Give First Place to Murder (22 page)

Susannah's color, I was happy to see, had returned to normal although she still hadn't opened her eyes, even at Wes’s insensitive remark. Neil looked at him horrified, and Chovalo studied him with an expression I couldn't read. Before anyone could respond to him, Roland Moss’s voice joined in. He nodded politely to all of us as he addressed Irma. "What's going on over by the Men's? Has there been an accident? No horses hurt I hope."

"Worse. Much worse." Neil said. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Susannah.

"It's Bryce." Irma’s eyes were finally starting to tear. I found a clean tissue and handed it to her.

"Bryce?...he didn't take an overdose!"

"That woulda been no surprise." Moss ignored Wes.

"Someone murdered him. Beat him to a pulp, then strangled him." Neil sounded as if he still hadn’t really accepted the fact, as if it was some vague story he’d heard about. I didn’t feel that way. I still felt sick.

"With a chain," finished Susannah. Her eyes were open again, but still registered the aftermath of shock. Not grief. Bryce hadn't left much of a legacy.

"Dead? Murdered?" Moss involuntarily turned to look up the barn aisle although the bathroom and the police cars weren't visible. What could be seen was the white van of the local TV station headed that way, followed by the curious, on foot and on horseback.

"Irma. Señor Moss must take Last Challenge." Chovalo's tone was urgent.

"What?" Irma still dabbed her eyes with the tissue.

"You wish him in your barn, no?" Chovalo's eyes were like lasers on Moss's face. Moss stared back at Chovalo with, what? Consternation? Confusion? Sympathy?

"Yes, I'll take the colt if Irma wants to send him."

"You will take him now? Here? From the show?" Chovalo pressed.

"If that is what Irma wants” Moss studied Chovalo with that odd expression.

"Señora Irma. He must go." Chovalo's voice was soft, but there was iron in it.

"Well, Roland, if you really want him, of course." Irma was in no shape to make a decision. Both men knew it and neither really waited for it. They had already decided.

"Have your boy bring him to my barn," Moss instructed. "I'll make the arrangements. Irma, I'll call you tomorrow and we'll get the details sorted out." He turned to go, paused, turned back. "I'm sorry." Irma nodded, but I could have sworn he spoke to Chovalo.

I watched him leave, wondering if I was right and what Moss could have meant, when I caught sight of a tall, blond man. He stood at the end of the barn aisle watching us, not the sideshow going on the other way. It was the same blond man who had been talking to Bryce, the same man who had been talking to Chovalo. If he was just another curiosity seeker, why wasn't he gathered with the others behind the yellow crime scene tape, trading theories and gossip? He moved aside to let Moss pass and the bright afternoon sun poured over him, obscuring his features, leaving only an outline, but I knew. It was my pirate.

I looked again, not believing my own senses. It was undeniably my pirate. Without a mustache, boots, or a pistol, and mercifully, without parrots. But still, my pirate. Why? What was he doing here?

The roar of a diesel engine made me whirl back toward our little group. Wes was in the cab, Neil tested the latch on the side door, and Chovalo was nowhere to be seen.

"What are you doing?" I was under Wes’s open window, pounding on his cab door.

"Leaving." He fiddled with something and barely acknowledged me.

"You can't leave. The police will need to talk to you."

"They know where to find me. Besides, I got nothing to tell them."

"Of course you do. You were one of the last ones to see Bryce alive."

"Not me. The little shit had already stomped off before I got back here. Now get back. I got a schedule and I'm keeping it."

The engine roared and the van slowly moved down the barn aisle and maneuvered the corner. We all watched it go, including the pirate. He moved over into the shadow of the neighboring barn where he stayed until the van disappeared, then slipped around the corner and was gone.

I stood in the middle of the aisle, seething with frustration, when Dan charged up.

"Where the hell does he think he's going?"

Why were those kinds of remarks always addressed to me?

"Back to Santa Louisa. He's got a schedule." I made a huge effort to unclench my fists and keep my voice neutral.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"Short of throwing myself in front of the van, there didn't seem to be a way."

"God damn it. There's a whole raft of questions he needs to answer."

Dan glared at me. I glared back. He transferred his glare to the others, who were not paying any attention, and finally favored Chovalo who appeared leading Last Challenge.

"Where are you going with that horse?"

"Señor Roland Moss is taking him. I am delivering him to his barn." It amused me that Chovalo could match Dan's curtness.

"Where's the kid?"

"On the van. With the horses." Chovalo hadn't even broken stride.

"What!" yelped Dan. "Don't you people understand there's been a murder here? That the police need to ask questions?” He glared at Chovalo, rage reaching the boiling point. “Material witnesses are supposed to stick around!"

Chovalo shrugged. "Palo will be needed at home. Horses do not care for themselves." He purposefully rounded the corner of the barn.

"For heaven’s sake, Dan, just call one of your people and have them meet the van and ask all your questions there." My patience had just run out

"I don't think you understand, Ellie." Dan's voice had quieted, but I could tell he was still seething. "This isn't my case. This isn't my town. This isn't even my county. I can't do anything until I'm invited, and so far that hasn't happened."

Frustration as well as fury saturated every word. I could hardly blame him. This might not be Dan's town, but it was still very much his case. Bryce Ellis had been talented at bringing out the best in horses, but he’d been even more talented in bringing out the worst in people. There seemed little doubt that his murder was connected to Rusty's. The same cast was assembled. Or was it? Where was Stephanie? I started to ask, but anyone who might know was gone. Poor Stephanie, this was going to be a terrible shock. Only I couldn't erase the memory of her face as she’d watched Bryce leave with his groupies, and I wondered. Maybe Stephanie already knew.

I started to say something to Dan when Irma walked up.

"I'm going home," she announced. "I don't think I can stand any more of this. Susannah, are you coming with me or going home with Neil?" She was looking around somewhat uncertainly, opening her purse, rummaging in the bottom.

"I can't seem to find my keys." Irma’s voice trailed away and she looked up to find Dan looking down at her.

"No, Irma, I don't think so," Dan told her gently. "Not you, not Susannah, not Neil, not any of us. Someone will be here any minute to start asking questions. I told the Santa Barbara police we’d all be here to answer them, and I intend to keep what I can of that promise."

Stillness settled over us. Irma stared at Dan, Susannah and Neil glanced at me, then at each other. The sounds of the fairgrounds became very loud. "Class 144, Native Costume, the class in front of you is lining up, " screamed the loudspeaker. Cheers went up in the arena. Across the barn aisle someone wailed, "Where's my number? Hurry, I'm going to miss my class." A dog barked, a horse snorted, a hose squirted into an empty bucket. Several people passed us, their voices hushed, curious glances quickly averted, feet kicked up dust and straw as they hurried away. None of us said a word, but we all watched as two men rounded the end of the barn, two men in suits, not jeans, who looked slightly nervous as they skirted moving horses. They pulled out notebooks as they approached us, offered badges for inspection, and obviously expected answers to their questions. It would be awhile before home saw any of us.

I looked past them to the end of the barn aisle, trying to see if Chovalo had returned. He hadn't. But my pirate had. He stood in the shadow, intently watching the suited police descend on us. Then, as they stopped in front of Irma, he turned and quietly melted away.

The two Santa Barbara policemen were polite, asking only general questions. They cautioned us to stay put as they would need us again. Dan did a creditable job of holding his frustration in check.

They had been gone just a few minutes when Stephanie showed up. She reacted stony faced to the news. Her only comment was "good riddance to bad rubbish."

Had she seen Bryce after he returned from lunch, Dan asked.

"Yes," she said. "I blasted him. He was a hateful, deceitful, lying person. I'm not sorry he's dead." She stared at Dan belligerently. Evidently, she didn’t realize he wasn’t in charge here, as he’d been in Santa Louisa. “If you think I did it, you're wrong. Not that I wouldn't have if I’d thought of it. I told him what a piece of shit he was, said I was moving my horses, and left. Wes saw me go."

"Wes?" Susannah asked. She looked at Stephanie as if she was something she didn’t want to touch.

"He’d just pulled his rig up." Stephanie sounded impatient, but I saw a shiver run through her. "I’m leaving. I don't feel like answering a bunch of stupid questions."

"Questions about murder are rarely stupid." Dan was having a hard time keeping his temper.

"I’d better call my parents to come get me," Stephanie ignored that, but her defiance looked like it might crack for a second. She blinked back a tear, but tightened her jaw, raised her chin, and went on. "I came down with Bryce. Obviously, I’m not going home that way."

"Tell them to meet you at the Santa Barbara police station.” Dan watched her determined stride as she set off toward the bank of pay phones. "Tell them not to hurry. You’ll be awhile."

Dan and I took her to the police station. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought. Dan was inflexible and Stephanie was scared. The entire time in the car, and later, while we waited to answer more questions and give statements, she alternated between sullen silence and loud diatribes against Bryce. We were grateful when her grim faced father and tearful mother arrived. We had all been sitting on hard chairs, waiting our turns, for what seemed like a lifetime. Stephanie hadn’t helped already ragged nervous systems to remain calm.

Mr. and Mrs. Knudsen acknowledged our existence with the briefest of nods, and then dragged Stephanie as far across the room as possible. Her father appeared to be giving her a more thorough third degree than the police, while her mother cried, silently but continuously.

Finally, she was allowed to go home. Her expression hadn't changed in the hours we’d spent. If I’d been her mother I would have been frantic with worry. The iron emotional grip Stephanie had on herself wouldn't last, and when it cracked, Stephanie, and everyone around her, was in for an even worse time. I had to wonder if learning of Bryce's expanded sexual tastes was responsible, or if she was wrestling with guilt of her own. Had Stephanie murdered Bryce because he betrayed and humiliated her? Had she murdered Rusty because she thought she was protecting Bryce? I would have given a lot to know the questions the police asked her, and what answers she’d offered. Dan had finally been invited to sit in. I’d do a little questioning of my own on the way home.

It was only minutes after Stephanie and her parents left that Dan appeared with the news that the police had arrested Chovalo.

"But why?" Irma turned a chalky white. The triumph of the morning had faded into a distant memory under the compounded shocks of this afternoon

"Did he confess?" Neil asked anxiously.

"No. As a matter of fact he keeps saying he never saw Bryce again after he left the barn."

"When did Chovalo leave the barn?" Susannah looked as wrung out as Irma. I probably didn't look any better, but I had no desire to check.

"Right after Roland Moss left the first time. Bryce made his big scene about Moss wanting the colt in his barn because he knew the horse could be a National Champion. That was when Moss told Chovalo he'd come back when Irma," Dan nodded toward her, "returned, and he left again. Bryce started screaming Chovalo was trying to undermine him. By then Chovalo'd had a belly full and told Bryce what he thought of him, which was not very flattering. He walked away, leaving Bryce standing there."

"What happened then?" Neil asked.

"According to Chovalo, nothing. He never saw Bryce again."

"So they had an argument," I said. "It seems to me Bryce fought with half the people on the show grounds and kissed up the other half. Why pick on Chovalo?"

"Because Moss saw Chovalo coming out of the men's bathroom about fifteen minutes or so before we got back from lunch. It fits with the time Bryce died."

There was nothing more to say. Finally, Irma, choking back tears, asked, "Now what?"

"I know you’ll want to do everything you can to help Chovalo, Irma, so I've called an attorney friend of mine.” Dan sat down beside her and took her hand in his. “He'll be down in the morning for the arraignment and he'll try to get bail set. The DA wants to go for murder one, but they’re going to need a lot more than they’ve got now to make it stick."