Give First Place to Murder (21 page)

"Why are we going here?" I looked at the dark narrow doorway.

"You'll love it," Susannah said.

LeRoy’s was huge. It was filled with tables draped with starched white clothes, booths with old red leather benches, a long wooden bar complete with brass rail, and people. Lots of people. Most seemed to know Irma and called congratulations as we wound our way to one of the few empty tables. Almost immediately a tired looking waitress appeared.

"Anything to drink?" She eyed Susannah.

"Mimosas." Dan said, “and one coke.”

For a moment Susannah had looked hopeful, then she glanced at me, sighed, and said, "Make that an orange juice."

Neil already had his driver’s license out.

"You having the buffet or you want menus?" The waitress scribbled rapidly on her pad.

"Buffet." Dan answered for us all.

"When you're ready." She jerked her head toward the main room, moved away and was swallowed up by the crowd.

We were ready, but our progress was slow. The buffet was huge, the line long, and I thought Irma knew everyone in it.

Finally, we were back at our table where four mimosas and one orange juice waited.

"A toast." Dan raised his glass high.

"To Last Challenge." Irma raised hers also.

"And to his perceptive breeder." Neil bowed in Irma's direction with a gallantry I hadn't know he possessed. Hmm.

"May this be the first celebration of many," put in Susannah.

"Amen," I said, not to be left out. I noticed as we drank none of us had mentioned Bryce.

"Irma. Good to see you." A tall, imposing looking man with closely cut black hair heavily threaded with gray, stood beside us. Friendly brown eyes covered with plastic framed glasses sat on a beak like nose. His light blue polo shirt was tucked into clean, pressed, but not new jeans, a Timex watch was on the wrist of one mahogany colored arm.

"Hello, Roland. It's been awhile."

"It has," the man agreed. "Nice colt you had out there this morning. Is that the one Bud had me come look at a couple of years ago?"

Irma nodded.

"He grew up even better than I thought. Mind if I have a closer look?"

Irma looked awe struck. "Be pleased if you would, Roland."

"I'm on my way back now, and I've got classes later. Is Chovalo at the barn?"

"Far as I know. He never leaves during a show."

"All right if Chovalo pulls him out for me?"

Irma nodded again and swallowed. I couldn't figure out the expression on her face.

"Great. I'll call you, Irma." He patted her lightly on the shoulder, nodded politely to the rest of us, and left.

"Was that Roland Moss?" Neil said in reverential tones.

Irma nodded a third time.

"Wow," breathed Susannah.

Dan and I looked at each other. He raised one eyebrow and I shrugged. They were acting like we’d had a visit from God.

"Who is Roland Moss?" voiced Dan.

"And why do we care?" I added.

"He's the best trainer in the business," Susannah said.

"He's the best horseman anywhere.” High praise from idealistic Neil. “He knows more about horses than some vets and he never, ever, takes short cuts. The horse comes first with him."

"He's got the most successful horse business in the country.” Irma told us. “He shows, and sells, horses all over the world. The stallions he stands are the best anywhere, and his band of mares, and the ones he buys for his clients, is the cream. He's made himself a rich man by only dealing in quality. And he wants to see my horse."

Maybe we really had just seen God.

Irma's mood was catching. She chuckled at her omelet, grinned at her shrimp, and had another mimosa. Soon we were all making bad jokes, laughing uproariously at them and everything else. The next step was to burst into song. Luckily we finished and left before that happened.

Still wisecracking, we rounded the corner of the barn. Smack in the middle of the aisle stood Irma's big van, side open and ramp down. Beside it was an angry looking Wes, a dour looking Chovalo, and a terrified looking Palo.

Wes and Chovalo both turned toward us. Palo scuttled back to the stalls and immediately a tack drape came down.

"Irma, God damn it,” Wes blasted, “I've got to get out of here. That kid, Palo, has almost everything packed but those last few panels. Now tell Chovalo to get the horses on here so I can go."

"The equipment is one thing. And the other horses can go.” There was no compromise in Chovalo’s tone. “But Challenge will not be loaded until Mr. Moss returns."

"Returns? What do you mean, returns?" Irma asked, alarm ringing clearly.

"He came an hour or more ago,” Chovalo explained, “to see Challenge. Bryce would not allow me to show him the horse. He made a bad scene, accusing Señor Moss of wanting to show the horse, of wanting the horse for his barn, of trying to steal the horse from Bryce. Señor Moss is a gentleman. He said he would return when Señora Irma was here. But he has classes and his time is short. We will wait."

"No we won't." Wes was ready to explode, his face almost the same red as his cap. "This Moss guy isn't the only one whose time is valuable. I've got a schedule and I'm already behind."

"Where is Bryce?" Irma was no longer laughing. From the expression on her face Bryce wouldn't be either when she found him.

Chovalo shrugged. Wes declared, "Haven't seen the little creep since I got back.”

"Who’s that?" Susannah suddenly interrupted. "I've never seen that horse before."

The last curtain had fallen, exposing a row of heads watching us with interest. Susannah was pointing toward a light gray one. The horse's head hung over an open top stall door, under which sat a bright green tack trunk with no initial or farm name.

"She's going to Indiana. If I can ever get out of Santa Barbara." .

"That isn't our tack trunk"

"It's hers."

"Since when does a horse have a tack trunk?"

"The people who bought her own the trunk.” Wes turned to Susannah, happy to transfer his frustration to someone new. “So they’d have a place to put her blankets and halters, so they wouldn’t get lost during the trip, or mixed up with some other horse’s stuff. I said it’d be all right to take it on the van. If, of course, that's all right with you?"

The sarcasm was sharp and Susannah looked like she'd been slapped. My reaction was to take a swing at Wes. Evidently Dan felt the same way because his voice was tightly controlled as he stepped a little in front of me.

"There’s no need to talk to her that way."

I thought he was going to say more, but he didn’t get a chance. Neil, who none of us had noticed was missing, returned, ashen faced and stumbling over his words.

"Dan, we, ah, have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Dan’s angry eyes were still on Wes, not ready to let go.

"A, ah, problem. A real problem. You better come right away."

"What's the matter with you?" Susannah looked at him suspiciously, attention temporarily diverted from Wes.

"Nothing. Dan, come on. The rest of you stay here."

"Right." Dan glanced at Wes once more, but there was something in Neil's tone. Dan started to follow him. "All of you, don't move until I get back."

This seemed to be directed mostly at Susannah and me. So, naturally we followed. Sounds of sirens mingled with the resumed argument around the horse van. Susannah and I looked at each other and hurried faster. We rounded a corner in time to see Dan and Neil disappear through a door.

"We can't go in there." Susannah skidded to a halt. "That's the Men's."

"I think there’s more involved here than a call to nature. Shall we?"

Susannah looked up at the sign, then at me, and smiled a little. "After you."

We entered the bathroom to see Neil and Dan together, looking through the door leading to a shower room. A black haired boy of about sixteen, clutching a towel and clean clothes, was pushed as close to the wall and as far away from the shower door as he could get.

A portly older man hurried in, bumping into me where I had stopped. "Hey, you can't come in here. This is the Men's."

"Are you sure?" Susannah asked him in her most innocent tone. The man rushed out, looked at the sign on the door, and stormed back in.

"Yes. And you can't come in here." He made little shooing motions at us with his hands.

"And neither can you," said Dan, straightening up. He gave the two of us a sour look but addressed the man. "There's been an accident. You'll have to leave."

"But I have to, uh, go, uh, now," babbled the man.

"Use the Ladies," Dan replied heartlessly.

The sirens were getting closer.

"Use the...I can't do that."

"Then go find a bush." Dan wasn’t bothering to be kind. Something was definitely wrong., said unkindly. "I'm securing this area."

"How about him?" The man, who just didn't know when to quit, pointed to the kid still trying to melt into the concrete wall.

"He's a witness."

Susannah slipped around Dan and stood beside Neil, who was too late to prevent her seeing into the shower room.

"Oh, God," she gagged. "It's Bryce."

"Get out," Dan told the man, who fled.

"Don't move," he instructed the trembling kid, who probably couldn't.

I'd used the moment to grab my daughter and see the body on the shower floor. It was Bryce all right, one eye bloodied, a bruise the size of Nebraska on the same side of his face. But it wasn't the bruises that had killed him. Bryce was wearing a thin length of chain tightly wound around his neck, the links digging into his tanned throat. Beautiful Bryce was no longer.

Sirens died and doors slammed.

"Get Susannah out of here," Dan instructed Neil, "and don't touch anything on your way out. Ellie," he stopped, sighed, and shook his head, "how you get me into these things I'll never figure out."

"Me!" I started indignantly, but now was clearly not the time. The first of a parade of men entered the bathroom and Dan resumed his cop exterior.

"Who are these people?" The uniformed officer asked, studying Dan's ID.

"Sightseers," Dan assured him. The officer looked at Susannah and me, then back at Dan. “Yeah?”

“
Yeah. They'll be over at Barn D when we need them." He pointed to the door. "Get!"

We got.

I followed Neil and Susannah back toward Barn D, thinking I’d only been to two horse shows, and had stumbled over a dead body each time. That made my average for involvement in murder one hundred percent. I wondered how I went about trading it in for a minus zero.

When we got back to the barn, Chovalo was leading the gray mare up the ramp into the van, and Palo was determinedly holding onto the skittish colt Bryce had shown early in the morning. Susannah looked at it, shuddered, and headed for a deck chair.

"What happened?" Irma appeared in front of us, anxiety deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. "Where's Dan. What are those sirens?" There was a small pause. "Where's Bryce?"

"Shit." Susannah flung back her head against the chair and closed her eyes.

Neil and I both glanced at her, him with surprise, me with sympathy. We turned back to Irma.

"Here, sit here." Neil gently pulled Irma toward the chair next to Susannah.

"Oh, God," she moaned as she sunk into it. "Something has happened. What? Where’s Bryce? Is he hurt?"

Chovalo came out of the van and walked toward us. Wes also suddenly appeared.

"What's going on here?" Wes demanded. "Look, I've got to get going. Irma, if you want your colt to get home without hitch-hiking, then tell this fellow here," he stuck his finger almost in Chovalo’s chest, "to get him loaded."

"Something’s happened to Bryce." Irma almost moaned.

"Yeah? Well it couldn't a happen to a nicer guy." Wes's sarcasm went unremarked. "Come on Irma, make up your mind 'cause I'm pulling out of here."

"What has happened?" Chovalo's tone was soft, but his eyes were wary.

"He's dead," Neil stated.

"Oh, oh no," Irma cried.

"Dead," repeated Chovalo.

"So the kid finally took too much. Figured it was just a matter of time." He turned back to Chovalo. “I’m leaving. With or without the colt, so make up your mind.”

"Is that how he died?" Chovalo ignored him. He watched us intently with the taut look of an animal that scented danger.

"No,” Neil said. “Someone beat him up, then strangled him with a chain. I think a cross tie chain." He looked over at Chovalo and Chovalo looked quickly toward the curtains that hid the grooming room, then just as quickly looked back.

"Dear God." Irma’s face had taken on a gray tinge, which was better than Susannah's light green one.

"That's too bad, but the little..." Wes paused, glanced down at Irma and left off the last word, "kept asking for it. Irma, it doesn't change things. I got to get out of here."