Give First Place to Murder (2 page)

“
Avast there,” he said. “You’ve got to watch where you place your keel.”

I found myself staring up at a real live parrot-carrying pirate. Blond curls fell to his shoulders from under a battered black hat hitched up on the side. There was a patch over one eye, a bird on his shoulder, another on the hat, and one more hanging upside down from the arm that reached out to steady me. The visible eye was faded blue. The rest of the face was hidden by an enormous blond mustache.

“
Shiver me timbers,” he shouted. “You gave us a start.”

He let go, looked me up and down, and strode off, laughing. It sounded like ho, ho, ho, but it couldn’t have been, any more than the pistol hanging from the thick black belt could be real, or the dagger stuck so prominently in the high black boot could be sharp. I stared after him, momentarily paralyzed. The parrot on his hat turned for one last look, cocked his head and squawked.

“
Where on earth did he come from?” There was no one around to answer. It wasn’t until the pirate and his parrots rounded the end of the barn aisle and disappeared that I roused myself. “What an idiot you are, Ellen McKenzie,” I continued, cross with myself for being so jumpy. “He’s one of the roving fair entertainers. Did you think he was the murderer?” Still, it was odd he was so far from the main part of the fair. But it was the feed room I needed to worry about, and right now. Susannah was back, and she was leading a horse past me, toward it’s closed door.

“
Susannah,” I called, catching up with her, and trying to edge past her. “Where are you going?”

“
I’m getting Mariah ready for her class,” Susannah said. She looked at me curiously as I flattened myself against the feed room door. She walked the pretty, delicate looking horse into the open door of the room next to it, turned it around, and snapped the chains that hung from each side of the room onto the halter. I looked into the largest, brownest, eyes I had ever seen. My hand went out without conscious thought to stroke the thin white stripe that ran down the middle of the brown face.

“
Cute, isn’t she?” Susannah said. She ran her hand softly down the horse’s neck. “I think she’s my favorite. Maybe because she’s so easy.”

The horse nuzzled my palm, probably looking for carrots or something, but all I could think of was teeth. Big teeth. I jerked my hand behind my back, and the horse threw her head up, startled.

“
Mom, what are you doing? You scared her.”

“
She scared me first. Susannah, get out from behind that horse before you get kicked.”

“
Don’t be silly. She doesn’t have room to kick me even if she wanted. Her class is coming up soon and I’ve got to get her ready. I hope I’m doing this right. I’ve never done it before.”

Susannah’s voice became a little muffled as she disappeared with a large comb into a cloud of tail.

“
Susannah, get out of there,” I ordered. “Why are you doing that, anyway?”

“
Because no one can find Rusty,” she said.

The horse pricked her ears at me, but Susannah paid no attention. She kept combing.

“
Wait until I get my hands on that little rat,” she said, re-emerging. “He knew Bryce hired him because this is only my second horse show ever. I’m supposed to be doing all the paper work, not grooming. I’ll kill him.”

That brought me back to reality. I glanced at the feed room door, then stood stock still, watching Susannah, wondering what I should do.

“
Bryce’ll be back soon,” she went on. She moved from the tail around to the horse’s side, and started doing something to the legs. “He gets on my nerves with his prima donna act, but he can sure show a horse. Oh, I hope Challenge wins the championship. Then he’d really be on his way.”

On his way where, I wondered, but wasn’t in the mood to ask. I was too busy wondering if I had time for a nervous breakdown. Where was Pat? Where were the police? I took a quick look at the feed room door. The bolt was still in place. No one had tried to go in, but that wouldn’t last much longer. Where was Dan?

Chovalo appeared in the doorway, nodded to me gravely, picked up a brush, and started to go over the mare with it.

“
She looks pretty good.” Irma’s voice, directly behind me, almost sent me to the ceiling. “What do you think, Chovalo?” she went on. “Does she have a chance to win?” Irma gave me a quizzical look, but her attention was on the horse.

“
She probably will not win, but I think she will receive a ribbon,” was the answer. “Bryce will get all she has to give.” Chovalo looked past Irma and studied me for a moment. I leaned against the door jam, trying to appear nonchalant. He looked a little puzzled, but said nothing. Instead, he started to gently rub oil into the horse’s soft muzzle and over her eyelids, letting the black skin show through. I watched him, thinking that, from his tone of voice, he wasn’t a member of Bryce’s fan club.

“
There,” he said. “She needs only the final brushing before she goes into the ring.” He looked over at Susannah. “Now we will give the rest of the horses a little lunch and make sure that they have water. Rusty should be doing this, but as he is not here...” He let the statement hang in the air. Susannah took it up immediately.

“
Shall I do hay while you do water?”

Chovalo smiled for the first time I had seen, although it was hard to tell under that abundant mustache, and nodded to her. She headed for the feed room door. I flung myself in front of it.

“
You can’t go in there,” I gulped.

“
Why not? Come one, Mom. We don’t have much time.” She tried to push past me.

“
No.” This time I almost screamed it.

“
Ellen. What on earth is the matter with you?” Irma’s voice was full of surprise, and a little irritation. “Please move. I’ll help too.”

I stood my ground, trying frantically to figure out how not to tell them what was in the room until the police arrived.

“
Mom?” Susannah was staring at me, her eyes questioning, wondering if she should be alarmed.

Chovalo hadn’t said a thing, but there was a stillness building around him as he watched.

I gave up. “You can’t go in because Rusty’s in there,” I told them.

“
Is that all!” said Susannah, relief evident. “Let me at him. I’ve been dying to get my hands on that lazy little no good.”

I winced at this unfortunate choice of words and plowed on. “He’s dead. The police are on their way.”

“
Dead?” Susannah said.

“
Dead!” Irma echoed.

“
The police?” said Chovalo.

I nodded.

“
But...” started Susannah. She had reached for the bolt holding the feed room door closed. She abruptly snatched her hand back.

“
How...?” interrupted Irma. She stared from me to the door, then back to me.

Chovalo seemed to melt back into the stall beside the mare. I was sure he picked up a bucket and put something into it, but I was distracted by the sound of a car coming fast down the barn aisle, a squeal of brakes, the slam of a door. Dan Dunham. The Marines had landed.

Dan paused, stared at each of us in turn, reserving the longest stare for me, then walked toward us. He was followed by Pat, who climbed out of the passenger seat.

“
Ellen’s there, guarding the door,” she said.

“
I can see that,” Dan replied.

I had started to smile with relief at the sight of him, but could feel it fade. He looked downright unfriendly, and I had no idea why.

“
I understand that you have a body.” Dan’s syntax made me give a little nervous laugh.

“
Most people do.” The words were out before I could stop them, and instantly I knew it was a mistake. Dan was in no mood for grammar, and even less for nervous jokes. Everything about him bristled, even his neat little mustache. Sure were a lot of mustaches around here today, I thought irrelevantly.

No one else said anything, so finally I pointed at the closed feed room door. “He’s in there.”

“
And you found him.” Dan was addressing me. It wasn’t exactly a question and his tone wasn’t entirely acid free.

“
You don’t have to sound like I did it on purpose,” I told him, stung. “Not having seen that would have been fine with me.”

“
Did you touch anything?” The expression on Dan’s face was as frosty as his tone.

“
The door when I went in. And the horse blanket thing. If I’d known there was a body in there, I would have been more careful.” What was the matter with him? I’d had a terrible morning and had been counting on Dan, but all I was getting was this brusque official behavior. Where was my friend, where was my comfort, where was my rock?

By now, two other black and whites had arrived, spilling uniformed officers into the barn aisle. A fire truck pulled slowly toward us, the paramedics right behind them. An unmarked car, with our town’s only two plain-clothes officers, stopped behind Dan’s.

“
Ricker,” Dan turned toward one of the men, “start taping this place off. Get all these people out of here. Is there someplace you can all go? Out of our way?”

This was addressed to all of us, but Susannah, still ashen faced, answered. “There are some deck chairs up there, at the end of the barn aisle.”

“
Good. Go there, all of you, and stay there. I’ll be up to talk to you. Soon. Gary?” Dan motioned to one of the uniformed officers, “Let’s take a look.”

He eased the door open without touching the handle and slid in. Gary, smooth faced and eager, tugged at his gun belt, smiled shyly at me, and followed.

All the rest of our group obediently trooped down toward the deck chairs, but I hung back. It didn’t take long to get a reaction.

“
Jesus Christ,” came Dan’s voice, uncharacteristically awed.

Gary said nothing. He appeared at the door, his hand over his mouth, his eyes wild. I pointed down the barn aisle toward the bathrooms, and he ran off.

Dan followed him out, looking a little whiter and a lot less angry. “You saw that?” he asked.

I nodded.

“
Not very pretty,” he said, with the first trace of humanity I’d heard since he arrived. “Who was he?”

“
Some kid who worked for Bryce Ellis, Irma’s horse trainer. I think his name was Rusty.”

“
Rusty what?”

“
No idea. Ask Susannah. Or Irma.” I could be brusque too.

Dan looked down at me for a moment. “Let’s do that,” he said.

We walked back to the group without speaking. Irma sat in one of the deck chairs, Susannah stood beside her. Pat had pulled her chair a little way back toward the barn, out of the way and in the shade. Chovalo was nowhere to be seen.

Dan didn’t glance at Susannah or Pat, but addressed Irma gently. “The boy in there, he worked for your trainer, Bryce Ellis?’

“
I guess so,” Irma answered. Her face had a gray tinge and her wrinkled hand shook a little. “He only started this morning. Bryce hadn’t told me he’d hired him. How did he...why would someone...are you sure it’s Rusty?”

“
All things we’re trying to find out. Now, if you will stay right here, I’ll be back to talk to you soon. All of you. Right here.” Dan had been polite to Irma, but that vanished as he pointed to the one remaining empty deck chair while glaring meaningfully at me. I dropped into it, he turned on his heel and strode back down the barn aisle.

“
What’s the matter with him?” Pat asked.

I shrugged. I had an idea, but wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about it.

“
What’s going on?” Bryce had returned, a short, chunky girl hanging on his arm. “Why are all these police cars here? And that ambulance. Is someone hurt?”

“
Someone’s murdered your friend Rusty.” Susannah told him grimly.

“
Murdered!” Bryce exclaimed. “What do you mean, murdered!” He had handed the girl his show whip and started to remove his gloves. Now he stopped, a glove dangling from his hand, to stare at Susannah.

“
She couldn’t make it much clearer.” Irma sat up straighter, color once again in her cheeks. “He’s dead, and in my feed room. How did you come to hire him, anyway?”

It was Bryce’s turn to look gray. “He was available, and besides, you know ---,” he said evasively. He looked down at the glove, finished removing it, and crunched both of them in his hand.

“
Bryce needed somebody,” the girl said. She once more tried to cling to Bryce’s arm, but he absentmindedly brushed her off. “He hasn’t had anyone to help him since Miguel died. I volunteered, but you wouldn’t let me.” She thrust her chin out, and the expression in her pale blue eyes was sullen.

“
I’m aware of how much help Bryce has, Stephanie,” Irma said. “That is not the issue.”

Bryce turned to look down the barn aisle, slapping his gloves against his leg, staring at all the activity. Not only had the coroner’s car arrived, so had half the show grounds. There were people everywhere, staring, gawking, asking questions that went unanswered. A uniformed officer I didn’t recognize dragged out several sawhorses, from where I had no idea, and yellow tape was being strung up across the barn aisle below where we waited. Another one was trying to clear the area, asking people to move along, without much success. A loudspeaker blared, “Class 42, four year old mares, you’re next”. It was a lot more effective than the policeman. People drifted away toward the grandstand, still casting curious glances at the activity behind the yellow tape. A man dressed in show clothes was arguing with the officer, yelling that he had to get past, his horse was down that aisle and he was going to miss his class. The officer looked at him blankly. “This is a crime scene, mister. Your horse will have to wait.” The man uttered a four letter word, actually several of them, and ran off, evidently looking for some higher authority.