Saddle Up for Murder

by C S McDonald

  Fiona rolled over trying to find a more comfortable position.

  Vic Deveaux, now there was a man who could possibly be involved on some level. Vic was an ex-con. He’d spent time in jail on a most serious offense, kidnapping. Unbelievably, he’d kidnapped Eric West’s son, Shane. So why would Eric West maintain a relationship with the awful man? Seriously, why would anyone maintain a relationship with the awful man? That was a mystery in itself.

  She yawned.

  Her body sunk deeper into the pillow-top.

  She simply could not think about…

  this…

  any…

  more…

  NINE

  Detective Landry grinned when Gwena Sperling gasped before she could call it back. It was quite apparent she was surprised to find the detective on her doorstep. “Good morning, Gwena. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by on a Sunday morning.”

  Dropping a shoulder against the door jamb, she shot him a baleful look. “If I did mind, you’d just come back tomorrow, wouldn’t you?”

  Popping a piece of chocolate candy into his mouth, the detective grinned again. “You really have a feel for how this works.” Rolling her eyes, Gwena stepped aside to give him entry. The detective took a step forward and then retreated. “Wait…where’s your dog?”

  “He’s out back. I’ve got a small fenced-in yard.” She smirked. “Would you like me to bring him in?”

  Stepping through the door, he held his hand up. “No, I’m good.” He followed her down the short hall into the kitchen where they had talked just a few days ago.

  “I don’t have any doughnuts, but I can offer you fresh coffee. Ya can never get too much of that. Am I right?”

  “Like I said, you’ve got this all figured out.”

  She plucked two mugs from the cabinet and then poured the coffee. “Have a seat, Detective. Sooo, let me guess, you’re here to ask why I emptied Derrek’s account at the Mountain. Or should I say, almost emptied the account.”

  Taking a mug from her hand, Detective Landry sat down at the small kitchenette. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

  “That would be scary.”

  He chuckled. “C’mon, Gwena, even you gotta admit, you moved pretty fast to claim his money. Which is why I gotta ask, why would he keep you as his beneficiary after the divorce?” He dug into his pocket to retrieve a piece of candy. “Would you like a Snickers? Not exactly breakfast food, but I like them any time of the day.”

  Leaning a hip against the counter, she took a sip of her coffee. “Thanks, I’ll pass. It’s like I told you before, Detective, the horses consumed his life and our marriage. Derrek probably couldn’t find the time to see an attorney to change things around, or maybe it was just plain procrastination. Either way, it’s my money, and I simply went to get it.”

  The detective picked at the candy wrapper, it crinkled loudly. “You told me he owed you money. Did he pay you back in full the night he dropped by and was killed, or did his racing account satisfy his debt?”

  She lifted an indifferent shoulder. “What difference does it make now? I got what I could.”

  “I know that at least fifteen-thousand dollars had been deposited into that account the day before his death, for the sale of Charlatan. Did he owe you more than fifteen-thousand?”

  “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “Hope not. Anyway, you know, I’ve been wondering about Charlatan.” He tossed the chocolate into his mouth.

  Gwena stilled mid-sip of her coffee to peer at the detective over the rim of her mug. “What about him?”

  Detective Landry held up a halting hand while he finished chewing then swallowed the candy. “I wonder if Charlatan was actually owned by someone else, but the paperwork stated Mr. Sperling as the owner. You know, so the actual owner wouldn’t lose health benefits or their retirement fund. I mean, I know I’d be pretty mad if I owned a winning horse like Charlatan and someone sold him without my permission, and then kept the money for themselves. Wouldn’t you?”

  Again, she lifted a lackadaisical shoulder. “I suppose I would.”

  “Suppose? I think it would make someone hoppin’ mad, mad enough to kill that person.” He pushed up from the chair. “Well, thanks for the coffee…Gwena. I hope I didn’t take up too much of your Sunday morning.”

  She set her mug on the counter, then made haste for the door to hold it open for his exit. He stepped through the doorway then turned around catching the door before it closed. “Oh, by the way, as I mentioned before, West Virginia isn’t convenient to West Mifflin. So, who do you think would travel all the way to your neighborhood, right outside your house, to shoot Mr. Sperling? Does anyone at the Mountain know where you live?”

  “I dunno, maybe they followed him. If they were mad enough to kill him, I doubt they’d care how far they had to follow him. Even all the way to West Mifflin. Seriously, you outta give them extra points for their effort, Detective.”

  The right side of Detective Landry’s mouth curled. “Hey, it has come to my attention you’re planning an auction to get rid of Mr. Sperling’s horses and equipment.”

  “Yes, I certainly have no need or use for the horses or the equipment. What about it?”

  “I’ve never been to a horse auction before. Come to think of it, I’ve never been to any kind of auction before. I think I might like to attend, it sounds interesting. I have to admit, I’d be wondering the whole time if the horses are being sold to the actual owners, or trainers pretending to be the owners.”

  Gwena’s lips curved upward. “Hm. Do you think you’d be able to tell, Detective?”

  “I dunno, but it’s an intriguing thought. Have a nice day, Gwena.”

  When Detective Landry slid into his vehicle, he dialed Sheriff Paxton. He wasn’t sure if the sheriff would be willing to tell him if the blood on the knife found in Romeo Navarro’s apartment was indeed Devyn Youngwood’s. As of last night, the sheriff appeared most certain he had his man.

  Case closed.

  Detective Nathan Landry wasn’t so convinced.

  The sheriff’s phone rang and rang until it finally went to voicemail. Maybe the good sheriff didn’t work on Sundays, or maybe he didn’t play well with others. The detective disconnected the call without leaving a message. He no sooner placed the phone in the cupholder when it rang. He picked it up and pressed it to his ear. “Landry…”

  “Nate, it’s me, Tavia. Hey, the medical examiner just called. The bullets they removed from Derrek Sperling were from a thirty-eight special. Now, get this—our national database shows that the bullets they removed from Sperling match a gun that was involved in a murder in Beaver County two years ago.”

  Dragging his fingers through his hair, Detective Landry let out a weary sigh. “Hokay, were there any arrests, convictions, and if not, do we have a list of suspects?”

  “Here’s what I’ve got: the murder took place at a convenience store, the clerk. They could not identify the suspect, Jason Ladd, for over a year. They said it was due to bad security camera footage. Anyway, by the time they managed to identify him, he’d overdosed on heroin.”

  “Okay, so what happened to the gun? If the suspect in the convenience store robbery is dead, at least that’s what I’m assuming, that it was a robbery, who has the gun now?”

  “You’re in luck. I found the name and current address of the suspect’s girlfriend. Her name was, Sonya Young, now, it’s Sonya Barrett. She lives in Monaca, that’s near the Beaver Valley Mall. I’ll text you her address.”

  “Hey, one more thing. See what information you can dig up on a jockey at Mountaineer, Jillian Jewel. I wanna know who her friends are, and if she’s got a romantic interest.”

  “Jillian Jewel, got it.”

  “You’re the best, Tav.”

  She snorted. “Awe, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

  With a baby on her hip, Sonya Barrett opened the door. Detective Landry displayed his badge. “Mrs. Barrett?” The young woman examined the badge
, then nodded. “I’m Detective Nathan Landry with Pittsburgh Homicide.”

  “Homicide?” She rolled her eyes. “What’s this about?”

  The detective held up a calming hand. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about your former boyfriend, Jason Ladd.”

  “Jason? He’s dead. Look, I’m clean now. I’m married, I have a baby. I had nothing to do with that murder. Wait a minute, that shooting took place in Beaver County, not Pittsburgh.”

  “I’m not as interested in the murder as I am in the gun that was used. The gun Jason shot the clerk with.”

  Sonya let out a haggard breath. “I don’t have it…anymore. Look…I’ve got a good life now—”

  “Please, Mrs. Barrett, it’s very important, what did you do with the gun?” Detective Landry pressed.

  “When I got married, I didn’t want anything around of Jason’s. I didn’t want anything to do with that miserable life. I know I should’ve turned the gun into police, but…but Jason died shortly after that happened. I didn’t know what to do with it, so, I gave the gun to his mother. Jan…Mrs. Ladd, she lives in Hopewell on Roosevelt Avenue, second house on the right.” She ran a harried hand through her hair. “Am I gonna be in trouble? Am I gonna end up in jail?”

  “I don’t think so. Thanks for the information, Mrs. Barrett.”

  As Detective Landry made his way along Brodhead Road through Center township and into Hopewell township, he had to hope Mrs. Ladd still had the gun and would be willing to give it up. Jason Ladd had never been convicted of the murder, and she’d lost her son to a drug overdose. He would have to tread gently.

  Finding Roosevelt Avenue, he steered his SUV into the driveway of the second house on the right and parked. A middle-aged woman was lifting grocery bags from the trunk of a Chevy. She turned when she saw the vehicle pull alongside hers.

  “Hello,” Detective Landry began as he stepped from the SUV. He fished his badge from his belt to hold it up. “I’m Detective Nathan Landry, Pittsburgh Homicide, are you Mrs. Ladd, Jason Ladd’s mother?”

  The woman set the bags back into the trunk of the car. “Yes…I’m Jason’s mother. What’s this about, Detective?”

  “I’m so sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, Mrs. Ladd, but I was hoping you could help me.”

  “I’m not sure how I can help you, Detective. I don’t know anything about any murders in Pittsburgh.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. I visited with Sonya Barrett this morning, and she told me that she gave you the gun that was used in the shooting your son was involved with some time ago.”

  Mrs. Ladd’s gaze dropped to the pavement. Her hand came to her chest. She fiddled with the zipper pull on her jacket. “I…I got rid of the gun, Detective. I don’t like guns. I wasn’t comfortable having the gun in my house. Especially…” her voice fell away.

  “I understand, and I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. But it’s of the utmost importance that I find the gun. Can you tell me what you did with it?”

  Wringing her hands, she dragged her gaze to meet his. “My sister lives in New Cumberland, West Virginia. I told her that Sonya brought the gun to me and that I didn’t want it around. She told me the Hancock County Police Department was having a gun drive. You could drop off any gun, no questions asked. They were even giving gift certificates away for every gun collected. So, I went to visit my sister, and we turned the gun in. I was so relieved to get it out of the house. Did I do something wrong?”

  Detective Landry favored her with a compassionate smile. “No, ma’am. You did the exact right thing. Thank you so much for the information, and again, I’m so sorry for bothering you on a Sunday.” As he slid into his vehicle, he picked up his cell phone and dialed. “Good morning, I’m Detective Nathan Landry, Pittsburgh Homicide. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, sir, but I believe I will need your assistance very soon.”

  Inserting the address for the West’s Thoroughbred Farm into his GPS, Detective Landry discovered he was but a forty-minute drive from getting answers about the crotchety, Vic Deveaux. Steering his vehicle onto the ramp for route 376, he was on his way to Beaver County. He drove along country roads until he came to a stone archway. He steered the SUV along a winding driveway lined with mighty oak trees until he came to a Victorian-style farmhouse. In the distance was a long white barn with a blue tin roof. What seemed like miles and miles of white fencing stretched along a rolling landscape where horses roamed.

  Taking in the picturesque backdrop, Detective Landry made his way to the front door to ring the bell. Within a few moments, the door opened and a young sandy-haired man who looked to be in his early twenties met the detective’s gaze. “Can I help you?” the young man inquired.

  “I’m Detective Nathan Landry, Pittsburgh Homicide. Is Mr. West around?”

  The kid’s mouth curved into a smirk. “You’ll have to be more specific, dude. There’s three Mr. Wests on this farm.”

  Yeah, he was young. He had that young man’s confident expression that screamed, snark, snark, snark.

  “That’s good, Shane, harass the police detective. Maybe he’ll tase you,” Eric West said as he stepped into the doorway next to his son.

  Although he had no weapons of any kind on his person, Detective Landry chuckled. “Perhaps another time.”

  “Detective Landry, this is my youngest, Shane.”

  The detective nodded at the young man, then turned and opened his arms wide. “Wow, just wow. This is an impressive spread you’ve got here, Mr. West. Your horses must win a lot of races.”

  Eric smiled. “We do okay. Come in, Detective.”

  Detective Landry followed Eric and Shane through an ornately decorated foyer into a large study. On the far wall a stone fireplace climbed to the ceiling. A grand cherry desk stood in front of a massive build-in bookcase gleaming in rich tones of cherry. His eyes met Kate’s who sat in a wingback chair near a bay window, sipping a cup of coffee. He smiled. “Good morning, Miss West.”

  Kate returned his smile. “It’s very good to see you, Detective Landry.”

  Eric gestured toward a chair near Kate. “Have a seat, Detective. Can I offer you some coffee?”

  “That would be great, thanks.”

  Picking up a carafe from a tray stationed on the coffee table, Eric poured a cup. “So, what brings you from the city to our little corner of the world?”

  The detective accepted the mug from Eric’s hand and eased into a chair. “I’ve come across some rather intriguing information, and I simply had to get some answers.”

  “What information might that be?”

  “Vic Deveaux, seems he’s spent time in prison for kidnapping your son, Shane. And yet, he appears to be part of your…organization. I gotta ask, how does that work?”

  After lighting into a chair behind the desk, Eric peered at the detective over his coffee cup, his eyes were filled with contemplation. It was evident he was measuring his words. “Vic Deveaux…our relationship has been…complicated. He is an ill-tempered, stubborn as a mule, cantankerous, crusty old man who has been a staple at our farm for thirty years. At one time, he was a celebrated jockey at the Mountain and at many other tracks. Vic won many races for me, big races. Then he retired from racing and returned to train and gallop horses here at the farm, again, for many years. He’s part and parcel to the success of this Thoroughbred outfit.”

  “I’m hearing a but…”

  Eric’s eyes rotated to Shane, then to Kate, and then his gaze returned to Detective Landry. “But…he got old. He couldn’t handle the horses like he used to. He caused a few accidents. I asked him to take an easier position. He blew a gasket. Let’s just say, things got out of control, and before ya knew it, he’d teamed up with some bad characters. They kidnapped Shane. Long story short, he spent six years behind bars for his part in the kidnapping scheme. He’s paid his debt to society, and now, he’s working to regain our trust. It’s a long road, but we’re slowly mending fences.”

  “I gotta tell ya, t
hose would be some pretty tall fences for me. He appears to have had a healthy dislike for Derrek Sperling. What’s that about?”

  Eric shrugged. “You heard him. Vic doesn’t like cheaters.”

  “Derrek Sperling was a cheater? How so?”

  “If you wanna know what I think, you ask me directly, big city detective,” Vic’s voice barked. Everyone in the room looked up to see Mike and Vic standing on the threshold of the study. With his uneven gait, Vic marched to stand in front of Detective Landry. “Derrek Sperling used every dishonest trick in the book to win races. He’d been suspended for the use of illegal drugs on horses several times. He’s the type of vermin that needs eradicated from horseracin’. You think I had somethin’ to do with that jerk gettin’ his come-uppin’s, don’t ya?”

  Mike stepped forward. “Sorry for the interruption. We just got done settling the new gelding into the barn.”

  His mouth curved into a devilish grin, Shane asked, “So, would you like some coffee, Vic?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he needs, a little caffeine to fuel his easy-going demeanor,” Mike bit out at his younger brother.

  “Now, Vic, maybe you should…” Eric put in, trying to defuse the situation.

  “Well, did you?” Detective Landry cut in.

  “No!” Vic pointed a gnarled finger at Detective Landry. “Let me tell you somethin’, I’ve spent six years in prison for somethin’ I regret more than anything in this world. Do I think Sperling got what he deserved? Yeah. Did I have anything to do with Sperling’s murder? No. Why? Cuz he ain’t worth spending five minutes behind them bars for. For that matter, no one is. Now, does that answer your question, Detective?”

  “For now.” The detective stood from the chair, set his mug on the coffee table, then made his way to the foyer. Man, he wanted to ask about Romeo Navarro. He wanted to turn back…