Give First Place to Murder (4 page)

“
Dan didn’t say much,” Pat said, carefully not looking at me. The one thing we hadn’t mentioned to Neil and Carl was Dan’s cold, distant behavior.

“
I think the way you got Challenge into the Championship was brilliant.” Neil deftly moved the subject away from murder, and Dan, as he gave Susannah an admiring look. “I knew he’d win.”

“
I still don't understand.” Pat poured beer from a large pitcher into paper cups. She pushed a cup over to her husband, Carl, another my way, and somewhat reluctantly, handed one to her son. "Why was that Championship class so important?"

Susannah took a sip of her Coke before she answered Pat's question. "The winners of the breeding classes have to go back in for a final judging,” she began. “That's when they choose a Show Champion Stallion and Mare. You need to win a local Championship to qualify to show at a Regional or National level."

"Besides," Neil wiped some foam off his face with the back of his hand, ignoring his mother's offered napkin, "winning is what gets a stallion mares."

"What?" Pat and I both stared at him, but this time I was the one who voiced the question.

"The way you make money with a stallion is to have people who own mares breed them to him. For a fee."

Neil, a scant twenty-one, was enjoying his role as adult as well as instructor. He kept giving Susannah little glances and was rewarded with a beatific smile. He took another gulp of his beer and went on. "The more a horse wins in the show ring, the more mares he is likely to be bred to. If his foals ---"

"Those are baby horses," Susannah put in kindly.

"Thank you, dear." I gave her “the look.”

Neil dismissed our interruption with a wave of his cup.

"If his foals also start to win, then his breeding fee can go up. But it starts with the stallion winning at small shows held at fairs in small towns, just like this one."

"Why didn't you tell me about all this horse breeding stuff?" Pat turned to her husband indignantly.

"I'm a small animal vet," Carl reminded her complacently. "The day I graduated from vet school I vowed never to work on anything larger than a Great Dane. A vow I've kept. Good beer."

"Oh, you." Pat turned with exasperation back to her son just as I commented, "So the whole thing boils down to money."

"Most things do," said a voice in my ear. "Move over. Hello, Carl. Neil." Dan Dunham slipped onto the bench beside me, picked up the last paper cup and reached for the pitcher. “Did you save some for me? Where are we eating?"

"Aren't you even going to say hello to the rest of us?" Susannah asked him, falling into the trap.

"I haven't decided yet." He carefully tilted his cup while he filled it, looking sideways at Carl and Neil. "Did they tell you about this morning?"

"Some," Carl replied, with a straight face. "Probably not all."

"But they told you about finding that kid murdered."

"In detail. Not a pleasant experience for a couple of innocent citizens."

"No," Dan agreed. "Not pleasant for anybody. But when innocent citizens stumble across something like that they have an obligation to cooperate with the police. Don't you agree?"

"That seems reasonable." Carl nodded, avoiding Pat's gaze.

"Because the police have a procedure that needs to be followed. Evidence, crime scenes, questions that need answering. Anyone who has watched TV in the last twenty years knows that."

Carl wisely buried his smile in his cup.

"Did they tell you they escaped?"

"I don't think I heard that part."

"We didn't escape," Susannah put in eagerly. "We had to get the colt into the Championship. We came right back."

"You couldn't expect them to miss that," Neil contributed seriously.

Dan looked at him, opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and buried his own face. He came up with foam on his mustache.

"My entire crime scene could have been jeopardized." He continued when he got his breath, still addressing only Carl. "All my witnesses disappeared, my..."

"We really did come back." Susannah also addressed Carl, and included Neil.

"You're foaming." I handed Dan a napkin. "How long are we going to do this?"

"I thought maybe through dinner, maybe even until the Oak Ridge Boys come on."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Aunt Mary’s been raving about the flower show this year, and I understand the 4H beginning cooking exhibit is a ‘must see’. Then there’s always the home canning.

"OK," he conceded with a laugh. He put his arm around me and gave me the kiss I’d been expecting all day. "But you're still not completely forgiven, any of you."

"You sure were mad," Susannah told him, looking relieved. She turned to Neil. "You should’ve seen his face when we got back to the barn. It was sort of purple."

"Susannah," I said, warningly. I wasn’t in the mood for another frosty episode. It had been a terrible day and I wanted a smooth, peaceful evening. But privately, I thought I had some forgiving of my own to do. Dan had been furious when we all returned, triumphant. That was understandable, but he hadn’t had to treat me with cold hostility. By the time I was allowed to leave, I was livid. Some of my anger wore off as the afternoon passed. I started to think the excitement of Last Challenge winning the Championship and Dan’s unexpected behavior had pushed the real tragedy, the murder of a young man, into a back seat. I had never met the boy, and it seemed no one else really knew him, but still...

Now, my old buddy Dan was back and everything was back to normal. Or was it? I thought Dan owed me an explanation, and later, when we were alone, I was going to ask for it. Or would I? Twenty years of marriage to Dr. Brian McKenzie had taught me to avoid personal confrontations like the plague. If I’d asked Brian for an explanation, no matter how carefully, I would have had to listen to an hour dissertation on how unreasonable I was, how selfish, how demanding. But Dan was different. Or he had been until today.

"Bryce was the most interesting color." I shifted the conversation back to this afternoon. Awful as it had been, it was better than thinking about my ex. "He was the meanest shade of green I've ever seen."

“
Who’s Bryce?” Carl asked.

“
Irma’s horse trainer,” Neil replied. He looked like he’d just eaten a sour pickle.

“
Why did he turn green?” Carl pressed. “You people are leaving gaps in the story.”

“
Dan made him identify Rusty’s body.” There was a hint of a smile on Susannah’s face.

"He spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom after he came out of the feed room," Pat confided to Carl. She looked a little amused, but she hadn't seen Rusty. I had, and Bryce had my sympathy.

"Tell us, who did it and why?" I started to pour a little more beer into Dan's cup, but stopped in mid pour. "You are off duty?"

"Now Ellie, you know “top cops” are never off duty.” There was a trace of a smile on Dan’s face as well, but more than a little sarcasm in his voice. “I’m delegating. As for our little problem, we don't know who or why, and you know I wouldn’t tell you if I did." He turned to Susannah. "Who hired Rusty? You or that Bryce?"

"Bryce did. I don't think he was too happy about it, but he needed someone. Chovalo's nephew had been working for him, only he died in some kind of accident last month. I guess Rusty was all he could find."

“
What’s her name. Stephanie. Why didn’t Bryce use her?” Dan pushed on.

“
Irma wouldn’t let him. She, well, Stephanie gets in the way.” Susannah started to slowly twirl her Coke can.

“
What do you mean?” asked Pat. “She seemed to know about horses.”

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It’s not that,” Susannah replied. “She thinks she’s in love with Bryce and won’t let him alone. It’s hard to get work out of him any time, and when she’s there, it’s impossible.”

“
Did Bryce know Rusty had a reputation for drug use? Also for selling?” No sarcasm now.

“
I think so. Stephanie sure did.” Susannah twisted her can faster, looking everywhere but at me.

“
Drugs?” I didn’t care that alarm bells sounded in my voice. “What kind of drugs?”

“
How do you know?” Dan pressed gently.

“
I was in the grooming stall, rolling leg wraps,” Susannah started.

“
Leg wraps?” Pat asked. No one bothered to explain.

“
Bryce and Stephanie were outside, arguing. Stephanie kept saying the only reason Bryce had hired Rusty was to buy drugs, and that he’d promised her.”

“
Promised her what?” Neil reached over and removed the now squashed can and held Susannah’s hand in his. She didn’t pull it away.

“
I don’t know.” She shrugged but looked Dan directly in the eye. “They walked off about then, but it sounded like Bryce had been playing around with that stuff and had promised Stephanie he’d quit.”

“
Did they say anything more?” Dan’s voice was grim. Good, I thought. Just the way I was feeling.

“
Stephanie said if Bryce didn’t get rid of Rusty, she would. She was pretty upset.” Susannah sounded pretty upset herself.

“
When was this?”

“
Early this morning. Before the first class.”

“
What did you think of this Rusty?” Dan persisted.

“
I never saw him before this morning. Do you really think he was taking drugs? And selling them?” The only good thing about this conversation was the look of consternation on Susannah’s face.

“
He had the reputation,” was Dan’s cryptic reply.

Something Susannah said earlier suddenly clicked. “What happened to Chovalo’s nephew?”

“
Drug overdose.” Dan said.

“
You must have read about it, Ellen.” Pat had put her cup down. She shook her head slightly, as if she still couldn’t quite believe what she was remembering. “It was all over the paper, and the local TV station had a field day.”

I nodded slowly, remembering the picture of a nice looking young boy with beautiful eyes, tragically and unexpectedly dead at seventeen. There’d been a hue and cry about the availability of drugs for a week or so, but it had died down.

“
You know, I never could quite swallow all that.” Carl’s brow furrowed and he glared down into his cup. “Miguel worked for me part time, he was serious about school, got great grades. He was up for a scholarship. He didn’t even smoke.”

“
But he was full of meth. Lab test proved it,” Dan said.

“
I know.” Carl sighed. “You told me before. But it just doesn’t make sense.”

“
I hate all this talk of drugs. Rusty, Bryce, Chovalo’s nephew. Is there anyone else associated with that horse barn taking them?” I could hear my voice getting a little shrill, but I couldn’t help it.

“
Mom. Of course not,” Susannah protested. “How could you even think that?”

“
Easily. Three people in your little horse world are taking drugs, two of them are dead. That tends to make me nervous. Dan, what are you going to do about Bryce?”

“
At the moment, nothing.” Dan tilted his cup up, ready to drain it. “What I think is, we need to eat. I didn’t have any lunch, I was a little busy, and I’m darn near starved.”

"I doubt it," I started to say, but Carl, with a look at his watch, sided with Dan.

"We'd better eat. Pat and I don't want to miss the sheep dog trials. Ribs or Tri-tip?"

"Ribs," said Neil. Pat nodded and Dan was already reaching for his wallet.

"Here." He handed Neil a roll of bills. "Can you and Susannah manage six plates?"

Neil nodded and, still holding Susannah’s hand, trotted off toward the Barbecue stand.

"That all right with you, Ellie?" Dan’s question was somewhat after the fact.

“
Sure.” I smiled brightly, then crossed my fingers, hoping the ribs wouldn't drip with too much grease. "Now, tell us about Rusty." I shook my head at Dan's offer to top off the beer in my cup. Pat refused as well, so he poured most of what was left in the pitcher into Carl's, reserving a little for Neil. Pat frowned at him and started to say something, but Carl interrupted.

"Neil’s a man now, Pat, whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it, and I don't believe it.”

Carl smiled.

"Listen,” I said, “quit changing the subject. I want to know about Rusty before the kids come back.” Drugs, murder, and my daughter only too close to it. I wanted reassurance that Dan knew all about that boy, that he had a good idea who’d killed him, and that whoever it was had nothing to do with Irma, her barn, and especially Susannah.

"Rusty was a no good kid," said Dan. "He was well known in this area. We couldn't find one person who had anything nice to say. They'd either fired him or knew someone who had."

"Why?" asked Pat. "Because he used drugs?"

"That, but much more. Selling, methamphetamine mostly, started doing that in grade school. Petty thievery started in grade school too, first from his mother and then from the other kids. He graduated to simple breaking and entering, a try or two at blackmail, even a car theft. Anything to keep his own habit going. He's been a frequent visitor at juvenile hall where they had him pegged as a habitual. Rusty, if he’d lived, would have been a perfect candidate for our ‘three strikes and you’re out’ law."