Give First Place to Murder (20 page)

“
Even her horse laughed at her,” he hooted. Before I could respond Irma and Susannah were back, Susannah clutching the required pail.

"We're next," Irma told us unnecessarily. She looked white, her face pinched.

"Here goes nothing." Susannah’s face glowed with excitement. "Bryce is so nervous he's almost chewed the fingers out of his gloves."

"How about the horse? Is he nervous too?" Dan laughed.

"Hard to tell," replied Susannah. "But he's feeling something. It's all Chovalo can do to keep all four feet on the ground."

"Chovalo!" I exclaimed. "Shouldn't Bryce have the horse by now?"

"Chovalo will hand him over right outside the gate." Irma's voice was tight. "This damned feud is getting out of hand."

I turned to Susannah, eyebrows raised. Then another thought struck me.

"Where's Stephanie?" I asked as quietly as I could. "I can't believe she hasn't appeared."

"She's here all right." Irma had overheard me and her tone was grim. "I told her to sit someplace else."

I raised both eyebrows at Susannah.

"Tell you later," she mouthed. "Look. They're getting ready."

A man with a red coat, white trousers and a long horn blowing something you couldn't hear appeared in the center ring. The announcer screamed, "Ladies and Gentleman, your Region 11 stallion contenders."

The huge gate that barred the way into the arena opened and the first horse burst out of shadow into sunlight, led or maybe leading, a somewhat chubby older man running for all he was worth. Horse after horse made its entrance when finally Irma clutched my arm. “There--there they are.”

Horse and handler entered the ring, paused for only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough. All eyes were on them, on the elegant deep brown colt with burnished black legs, and the equally handsome man by his side. They both seemed aware of the picture they created as they trotted into the ring, the colt with his coal colored tail over his back, neck arched, nostrils flaring. The man’s hair, dark and lustrous, was cut long and blew back like a mane. His long legs kept pace with the horse, the lead line loose, as most others had not been, letting the colt show himself. There was no doubt that this was partnership, the horse taking only cues from the man. They held all eyes as they made their way around the ring, including those of the three judges.

“
Leave it to Bryce,” I heard Susannah say gleefully, while beside me Irma gave a deep sigh and finally exhaled.

"I've never seen so many beautiful animals. How could anyone possibly choose?" I breathed as I watched a horse get ready to make his presentation to the first judge.

Irma’s eyes never left the ring. "If you think this is tough, you should see the National Championship. It's in Kentucky this year. Long way to go, but if we qualify, we'll get there. Somehow."

"Explain that again, please." Susannah had spent hours regaling me with horse and horse show information. Sometimes I listened, sometimes I didn’t.

"It's a point system, Mom. There are Arabian horses and shows all over the country and the shows vary in size. To show at the National level you have to win so many points, which you only win by being Champion at a class A show. How many points depends on the number of horses entered. If you win a Regional Championship, or go Top Five in the class, you're qualified. Trick is, you also have to qualify to show at a Regional show by being a Show Champion."

"That's why all those horses are so wonderful? They’re all Champions?"

Susannah nodded.

Dan hadn’t taken his eyes off Bryce and the horse, but he’d obviously been listening because now he said, "That's why you were all having such a fit about getting Irma's horse in the Championship class last week? It was so important a little thing like murder didn’t stop you?"

"That's why. And aren't you glad we did?" Was there a hint of laughter in Susannah’s voice?

Before Dan could answer, a voice sounded behind us.

"He looks wonderful, Irma. And he's going to show his socks off."

I turned around to see Neil surveying Susannah, not the horses in the ring. She softly smiled back.

"Why Neil, I didn't know you were coming," I don’t know why I was surprised. Horses and Susannah? Of course he was here.

"Managed to get the day off, so I thought I'd come down and drive Susannah home. And watch the class."

The class seemed of secondary importance. There was a whole lot of testosterone on the loose around here, not all of it in the ring.

I murmured, "How nice."

Dan chuckled. I wasn’t amused.

“
Look. He’s next. Oh, please God, let him show.” Irma unclenched her hands and took another bite out of an already ruined cuticle.

We held our breath as horse and handler took up their stance against the rail. Silhouetted only for a moment, it was long enough to capture center stage. They turned together, walked toward the first judge, and stopped. Bryce stood back and slowly raised his whip. Just as slowly Challenge raised his neck and arched it, then pricked his ears forward as he tightened his body. As I watched, images of wild horses framed against desert skies, of soaring hawks and windblown trees, of will untamed, obedience a slender thread given, not demanded, swept through my mind. Then horse and handler floated off to the next judge and the moment was gone.

Bryce and Challenge repeated their performance twice more, then retired to the rail where Bryce accepted the congratulations of Challenge's fans, laughing, patting the horse on the neck, and ignoring the scowls of the supporters of other horses. They were directly opposite us so we got the full effect of their final presentation as the judges made their last walk down the line. Each stopped in front of Challenge, glanced at the card they held, and walked on. They paused by other horses, not always the same one, and barely glanced at others. The crowd screamed, whistled, and yelled for their favorites, and the tension mounted. After what seemed like hours all three judges handed their cards to the young lady who’d been trailing them. She bounded toward the announcers stand.

"All horses will be excused,” the announcer instructed. “The top five will be called back in numerical order."

"Do you think we have a chance?" Irma got out. “Twenty four horses,” she almost moaned, “good ones. We don’t have a chance. What’s his number?”

"762" Susannah answered.

“
Number twenty seven,” the announcer called. The gate opened and a steel gray horse led by a blond woman dashed in, helped along by screams of triumph from his owners.

“
Number one hundred fifty one,” and in came the chestnut Irma had talked about, followed by Number three thirty three and five seventy four.

Challenge was the last of the top five to return to the ring. I didn’t think Irma was going to make it.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she kept saying. "Top five. In a class like this one. Oh, if only Bud was here to see."

"It's not over yet." Susannah squeezed Irma's arm. "They're going to announce the Champion."

"It can't be us," Irma stated, but hope underlay denial. "Oh, that chestnut is Reserve Champion. Good choice."

She stopped, waiting, not breathing. I knew because I wasn't either. At last it came. Number 762 "Last Challenge." Unanimous. Bryce leapt into the air, screaming. The horse, startled, reared a little, and joined Bryce in the fun by racing him to the trophy.

The stands exploded. At least our area did. Neil let out a piercing whistle that almost ruptured my eardrum. People around us rushed to congratulate Irma, pausing only to clap and cheer as Bryce and Challenge made one last pass around the ring and out the gate, Championship ribbon flying from the horse’s halter.

Irma didn’t move. She sat staring at the now empty ring saying over and over, "I don't believe it."

"Come on." Susannah kept tugging at her. "Let's go back to the barn."

It took awhile. Every few feet someone else wanted to congratulate her. Those that hadn't stopped us already were waiting back in the barn aisle.

Bryce was in the middle of the crowd, Stephanie hanging from his arm, accepting accolades as gracefully as glee and ego would allow. Palo, looking not scared but petrified, held onto the horse who didn't seem to share Bryce's feelings about limelight. Even I knew the arched neck and the pawing front foot meant he was running out of patience.

Chovalo appeared and took the lead, patted the horse, whispered something in his ear, and started to lead him off.

"Bring that horse back here." Bryce's voice cracked whiplike through the crowd.

"He is finished and he is tired. It is enough for one day." Chovalo's tone was mild, but his eyes weren't.

"The Bracketts want to see him close up. They have a mare they may want to breed. Bring him here so I can stand him up for them."

The crowd got quiet. Everyone within hearing distance was as shocked at Bryce's rudeness as I was. Chovalo hesitated, looked at Irma, who looked back at him imploringly but said nothing. He slowly turned the horse and led him through the murmuring crowd toward Bryce. There was a stillness about Chovalo, about the way he walked, how he handed the lead to Bryce, how he took the horse away when Bryce had finished showing him, that was chilling. Evidently I wasn't the only one who felt it.

"One of these days Bryce is going to go too far. He'll push someone over the edge."

The voice, speaking ominous words in a thoughtful, matter of fact tone, belonged to a pleasant faced young man with sand colored, thinning hair, wire rimmed sun glasses, a designer sports shirt, and a very expensive watch.

"What?" I said, startled.

"I know Chovalo. Well, I know who he is, and one of these days he'll have Bryce for lunch. If he doesn't, I will."

"Why? How do you know Bryce?" I wondered if bizarre conversations with strangers were normal at horse shows.

"I'm a charter member of the ‘I Hate Bryce Ellis’ club. See that man there, the one in the plaid shirt, who thinks he's flirting?"

It was impossible to miss him. He was one of several young men surrounding Bryce, the more conservative middle-aged owners and trainers having moved over to group themselves around Irma. The plaid shirted man wore jeans that left nothing to the imagination and was almost hanging around Bryce's neck, as were the others. Stephanie tried to work her way back to Bryce's side from outside the circle where somehow she’d been pushed. Bryce wasn't giving her any help.

The man standing next to me looked nothing like the group around Bryce, but now he sighed.

"I guess I'd better go retrieve Tommy before Bryce has him behind the barn doing a couple of lines and enjoying a few other more, shall we say, athletic activities."

"Bryce? Doing--what?" I couldn't keep the shock out of my voice.

"You didn't know? I thought everyone did. Boys or girls. As long as they want to play, it's all the same to our Bryce."

"Oh. My." I couldn't immediately think of anything to say. I looked at my companion with sympathy. "Is Tommy your brother?"

"He's my lover. More's the pity," he added grimly, as he left me standing open mouthed and speechless.

"We're going to lunch." .

I was so intent on watching the little drama play itself out--my nice young man was now tugging at Tommy's arm with little visible success--that I hadn't seen Dan come up beside me and I jumped.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Look." Bryce and his groupies were starting to leave without Stephanie. She stood, arms hanging by her sides, watching them go. The expression on her face was a mixture of despair and confusion, and I felt an involuntary moment of pity. Stephanie hadn’t known either. I watched the expression on her face change and harden. Now any pity I had was for Bryce. I hoped no one ever looked after me with the same mix of rage and venom. Stephanie whirled and walked off, almost bumping into the tall blond man I had seen in the stands with Bryce, who now talked to Chovalo. I hadn't noticed him before.

"I know I've seen that man before. What do you suppose he's doing?"

"Talking.” Dan barely glanced at him. “They seem to do a lot of that around here."

"They look pretty intense. There.” I grabbed his arm. “Chovalo’s going off with him. Where do you suppose they're going? And where do you think Stephanie went?"

"To lunch.” Dan removed my hand from his elbow and slipped it into his own. “Which is where we’d like to go. We’re starved. You coming?"

"All you ever think about is food." I grumbled but I let him pull me along.

"You said that before. I only think about food sometimes. Other times--“

I was sure there was a faint smile under that damn mustache.

“
Yeah.” I found I wanted to laugh. “Other times.”

“
Maybe we’ll have “other times” tonight, if we get home early enough.” Dan glanced down at me with a most appealing smile..

I could feel a flush start, but before I could say more we had reached Irma, Susannah, and Neil, and I was hurried along to the parking lot.

We went to a place called LeRoy’s. It was tucked into a corner of a shopping center between a lamp store and a resale children's shop. Both closed.