Purebred (11 page)

“Mac ran ten furlongs this morning at the track. Two minutes, two and a half seconds.”

“Not far from the record.”

“And that a first attempt with an exercise rider on his back. A bit more training and a skilled jockey could narrow down the difference.”

“Good lad. Give him a peppermint for me.”

They spoke a few minutes about their hopes for the future. Then Aidan told Cashel about the hotwalker.

“Does the name Tim Browne ring a bell for you?”

“It does, but I can’t place it,” Cashel said. “Did he do something to raise your suspicions?”

“Not exactly. I think it was the way he was watching me yesterday. That raised my hackles. But he seems to be a skilled lad with the horses. And oddly enough, Mac acts like he already knows the man.”

“Then I’ll ask around. That makes it sound as if he’s worked tracks here. Someone should know something about him.”

“He said he’s been out of Ireland. Whatever you learn, get back to me.”

“That I shall.” Cashel went silent for a moment, then said, “Aidan…I wish I could be there with you.”

Aidan wouldn’t lie—he was glad to be on his own for once—but he wouldn’t hurt his brother’s feelings. “Someone has to keep the business going. We can’t let down our clients.”

“If the colt makes it to the Classic, our clients here will have to do without me for a few days. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

Considering the Breeders’ Cup was nearly six months away, Aidan figured he would be more than missing his autocratic older brother by then. “And I shall look forward to that day.”

The conversation over, Aidan set off to find a groom and someone to muck Mac’s stall twice a day, and found that Nadim had already set him up with candidates. And he should familiarize himself with the vets available at the track.

Mac’s welfare only consumed half of him as he made for the midst of the backstretch.

The other part of his mind once again wandered to Cat and how she was doing, and he wished she could be here to share his good mood with him.

Chapter Twelve

“Here I thought one or more of my client’s broodmares would be in season today,” Cat said, “and not only were they not in season, but Helen is certain Fairy Tail didn’t conceive, so we’ll have to try again.”

“’Tis a shame,” Aidan said, “but you need to believe that tomorrow will be better.”

“I hope so. Things couldn’t get worse. I spent most of the day making arrangements for George’s burial. And I had to call my parents and brother and tell them. Mom broke into tears and immediately wanted to come up here for the service. I told her I was going to arrange a small gathering at the gravesite and thought she and Dad should wait until later, when they have plans to visit. We can do something to honor George then. That way, she’d have time to prepare what she wanted to do or say in his memory.”

“Did she agree?”

“With Dad’s influence.” Cat swallowed hard. “The police have already released George to the funeral director. I’ll bury him two days after tomorrow. I’ll put the word out for anyone who wants to come, but probably no one will even be there other than farm staff.”

Aidan couldn’t stand to see Cat so despondent. Perhaps he should be driving. Tension oozed from her. He recognized the connection that happened so seldom between him and another human being.

They were on their way to Fernando’s Hideaway as they’d agreed the night before. There, they would not only see if anyone knew George but would get a bite to eat, as well. Looking forward to spending the evening in Cat’s company, Aidan hoped to improve her mood.

He would give anything to see a real smile kiss her lips.

He would give anything to kiss them himself.

Shaking the temptation from his mind, he said, “Everything at the track is working out fine, at least. Nadim seems to be the perfect exercise rider. He arranged for a hotwalker, and later he sent over a groom. Good lad. Mac likes Nadim.”

“And the hotwalker?”

“No problems there.”

“There’s something. I hear it in your voice.”

Interesting that he couldn’t fool her any more than she could fool him. “’Tis just that I thought I somehow should know the man. Tim Browne.”

“Sorry, I don’t recognize the name. Why did you think you should know him?”

“He looked familiar. He’s another Irishman, and he’s only been here a few weeks.”

“So you’re what? Suspicious of him?”

He echoed her sentiment. “There is something.”

“So if you don’t like him, hire someone else.”

“I have no reason to dislike him, not on a feeling, not when Mac seems to really respond to him. He acts like he knows Browne, too. I simply don’t believe in coincidence, so I called my brother and asked him about it. Cashel is familiar with the name but couldn’t place him, either. He said that he would ask around. I’m probably worrying for naught.”

“We have enough to worry about,” Cat said as they pulled into town.

Not having seen Woodstock before, Aidan looked around with interest. Shops and restaurants in late nineteenth-century Victorian buildings and the historic Gothic revival–style Woodstock Opera House lined the streets around the square. In the center was a small park with a gazebo. A bunch of teenagers were hanging out there, while parents with small kids walked on an inner pathway.

Cat drove halfway around the square before taking a side street back out of town. “We’re almost there. It’s just a bit farther up the road.”

“Perhaps while we’re in town, you can show me where I can rent a vehicle. ’Tis too much of an inconvenience to you if your workers must play chauffeur for me.”

“But there’s no need to rent anything. At least not yet. I have a truck you can drive. It’s old, but if you simply need a way to get back and forth to the track or to town, it’ll do.”

“Very kind of you. Are you certain you can spare a vehicle?”

“No one’s using it anymore.”

From her stiff tone, Aidan assumed the barn manager had been the one to use it in the past. He was thinking of how to respond when he saw the neon Fernando’s Hideaway sign in front of a large one-story building with what looked like pale green siding in the fading light.

“Here we are.” Cat pulled the SUV into the parking lot, which was already filling up.

A few minutes later, they were inside, being seated at a table halfway between the bar and the wall of windows that looked out on the parking lot. The hostess gave them menus and took their drink order. Aidan asked for a beer and, to his surprise, Cat did the same.

Opening his menu, he asked, “What is the specialty here?”

“Burgers are good,” she said distractedly.

Aidan realized she was looking around the room, he assumed for familiar faces. The tension she’d released in the SUV was back. He sensed her inner turmoil—the sensation was so strong, it was like a blow to him. He didn’t normally read people. His brothers, yes. People he loved. So why Cat? And why was the connection so strong?

When the woman came back with the beers to take their food order, Cat asked, “Can you tell me if George Odell comes in here often?”

“Um, sorry, sweetie, don’t know him. I’ve only been here a few weeks.” The girl glanced over her shoulder. “The bartender Rob might know.” And then, “Are you ready to order?”

They both ordered burgers and fries.

After the waitress left, Aidan said, “That didn’t go as you wished.”

“No, but there are plenty of people here to question. Starting with that bartender.”

As they waited for their food, Aidan talked about Mac’s training schedule, but he was aware that Cat was only half-listening, simply waiting to do what she’d come for. When they’d finished their burgers and fries, he insisted on paying and squared the check with the waitress. They then moved to a couple of empty seats at the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender named Rob asked.

Cat said, “Information.”

“New drink?” he joked, raising a single dark eyebrow at her. “I hope you know what’s in it.”

“And I was hoping something, as well,” Cat said. “George Odell used to come in here, right?”

“George Odell.” The bartender’s forehead pulled in a frown.

“Older man. Stocky. Thinning gray hair. A scar right here—” she pointed to the middle of her forehead “—where he got kicked by a horse.”

“Sorry, doesn’t sound familiar.”

“You don’t mind if I ask the other staff, do you?”

“This isn’t my place, so you don’t need my permission.”

Rob waved his hand, indicating she should feel free. When Cat slid off her stool, he did the same.

“Stay here, have another beer,” she said. “It’ll only take me a few minutes.”

“You heard the lass,” Aidan told Rob, then looked back to Cat, who was approaching another waitress. “Whatever you have on draft will do.”

The second waitress shook her head, so Cat went on to a busboy.

“Here you go,” Rob said.

As Aidan turned to get his beer, the entry door opened, and to his surprise, who should walk in but Placido Ayala. So the jockey frequented this place? Maybe Cat should talk to him. But rather than taking a seat at a table or bar, Placido headed straight for the back and walked through a swinging door to what must be the kitchen.

Paying for the beer, he asked Rob, “So if you don’t own this place, who does?”

“Fernando.”

Wondering if that was a joke, he repeated, “Fernando?”

“Yeah, Fernando Ayala.”

That perked up his inquisitive instincts. “Any relation to Placido or Raul?”

“Yeah, they’re all brothers. There’s another one, too. And a sister. They have a landscaping company down the road a piece.”

Rob went to take care of another customer, and Aidan reached to the corner of the bar where he picked up a discarded pack of matches like the one found in George’s closet.

“Well, that was a bust,” Cat said, returning to the bar. She sounded choked, but as if she was trying not show it. “No one seems to have ever seen George in here. They didn’t even know who he was.”

“Your barn manager may never have been in here, after all,” Aidan said.

Seeing what he was holding in his hand, she asked, “Then where did the matches come from?”

Aidan told her about Raul being related to the owner.

* * *

T
HE
NAGGING
FEELING
of spinning out of control would be finished tonight. He was counting on it. He was ready to do what was necessary.

The hour to meet was here, the air was still, the moon was under cloud cover.

He would be invisible.

Popping an antacid in his mouth, he chewed fast and waited until he swallowed before getting out of the vehicle, case in hand, checking his pocket before walking to the back door of the appointed place.

He knocked and swallowed hard, counting the seconds that ticked by.

When the door opened, he nodded and entered, passing his accomplice without speaking.

“You have the money?”

He held out the case, and as it exchanged hands he said, “This will be it. No more.”

“Not a good attitude. We’re partners in this, after all.”

The spite-filled statement made him see red. He’d done all the damn work, had taken all the risks! As the case opened, and greedy fingers picked up one stack of bills and then the other, he slipped the syringe from his pocket and removed the tip.

“What the hell? A case full of tens? This isn’t a hundred thousand!”

“Doesn’t matter what it is.” From behind, he jammed the needle through clothing into flesh and pressed the plunger to release the contents before his victim could turn to fight. “You won’t get to spend any of it anyway.”

Then he stepped out of the way of grasping hands and watched as his liability became ineffective, eyes bulging at him, throat scraping out ineffectual sounds. A minute, and his amusement ended.

He stepped over the body and opened a cabinet to find what he needed, and realized something of great importance.

The first murder had nearly finished him.

Now he felt almost refreshed knowing that there was one less obstacle standing in his way.

The second time had been easier.

He could do whatever was necessary.

* * *

H
ER
MIND
WHIRLING
, Cat let Aidan drive.

“So if George never went to Fernando’s,” she said, “someone could have given them to him. Or dropped them while taking the suitcase out of the closet.” Her pulse drummed because she didn’t want to believe it. “Of course that’s most likely Raul, right?”

“I would not venture to guess. I asked him about George and he seemed to be sincere that he was sorry about the man’s death.”

Aidan had such good instincts, Cat wanted to trust them. Wanted to trust Raul, who had worked for her since she took over the business. George had been the one to hire and train him. They might not have been buddies, but they’d always seemed to get along.

“Placido, then?” she mused. “What would he be doing at the farm?”

“He never came onto your property to visit his brother?”

“Yeah, sure, a few times. That’s how I met him, though I don’t remember seeing him around lately.”

“Maybe because he’s had reason to avoid the farm.”

Though she didn’t much like Placido, Cat hated thinking anyone she knew was involved in George’s death. But it only made sense. Her barn manager might not have been buried on her property, but it wasn’t much of a stretch to believe he’d been taken from the farm to the forest preserve, where he’d been dumped in the ravine.

When Aidan turned through the farm gates, she viewed the property with mixed feelings. All her life, this had been her home, her shelter, her safe place. But if George had been killed here, how safe could the farm really be?

A shiver set through her to her very core. Every movement and every shadow seemed to hold some secret menace.

She didn’t want to be alone.

So when they got out of the SUV and approached the house, Cat said, “Why don’t you come in for a minute? I’ll get you the keys to the truck.” If only she could get him to stay for a while, until she settled down inside.

“It’s late. I can fetch them in the morning.”

“No!” Flushing at her intense reaction, Cat tried for a logical explanation. “I mean, you might be up before me and want to leave for the track. I don’t want you to have to wait around until I wake up.”

“All right, then.”

As she unlocked the back door, Aidan was right behind her, so close she could almost feel him pressed to her backside. Tempted to stop and lean back against him, she forced herself inside. As usual, the dogs were waiting for her. She stopped for a moment to pet them and give them treats, then sent them to their run and locked them out of the house so they wouldn’t pester her for a while.

“The keys are in the living room. It’s the old, rusty black truck parked behind the barn.”