by Sasscer Hill
Using my phone, I took pictures of the frog before putting him in the box. A closer look at his box mate revealed the same exotic coloring. After putting a book on the lid to secure the toads, I booted up my computer and looked up dermorphin. Pictures appeared of various but similar-looking waxy monkey tree frogs from South America. Each one produced the peptide found in dermorphin.
Although I knew nothing about chains of “amino acid monomers linked by peptide bonds,” I did know my frogs had a different body shape. Their legs were longer and their snouts more pointed. Their blue and purple markings were quite different from the green frogs pictured as dermorphin-producing South American tree frogs. I scrolled through tree frog images until my eyes felt like they’d crossed but never saw examples like my Bluesters, a name I promptly adopted when it floated through my head.
Where had Valera found these things? Deep in South America? They appeared to be unknown. I’d check with the TRPB technicians first, but it sounded like we’d need a herpetologist to make an ID. If they could.
By now my head was heavy and my eyes half closed, but I had one more thing to do. I got a juice glass from the kitchen and slipped outside my bedroom’s sliding door. Chirping sounds rose from the grass around the pool. I took a deep breath and went hunting.
A few minutes later I had two crickets in the glass, my hand covering the top. The insects bumped my palm with their hard shells and pricked my skin with their sharp, sticky feet. And they emitted an unpleasant odor like the funky stink in Valera’s frog cage. Totally disgusting.
Had I really signed up for this job?
I managed to get the crickets in the box with the Bluesters. After securing the lid, I put the container in the bathroom and washed my face and hands. On my way out, I glanced back at the box.
“You guys do whatever it is you have to do, but please, don’t talk about it in the morning.”
I shut the door, fell on the bed, and was out like a light.
26
The next morning, Rosario and I watched Last Call for Love as she stood in her V, gazing proudly up and down the shedrow like she was the queen and the other horses her subjects.
“I think she’s happy,” I said.
“Between your room-with-a-view and Julio hand-grazing her in the evening, she’s calmer, anyway.”
“Put on a little weight, too,” I said.
Rosario nodded. “But she needs to earn her keep. You ready to try Her Majesty on the track?”
“Absolutely. I’d better warm her up first, right?”
He nodded, and after I tacked her up and turned her loose in the round pen, she bucked, reared, and tore around like a cyclone for five minutes. Afterwards, Julio held her, and Rosario gave me a leg up.
“Here goes nothing,” I said. I squeezed her with my legs and she walked forward. On her own, she took the path that led to the track, marched out to the sandy surface, and broke into a trot when I asked.
Rosario had mounted his pony and followed at a slight distance. I glanced back at him.
“Go on with her,” he called. “See if she’ll gallop a mile.”
I nodded, shortened the reins, shifted my weight forward, and smooched at her. She surged ahead, and without the pony dragging on her mouth, she was a lovely ride—smooth, light on her feet, quick as a cat.
“Easy, girl. We’re not racing today.” But she wouldn’t settle to anything slower than a two-minute lick, so rather than fighting her I let her have her two-minute mile before pulling her up.
When I rode toward Rosario, he was grinning. His grin widened when he realized how easy Last Call was breathing, as if she’d been out for a stroll.
“If we can work her five-eighths out of the gate next week, I’m putting her in for six furlongs. Her owner’s tired of waiting.”
Running her after one work, even if the race was a sprint, seemed too soon to me. But I knew an impatient owner was a royal pain who could send their horse to another trainer faster than an oncoming migraine.
“Sure,” I said, stroking Last Call’s neck.
When we arrived at the barn, Wendy Warner’s vet truck rolled by, heading toward Serpentino’s shedrow. Last Call had been my final ride of the day, so after handing the filly over to Julio, I walked to the barn’s far side.
Wendy stood by her white truck, where she’d opened one of the side boxes. She took out a glass vial and a handful of syringes and put them in her vest pocket. As I got closer, she glanced up.
“Hey, Fia. What happened to you?” Her smile reached her pretty eyes. “You look like the cat dragged you in last night.”
“I think he did, early this morning.”
“I know how that goes. What can I do for you?”
“I have a friend who’s looking for a trainer,” I lied. “Rosario’s full up, and I noticed you do some work for Roger Copper. Is he okay?”
She stilled for a moment. “Roger Copper? Why the interest?”
“He had a win with a long shot the other day. Has a good win percentage. Maybe he’s someone my friend should look at?”
Wendy smiled. “He’s okay. But your friend could do better. Here.” She pulled a small memo pad and pen out of her truck. She scribbled down some names. “These guys are competent, fairly priced. They’d be good to look at.”
“Better than Copper?”
She frowned. “Sure. Look, I gotta get this Lasix to some of Serpentino’s horses that are running today.” She gestured at his shedrow. “Good to see you, Fia.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I watched her retreating back. Asking her about Copper had touched a nerve. She was hiding something. As I turned to leave, I felt someone’s eyes on me. I scanned Serpentino’s shedrow and saw the young groom, Angel, watching me from where he stood outside a stall.
“Hi, Miss Fia,” he said. “How is your pretty filly?” He stepped forward and the sunlight caught his gold horsehead earring and lightened the shadows around his eyes.
“Good,” I said. “She galloped on the track today.”
He nodded and started to say more, but disappeared into the stall when Serpentino came out of his office.
The trainer gazed at me, tilted his long neck in my direction. “Can I help you?”
“Uh, no, Mr. Serpentino. Just saying hi to Doc Warner. You have a nice day.” I faked a smile, then retreated almost as fast as Angel. Once I rounded the corner of the barn, a glance at my watch shifted my focus to my upcoming meeting with Gunny and whoever it was he needed to “organize.”
* * *
By the time I reached the pink stucco house with the orange-tiled roof, my late night caught up with me. My head ached, my eyes were tired, and I needed sleep, food, and a shower. Except Gunny’s last text had indicated the meeting would start momentarily, and the rental car parked in the drive suggested he was already inside waiting. Damn.
I breathed in, lifted my chin, and strode into the house. Gunny sat on one of four rattan chairs at the rental’s glass-topped dining table. There was no one else in the room or in the small kitchen.
“Mr. Ja—Gunny,” I said. “I hope I’m not late?”
“You’re fine, Fia. We’re waiting for one more person.”
I bit my lip and didn’t ask who. Instead, I said, “Be right back.”
I zipped into the bathroom and ran cold water over my face, drying it with a towel. My hair had grown long enough to get tousled, so I fluffed it up and finger combed it back. I needed to bleach my roots. My skin looked pale, my eyes dark and hollow.
I heard the front door open, and a male voice. Stepping outside the bathroom, I stopped like someone had driven nails in my feet.
“Fia,” Gunny said, “I believe you’ve met Agent Coyune?”
A pang of fear rushed through me. The last time I’d seen Calixto, he’d threatened me. Now he stood by the rental’s entrance next to Gunny, wearing white jeans and a cotton tee, his long dark hair slicked back into a short ponytail. What the hell is this?
“I don’t understand,” I
said, feeling a prick of anger. “This man is an agent? For who?”
“Same as you,” Calixto said, walking to the table and pulling out a chair. “I work for the TRPB.”
I stared as the reality I’d constructed broke and shifted into pieces. Calixto was one of us? Suddenly I was furious. I took a step closer to where he sat, appearing relaxed, his long legs stretched under the glass-topped table.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My glare lifted to Gunny who was still standing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sit down, Fia,” Gunny said. “You busted into Coyune’s undercover operation. Twice. Calixto wanted to let it ride, and I agreed with him. But you showed up again. You could have blown your cover.”
“Or mine,” Calixto said.
“No way would I have done that.” I glared at Calixto. “And thank you so much for convincing me I’d blown Kate’s cover.”
Calixto grinned at Gunny. “Una pequeña leona.”
Now he was making fun of me, calling me a little lioness. Not knowing how to take his comment, I sat, fixing my eyes on Gunny. “You should have trusted me.”
“Couldn’t take the chance. You’re the new kid on the block, Fia. I can’t risk a good agent like Calixto with someone who hasn’t been here long enough to earn the agency’s full trust. I told you not to go back in there without getting my permission.”
I had no comeback for that. Sitting there silent, beneath his unforgiving stare, my hands on the cold glass of the table, I felt humiliated.
“Thing is, Gunny, she’s good.”
Startled, I stared at Calixto.
He continued speaking to Gunny about me in the third person as if I wasn’t there. “She had me totally fooled. She’s a pro, level-headed. Besides, she’s in it now. I could use her.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “Do I have any say in this?”
Gunny lifted a hand to quiet me and turned to Calixto. “You want her in there with Morales?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding. “She does this sexy bimbo act and Morales falls for it like a landslide.” A smile curved his mouth. He flicked his gaze to me. “I didn’t realize at first just how much he likes your ‘Kate’ persona. When you disappeared yesterday, he was upset. The thing is, I thought I should get you out of there before you got hurt. Now I’ve had time to reconsider. I think we should use his attraction to you. I’m sure you know how to work him to our advantage, yes?”
I shrugged, gave him my best dead-eye cop look, waiting to see what Gunny would say.
“All right, Calixto,” Gunny said. “What’s your plan?”
“Morales thinks Kate O’Brien is going to buy a share of his colt, Dixie Diamond. Let her do that to get closer to Morales.”
“So,” I said to Calixto, “you’ve been following the drugging end from your position as a partner?”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to get closer to Morales, see if he’ll spill info to me?” When Calixto nodded, I said, “I may wear a tiny skirt, but I have my limits. Just how ‘close’ do you expect me to get?”
“Nobody,” Gunny said, finally pulling out a chair and sitting down, “expects or wants you to demean yourself in any way.” He gave Calixto a hard look. “Right?”
“Of course,” Calixto said, “but she could turn Morales inside out if she wanted to.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. A whiff of his cologne drifted to my face. He grinned at me and, for the first time, the smile went right to his eyes, warming their dark golden-brown color. The skin on his forearms held the same tawny glow, but was many shades lighter. I did not like the way this guy affected me. I worked hard to keep my gaze from straying to his mouth.
Calixto sat back and glanced at Gunny. “She’s moved herself into a great position. She’s two people working it from both ends.”
Gunny nodded. “Gracie told me that was your plan, Fia. The backstretch and the clubhouse.”
“Exactly,” Calixto said. “So we agree keeping her out of the loop at this point is a bad idea, yes?”
Gunny nodded.
I felt like a puppet and wanted to smack them both.
Gunny reached for a pen that was lying on the table. He twirled it slowly, briefly staring into space. “So, we know Morales and Serpentino have a drug.”
“Probably Roger Copper, too,” I said.
Calixto gave me a sharp look that changed into another smile. “I told you she’s good,” he said to Gunny, before turning back to me. “The thing is, we don’t know who the supplier is. Now I wish I hadn’t stopped you from asking Morales more, but at the time—”
“You thought I was about to shoot everyone in the foot,” I said.
A smile toyed with the corners of Gunny’s mouth and his eyes gleamed. “Okay, let’s talk about this mystery drug. Did both of you get the necropsy report on Primal?”
We nodded.
“Similar to dermorphin, but not dermorphin,” Calixto said.
In the distance the drone of a jet grew louder and louder until it roared over the rental as if about to land on the roof.
“I have something to tell you, guys,” I said, as soon as the engine roar faded enough that I could be heard.
They looked at me, curious.
“It’s about some frogs I … acquired. I think they produce the drug that killed Primal.”
27
My statement about frogs caused them to stare at me while the jet’s din faded to stillness. Their silence filled the room.
“Let me show you,” I said, and pulled the Bluester photo up on my phone before laying it on the table and sliding it toward Gunny.
He grabbed it and stared at the image. “Where did you get this?”
“Which?” I asked, finally enjoying myself. “The photo or the frog?”
“The frog, Fia. Do you have it in your possession?”
“Yes, at home.”
Calixto leaned forward to examine the picture. “I’ve never seen one this color. Why do you think this particular frog is the producer?”
“Because of the man who raised him.”
“Okay, Fia,” Gunny said. “You’d better explain.”
“It’s a long story.”
“And I want to hear it,” Gunny said. “Now.”
So I told them, starting with the death of Cody. I told them about Zanin, Valera, and some of the details about my two trips into the C-9 Basin. “I think Valera is raising these frogs to produce an untraceable form of dermorphin. I think he might be Serpentino’s supplier.”
Gunny’s eyes on me were hard and unreadable. Nerve-wracking.
“I didn’t report this to you,” I continued, “because it started out as a family matter totally unrelated to the drug problem at Gulfstream.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll buy that. So what would be your next step, Fia?”
Across the table, Calixto watched me with interest. I could almost hear the thoughts whirling in his head. I just couldn’t decipher them.
“You’re full of surprises, pequeña leona. Please tell us. What is your next move?”
“We should test the wax secreted by these frogs,” I said. “See if it matches the peptides the lab found in Primal’s blood.”
“One thing that’s odd,” Gunny said. “The quantity of frogs you saw indicates they’re harvesting the wax directly from the amphibians. Why not just synthesize the drug? Substances like this are usually synthesized and produced in abundance. Scraping wax from live frogs seems an absurdly poor method of obtaining their product.”
“These people are thugs, not chemists,” I said. “You haven’t seen them.”
Calixto’s focus appeared to turn inward, something I figured he did when he was thinking. He seemed to stare at me, but not to see me. Slowly, I felt the intensity of his gaze return.
“I think you’re right. But if they want to make money,” he said, “they’ll catch on quickly.”
Gunny nodded. “Probably so. And after you test your wax for a match, Fia,
what then?”
I gave my isn’t-it-obvious shoulder shrug and spread my palms. “Catch Valera or his men delivering the drug to Serpentino. Shut the bastard down.”
“No,” Calixto said. “We need to go one step farther. We need proof that Serpentino is dosing horses before they run.”
“There are more trainers involved than Serpentino,” Gunny said. “You mentioned Roger Copper. I want them all. I want a sting operation that cleans house.”
Calixto nodded, and I felt a sudden charge of energy that we were working as a team.
Calixto smiled at me, stretched his arms over his head, then placed his manicured hands back on the table. Did he really live on Fisher Island? Was he rich, or had the information I’d gotten about him been falsified by the TRPB?
I squelched my curiosity, and as we remained silent a moment, I remembered something. “There’s this vet, Wendy Warner. I’ve known her a long time, and I think she’s a straight shooter, but she’s working for both Serpentino and Roger Copper. I don’t think she’s that happy about it, but she told me she ‘had to take what she could get.’ Maybe she can provide some useful information.”
“Careful,” Gunny said. “You don’t know whose side she’s on. Don’t tip your hand,”
I watched Calixto lean forward, unable to ignore the muscles in his forearms and the sharp planes of his face.
He glanced at Gunny. “I think the lady is smarter than that. You should see her in action.”
This was the second time he’d complimented me. Somehow, it made me wary. Did he want something?
I shook myself mentally and continued. “I’m just looking at options. There’s also a young Mexican groom named Angel. He’s working for Serpentino. He’s lonely, afraid of Serpentino. Might turn out to be useful.”
I sounded so uncaring and cold. Truth be told, I wanted to help this kid, not use him. But I was a cop first, and the need to bring down Valera and Serpentino burned too bright in my veins.
The pen in Gunny’s fingers twirled faster and faster, until he abruptly set it on the table. “All right. Calixto, you work the owners’ end. See what you can find out from Serpentino. Maybe show an interest in this Copper fellow. If he smells money from you as a possible new owner, he may loosen up.”
