Puss 'N Cahoots (10 page)

“If she goes over the hill there, one wouldn't notice her.” Harry was confused. “It is bold, though.”

“Hide in plain sight.” Fair slapped his thigh. “'Course, we could be wrong. No one knows these horses better than Joan and Larry or the other trainers, but I'm pretty sure this is the mare.”

“I am Queen Esther,”
she affirmed.

“She is,”
came the three-voiced chorus.

“How did you all know?” Harry knelt down to the “kids.”

Fair had flipped open his cell phone. “Larry, I think we've found Queen Esther.” He filled in the details, then asked Larry to call the sheriff of Woodford County, as well as Renata. “We'll wait here.”

They didn't wait long. The sheriff arrived within ten minutes.

What was peculiar was that no one came out of the barns when the sheriff showed up.

W
hile one of the Woodford County deputies searched the barns, Harry, Fair, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker remained in the pasture.

The animals chatted with the horses.

Sheriff Ayscough, portly and in his early fifties, appreciated that Fair was a vet.

“She's in good condition?”

“Sheriff, she's in excellent condition. Her legs are sound, no hoof damage. I don't think she has a temperature, but if you'd like me to be absolutely sure I can go back to my truck and get a thermometer.”

“No,” Sheriff Ayscough replied.

“Someone's coming.”
Tucker sounded the alarm.

Two someones. Ward turned down the main drive, truck motor thumping.

Immediately behind him was Renata in her new Dodge truck.

Each pulled off the road behind the sheriff's squad car.

Ward hurried up the rise.

Renata walked briskly.

“Sheriff Ayscough, where did you find her?” Ward breathlessly asked.

“I didn't. These folks here did.”

Ward beamed at Harry and Fair just as Renata reached them. She saw Queen Esther.

“Esther.” She put her arms around the mare's neck.

“What's the matter with everyone?”
Esther blew air out of her widened nostrils.

On the other side of the drive, Brown Bess, Amanda, and Lucy Lu stretched their heads over the fence. Given the lay of the land they couldn't see the assemblage, but their curiosity ran high.

Ward walked over to Queen Esther and felt her legs. He picked up each hoof.

Fair watched. “She's fine.”

“How'd she get here?” Ward asked.

“That's what I want to know.” Sheriff Ayscough's thick eyebrows rose upward.

“I don't know,” Ward said.

“He's lying through his teeth.”
Pewter sat back on her haunches.

“He is. He brought me here,”
Queen Esther volunteered, but the humans missed it, of course.

Harry asked, “This is the first you've seen her?”

“It is,” Ward solemnly replied.

“Mr. Findley, where is everyone?” Sheriff Ayscough thought an empty farm mighty peculiar.

Ward checked his watch. “Lunch, but Benny should be here.”

“Who's Benny?” This was no sooner out of Sheriff Ayscough's mouth than the deputy emerged from the second barn with an older fellow, grizzled, unshaven, walking beside him.

“That's him.” Ward nodded as the two men drew closer.

“Boss, I fell asleep in the feed room. I swear I did. I didn't touch a drop.” Benny hit verbal third gear without coasting into first, his words rushing out of his mouth.

Ward's eyes narrowed. “Benny, I hope you're telling me the truth.”

“I am. I swear I am. Shelbyville wears me out. I fell asleep on a chair in the feed room.”

“You didn't hear a van or trailer come down the road?” Ward persisted as everyone watched.

“No.”

“How'd this mare get in this pasture?”

“Dunno,” Benny, contrite, replied.

Renata, overcome at her good fortune, tears in her eyes, kept petting the spectacular mare. “Thank God she's unharmed.”

Sheriff Ayscough removed his hat to reveal thinning sandy hair. The slight rustle of wind cooled his head. “Ma'am, would you like to press charges against Mr. Findley?”

Disconcerted for a moment, Renata stared at Ward, then back at Harry and Fair. “No charges.”

“You don't want to know how she got here?” Harry blurted out.

“Of course I do, but all that really matters is she's fine. And I don't want to jump to conclusions.”

“It will all come out in the wash,” Ward predicted, obviously grateful that he'd been spared legal proceedings.

“Well, if you folks don't need me, I'll be on my way.” The sheriff crooked his finger for an instant at his deputy and then both started for the squad car.

“Benny,” Renata asked the fellow, eyes a little red-rimmed, “do you think she could have jumped the fence, you know, from another farm?”

“Like the rehab center,” Ward volunteered. “Backs up to my land. She could have easily sailed over a fence.”

“Saddlebreds can jump.” Benny shrugged.

“Ward, will you take Queen Esther to Kalarama?” Renata asked.

“You don't want her at Shelbyville?”

“No.” Renata was firm.

“I'd be glad to.” Ward smiled, patting Queen Esther.

Renata finally focused on Harry; a big smile crossed her face. “We both came out ahead.” She paused. “How did you find her?”

“I found her.”
Mrs. Murphy cast a jaundiced eye up at Renata.

“Mrs. Murphy found her,” Harry truthfully replied.

“I was there! I was right behind her.”
Pewter quickly plumped her own contribution.

“Don't start,”
Tucker warned them.

“The cats ran off and they discovered Queen Esther.”

“But why did you come here?” Renata asked, Ward's eyes darting from Renata to Harry and Fair.

Before Fair uttered word one, Harry glibly said, “Fair wanted to drive by the new rehab center. He'd heard so much about it. Joan told me your establishment was behind it, Ward, so we cruised by. Tucker had to go to the bathroom, and when we pulled off, the cats jumped out of the truck and kept going.” She paused. “Why did you come here?”

Renata, not missing a beat, replied, “Ward wanted to show me a horse for sale.”

Ward knelt down, not exactly eye level with the cats and Tucker. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,”
Tucker replied.

“Yeah, you liar.”
Pewter giggled.

He stood up. “Benny, bring me a lead rope, will you?”

Benny ambled off.

Queen Esther touched noses with Mrs. Murphy.
“Why is he lying?”

“I don't know, but it can't be good.”
The tiger purred, for she loved horses.

“Do you all need a hand?” Fair inquired.

“No, thanks,” Ward replied.

“We apologize for trespassing,” Harry said.

“Now she's lying!”
Pewter exploded.

“Don't be an ass, Pewter. Mother knows something's off. She's trying to protect all of us,”
Mrs. Murphy sharply rebuked her friend.

“You've got a point there.”
Tucker frowned.

“We'll be on our way, then.” Harry headed for the fence line.

“Harry, I really am thrilled.” Renata ran after her, gave her a big embrace, and then hugged Fair, too. “I'll see you all back at Kalarama.”

Neither Harry nor Fair spoke as they climbed over one fence, walked across the main farm drive, and climbed over the other fence.

Brown Bess walked after the humans, then Amanda and Lucy Lu thought that was a good idea, too. It would have made a lovely photograph, two humans, three retired mares, two cats, and one smiling corgi treading over summer's green pastures.

“What's going on?”
Bess flicked a fly off her hindquarters with her luxurious tail.

“Yeah,”
Amanda and Lucy Lu sang in chorus.
“The sheriff was here.”

“The flashy chestnut who came in—well, she was stolen.”
Pewter liked giving out important information.

“She didn't look stolen. 'Course, we didn't get a good look until this morning.”
Lucy Lu thought Queen Esther's coloring a bit off, since her face, neck, and legs were darker than her flaming chestnut coat.

Of course, “the girls” couldn't have known how many shampooings Queen Esther received until the worst of the dye washed off.

“Well, it's all worked out.”
Tucker didn't quite believe this.

As they ducked under the fence while Fair and Harry climbed over, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker bid good-bye to the nice mares.

“Why does Renata believe Ward? I wouldn't.”
Tucker waited for Fair to lift her into the cab of the truck.

“Maybe she doesn't. Maybe she just wanted her horse back.”
Pewter let Harry lift her up.
“There's been enough fuss.”

Mrs. Murphy jumped up into the foot well, then onto the seat.
“Glad he left the windows open.”

“Yeah.”
Tucker wedged between Harry and Fair.

“We know he's lying. Queen Esther knows he's lying. I think Renata knows he's lying.”
Pewter sounded definitive.

Mrs. Murphy, whiskers forward then back, asked,
“How do you know Renata's not lying?”

W
hat's going on?” Harry blinked, then added, “Locusts.”

The main barn, white, greeted a person as soon as he or she turned into Kalarama, passing the grave of the great Kalarama Rex as they did so. In line behind the old main barn was another barn housing horses in competition.

The white vans, TV call letters on their sides, were parked on the drive to the right next to the outdoor practice track.

The small mobile TV crews shot footage of the barn, of the whole layout, of Paul and Frances's brick home, trimmed shrubs, weeded flower beds, Rose of Sharon and crepe myrtle in full regalia.

Fair parked by the round pen.

Once out of the truck, the little band stayed still.

“I don't want to get in the middle of all this.” Fair folded his muscled arms over his forty-two-inch chest. Fair had about nine percent body fat, which meant his muscles were well defined.

“Honey, Joan and Larry might need us.”

He exhaled from his nostrils. “You're right.”

They trudged up the hill, heat waves shimmering. They entered the barn from the open north end. Fortunately a light breeze swept across the long main aisle, and both doors were fully open at each end.

The office and gathering room, both well appointed, were crammed with clients, newspeople.

Krista, blond and efficient, had her hands full answering questions and giving directions. Being the office manager at Kalarama, busy consistently, was overwhelming at this moment. Krista possessed a sunny personality, so she handled the pressure better than most.

Joan organized tours of the other barns, but she kept everyone out of the enclosed concrete arena.

Reporters or not, Larry and Manuel had to work horses. At that moment Larry was riding Point Guard.

A five-gaited horse learned two artificial gaits, a slow rack and a fast rack. The high-stepping gaits—with the horse in a frame not quite like dressage but a frame nonetheless—required concentration and conditioning from both horse and rider.

Larry, fabulous hands, lightly jigged the bit so Point Guard would begin his slow rack. Today would be a light workout. No point running a young horse through the bridle, risking his future.

The horse's mind was probably more important than his conformation. Point Guard had a good mind.

Fair knew Larry's schedule, as they had discussed it that morning. As he pushed open the glass door from the main aisle into the crowded room, out of the corner of his eye he saw Manuel walk toward the arena.

“Good,” Fair thought to himself. “They can get Point Guard out of here before the reporters realize who was working.”

Fair assumed the reporters knew the young horse's promising reputation and that the last class Saturday night would be a shoot-out between Larry, Charly, and Booty. He assumed too much.

What they wanted was a shot of Queen Esther disembarking from the van, of Renata's rapture.

It occurred to Fair that Renata had probably called the media. Who else would do it?

As if reading his thoughts, Harry whispered, “This won't hurt Renata's career.”

Joan pushed through the people, hugged Harry and Fair, then turned to the reporters after giving her friends a wink. “These are the people who found Queen Esther.”

Like lampreys, the reporters sucked onto anything that might provide copy, the cameras clicked on, one camerawoman stood on the sofa to shoot from a different angle.

Before they could all ask the same question—“How did you find the horse?”—Harry, shrewdly, smiled. “We'd love to take credit for the discovery, but”—she bent over to pick up Mrs. Murphy as Fair lifted up Pewter—“the cats were the real detectives.”

Mrs. Murphy, eyes wide, stared at the closest reporter.
“We recognized her immediately.”

“We ran away from our humans. We knew because the old mares told us!”
Pewter added.

The cameras rolled.

Tucker, the picture of obedience, sat in front of Harry.

“My corgi was right there, too.” Harry smiled, and the cameras panned down to Tucker.

The questions flew fast and furious. Pewter answered each one, although both Mrs. Murphy and Tucker told her to save her breath.

Harry and Fair told the same story they had told Sheriff Ayscough, that a doggie bathroom stop was in order.

The reporters ate it up.

They'd no sooner finished when Ward turned in. His white and green van was forced to park at the entrance since the TV trucks hogged the drive as well as the large area behind the main barn, where a secondary barn for horses that were showing stood.

The lower barns housed mares and yearlings, plus there was the well-fortified and farther distant stallion barn. Both were down the hill where Fair had parked.

The reporters and cameramen ran out of the office and gathering room.

Joan, hands on hips, swiveled to face Harry and Fair. “Do you believe it?”

“It's their bread and butter,” Fair evenly answered.

Joan frowned, then suddenly laughed. “Guess it's mine today, too. Well, let's go bow at Queen Esther's hooves.”

Cookie bounded up from the enclosed arena as Manuel, obviously down since the loss of Jorge, opened the doors. Cookie bolted out, turned right at the main aisle, little legs churning, and she came out into the sun. Seeing the other animals, she joined them in a flash.

“Wow. Wow. Wow.”

“Cookie, if only you'd been with us.”
Tucker then told the Jack Russell everything.

Just then, Ward rolled out the gangplank, and who should come out, horse in hand, but Renata, tears streaming down her cheeks as she led the mare out of the van.

“Guess she left her truck at Ward's.” Harry tended to focus on and remember practical details.

“This makes a better entrance,” Joan said out of the corner of her mouth and then, in a shrewd move of her own, walked up to the other side of Queen Esther. Both women led the mare to a stall specially prepared for her.

The reporters and cameramen followed, some walking backward.

Renata, face wet, kept repeating, “I'm so happy. I'm just so happy.”

“We hear you owe it to two cats,” the raven-haired female reporter from Louisville said, voice filled with humor.

“Mrs. Murphy and Pewter are the real heroes.” Renata let go of the lead shank as Manuel, now at her side, led the mare into her stall.

On cue, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker sat in the sunshine at the barn's entrance. Cookie started in, then joined her friends.

Made a great shot.

This continued for an hour, until Renata excused herself and got back in the van—the cab this time—with Ward, who had also been peppered with questions.

Once they left, the reporters withdrew like low tide.

Joan walked down to the arena. Larry was in the center on foot, watching a client drive her hackney pony, an elegant gelding with high knee action. The wheels of the practice sulky kicked up the arena loam. “The last one left.”

“Jesus.” Larry whistled low. “Be more tonight.”

“Won't be as bad, I hope.”

“Where're Mom and Dad?” Larry inquired.

“Lexington. Dad had business. Mom went shopping. I called, gave them the news, and told them to take their time getting home.”

After a few more words, Joan rejoined Harry and Fair. They told her all they knew.

“This is a strange situation.” Joan sat down gratefully on the leather couch. “The horse reappears. Renata doesn't believe Ward stole her, and Jorge has been murdered.”

“For today anyway, this story will overshadow the murder,” Harry said.

Joan dropped her head back on the couch. “What if that's the point?”

“God, Joan.” Harry's voice dropped.

“We were caught up in the horse, Renata's reaction, Ward's protestations of innocence.” Fair slid his palm along his cheek.

“Right. Jorge fades away and maybe some evidence fades, too.” Joan sat upright. “If only I knew what this was about!”

“If you knew you might be the next victim.”
Mrs. Murphy swept along Joan's legs.

“Don't say that!”
Cookie yelped.

“It's true. Cookie, we need to find out what all this is about before they do.”
Tucker indicated the humans.

Cookie bared her long fangs.
“No one is hurting Joan. My bite is worse than my bark.”