Shedrow (23 page)

“She’s here for the whole summer?” Gianni asked.

“Unless she gets tired of the horses and the routine at Rita’s Stable. She needed a break from Manhattan. Said she’ll do some writing, and I expect she can get a job with another literary agent when she’s ready.”

“How is she doing, Steven?”

“Fine, really. We spent a good deal of time together right after the shooting. We went to a quiet place just over the border in West Virginia.”

“That was when I was frantically calling you on my way back from St. Lucia.”

Highet said, “Sorry, no cell service where we were. I really just needed to get her away, to someplace quiet. She suffered a terrible ordeal that day in Lexington, but she’s a strong, smart girl. She went for a little counseling and stopped after just a few sessions. Said she didn’t need it any longer and I expect she knows what she needs and what she doesn’t.”

The narrow road dipped and curved, and Gianni continued the slow pace, allowing Highet to enjoy the passing seascapes. “You’ll love the town,” Gianni said. “None of the glitz of the Hamptons. It’s still unspoiled, really.”

Highet looked back and forth, on both sides of the road at the magnificent homes overlooking the ocean. “How’s Janice?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected,” Gianni said. “Four surgeries, two separate admissions for alcohol rehab, and now another recent relapse that we’re not quite sure how to handle. Random drug and alcohol tests are part of her parole agreement. If she doesn’t stay clean, she could still be looking at some jail time.”

“You expect to stay with her?” Highet asked.

“I still don’t know. It’s so ironic, really. Here I am, the plastic and reconstructive surgeon. A good portion of my patients are women about the same age as Janice. Some are stunningly beautiful, but they see some minor flaw that they want corrected. Janice had just about gotten to that point right before the shooting. She worried about wrinkles and talked incessantly about looking old.”

Gianni was silent for a moment, then continued. “Someone once said that our fragile bubble of comfort and privilege can be broken in an instant. Hers certainly was. She’s so horribly deformed now that even the best surgeons in the country can only do so much. After four reconstructive procedures, the best we can hope for is that she will look something less than frightening, so that maybe little children won’t stare. So that adults will stop sneaking glances when they think we can’t see them.”

“Then you actually plan to stay together?”

“I said I don’t know. Funny thing, she’s become a much nicer person since she lost her physical beauty. She would actually like to do something with her life, and I expect she will if she can stay sober.”

“You must have at least thought about divorce,” Highet asked.

“Steven, I’ve thought about divorce for the last four years. I’m still thinking about it now. But I won’t divorce her because she’s deformed. I’ll divorce her because I’m not sure I ever really loved her. But regardless, I’ll support her in every way possible. She deserves that.”

“Does she?” Highet said. “She had an affair with a supposed best friend. She engaged in a plot to kill Chiefly Endeavor. And she’s an alcoholic.”

“Yes, and she also saved my life,” Gianni said. “She shot the man who was about to kill me. Should I ignore that?”

“No, I suppose not,” Highet said. “And I never quite understood— why wasn’t she already in police custody on that night?”

“Basically, the authorities in Lexington were all so focused on the Pawlek murder that they took their sweet time acting on the details of the hermit’s confession. And I’m sure they initially wrote him off as a total nut.”

“Did you ever talk about the reason why Janice plotted to kill Chiefly Endeavor?” Highet asked.

“I never did. There’s incredible irony there too. I spent the better part of a year totally obsessed with that horse, looking for the elusive killer, and one of them shared my bed every night. That still haunts me.”

“There’s another thing I never understood. When Brad came to your house that night, he knew all about the hermit and the confession, but none of that was news yet. How did he know what the hermit had told the authorities?”

“The hermit wasn’t taking any chances. He had led Millie, the waitress in Clay City, to believe that she was the only one who had a copy of that fateful envelope, the one that detailed his confession. But he had actually sent another one to his sister exactly two days earlier. Janice naturally shared all the details with Brad, and that set him in motion. Meanwhile, Janice was having her change of heart, and trying to figure out a way to break all of it to me.”

“Has Janice seen her brother?” Highet asked.

“She went down to visit him around the time of the sentencing. That man endured a lot. Chet Pawlek swindled him out of his life
savings and his one chance at saving his wife. After she died waiting for the lung operation, he became totally consumed by revenge. His vengeance had such far-reaching consequences and in the end, accomplished nothing. I suppose I should detest the man, but I don’t.”

“That trial was big news in Lexington,” Highet said. “He found himself before a pretty sympathetic judge. Two years felony criminal mischief, another two for hard insurance fraud, and I doubt he’ll even serve it all.”

Gianni said, “I’m sure it didn’t hurt that some of his testimony helped bring down the two Catroni brothers. Any news on the young Pawlek kid?”

“They’re still arguing on the venue for the trial. Personally, I don’t think it matters where they try him. He has one of the best defense lawyers in the state, and he should find himself before a sympathetic jury no matter where it is. There won’t be many tears shed over the death of Chester Pawlek.”

“And I saw that Frunkle finally had to resign,” Gianni said.

“Oh yes, our illustrious senator from Kentucky—Teflon Ted. Well this one finally stuck, and there should be enough to put him away for a long time.”

They drove through the town of Montauk. There were no chain stores, no buildings more than two stories tall, no stop lights. Gianni stopped at a crosswalk near the main intersection. A young couple held a toddler between them, one hand each. The child looked back across the street at a candy store, trying without success to pull in the opposite direction. They drove through town, then headed north towards the harbor and the Montauk Yacht Club, where they would
stay for the weekend.

“Rita’s Stable is right there,” Gianni said as they made the left turn. “Carla is planning on dinner with us, right? I know a fantastic place in the harbor area, Dave’s Grill.”

“Sounds good,” Highet said. “Tonight I can leave the dinner arrangements to you and tomorrow, Carla is our guide. She has three special horses picked out for us and a trail that leads down to the beach.”

“I’m glad we could make this little retreat together,” Gianni said.

It rained in torrents for most of that night, cutting deep ruts into the dirt road leading to Rita’s Stable. The rain had stopped and the mid-morning sky was now a cloudless blue. Outside the barn, Carla was busy saddling three horses: one chestnut, another dark brown, and one roan with hints of blue.

“Morning,” Carla said. “Great dinner last night. Thanks again, Dr. Gianni. Now, are you guys ready?”

“Of course,” Highet said.

“The roan filly is a little high strung,” Carla said. “That’s Peggy, she’s mine.”

“How about the other two?” Gianni said.

“The bigger brown gelding is Dagwood, and the chestnut with the lighter mane is Blondie. You guys can take your pick. Dagwood and Peggy are both purebred quarter horses, and Blondie is part thoroughbred.”

Highet looked at Gianni and said, “You pick.”

“I’ll ride Blondie,” Gianni said.

Carla positioned a mounting block next to Blondie. Gianni used it to boost himself into the saddle, and Carla gave her father a leg up onto Dagwood; then she put her left foot in the stirrup of her own saddle and was still swinging herself over the barrel of the horse when Peggy started to trot off. Carla slowed Peggy and led the way to a trail that weaved through some shadbushes and pine trees, then crossed Montauk Highway and headed towards the beach.

When they reached the beach, Gianni and Highet moved up and rode astride the roan filly. As they rode further east, the gentle dunes rose higher, gradually changing to high cliffs of rock and sand. Rising above them were mansions overlooking the ocean. Some were close enough to be visible from the beach below.

“Who was it that said there’s nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse?” Highet asked.

“Ronald Reagan,” Gianni said.

Highet was silent for awhile then said, “If money were no object, what would you do each and every day?”

“I thought about that a lot when I was in St. Lucia,” Gianni said. “I’d probably spend more time volunteering, doing missionary work. Overall, I’d treat more of the patients who most need my services, the real disfiguring maladies, cleft patients and the like. I’d spend less time with the ones who just want bigger breasts, higher cheekbones, or fewer wrinkles.”

“How about the horses?” Highet asked. “Do you still plan to have some thoroughbreds?”

“Thought a lot about that too,” Gianni said. “For now, I plan to adopt one or two retired thoroughbreds. The kind who tried their
hearts out and just never quite made it at the track. I’ll board them on a farm near my home, give them a good home. I have my first one lined up already. Stu Duncker called me about this beautiful chestnut filly. She’s very well-bred but they’ve dropped her through the claiming ranks, and now she has sore suspensories and still hasn’t placed in a race. Stu told me ‘She’s no good as a race horse.’ To which I replied, ‘That’s okay, she’ll be good for me’”

“They’re no different than people,” Highet said. “The haves and the have-nots. Are you ever sorry you got into racing?”

“Not at all. Obviously I’d like to be able to turn back the clock and rewrite the chapter on Chiefly Endeavor. But regrets for my involvement? No. I’ve met some wonderful people, Stu Duncker for one, and many others. I’ll get back in at some point. Once you experience that adrenalin rush of your horse closing in on the finish line…it’s a bit addictive, isn’t it?”

Carla raised herself up in the stirrups and began a slow canter up the beach, leaving Highet and Gianni behind.

“You know what I do regret, Steven?” He raised his head, pointing towards Carla. “I regret that I never had the chance to see a child blossom into a beautiful young adult. She’s a gem.”

Highet looked up at the high cliffs and the mansions. “What makes you think you can’t still have a son or a daughter?”

“I’m almost fifty. Janice never wanted kids, and that was probably a blessing in disguise. I’m not sure she could ever be the motherly type.”

“Even now?” Highet said.

“Maybe now she could, but of course, it couldn’t be her own any more. And she’d have to stay off the booze. That’s still uncertain.”

Gianni was looking up at the cliffs now. Carla had slowed Peggy to a walk again and was just about fifty feet ahead. “Paul Simon has a place up there somewhere,” Gianni said. “And Dick Cavett.”

“Don Imus too, right?” Highet said.

“Hell no. He loves to make fun of the Hamptons crowd, but I still say it’s different here, way out east. You still listen to him?” Gianni said.

“He’s on in the truck when I do my rounds every morning. Do you?”

“Since the 70s,” Gianni said.

“Then you know how old he was when he had his son. He beat an addiction to alcohol and cocaine, remarried, had a son, and founded the Imus Ranch for kids with cancer, and he was a hell of a lot older than you when he did all of that. We can all have second acts, you know.”

“Maybe so,” Gianni said. “Maybe so. Now it’s your turn. If money were no object, what would your next act be?”

“Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you,” Highet said.

Carla could hear them now, and she turned and grinned.

“Tell me what?” Gianni said.

“I’m moving to New York and joining the veterinarians on the NYRA circuit.”

“I never thought I’d see the day. I thought you were a converted southerner.”

“I love Kentucky,” Highet said. “But I also love my daughter. She’s up here now, and…” He looked at Gianni, then at Carla, who grinned again.

“And what?” Gianni said.

“And I love Alison McKensie. She’s here most of the year too.”

Gianni looked stunned.

“Anthony, it’s that kind of love that makes you feel like anything is possible. Do you know what I mean?”

“No...I mean...that’s great, Steven. She’s a wonderful lady. Not to mention, one of the best horse trainers around.”

“I’m just about ready to purchase a yearling of my own and let her work her magic,” Highet said.

Carla jumped off her horse and walked her filly to an area where the surf splashed over some jagged reefs, creating a foamy little cove replete with shells and shiny rocks. She moved the foamy waters with one of her boots, reached down, selected two shiny rocks and a pink colored shell, then placed them into her saddlebag. She looked out at the ocean, and then turned east towards the lighthouse, its beacon barely visible through the dense green foliage and yellow wildflowers. After a while, she turned back towards her father and Dr. Gianni and said, “Let’s go home now, Dad.”

Eastern Kentucky Correctional Complex
West Liberty, KY

Mahlon Oakes sat alone in his cell. He had just come back from dinner, if you could call it dinner. Some kind of casserole, carrots, green beans. The milk was never cold and the bread was always stale.

One of the other inmates had been a little rough on him today, but he didn’t mind all that much. Most of the men called him Zoom, a nickname he encouraged now. He had actually come to like it. It made him seem tougher, meaner. When they called him Mahlon they were usually mocking him. Zoom didn’t like to be ridiculed.

Mahlon Oakes knew how to get even though. Just like he did with Gus Alvaro, the gate house attendant at Midway Farm. How careless the police were to assume that Chet had killed Gus. They questioned Zoom of course, just as they had questioned him the morning after the stallion died. It’s so goddamn easy to lie when people think you’re stupid, he thought.