A Whisper of Trouble

by Susan Y. Tanner

  “No and there were no photographs of them leaving with the horse. Prior to the theft, there were cameras aimed only upon the central hallway at the front of the barn, nothing at the rear. Signore Basilio has already had the system upgraded and the number of cameras doubled.”

  Will watched the play of expressions across her face. He waited while she absorbed and evaluated everything he had to say as little as it was.

  When she looked up again, she asked, “Did Signore Basilio mention that the Ventasso’s groom left to visit home shortly before the stallion disappeared?”

  “Not a word.” He leaned back in his chair, absorbing the implication. “This kind of thing is why I suggested you to talk to her separately. Too often one partner will defer to the other in conversation, letting them take the lead. Basilio was focused on his own trail of thoughts and didn’t think to mention this to me. Hers went another direction.”

  Liz gave a sigh. “Worse, Signora Miriam thought he was to return yesterday but he didn’t. She said she may have misunderstood but I’ve little doubt she understood well enough.”

  Mind racing, Will drummed his fingers on the table, then began making notes in his notepad. When he was finished, he got to his feet. “We need to eat. Our host left some very nice steaks in the refrigerator along with some kind of marinated vegetable and pasta salad. I’m going to start the grill on the terrace, then I’ll make some phone calls. My team needs to locate the groom but I need more information from the Basilios. What was this groom’s name?”

  “Augustin.”

  Will added that to his notes.

  “I hope he’s alive and safe at home.”

  “Me, too,” Will said quietly, but he doubted that was the case.

  * * *

  Liz watched Will on the phone as he paced from one end of the terrace to the other, checking the steaks occasionally but focused on his conversations. His expression was intense but he spoke at normal pitch and she was able to follow the conversation, hearing his end and guessing at the other. She wondered what his team was like. In fact, she wondered a lot of things about a man in his profession, foremost, how does one decide to be an investigator? Maybe one day she would ask. Then again, maybe soon this would be solved and they would go their separate ways and she’d never ask, never know more about him.

  She’d opened a bottle of wine. It would have been wasteful to open more than one bottle so she went for middle ground. Not a connoisseur, she still knew which ones Will preferred and which ones she didn’t care for so it wasn’t hard to find something they’d both enjoy. She appreciated that, like her, he drank for taste rather than effect. Even so, after some of their adventures, she found she didn’t mind a bit of calming.

  After a moment of watching Will, she leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. And almost immediately felt eyes staring at her. Opening hers, she met Trouble’s penetrating gaze.

  “What?”

  The cat pinned his ears in apparent irritation.

  “What am I missing?”

  He turned to stare at Will who was still caught up in a call on how to determine the location of the Ventasso’s missing groom. And it hit her. “Will.” Then louder, “Will.”

  Catching her tone, he put his team on hold and lowered the phone, lifting his brow to encourage her to speak.

  “Did any staff go missing from the facilities of the other stolen horses? Maybe not the same day or you’d probably have noted that but maybe in the days before or even the days after?”

  Will stared at her. All he said was “Damn,” before returning to his call. “I need someone to repull the files on the other cases. I’m looking for anyone who went missing around the time the stallions were stolen, two to three days on either side.” Still talking, he turned back to Liz, holding her gaze. “After they reread the files, have them re-interview the owners and staff at each location. Make this someone’s top priority.”

  When the call was done, he crossed the terrace and held out a hand to her. She took it hesitantly and he pulled her to her feet.

  “Thank you,” he said simply. “I missed it. All of it.”

  Liz shrugged. “Everyone did…the owners, the law. Everyone except Trouble. And it still may be coincidence with Natalie and Augustin. The circumstances are so different. Augustin’s visit was planned in advance as far as I could tell from my conversation with Signora Miriam. A long-awaited visit home.” She glanced down as Trouble rumbled deep in his throat. “Sorry, Trouble.”

  Will shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences any more than he does.”

  Nor, Liz realized, did she.

  “I’d hoped Natalie’s death was a one-off. It makes the possibilities a lot uglier,” Will warned, “if the thieves are ruthless enough to use those close to the horses as expendable commodities. It may be time for you to get out.”

  For a moment, she looked at him without speaking, then said, “You still need me.”

  The slightest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth. “I do.”

  But the concern still lingered in his eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  Will awakened to the realization that he had two choices. He could return to the States where it was likely he and Liz would part ways until another of the stallions was located. Where he’d have to live with the chance that she would move on to another client. And he wasn’t ready for that to happen. Or they could wait here in Italy while his team did some digging to see if he and Liz needed to follow-up with additional site visits. Waiting wasn’t his strongest suit but he considered it the better of his options.

  * * *

  This feels oddly like a lazy kind of morning. I watch as Will and Liz sip coffee and talk about the possibilities of the day. There seems no real plan of action as far as the missing horses, maybe some combing through files and rehashing what little facts exist.

  When Will’s phone rings, he shows a bit of surprise as he tells Liz, “It’s Tucker.”

  She raises her brows as he says hello to the vet and lets him know that he’s on speaker as is usually the case. Liz looks as curious as I feel. Will has already let Tucker know we delivered the Catria, safe and sound. I was privy to that call which also included the information that another animal had been stolen.

  “How are things going?” Tucker asks.

  “We’re stalled at the moment, following leads but nothing concrete.”

  “We’ve been pretty frustrated, too. Dirks had Ms. Dane’s cabin dusted for prints and turned inside out for any kind of clue. As you suspected would be the case, there was nothing. The idea of anyone getting away with horse theft, much less murder, has been eating at both me and Jana.”

  “I can understand that.” While Will isn’t a horse person, he does seem to understand the bond between animals and our bipeds. He also seems to understand the trust that equines place in their owners to keep them safe. Unlike those of my own species, equines are dependent upon their humans. I have spent some hours pondering the difference in the various species and have come to the conclusion that it is the captivity aspect that makes hooved creatures so vulnerable. If their humans fail to care for them properly, do not provide fresh food and water, they will sicken and die. While felines are far superior to canines, both can fend for themselves if need be. We have no barns and fences prohibiting our abilities and self-sufficiencies.

  “We know there’s nothing we can do to solve a murder but Jana’s had a thought about the horses. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Equine Infectious Anemia or EIA. It’s a pretty nasty disease that spreads fast and easily but I’ll skim over the details of that and let Liz fill you in on any questions you might have. It’s the test and protocol around the test that I’m going to focus on for now.”

  Were this anyone but Tucker, I’d say the fellow had a bee in his bonnet buzzing without purpose but this is Tucker so I sit up and pay attention. We’d not be having this chat did he not believe he had something viable.

  “The thing with E
IA is that if a horse owner plans to travel, a negative Coggins, or EIA test, is required. There are some distinctions state by state but you’d still better have it handy on the road or risk quarantine. The test has been around since the 1970’s with increased usage and more strict requirements ever since. Previous test forms were all imprecise as far as the description of the horse but a recent form requires a precise description for the animal being tested. Before you might see ‘palomino with stockings and a snip’. Now you’re more apt to see ‘palomino with a snip on the nose, stockings above the knee on left front and at the knee on right front, left rear, and right rear, whorl on left hip and scar on right shoulder’.”

  Tucker takes a breath but all Will says is, “I’m with you so far.” He glances at me and I’m sure he wants to know that I’m listening so that I can be of utmost assistance. As, of course, I am.

  “That one change, along with new technology, made a recent effort by some vets—quite a few actually—tenable. Horse theft is a problem for every owner of every breed in every state. Some time ago, several of the breeders’ associations asked the American and Canadian veterinary associations to help create a database to tag potentially stolen horses. No one had a good way to do that.”

  “Until now, perhaps?” Will suggests, catching on fast, as he usually does.

  “Until now,” Tucker agrees, “and even now it’s far from perfect. But more and more vets are using online programs to store forms and share with their clients. Even farm vets are giving a nod to the age of technology.”

  “But surely they can’t share client information with each other. That doesn’t sound ethical.”

  “It isn’t and they can’t. But what they can share is this very detailed description of a horse, the location of their practice, and if this is their first test of a horse for this owner.”

  “Ahhh.” I believe Will is beginning to see the potential, little more than a moment or two behind myself so he’s improving, which pleases me. And Liz is looking excited. “So, who is pulling this information together?”

  “A very pissed off woman who had her horse stolen about two years ago and tracked him down with a shotgun and very little help from law enforcement. She’s a retired college professor with a background in programming. She created an easy-to-use data base and asked vets to start adding as much information as possible, especially new-to-them horses. Few of the vets used it until horse theft rose about the same time their client base began expecting more online access to their records.” Tucker chuckles. “We change but we change slowly.”

  I understand his humor. Many professions are slow to transform unlike gumshoes, like myself, who must keep up with everything current in order to out think our many nemeses.

  “I can see some real potential for lawsuits here,” Will comments. Hmmm, yes, he has a very valid point.

  “No doubt if client information were shared but there’s no place to input that kind of info. Any concern has to go through law enforcement for an owner to be traced down.”

  That is reassuring. To a certain degree at least.

  “So, Jana would like to start going through this database? Sounds like a long stretch.”

  Tucker sighs. “And a possible waste of time. Yeah, I know, but she’s determined to do something. For some reason, the Catria got to her. And Natalie’s…I mean Nadine’s…death. She’s having nightmares. I’m hoping it will help her work through some of that if she has something concrete to do, something she feels might make a difference.”

  “You’ll need photographs of the missing horses.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Is that something you can share? We’re at ground zero without a visual.”

  “We?” Liz smiles. I suspect she grasps, as do I, that Tucker wants to do this as much as Jana.

  “Yeah, well, I can spare an hour or so a day helping her look.”

  “I’ll email all that I have to you within the hour,” Will assures him. “What else do you need?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know yet. I can’t think of anything but I didn’t think of the photographs. Jana did.”

  “Any lead you can find could put us a step closer.” Despite his words, I know Will thinks it a long shot, but, like me, he’ll take what help he can get. “I wish you luck and we’ll wait to hear. If you think of anything else you can use, let me know. But Tucker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t do more than look. Don’t reach out to anyone or leave your tracks online. These guys don’t play.” Will’s tone is as grim as murder itself. “They’ve killed once that we know and I suspect they’ve killed more. I’m digging into that now.”

  My concern is will Tucker realize how easily those online traces are left? Will he be careful to cover his internet tracks? That may be a skill and a knowledge neither the vet nor Jana can claim and I’m not sure how to convey my concern to Will. I’ll have to think on the how and watch for opportunity if one should present itself.

  The call ends and Will is diligent in sending the requested photographs. Afterward, he suggests to Liz that they take a walk into the nearby village whereupon I move to a sofa cushion, stretch out, and close my eyes. Rome and Florence held moments of fascination but there can’t be much in the rural township down the road to warrant any expenditure of my energy. There is only so much to be admired in historical architecture, however well crafted and carefully preserved.

  The soft buzz of insects through a nearby open window is a nice accompaniment to the wind rustling the sheer curtains. There is the occasional call of a bird that jars—I’m not fond of birds—but it’s distant and not too intrusive.

  I doze but almost too soon hear the footsteps on the back terrace. As I suspected, Will and Liz didn’t find much to entertain them. But my acute inner radar nudges. I still and my eyes open with an immediate alertness. They didn’t leave by the terrace, therefore, the garden gate would still be locked. Nor does the second set of steps sound feminine in the least. They are, like the first, decidedly male. There is a difference, you know. It’s in the footwear as well as the stride.

  I keep still and scan the table top and surrounding areas. Good. No sign of Will’s laptop or either his duffle or Liz’s backpack in which they keep their electronics and other personal items. Liz’s duffle bag only ever holds her boots and spare clothing. My tactics would have to be much different if the items holding their personal information were lying about. There is no reason—at the moment—for active engagement or confrontation. I leap to the nearest window ledge from where I shall observe their actions, the easier to exit if I deem it expedient.

  The two men who enter the back door aren’t just quiet, they are silent. Very professional. I could admire that in them did I not know they were up to no good. I would assume at this point they believe Will and Liz still within the abode, doubtless as the motorcycle remains in the neat circle drive at the side of the villa. Making little sound, the men throw wide cupboard doors and drawers in the kitchen area, then toss pillows to the floor in the sitting space. My window perch is behind the smallish, but still elegant, dining table in between the two. From here, I can keep an eye on the dirt and gravel road to the village so that my humans aren’t taken unaware.

  Ah, the two cretins have guns. I’d hoped that did not prove to be the case. But they pull them from their holsters and move toward the stairs leading up the bedrooms. I find myself hard-pressed not to unsheathe my claws and give them a taste of what some have learned to fear from me in past encounters. I am no insignificant adversary. Even so, there are times, as the bard warned, when discretion is the better part of valor and I decide this is such a time.

  Though they move in sync, they have yet to speak a word. Kudos to them in that regard. It’s no failing that they’ve found nothing where there’s nothing to find. That is simply a testament of my humans’ wisdom in not relaxing their guards in times when events move slowly. Even without their words and voices to follow, I can trace the movements above between the two bed
rooms that Liz and Will inhabit. And not from their footsteps alone. They’ve grown the slightest bit frustrated and have begun to let the slide of a drawer and the thumping of a door be heard here and there.

  But I can’t focus over-much on that, my keen hearing picks up a distant crunch of gravel beneath a booted foot. I wait as there have been passers-by in the last twenty-four hours. But no, a soft laugh and it is Liz’s. They must be warned. I exit the window and run to intercept my humans.

  They are at the foot of the small rise that will bring them in sight of the house. I plant myself in front of them and hiss. Will sees me first and places his arm in front of Liz who glances from him to me. She stoops as if to stroke me and I spit at her. Sadly, it must be done. I’ll apologize later. Will, more accustomed to danger despite the unfortunate experiences to which Liz has been subjected just recently, looks beyond me.

  “I believe we have visitors. Unwelcome ones. And perhaps with guns?” He looks at me and I close one eye in affirmation.

  I can almost see the thoughts that run through his head as he studies Liz. He’d like for her to remain here but there are two impediments. If the wankers come this way, she would be alone and at great risk. And he can’t be certain that Liz wouldn’t decide to come to our rescue whether we need it or not. She’s a brave one is our Liz.

  Will turns his attention back to me. “I need a distraction, something that will drive them out of the house. I’m sure you can get back in the same way you got out but I’d rather know which way to expect them to exit. And I think that will be the same way they entered. Can you get in that way?”

  What a ridiculous question! There is little I cannot accomplish. I would have thought he’d know that by now. I turn to walk up the rise to the villa and leave Will to comprehend that my action is an affirmative. He’s a smart boy. He’ll figure it out. If not, Liz can doubtless help him with that. Hehe.

  * * *