Photo Finish

by Bonnie Bryant

  Carole looked doubtful. “We don’t have much time. The Preakness starts in a little over an hour, and we’ll probably leave pretty soon after that.”

  “Then we’ll have to come up with a good plan,” Stevie declared. “Come on, we can talk about it on our way back to the track. We’ve got a horse poisoner to catch!”

  “I DIDN’T THINK any more people could squeeze their way into this place,” Carole gasped as the three girls shoved their way through the grandstand a few minutes later. “But they did!”

  It was true. The racetrack was packed to the eaves with people, all eager to see the exciting showdown between Garamond and Monkeyshines. It was so crowded that The Saddle Club could hardly move.

  “How are we ever going to find Kent Calhoun in this mob scene?” Lisa asked, dodging to avoid a baby carriage. She breathed a sigh of relief as they finally reached the entrance to the clubhouse. It was a little less crowded there, though not much.

  “We’ll have to split up,” Stevie decided. “It’s the only way.” She glanced around. “I’ll go back out to the grandstand and look there. Lisa, why don’t you stay here in the clubhouse, and Carole, you can search the stable area.”

  “What do we do if we find him?” Carole asked.

  Stevie shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “Just use your instincts. We’ll meet in twenty minutes by those phones over there.” She pointed to a bank of phones near the door leading out to the paddock area. Then she hurried off before Lisa or Carole could say another word.

  “If I thought any of us might actually find him, I’d be worried,” Lisa said to Carole, looking at the throngs of people milling around them. “But what are the odds of locating one person in this mess?”

  “Pretty slim,” Carole said. “Especially if we have only twenty minutes. Still, we have to try, for Monk’s sake.”

  EXACTLY TWENTY MINUTES later, after a fruitless search of the clubhouse, Lisa made her way back to the spot by the phones. While looking for Kent she had encountered Mr. McLeod, Mr. Kennemere, Max, and Deborah. But Kent Calhoun was nowhere to be found.

  Lisa looked around the meeting spot, which was much more deserted than it had been earlier. She guessed most people were either in the stands, waiting to watch the race, or in line to place bets. Neither Stevie nor Carole had returned yet. Then Lisa spotted a familiar face, and froze. It was Kent Calhoun, talking on one of the phones!

  Lisa looked around again, wishing frantically that her friends would show up quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was face Kent alone. Nervously, she fingered the packet of photos in her pocket. As long as Kent was on the phone, Lisa decided, she didn’t need to do anything. She just hoped Stevie and Carole arrived before Kent finished his conversation.

  In the meantime, that conversation was becoming audible to Lisa, because Kent’s voice had grown louder in the few seconds she’d been standing nearby. It sounded to Lisa as though Kent were arguing with someone, although the subject of the dispute wasn’t clear.

  “But if I just had a little more time,” Kent was saying, “there’s a colt in the tenth that I know can bring it home. It’s a sure thing. And he’s a real long shot—the morning line had him at forty to one.”

  Lisa’s eyes widened as she remembered what Stephen had told them earlier. Kent was obviously discussing the odds on a horse in the tenth race. He must be talking about gambling!

  “Then I’ll have your money, and more,” Kent went on. “And that should make up for …” His voice trailed off as he turned and noticed Lisa watching him. His face darkened, and he continued to speak quickly and quietly into the phone for a few seconds, and then hung up.

  Lisa backed away a few steps, feeling a little frightened. She wasn’t sure what she’d just heard, but she had a feeling it meant trouble. She gulped nervously and looked around once more for Stevie and Carole, but they were still nowhere in sight.

  Kent walked up to her. “What’s the big idea, kid?” he demanded harshly. “Don’t you have anything better to do than listen in on other people’s private conversations?”

  “Oh, uh, I wasn’t listening,” Lisa fibbed. “I was just waiting to talk to you about, um, about Monkeyshines.”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, we—that is, my friends and I—think that someone may have wanted to keep him from running today,” Lisa said, trying to keep her voice steady. No matter how nervous she was, she knew she had to do her best to carry out Stevie’s plan. The Saddle Club was depending on her. Monkeyshines was depending on her too.

  Kent shrugged. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “That’s what we’d like to know,” Lisa said. She paused for a second, feeling a little pleased with herself. That sounded just like something Stevie might have said! Then she continued. “We have reason to believe you might know something about it.”

  Kent looked startled for a split second, but he quickly regained his composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said calmly. “And I don’t have time to waste talking to a bunch of weird schoolgirls with overactive imaginations. I have work to do.” He shook his head. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder why they allow children to come to the track at all.”

  Lisa couldn’t believe how rude he was being. Schoolgirls, indeed! She was so angry that she forgot completely about being nervous. “Oh, yeah?” she snapped. “Well, if that’s the case, you won’t mind if we show our evidence to the police!” She grabbed the incriminating photograph out of her pocket and waved it in front of him.

  “Evidence?” Kent said. Before Lisa could react, he snatched the picture out of her hand and looked at it. Then he laughed. “This is your evidence? What does this show? It shows me, a well-known track reporter, walking out of the shed where one of the Preakness favorites is stabled.” He laughed again. “Ooh, the plot thickens—maybe I’ll even write a story about Monkeyshines! Wouldn’t that be suspicious?”

  Then he smirked. “But I wouldn’t want any little girl’s crazy accusations, however unfounded, to ruin my reputation. So I think I’ll just take care of your ‘evidence’ right now.” Before Lisa could move to stop him, he ripped the picture in half. Then he ripped the halves again and dropped them into the trash bin by the phones. He laughed again, loudly and unpleasantly.

  Lisa was angry at herself for letting him snatch the picture, but she was even angrier at him. How could he just laugh and crack jokes after the terrible thing he’d tried to do to Monkeyshines? “Fine,” she said hotly. “You’re right. We can’t really prove anything, even with that picture. But we know you tried to poison Monkeyshines. You wanted to hurt that sweet, beautiful horse. And in my opinion, that makes you a pretty rotten person.” She put her hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t you have felt guilty if he’d gotten really sick because of what you did—maybe even died?”

  “What do you know, you stupid kid,” Kent said, sneering. “There wasn’t enough of that bad hay to kill him, or even make him really sick. There was just enough to make him colicky enough so—” He caught himself and stopped speaking.

  “Colicky enough so he wouldn’t be able to run?” Lisa demanded. “Why would anybody want to be such a bad sport and ruin the race for everybody?”

  Kent leaned forward and grasped Lisa by the arm, his fingers digging into her skin. “You don’t know anything about it,” he snarled. “You just don’t realize—racing is big business, and there’s a lot of money at stake. You couldn’t possibly understand—”

  “No, but I think I could,” a voice rang out.

  Kent gasped and dropped Lisa’s arm. Lisa, just as startled, turned to see Mr. McLeod standing behind her. Max and Deborah were with him.

  “Max! Mr. McLeod! Deborah!” Lisa exclaimed. “Where did you come from?”

  “We were just on our way out to the paddock to meet Monkeyshines,” Max said. “We saw you and came over to see if you wanted to join us.”

  “That’s right,” Mr. McLeod added, frowning and looking very stern. “But
we arrived just in time to overhear some of your very interesting conversation with Mr. Calhoun.”

  Kent started to back away. “Listen, I can explain,” he began. “I’m not sure what you think you heard, but—”

  “We heard enough for me to do this,” Mr. McLeod said. He stepped over, picked up one of the phones, and punched in a few numbers. He identified himself to whoever answered, then requested that track security send someone over right away.

  “I’m telling you, you’re making a big mistake,” Kent said frantically. “I didn’t do anything wrong! It was all a setup!”

  Mr. McLeod gave him a withering look. “Tell it to someone else, Calhoun,” he said disgustedly. “You’re a disgrace to a great sport.”

  Deborah had been scribbling wildly on her notepad. Now she stepped forward, the microphone to her small portable tape recorder in hand. “Mr. Calhoun, do you have any statement you’d like to make at this time?” she asked, holding the microphone up to his face.

  He tried to swat it away. “Leave me alone,” he shouted. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  But when the security guards arrived a moment later and took Kent away, Deborah followed, still questioning him. Max watched her go, a grin on his face. “Now, that’s what I call poetic justice,” he declared.

  Mr. McLeod turned to Lisa. “I want to thank you, young lady,” he said. “How on earth did you figure out that that man tried to poison my horse?”

  “Well, Stevie and Carole were really the ones who were suspicious after we found the moldy hay,” Lisa admitted. “But they finally convinced me.” She gave the two men a brief summary of The Saddle Club’s investigation—leaving out a few of the more embarrassing parts, including their conversation with Mr. Kennemere. “And then, when we saw the picture, we finally figured out who it must have been,” she finished.

  Mr. McLeod shook his head. “Eddie told me about that moldy hay, but I thought it must have been an accident. If it hadn’t been for you girls, nobody would ever have been the wiser!”

  “Hey, what’s going on?” came a voice behind them. It was Stevie. She and Carole had just arrived on the scene. “Sorry we’re late,” Stevie added.

  Lisa grinned at her friends. “Boy, are you ever!” she said, raising her camera to capture the perplexed look on their faces.

  LISA LEANED ON the paddock fence with her friends and watched as the horses entered in the Preakness walked around the ring, stretching their legs in preparation for the race. Monkeyshines looked more beautiful than ever, his perfectly groomed coat shining in the late afternoon sunlight. Eddie, who was leading the colt while Stephen conferred with the trainer, grinned and winked at the girls as he passed.

  “I still can’t believe we missed the whole thing,” Stevie repeated for about the tenth time.

  “I can’t believe you did either,” Lisa said. “I was scared to death.”

  Max and Judy walked over just in time to hear her comment. “I’m not surprised,” Judy said. “You girls really should have spoken to Max or me or another adult about your suspicions.”

  “That’s right,” Max agreed. “You had no idea what kind of maniac you could have been dealing with! You’re just lucky this Calhoun fellow wasn’t violent.”

  “Sorry, Max,” Carole said contritely. “We were afraid you wouldn’t have believed us. Everyone else was so sure it was an accident.”

  Just then Mr. McLeod walked up to the group, accompanied by several men in suits. “Hello there,” Mr. McLeod said. “These gentlemen are track officials. They’re interested in speaking to the young ladies who solved our mystery.”

  The track officials introduced themselves and then asked to hear Lisa’s version of what happened. She told them as quickly as she could, aware that it was getting close to post time. After all this, the last thing she wanted was to miss the chance to see Monkeyshines run.

  When she finished, the officials nodded, seeming satisfied. Then one of them glanced at the others and grinned. “You know,” he said, “we’ve already found out that this young lady is quite a photographer.” He gestured at Lisa. “And now that Calhoun is out of action, his press pass is free.…”

  One of his companions nodded. “True,” he said. He turned to Lisa. “How would you like to see what it’s like to be a track photographer for this race? You’ll be able to watch at close range—right down at track level, by the finish line.”

  Lisa gasped. “Would I!” she exclaimed. “That’d be great! I’ll be able to get some really exciting shots that way!”

  “Way to go, Lisa!” Carole said, giving her friend a pat on the back. “Just don’t forget us when you win the Pulitzer Prize.”

  Lisa looked at her friends anxiously. “Oh! You don’t mind, do you?” she whispered. “I mean, maybe we could talk them into letting all of us—”

  Stevie shook her head firmly. “You earned this fair and square,” she said. “You were the one who took the picture, nabbed Kent in the end, and got him to confess.”

  Carole nodded in agreement. “Just promise to give us copies of the pictures you take down there.”

  Lisa smiled at her friends. “It’s a promise,” she said. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best friends in the whole world.”

  “We know,” Stevie said matter-of-factly.

  Just then an outrider—the mounted track worker who would lead the racers onto the track—called, “Riders up!” The Saddle Club watched as Eddie gave Stephen a leg up and the jockey swung into the saddle.

  “Come on,” one of the officials said to Lisa. “I’ll take you out to the track now so you can get in position.” Lisa nodded and followed as he hurried off.

  “We’d better get moving too,” Max told Stevie and Carole. “If we hurry, we can make it back to our seats in time to catch most of the post parade.”

  Stevie, Carole, Max, Judy, and Mr. McLeod were in their seats in Mr. McLeod’s box by the time the horses passed in front of the grandstand for the first time. All around them, people were cheering for their favorites and calling to the jockeys.

  “Look at Monk!” Carole said, elbowing Stevie in the ribs. “Doesn’t he look beautiful?”

  “He sure does,” Stevie said. The colt was stepping along proudly, his neck arched gracefully. “They all look beautiful.”

  “You know, we’ve spent so much time today trying to solve that mystery, I’ve hardly even thought about the race,” Carole admitted. “I can’t believe it’s about to start—we’re about to watch the Preakness!”

  “I know,” Stevie said. “Isn’t it great?”

  They watched as the lead ponies moved away and the racehorses began to warm up. Stephen urged Monkeyshines into a brisk canter. The colt tossed his head, seeming to enjoy the exercise and the roar of the crowd. The other horses were also trotting, cantering, or galloping, stretching out their long legs. A few minutes later they had turned around and were making their way back along the track toward the great metal starting gate.

  “I can hardly stand the suspense,” Carole moaned.

  “Don’t worry,” Stevie told her. “Monk will win.” But her voice betrayed her own excitement.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” Mr. McLeod said from his seat just behind Stevie.

  Max wasn’t listening. He was peering down at the track just below them. “Look, isn’t that Lisa?” he said, pointing to a tiny figure standing by the inside rail near the finish line.

  The others looked. “It is Lisa!” Carole exclaimed.

  “And she’s got the best seat in the house,” Stevie added. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Lisa!” she shouted. “Lisa! Up here!”

  There was no way Lisa could have heard Stevie above the noise of the crowd. But she was looking for her friends too, and soon located Mr. McLeod’s box halfway up the stands in the clubhouse. When she saw Stevie and Carole waving frantically, she waved back.

  Then she turned back to watch as the horses approached the gate. She wished her friends could be down here with her�
�as the horses had passed by, she’d been almost close enough to reach out and touch them.

  “The horses have reached the starting gate,” said the announcer’s voice over the loudspeaker.

  There were ten horses in the race. Lisa watched as they were led into the narrow stalls of the starting gate one by one. Monkeyshines was the fifth one to go in. Garamond was sixth. There was a slight delay when the eighth horse refused to enter the gate, but after a moment the jockey and the starting assistants managed to coax him in. The last two horses entered quickly, there was a moment of breathless anticipation, and then …

  “They’re off!” the announcer cried.

  “Go, Monk!” Stevie and Carole shrieked in one voice.

  The horses broke cleanly, leaping forward out of the gate as if they were all one large, many-legged creature. Then some surged forward and some dropped back, until they were running in two groups.

  The announcer’s voice rang out over the noise of the excited crowd. “Seattle Skyline takes the lead on the rail, followed by Overdrive and Anything Goes, with Tuffy Too just behind. There’s a break, and then it’s Garamond and Monkeyshines head and head …”

  As the horses swept around the first turn, Monkeyshines and Garamond matched each other stride for stride. Stevie and Carole watched as the two horses held their positions in the middle of the pack. They guessed that the jockeys were conserving their mounts’ strength, waiting for the right moment to ask them for more speed.

  “And now, as the horses enter the backstretch, Seattle Skyline holds the lead, and Anything Goes passes Overdrive to take second place. Tuffy Too drops back and is running with Garamond and Monkeyshines. A gap of two lengths, and it’s Polly Presto, Laughing Cat, and Montego, with Avondale trailing.”

  Stevie was hardly listening to the announcer. Her eyes were fixed on Monkeyshines. “Go, Monk, go!” she cried.

  Monkeyshines and Garamond held their positions until they reached the final turn. Then they started moving even faster, still matching each other stride for stride. They passed one horse and then another, and by the time they rounded the turn and entered the homestretch, there was no one ahead of them at all. The crowd responded to this with an enthusiastic roar. The announcer’s voice rose to a fever pitch as the two horses led the field into the final stretch, still neck and neck, their jockeys urging them to even greater speed.