“Wait,” I said. “I just want to . . .”
I let my voice trail off. It was too late. Dana was already hurrying off without a backward glance.
“Okay, that was weird,” George said. “As soon as you mentioned Cal’s name, she totally freaked out.”
Bess nodded. “So what do we do now?”
I wasn’t sure. My phone buzzed, and I answered without bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Nancy? Is this Nancy Drew?”
It was a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize. “Yes, this is Nancy,” I said cautiously. “Who’s this?”
There was a funny noise from the other end of the line. It sounded like a sob.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Nancy!” the voice gasped out again. “This is Annie—Annie Molina? We talked yesterday?”
“Yes, I remember,” I said, perplexed.
Annie choked back another sob. “S-sorry to b-bother you,” she wailed. “But I had to call someone, and you’re the only person at the show whose name I know, and well . . . I just want to confess!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Evans Edge
“THERE SHE IS.” GEORGE POINTED OUT through the main gate.
Shading my eyes against the morning sun, I looked that way. Annie Molina was hurrying to meet us. My heart pounded. Could this really be so easy? Was Annie about to solve the case for us by confessing?
“Nancy!” the woman blubbered. She was a mess. Mascara dripped down her splotchy cheeks, and more tears were welling up in her eyes. “I’m so glad I tracked you down. I feel just terrible about all this!”
“Okay,” I said. “Why don’t you tell us about it?”
Annie nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I just wanted to help the animals,” she said. “And horses are so darling and magical—when I read on PAN’s website that they were coming here to protest, I just knew I had to help.”
“So this was the first horse show you protested with them?” George asked. “Or was there another one a few weeks or so ago?”
Annie blinked at George as if wondering who she was. “No, this was my first one,” she said. “I’d never worked with PAN before. They don’t come to this area much.”
“But this time they decided to come and protest the River Heights Horse Show,” I prompted, poking George in the side to shut her up. I didn’t want her questions to confuse Annie, who seemed a little confused already. “So you joined in to try to help the horses.”
“That’s right.” Annie sniffled loudly. “Only I thought we’d just be carrying signs and so forth. It was bad enough when Bill threw that tomato, but then yesterday—oh, dear!” She shuddered.
“Yesterday?” I said.
Annie nodded. “I swear, I only distracted the guard so the others could sneak in,” she insisted, the tears starting to flow again. “I didn’t even want to do that—the whole plan just seemed too risky—but they convinced me that none of the horses would be hurt!”
“Hold it.” I was starting to catch on. “You’re talking about those horses getting loose from their stalls, right? Your PAN buddies were the ones who let them out?”
“That’s right.” Annie pulled a wadded-up tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, I’m just so glad nothing terrible happened! Even so, I couldn’t rest all night. What if one of those beautiful creatures had been hurt? I just couldn’t live with myself if we’d caused any real trouble!” She shook her head. “That’s not what I thought PAN was all about!”
As far as I knew, that was exactly what PAN was all about. But I didn’t bother to say so.
“I see,” I said. “So what about the other incidents?”
“What other incidents?” Annie looked worried. “Did something else happen? I just got here myself.” She stared wildly around the parking lot.
“So you don’t know anything about Payton Evans and her horse’s drug test?” Bess put in.
“Who?” Annie said blankly.
Yeah. Maybe Annie wasn’t going to solve the case for me after all. All she was confessing to was the loose-horse incident and the tomato throwing.
Just to make sure, we asked her a few more questions. But it soon became clear that we were wasting our time.
After that, it took several minutes to extricate ourselves from Annie’s sobbing confession. But finally my friends and I escaped into the show grounds.
“Okay, that was a waste of time,” George said as we walked past the snack bar.
“Not really,” Bess pointed out. “At least now we know for sure that the tomato thing and the loose horses are red herrings.”
I nodded. “And I think we can cross Annie and PAN off the list for the other stuff. It’s pretty obvious they’re not organized enough to pull off anything too devious.”
“Great.” George clapped her hands. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go find our other suspects!”
We spent the next few hours wandering around the show grounds, trying to do just that. Unfortunately, luck seemed to be against us. When we finally located Cal Kidd, he was schooling one of his horses in an out-of-the-way ring. We wasted at least half an hour watching him before giving up and moving on to Lenny Hood. But when we tracked him down, he was surrounded by students—and seemed to be staying that way. As for Dana, she appeared to be actively avoiding us. Was it because of our questions about Cal, or just because she was busy? It was hard to tell.
“This is ridiculous,” George said as we leaned on a fence and watched Lenny canter an ornery-looking chestnut over a low fence while the horse’s young rider watched from nearby. “The Grand Prix is starting in about an hour, and we haven’t made any progress at all!”
“I know.” I checked my watch. “Let’s go see how Payton’s holding up.”
Halfway to the barn, we heard shouts coming from behind a shed. Bess looked worried. “That sounds like Dana,” she said.
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Putting a finger to my lips, I gestured for them to follow as I crept closer to the shed. Dana was still yelling—something about her reputation and how she didn’t want to look bad.
“. . . and trust me, having you hanging around all the time isn’t doing me any favors!” she finished.
By then I was close enough to peek around the edge of the shed. I carefully did so, expecting to see Payton cringing before Dana’s fury.
But Payton was nowhere in sight. My jaw dropped when I saw who was facing off against Dana. It was Cal Kidd!
“Whoa!” George breathed in my ear.
I shot her a warning glance. Luckily, Dana hadn’t heard a thing. She was glaring at Cal.
“So what do you have to say for yourself?” she demanded.
“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me,” Cal said in a surly tone. “I’m the one who should be mad. I mean, what kind of person won’t even help out her own brother when he needs a hand?”
“Half brother,” Dana snapped. “And as usual, you’re not listening to me. I don’t care if we’re family—I’m not going to be your shortcut back into the show world. Not until you prove to me that you’ve cleaned up your act for good.” She poked a finger in his face. “And bad-mouthing Payton all over the place isn’t helping your cause. I don’t care how badly she beats you in every class!”
I stepped back, pushing my friends with me. My head was spinning with what I’d just heard.
“I can’t believe this,” Bess exclaimed once we were safely away. “Dana and Cal are brother and sister?”
“Half brother and sister,” George corrected. “And now that she mentions it, I can sort of see the family resemblance.”
I didn’t say anything for a second. What did this mean? As far as I could tell, it just added one more wrinkle to an already rumpled and confusing case.
“Do you think they could be in cahoots?” I wondered at last.
“Dana and Cal?” Bess shrugged. “Maybe.”
George glanced back toward the shed. “Although t
hey didn’t sound too chummy just now,” she added. “Dana actually seemed upset that Cal doesn’t like Payton.”
“This probably explains why Cal was hanging around Dana’s stalls the other night,” I mused. “And why he wouldn’t tell Mickey what he was doing there. He must’ve been trying to catch Dana alone to try to talk her into training him or whatever.”
“So you don’t think he has anything to do with our case?” Bess asked.
“I didn’t say that. We did see him freak out after Payton did so well in that jumper class they were both in. And there’s still the Midnight connection.” I rubbed my forehead as if trying to jump-start my brain. The more information we got, the more muddled this case seemed.
We continued to discuss it as we resumed our walk. Unfortunately, we didn’t reach any new conclusions, and by the time we neared Dana’s barn, I was feeling frustrated. Why couldn’t I figure this one out? I had several distinct and troubling incidents, several promising suspects. But none of the pieces fit together!
When we reached Dana’s section of the barn, we saw a horse cross-tied in the aisle. Jen was hard at work currying the animal’s already spotless gray coat.
“Hi,” I said as we reached her. “Have you seen Payton lately?”
The young groom looked up with a smile. “I think I saw her go into the tack stall,” she said, gesturing with the curry comb she was holding. “She’s probably getting ready to tack up for the Grand Prix.”
“Thanks.” I led the way toward the tack stall.
“You’re not planning to talk to Payton about the case, are you, Nancy?” Bess asked as soon as we were out of the groom’s earshot. “Because she probably needs to focus right now with the Grand Prix coming up so soon.”
I frowned, realizing she was right. “Okay, we’ll just wish her luck and then leave her alone.” I sighed. “At this point it’s probably too late to solve this before the Grand Prix anyway.”
“That’s the spirit,” George joked.
I was rolling my eyes at her as we stepped into the tack stall. Out of the corner of one of those rolling eyes, I saw Payton bent over a saddle rack. She jerked back in surprise and straightened up when she heard us.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You startled me.”
“Sorry.” Noticing that she was holding a pocketknife with the blade open, I glanced at the rack in front of her. It held a saddle with a white pad and leather girth slung over the seat. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she said, reaching over to fiddle with the pad. Then she glanced at the knife. “I mean, I was just scraping some dried mud off my backup saddle, since my regular one got ruined. Dana doesn’t like seeing dirty tack, especially in the bigger classes.” She smiled weakly, then snapped the knife shut.
“Speaking of your ruined saddle, where did that knife come from?” Bess stared at it. “Did you leave it anywhere that someone could find it?”
Realizing what she was driving at, I shot her a smirk. “I thought we weren’t going to bug Payton about the case before her big class, detective,” I joked.
“Sorry, you’re right,” Bess said quickly. “Don’t pay any attention to me, Payton.”
“No, it’s okay.” Payton smiled uncertainly. “Um, this isn’t my knife. I just borrowed it from one of the grooms. They all keep them around to cut hay twine and stuff.”
That made sense. “So whoever slashed your other saddle probably didn’t have any trouble finding a knife to do it with.” I shook my head. “Just one more clue that’s not as useful as it seems, I guess.”
Just then Jen stuck her head into the room. “Payton,” she said. “Dana just texted me to see where you are. She wants to start warming you and Midnight up in ten minutes. Should I text Mickey so he can come help you tack up?”
“No thanks, I’ve got it. Tell Dana I’m on my way.” Grabbing the saddle and other stuff off the rack, Payton headed for the door.
“Good luck!” my friends and I called in unison.
“Thanks!” She tossed us one last smile, then disappeared.
Bess perched on the edge of a tack trunk. “We should probably find Ned and then grab seats for the Grand Prix before it gets crowded.”
“Yeah.” George sounded distracted. She bent down and picked something up from under the empty saddle rack Payton had been using. “Hey, no fair!” she complained, holding up an empty candy wrapper. “Payton was eating a Chocominto bar and didn’t share!”
I grinned. Chocomintos were George’s favorite candy. “Too bad for you,” I said. “But how do you know it was even Payton who dropped that wrapper? We didn’t see her eating any candy. She didn’t even have chocolate smeared around her mouth like you always get when you pig out on those things.”
George made a face at me. “You know, sometimes having a detective for a friend is a real drag.” Tossing the candy wrapper into the trash bin in the corner, she headed for the door. “Let’s go. I want to make sure we have good seats for the Grand Prix.”
“Wow,” Ned said. “So Dana and Cal are related? That’s wild.”
“Shh. It seems to be some kind of secret—I don’t think even Payton knows.” I glanced around to make sure nobody had overheard. Luckily, the people sitting in the stands around us were all focused on their own conversations. Everyone seemed excited for the start of the Grand Prix.
The bleachers set up around the main ring were crowded and getting more so every minute. My friends and I had arrived early enough to snag seats in the second row, which gave us a spectacular view of the course. The huge, colorful jumps had actually taken my mind off the case for a few minutes. There were brightly colored rails, a fake brick wall, even a pair of jump standards shaped like riverboats in honor of our town’s riverside heritage.
“It’s hard to believe someone we know is actually going to jump a horse over those, huh?” Bess said, her gaze wandering to the jumps.
“Yeah.” I shivered with anticipation. “I just hope Payton isn’t distracted by everything that’s happened.” I glanced around, wondering where the Olympic chef d’équipe was sitting.
“Payton seems like a pretty cool customer when it comes to competing,” George said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“Still, I wish we could’ve figured out this case before now.” I sighed.
“Me too,” Ned agreed. Bess, George, and I had just finished filling him in on everything that had happened that day—not that there was much to tell. “So back to Cal—if he’s Dana’s brother, does this mean he’s off the suspect list?”
“No way,” George said. “He might still want Midnight back. What better way to make a big splash in his return to show jumping than by riding a star horse? There’s your motive right there. And Cal definitely had the opportunity to do most of the bad stuff, since nobody would think twice about seeing him around the barn. He could’ve easily slipped something into Midnight’s feed bucket. And slashed Payton’s saddle, too.”
“So could Lenny Hood,” I said. “Or Jessica Watts. Or Dana herself. Or Mickey.” I shook my head. “The thing that keeps bugging me is those threatening notes—especially the second one.”
“What do you mean?” Bess asked.
“I mean, I can see how most of our suspects might be able to figure out which car belonged to Payton’s family and leave a note there.” I glanced around at my friends. “But how in the world would any of them know she was staying at Ned’s—or that she’d ever find a note left inside the beat-up old grill at his house?”
“Don’t let my dad hear you talk about Bertha that way,” Ned joked. Then his expression went serious again. “But actually, that’s a good point, Nancy.”
“Maybe someone at the show overheard us talking about the barbecue,” Bess suggested.
“I suppose it’s possible. Although that makes it more likely to be Dana or Mickey, right? Do you remember seeing either of them hanging around while we were talking about the barbecue?” I asked.
George shrugged. “I don’t eve
n remember when we mentioned the barbecue.”
Just then the crowd roared as the first rider entered the ring. “It’s starting,” Ned said. “We’ll have to talk about this later.”
For the next half hour, I did my best to focus on the action. The Grand Prix was exciting, but I couldn’t help feeling distracted. Why couldn’t I crack this case? There had to be something I was missing. . . .
I tuned back in when I heard the crowd gasp. An older male rider on a fractious black horse had just knocked down the top pole on a jump. Another jump was coming up fast, and the horse was racing forward with its head straight up in the air, looking completely out of control. Sure enough, it veered sideways as it approached the next obstacle, a large, solid-looking jump with a pair of fake stone columns as standards.
“Oh!” I exclaimed along with everyone else as the horse crashed sideways into one of the columns, sending it flying. The horse stumbled over a pole and almost went down. The rider came off, hitting the ground hard and rolling out of the way of his mount’s flying hooves.
“Yikes,” Bess said. “I hope the rider’s okay.”
“He’s already getting up.” I clutched the edge of my seat and leaned forward, my gaze shifting back to the horse. It leaped over the scattered poles and glanced off the other standard, knocking that one over as well. Then it started galloping wildly around the ring, reins and stirrups flying, veering around the people who hurried in to try to catch it. Everyone gasped again as the horse headed for one of the other jumps, leaping over it wildly and knocking down a couple of more poles.
George squinted down toward the in-gate. “Check it out, there’s Payton. Let’s hope Midnight doesn’t see that other horse and get any ideas, huh?”
I turned to look. Payton was riding Midnight toward the gate. The big gelding looked magnificent—his bay coat gleamed, set off by his crisp white saddle pad. Dana was scurrying along beside the horse, talking a mile a minute, though we were way too far away to hear what she was saying.
Payton halted a few steps from the gate, watching with everyone else as the people in the ring finally caught the black horse. Meanwhile Dana stepped toward Midnight’s midsection, her hand reaching to move Payton’s leg aside. But Payton nudged her trainer’s hand away with her boot, then swung the horse aside and leaned forward from the saddle, slipping her own hand under the girth. I was too far away to see clearly, but I was pretty sure Dana had a frown on her face, though she stepped back as Payton straightened up again.
Mystery of the Midnight Rider Page 9
