Purebred (9 page)

* * *

R
ELIEVED
THAT
SHE
’
D
found her cell phone—apparently it had slipped from her purse onto the floor—Cat headed out of the office.

Her thoughts were scattered, fond memories of George interspersed with the image of him dead replaying in her mind over and over.

She’d told herself she would be okay coming out here, that she needed a distraction anyway. But all she wanted to do was head for home and have the privacy to shed more tears. Hopefully, that would be soon. She was tired of fighting her emotions. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep her poker face. If, indeed, she’d even been presenting one.

She made for the cafeteria, but halfway there, she slowed when she caught sight of her ex-husband outside the laundry. She didn’t need a second go-round with him in one afternoon. He was talking to Martin Bradley, his future father-in-law. Expressions serious, the men were deep in conversation. Like conspirators. Then Raul’s young brother Placido, an up-and-coming jockey, left the laundry and joined them.

What was going on? Cat wondered as the three men walked off together.

After Jack had married her, he’d given up the few horses he’d been training to “help” her run Clarke Acres.

Was he back in the game?

Was that why he’d gotten with Simone? So that her father would hire Jack to train some of his racehorses?

Or was something else at stake?

Thankful her ex-husband hadn’t seen her, Cat backed off when they disappeared between buildings. She headed for the cafeteria, where she immediately spotted Aidan at a table with Nadim.

“Did you find your cell phone, then?” Aidan asked.

“I did, thankfully.”

She slid into a chair next to him. Nadim was having coffee, Aidan a bottle of water.

“Can I get you something?” he asked.

“No, nothing for me, thanks. So?” She glanced from him to the exercise rider.

“I am more than happy to ride the colt in the morning workouts,” Nadim said, “assuming he likes me.” He turned to Aidan. “Assuming you hire me, I can find a groom and anyone else you need.”

“Good,” Cat said. “Then all we have to do is find the jockey.”

Hopefully Aidan could do that himself when he moved Mac here, Cat thought. Her mind was drifting off. She longed to be out of here, back at her place, where she could mourn George in peace.

“You need a jockey, you don’t have to look no further.”

The voice coming from behind Cat made her start. “Placido.” She looked around to see if Jack was there, too, but her ex-husband was nowhere in sight.

“Raul told me about Mac Finnian. Said maybe you’d give me the ride.”

“Raul shouldn’t have promised any such thing.” Thinking again about seeing him with Jack and Martin, Cat looked to Aidan. “This is Placido Ayala, Raul’s brother.”

“Why should we consider you?” Aidan asked.

“Placido is an excellent candidate,” Nadim said. “Last year, he was top jockey here, made the most money at this track.”

“In the graded races?” Aidan asked.

“Some,” Placido said. “I worked hard all winter, and I deserve a shot like this.”

He was staring at
her,
as if she owed him something, Cat realized. “We haven’t talked jockeys yet, Placido. We’ll let you know.”

“You’ll hire me if you want to win the upcoming stakes race,” Placido said before strolling off.

To her ears that sounded like a threat, rather than a promise.

Of course that was ridiculous. She hardly knew Placido. He didn’t come to the farm to see Raul very often, and she didn’t hang out at the track. He had no reason to have something against her. It was just some macho posturing, she was sure.

“So I should meet you at the shedrow tomorrow at noon?” Nadim asked Aidan.

“That’s the soonest we can get Mac in?”

“You can probably settle him in earlier. Call management and make certain the maintenance is finished.”

Standing, Aidan offered the exercise rider his hand, and they shook on it. Cat was relieved that he was ready to go. This had been a difficult day and she wondered what more might be waiting for her when she got home.

As they walked to the car, Aidan asked, “What do you think about Placido as a jockey?”

“His record is good. Other than that, I don’t know.”

What she couldn’t get out of mind was seeing him with Martin and Jack and then him approaching her, almost like Jack had put him up to it.

What could her ex-husband be up to now?

Chapter Ten

The drive back to the farm was filled with silence. Cat appreciated Aidan letting her have time to chill out, but the first thing she looked for through the deepening gloom when she was back on her own property was police vehicles. Thankfully, they seemed to have all left.

She drove straight to the barn, and as she and Aidan got out of the SUV, Bernie came out to meet them.

“Police are gone,” he said.

“Did they talk to everyone?” Cat asked. “The kids, too?”

“Yeah. And before he left, that detective guy said he was gonna talk to Mr. Hill and Mr. Bradley and the other owners. Said he’d be back.”

“When?” Aidan sounded a bit apprehensive. “Tomorrow? Did they want us to be present?”

“Didn’t say.”

Cat knew Aidan was anxious about getting Mac settled at the track so he could start training him there, get him used to the new surroundings. “I assume they’ll call if they want to interview us further,” she said, “but I can’t imagine why Pierce would need to question you again, Aidan, considering you didn’t even know George and he disappeared weeks before you arrived.”

“The detective seems to be a careful man,” Aidan said.

“I hope so.”

“Interviewing everyone, even the youngsters, searching the barn manager’s trailer—”

“Pierce didn’t really know George, either,” she said. “What if he missed something important in the trailer?” Something she might spot as being out of place. “Maybe I should take a look myself.”

She wanted in the worst way to simply put everything out of her mind for the moment and get a good night’s sleep. Only she couldn’t. Now that the idea had occurred to her, she wouldn’t rest until she gave the trailer a thorough going-over.

“Um, do you need me for anything, Miss Clarke?” Bernie was shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh, no, Bernie. You can go back to whatever you were doing.” She looked to Aidan. “I’ll see you later.”

Exhausted, she decided to drive to the trailer, though it wasn’t all that far. Opening the vehicle door, she realized Aidan was getting in on the other side.

“Perhaps you can use a second pair of eyes on the place.”

“Sure. That’s a good idea. Thank you for offering.”

Not that she would have asked Aidan to help her, but Cat was glad that he’d suggested doing so. He didn’t have to do this, to get himself further involved in a murder, but she sensed that he had a code of honor that made him carry through. Or maybe he was simply being protective, considering the circumstances under which they’d discovered George’s body. Either way, the comparison with Jack lost ground.

Cat imagined entering her barn manager’s trailer would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever have to do. And a few minutes later, when they stood in front of the double-wide set off by itself in a copse of trees, she found she was correct. Reluctant to open the door, she was relieved when Aidan did it for her.

“I’ll be going in first to make sure there are no more unpleasant surprises,” he said.

A grateful Cat simply nodded.

Aidan was inside for less than a minute before he stepped back to the door and indicated she should come in.

The quarters that had always seemed so spacious for a trailer suddenly felt too cramped. Or perhaps Aidan was the problem. Cat was too aware of how close they were as they stood in the middle of the living area and looked around at the disarray. No doubt her discomfort came from the circumstances. Would she ever be able to put them behind her?

“This trailer is a mess.” She put some room between them. “The police tore it up in their search.”

“Are you certain it wasn’t like this before this afternoon when they came inside?”

“George was the neatest man I ever met. Everything in its place.” She couldn’t help herself—she started straightening up the room. “I was in here right after I returned from Ireland and once again last week. If anyone else came in and made this mess, it would have to be in the last few days, which doesn’t make sense.”

She picked up mail tossed all over the table and gave each envelope a cursory go-over.

“What are you looking for?”

“I have no idea. I guess I’ll know it when I see it.”

But see it she didn’t, not in what turned out to be mostly junk mail, everything from cable providers to retirement homes. Sure, like George had ever intended to retire. He said he’d work until the day he died. Now someone had made that wish come true, had retired him permanently. Her eyes stinging once more, she set down the mail and then replaced the two chairs that had been pulled out from the table.

Aidan helped her straighten up, at the same time examining the things that went through their hands—books, magazines, catalogs, souvenirs George had collected over the years. Everything was a mess, but nothing was out of place in that it didn’t belong. And if anything was missing, she certainly couldn’t tell.

Entering the bedroom, she stood before George’s closet. “They went through everything in here, too.” She picked up a couple of plaid shirts that had fallen to the bottom of the closet. “When I realized George had gone missing, I came in here, you know, just to check. There was a big empty spot in the center part of his closet where he’d removed clothes…um, if he really did.”

“His clothing was gone?”

“It looked as though he’d packed up some things to take with him. And his small roll-around suitcase was missing. That’s why the police thought he’d gone somewhere on impulse. He left the big suitcase and most of his clothes and personal items here. It’s why I thought he would be back.”

“But there was no suitcase buried with him.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to her. “No, there wasn’t, but maybe—”

“We didn’t miss it, Cat. The authorities checked the area thoroughly but found nothing more or the detective would have told us.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about the suitcase when we talked to Pierce.” She bent over to pick up a pair of pants and spotted what looked like a piece of cardboard kicked to the back of the closet, right next to a full-size suitcase. “Why wasn’t the bag buried with George?”

“Maybe the killer still has it.”

“So did George pack the bag himself or did the killer pack it for him?” Cat stooped to get the small item from the floor, thinking the smaller bag would have been stored there. “If George packed it, then he meant to leave. Maybe he was afraid of something and felt the need to get out of town. But if the killer packed it…”

“Then he would be trying to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. But would he really have reason to keep George’s things?”

“I don’t know.” Cat’s throat suddenly felt thick as she stood. “George could already have been dead. He could have been killed here somewhere on the property…” Staring at the cardboard she’d picked up from the closet floor, she frowned. “What the heck are these doing here?” She held up a book of matches to show him. “From Fernando’s Hideaway. It’s a bar just outside of town.”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“George didn’t smoke.”

“Maybe he needed matches for something else—to light candles.”

“But these are from a bar. George didn’t go into bars. His father was an alcoholic and it ruined the family. George swore he would never take a drink himself.”

“Perhaps he was with a friend. You can order a soft drink or coffee in a pub.”

“You’re probably right.” Frowning, Cat slipped the matches into her jeans pocket. “Although he really was a loner.” She thought a minute, then said, “We could check. It’s less than ten minutes to Fernando’s.”

“’Tis been a long day, Cat.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“You need a good night’s sleep. We could go tomorrow night.”

Realizing she wasn’t fit to drive, Cat nodded. “You’re right. I am exhausted.” If only she
could
sleep. “I’m running on empty now.”

“Then let’s get you to bed.”

Before she knew what he was about, Aidan took her in his arms. She stiffened—surely he wasn’t going to make an advance on her here. But all he did was hug her and hold her for a moment until she relaxed against him. He felt so good. And leaning on him felt so right. She told herself not to be foolish. No more jumping off a cliff when it came to a man. Not like with Jack.

But Aidan wasn’t like Jack, she reminded herself.

When he let go of her, she sighed, half in disappointment. It was best that nothing else happened between them, she thought. She let Aidan lead her toward the door. He insisted on driving back to the house, and she let him do that, as well.

Sinking into the passenger seat, she said, “Who could have killed him, Aidan? Who could have killed an elderly man who never did an unkind thing to anyone?”

“’Tis hard to know who holds a grudge against someone and why. Everyone has different sides to them. Your George could have made an enemy without you ever knowing.”

“I must have been blind, then, because I never saw it. The people who worked for him respected him, even Bernie.” Surely George riding the stable hand to get work done wasn’t reason to kill him. “And the owners respected him, too. As a matter of fact, when my parents retired, Martin Bradley tried to hire him away from me—he has barns and a race-training facility a few miles from here. I know Martin offered him more money, but George was loyal to a fault. We might not have been blood, but he was family in every other way that counted.”

Suddenly realizing they were parked in her drive, she opened the passenger door and stumbled out of the SUV. Within seconds, Aidan was at her side, steadying her and closing the door for her.

It felt so good to have a man willing to put himself out for her, a man who was honest and supportive.

If felt so good to be close to Aidan.

It would feel even better to be closer…

“Let’s get you inside. You need to get to bed.”

The dogs were waiting for the kitchen door to open. They greeted her with yips and madly wagging tails.

“Whist, now,” Aidan said softly. “’Tis a hard day we have had.”

Oddly enough, the dogs settled down immediately, though they shadowed Cat as Aidan walked her through the kitchen.

Part of her wanted to invite Aidan to join her just so she could feel a pair of strong arms around her. So she could feel not quite so alone.

Part of her wanted him to take her, drive the terrible images she still had from her mind.

Part of her wanted a redo, wanted to reset the clock to before she’d left for Ireland.

That was the problem, the reason for the guilt that was nagging her. If she hadn’t ever left the farm for Ireland, George might still be alive. She couldn’t stop thinking that it was somehow her fault that he’d been murdered.

Aidan stopped at her bedroom doorway where he brushed his lips over her cheek. “Sleep well. Tomorrow will be a new day.”

Longing cut through her as she watched him go. The dogs pressed around her, now vying for her attention again. She absently patted them until the kitchen door closed behind Aidan.

Then she went into the bedroom and collapsed facedown on the bed.

* * *

H
E
STOOD
FLATTENED
against the side of the barn and watched the house with bated breath until the Irishman left it and took the stairs down to his quarters.

No police—they must not have found anything.

Safe for the moment.

That didn’t mean they were going to stop looking.

Another worry. He’d eaten a half-dozen antacids while they’d been in the barn manager’s trailer. Obviously they’d been searching through his things, looking for something that would tell them about the man’s death. He suspected not finding anything wouldn’t satisfy them. They’d keep poking around until they got into his business.

What next?

When could he stop looking over his shoulder?

His cell phone buzzed and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Pulling it from his pocket, he fumbled with it, trying to answer before the noise alerted someone else.

One look at the name on the screen sent his stomach boiling again.

His hand shook as he lifted the cell phone to his ear. “What?”

“I heard they found George Odell’s body in the ravine.”

“So?”

“So, I was thinking that maybe George figured out what was going on and tried to stop you.”

He did his best to keep his voice even. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. This is a whole different game.”

“What do you want?”

“Motivation to stay silent.”

More money—he knew it. “How much.”

“A hundred thousand would do nicely.”

He nearly choked on the amount, but he pulled himself together. “You’ll have to give me a couple of days. I don’t keep that kind of cash around.”

“Two days.”

Two days…was that enough time to eliminate another problem?