semi-dark in here. The only light came from the broken-down entrance, and that was a mere two feet wide. Straining her eyes, Annie saw that just two stalls remained along the back, a solid plank of wood attached to thick posts separating them. In one of the former stalls stood Andy, still saddled and looking a bit sweaty, Annie thought, but reasonably okay. In the other sat a young man of about twenty-five. He was vehemently shaking his head back and forth, his stringy blond hair falling over his forehead as he made each violent gesture. He was dressed in a filthy tuxedo and looked exhausted and stressed. She could not see his hands; they were behind his back, and, Annie presumed, tied. A long chain was around one ankle. He could move perhaps twelve feet, Annie thought, but not far enough to get outside the shack.
Tabitha stood over him, holding a small glass high in her right hand. Her back was to Annie, and it took only two strides to reach Tabitha and knock the glass from her hand. Tabitha screamed and put her hands to her face. Then she pulled them away and turned to look at Annie. Annie noticed some of the liquid had fallen on her hands and was on her face.
