by C S McDonald
“Was she dating the jockey?” Fiona inquired.
Just then, Joyce noticed the tubby man in the apron standing near the table holding a tray filled with steaming hot mugs of coffee, creamer, and sugar. She managed a wilted smile for him. He set the tray down, then took one of the mugs to the officer sitting at the far table.
“I don’t think so,” Joyce said.
“Was the jockey bothering her? Harassing her for dates?” Fiona asked.
“She never said anything like that,” Joyce replied.
The man in the apron hesitated before he passed their table, then he slowly turned to face them. “I saw her talking with Romeo yesterday. It looked to me like she was turning him down.”
Fiona twisted in her seat. “Romeo?”
“Romeo Navarro. He’s a young jockey. He seems like a good kid. He lives in the dormitories toward the bottom end of the backside. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he was threatening her or anything. He just looked like a guy who was getting turned down. You know, disappointed. He put his hand over his heart like it was breaking.”
“And what did Devyn do?” Fiona asked.
“She just laughed and walked away, so did Romeo, but he wasn’t laughing. I don’t know what was going on. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It was probably nothing.”
It appeared the man was back-peddling. Was he afraid of something or someone? Fiona didn’t want to press him. She didn’t want to frighten him off. Nathan and the sheriff may need more information out of him. “Well, thanks for mentioning it, anyway.”
“Again, I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said. Wringing his hands into his apron, he scurried toward the kitchen.
The moment the man was through the kitchen door, Martin leaned forward toward Fiona. “Do you think Romeo could have done this?”
Fiona was still considering the man’s hasty retreat. She turned to face Mr. Youngwood. “I don’t know, but he should be questioned. Who was that man?”
“Everyone calls him Fats, but his real name is, Clyde Tennison. He used to work at the pottery with Joyce,” Martin explained.
“The Fiesta Pottery just down the street? I saw it on the way here. I have several Fiestaware pieces. I really love them,” Fiona supplied.
“Yeah, Joyce has worked there for twenty years. I think Fats was lookin’ for somethin’ different to do. So, when the cafeteria here at the track, needed a manager, he retired from the pottery and came here. Why?”
“I was just wondering. Who else did Devyn hang around with? Was she friends with other stable hands in Mr. Sperling’s barn or did she have other friends who worked here at the track?”
Martin shrugged. “We really don’t know. She didn’t talk about it much. She talked more about the horses than the people. Lately, it seemed like she didn’t want to talk about her job at all, not even the horses. She mentioned she was thinking about quittin’, but she wouldn’t say why.”
“I wonder if it was that jockey, that Romeo,” Joyce said through a whimper, and then her whimper escalated into a cry. “Maybe he wanted her to have a relationship with him and she wasn’t interested, and he killed her! He killed our Devyn!” The woman collapsed against her husband’s chest, weeping.
“Now, Joyce, we don’t know that. I’m sure this young lady will find out,” Martin softly whispered.
Fiona placed her hand over Joyce’s. “I’m not a detective or a police officer, but I know they are working very hard to find out who is responsible for your daughter’s death, Mrs. Youngwood. I will be sure the investigators get all the information I’ve gathered this evening.” She glanced back at the kitchen door. With his cell phone pressed to his ear, Fats backed into the kitchen, closing the door furtively, yet Fiona heard him say, “Yeah…they’re still here.”
EIGHT
Romeo Navarro fell back against the kitchen chair. In a thick Mexican accent, he declared, “I had nothing to do with Devyn’s death.”
“We were told you liked Ms. Youngwood, but she wasn’t interested in you,” Detective Landry said. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sheriff Paxton, hands clasped behind his back, perusing the tiny three-room apartment. Romeo’s living quarters were practically barren, no photographs or personal items were in plain sight.
“I liked, Devyn. I did. And no, she wasn’t interested, but that doesn’t mean I killed her.”
Detective Landry held up that evening’s race program. “You didn’t have any mounts tonight. Where’ve you been all evening?”
The young man’s wary eyes followed Sheriff Paxton’s movements about the room. “I…I was over in the casino.”
“Good. I know my mom loves to visit the casinos, especially when she’s in Vegas, but I think she’s been here a time or two. Okay, you were in the casino. I imagine there are lots of people in the casino. So, you should be able to come up with someone who can verify your alibi. You think about who you saw or talked with. Meanwhile, why didn’t Ms. Youngwood want to go out with you, Romeo?” Detective Landry pressed.
Romeo’s eyes remained trained on the sheriff who had stepped into the tiny kitchen area. The kitchen had but a corner set of cabinets with a sink, an apartment sized refrigerator, and small microwave. There were no stove or small appliances on the short countertop. Narrowing his eyes, the sheriff studied the sink. Glancing quickly to Detective Landry and then back to the sheriff, Romeo replied, “I have no idea. She wanted to go to school. Maybe she thought I’d get in the way, but I wouldn’t have. I just wanted to go out on a date. I’m planning to return home in a couple of weeks.”
“Home, meaning Mexico?”
“Si.”
Sheriff Paxton reached into his pocket to pull out a pair of latex gloves when his cell phone rang. He slid it from his pocket and pressed it between his shoulder and his ear while he tugged the gloves onto his hands. “Sheriff Paxton…” He listened. “Thanks.” He turned toward Detective Landry. “That was the coroner. Ms. Youngwood died from stab wounds to her chest inflicted with a knife. He believes the wounds are from a pocket knife.” He reached into the sink to pull out a pocket knife and hold it up for the detective and Romeo to see. “You know, like this one.”
Eyes wide, Romeo’s mouth dropped open.
Detective Landry let out a breath. “Is that your knife, Mr. Navarro?”
The young man’s spine stiffened against the chair. His eyes filled with shock; his jaw moved but nothing came out. While the knife was not dripping with blood, there was plenty of bloody residue coating the blade. Romeo swallowed hard, and then managed, “Si…yes, that is my knife, but I do not know how it got so bloody.”
“Hm. It’s just a guess on my part, but I think the knife got bloody by you stabbing it into Ms. Youngwood’s chest three times. Unless you can come up with someone who can verify you were at the casino during the time of the murder. Let’s say, in the next five minutes, we’re gonna have to take you in, Mr. Navarro. Got a name?” Sheriff Paxton asked.
Romeo dropped his forehead into his hands, rubbing his eyes with his palms. The detective and the sheriff gave him a few moments to collect his thoughts until finally, his head jerked upward. “Vic Deveaux!”
“Vic Deveaux was at the casino with you?” Detective Landry confirmed.
“No, I saw him at the establos, when I was coming back from the casino.”
Detective Landry noticed the sheriff’s tight expression as he shuffled from one foot to the other. “Did you speak to Vic?”
“Si! Si! We went to the restaurante.” He grabbed a plain white Styrofoam cup sitting on the table in front of him to hold it in the air. “I took my café to go. Vic isn’t very simpatico.”
Detective Landry scrubbed his fingers over his forehead. “That’s the understatement of the night.”
Tapping her foot, Fiona waited in the lobby of the dormitory watching police officers mill about beyond the glass doors. She and Nathan had come to Mountaineer Racetrack to watch a few horses run, purposely bump into a few people, and ask a few
questions, only the evening had turned into a fresh murder investigation. They had arrived at the racetrack just before seven. It was now ten-thirty. She jumped up from her seat when she heard Sheriff Paxton’s voice in the stairwell nearby. “Well, thanks for all your help, Detective. You were right, Ms. Quinn was quite instrumental in getting the information we needed. Thank her for me, would ya? I’ll take Mr. Navarro to the precinct. Let me know if you need any more assistance with the Sperling case.”
“Wait a minute, I think these two murders are connected.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, Detective. As far as the Devyn Youngwood murder is concerned, I think we have a case of a jilted lover.” With that, the sheriff and Nathan stepped away from the stairwell into the lobby. With Romeo Navarro wearing a pair of handcuffs, the sheriff hauled him across the room and out the door.
Had Romeo confessed to killing Devyn Youngwood? That seemed way too easy. Since she had been involved with Nathan, she hadn’t witnessed a simple investigation that led to a simple conviction in a murder case. Most murder cases took time to solve. Nathan spent time questioning suspects, checking on leads, and yes, sometimes going undercover. A confession from Romeo Navarro within a few hours of finding Devyn Youngwood dead seemed nothing less than miraculous.
Nathan stepped close to Fiona to watch the sheriff escort Romeo out of the building. His lips were drawn into a tight line. His right eyebrow was curved upward. Okay…she knew that look. He was wearing the that was way too easy, and I don’t think this is over look. Making a big show of sniffing the air, he dug into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve a bite-size Snickers. “Is that new perfume you’re wearing, Ms. Quinn? Ode de Manure? Not quite Chanel, but mesmerizing in its own special way.” Grinning, he pitched the chocolate into his mouth.
Fiona tossed him a menacing glare. “Keep it up, Detective Landry, just keep it up. Sooo…Romeo Navarro has been taken into custody for Devyn Youngwood’s murder? That was fast. You believe he’s a solid suspect?”
Through the glass doors, they watched Sheriff Paxton’s cruiser pull away from the building. Two police officers jogged into the building and up the stairs with crime scene tape in hand. “Yes, Mr. Navarro is under arrest. The sheriff believes he’s a solid suspect.” He fumbled in his pocket again, bringing up another Snickers.
“But you’re not convinced?”
Tugging at the candy wrapper, Nathan replied, “Too easy. Too quick, and way too convenient. I know the Sperling murder and Ms. Youngwood’s murder are connected, there’s no doubt about it. But my gut is telling me that Romeo Navarro had nothing to do with either. Even if we did find a bloody knife in his kitchen sink.”
Fiona blinked back. “You found the murder weapon in his apartment?”
“That’s yet to be determined, but yes, Sheriff Paxton found a bloody knife in Mr. Navarro’s kitchen sink. Is the blood on the knife Devyn Youngwood’s? I’m guessing that it is. Hm. If I had just killed a girl with my own knife, with my fingerprints all over it, I know that I’d just toss it into the sink, out in the open, for anyone, like the police, for example, to discover. It all makes perfect sense to me.”
“Was it his knife?” Fiona asked.
“He confirmed that it was, yes.” He pitched the Snickers into his mouth.
“Okay, if Romeo didn’t leave it in the sink, who did?”
He hesitated as the two police officers who’d gone upstairs moments ago, hurried past and out the door. “The same person who killed Derrek Sperling would be my guess. Interesting little tidbit—Romeo Navarro claims he met up with Vic Deveaux, and they went to the cafeteria on his way back from the casino.”
“Now there’s someone I would have no problem picturing in a police lineup.”
“You said you saw Vic in the cafeteria for a moment, but you didn’t mention Romeo.”
Fiona blew out a bothered breath. “No, only Vic and Fats. Now what?”
“I want to go back to the offices and talk with the bookkeeper again. They evacuated the clubhouse upon finding Ms. Youngwood’s body, so she may have gone home. Someone pulled Sperling’s horse from the race tonight, and I want to know who that someone was.” He winced. “Sorry to keep you out so late.”
Fiona hooked her arm through his. “No worries. Tomorrow is Sunday. I can sleep late. Let’s see if the bookkeeper is in.”
Nathan winked at Fiona. “That’s my little sleuth.” Just then, his phone dinged alerting him to a text message, but before he could swipe to the text, the phone rang. “Detective Landry…”
Standing so close to her detective, Fiona was having no trouble hearing the conversation. “Hey, Landry, Sheriff Paxton here. I meant to tell you about a call I got earlier today from Carla, the bookkeeper. She told me that Gwena Sperling was in her office around quarter to seven this evening. She demanded Derrek’s horse be pulled from the race, and then she wanted Carla to write a check for the entire balance of his account. She also said she’d hired an auctioneer. All of Derrek’s horses and equipment will go on the auction block sometime next week. Now, what do you make of that?”
“Interesting. So, did Carla write her the check?”
“Carla said she cut her a partial check. She had to leave money in Derrek’s account to cover any unpaid bills he may have incurred that have not come across her desk as of yet.”
“Thanks, Sheriff, appreciate the information.”
“No problem. After all, Sperling is your murder investigation, right?”
“Yeah, right.” With that, Detective Landry disconnected the call.
“Sounded like the sheriff wanted to put you in your place. Could he be feeling like you’re stepping on his turf? Kate West eluded to his territorial nature earlier this evening,” Fiona pointed out.
“You may be correct. He shouldn’t worry too much. Looks like I’ll be on my own turf tomorrow, West Mifflin. I’ll be dropping by for a little conversation with Mr. Sperling’s ex-wife.” He swiped to his text messages. “Well, well, I’ll be one busy little detective tomorrow. Looks like I’ll have to take a drive out to the West’s farm too.”
Fiona craned her neck to see the text message. “Is that from Tavia?”
“Sure is. I sent her a text while you were at the cafeteria with the Youngwoods. I asked her to look into our surly friend, Vic Deveaux. Seems he has a past, and it’s not a good one. He’s spent the last six years in prison. He was released a mere ten months ago.”
“Six years? He must’ve done something rather serious, that’s quite a bit of time.”
“Kidnapping, but here’s the best part—who do you think he kidnapped?”
“I can’t wait…who?”
“Eric West’s youngest son, Shane.”
Fiona’s brows dipped into a V. “No way. He…he was right there with—”
“With, Eric West and family. Weird. Now, if Vic had kidnapped your son, would you let him back into your life? I mean, c’mon, the man isn’t exactly pleasant to be around.”
“Wait a minute…maybe the relationship isn’t as cozy as it appears. Think back, Vic wasn’t sitting at the table with the Wests. He was standing behind them. While he was among them, he was not necessarily with them. No, Vic Deveaux isn’t part of their tribe, at least, not an integral part.”
“Good point. So, I need to find out what part he played in their tribe before, and where he fits in nowadays.”
“Wait a minute. What does that have to do with the Derrek Sperling case? Wouldn’t that be more about the Youngwood murder? I thought you needed to stay within the boundaries of your investigation.”
“Oh, I dunno, Ms. Quinn. Vic seemed to have a healthy dislike for Derrek Sperling. If I recall correctly, he called Sperling a cheater. Vic felt sure he’d taken someone else’s money for Charlatan and got what he deserved. Sounds like there’s history between Vic Deveaux and Derrek Sperling that could be pertinent to my case. Fact is, I consider him a suspect.”
“I don’t like the man, but don’t you think making those accu
sations out in the open are a bit too bold? I mean, he seems to have a healthy dislike for you, too, does that mean he’d kill you?” Fiona questioned.
“If given the opportunity, who knows? I think Vic Deveaux is a passionate man. He has a real problem controlling his emotions and his words. He may have a problem controlling his actions as well. He’s worth looking into. That said, if his trip to the cafeteria with Romeo should happen to come up, it would be innocent on my part.”
Fiona chuckled. “Do you honestly believe I think there’s anything innocent about you, Detective Landry?”
It was well after two in the morning when Fiona finally crawled into her bed. She was exhausted yet rather relieved to have the stench of horse dung showered away, and the entire bed to herself. Since their arrival, Harriet had been sleeping in the guest room with Mom and Sting. While she was feeling a bit abandoned, she was most happy to spread out a tad more than usual. The eight-pound Maltese could be a real bed-hog.
It had been a busy and stressful few days, and as bone-tired as she was, she couldn’t stop the thoughts twisting through her mind…
If Romeo Navarro was at the casino all evening, as he told Nathan he was, then someone certainly had time to plant the bloodied knife in his apartment. Nathan was right. Who would leave a bloody murder weapon out in the open unless it suited their intentions? Fact was, that same someone had to be close enough to the jockey to know he owned the knife and have access to it and his apartment.
A short time before finding Devyn Youngwood murdered in Derrek Sperling’s stable, she’d been hanging around the table in the clubhouse where Nathan was talking with Mr. West and two of his adult children, Kate and Mike.
Fiona had the impression the young woman wanted to speak with Nathan, and he had the same notion. Devyn appeared nervous, frightful. Did she know something about Derrek Sperling’s murder?
Did Derrek sell the horse known as Charlatan out from under an anonymous owner, without consent or giving them their money? If so, did Devyn Youngwood know the identity of the horse’s rightful owner, possibly the murderer, and they killed her to keep her silent?