Racing From Death: A Nikki Latrelle Mystery

by Sasscer Hill

Shock whitened his face. His hands clutched at the knife’s handle, and he began to sink to the floor.

  I stared, horrified, dizziness buzzing my head.

  Lorna struggled to her feet and grabbed my arm. “Fuck him, let’s get out of here!”

  We ran past Bobby where he knelt on the floor next to his father. Passed Talbot who’d managed to stand, but wove drunkenly. Through the lab door, passed the inert form of Jake on the cement floor of the storage room. Out the bay door, into the sunlight and straight into a SWAT team, bristling with weapons and bulletproof vests.

  Behind them, I saw Cormack sag with relief. His buddy, Andy, put an arm around the investigator’s shoulder. The long haired black-and-white dog sat on the ground next to them.

  I’d swear that mutt was grinning.

  Chapter

  45

  As I shoved the last bag in the Toyota, clouds blocked the morning sun and turned the cottage’s white stucco to a drab gray. After the cops sorted out the mess at the plant, Lorna had moved in with Sable. I’d only stayed at the cottage because Cheswick was locked up in the county jail, without bail, for the attempted murder of the Virginia ABC agent, Atkins. I’d been glad to hear the guy had come out of his coma okay.

  Still, it was creepy, staying in that cottage without Lorna, but checking into a motel with a cat and a rooster wasn’t an option.

  I glanced at my watch. Cormack was late, and I wanted to hit the road. But he’d said something about giving me an update, answering my questions. Since the arrests at the plant, the police had kept a tight lid on what the papers called the “Crystal Lab Murders.”

  A low yowl came from the Toyota’s back seat – no doubt Slippers warming up for the long ride home in his hated cat carrier. Beside him, Mr. Chicken’s metal cage rattled as the rooster pecked at a dish of corn.

  Frost from the night before hardened the ground beneath my feet. I hugged my coat closer, the sharp tang of pine drifting across the grass as I heard gravel spinning beneath approaching tires.

  Cormack stopped his black SUV, climbed out, and walked over. His breath, a visible white vapor, hung in the crisp air.

  “All packed?” he asked.

  “Just about. Can you tell me about the case yet?”

  “Now, I can. That Investigator Anderson seems to think they got everything wrapped up. Long as y’all are available for those trials next spring, you’re free to go.”

  I’d no intention of staying, but nodded agreeably. Cormack had always been straight with me.

  “You think they’ll do much time?” I asked.

  “Who, Cheswick and Duvayne?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, “they’ll do time. Lock ‘em up just like your buddies in the back seat there. Those boys didn’t stop at selling meth pills to the local ladies. They distributed crystal meth up and down the eastern seaboard, and Anderson intends to nail ‘em for the deaths of Paco Martinez and Susan Stark. Seems they had a special cocktail for jockeys. Used meth, diuretics and who knows what all.”

  “And Catherine Duvayne?” Buried in the woods all those years. I shivered. “They’ll get Duvayne for her murder, won’t they?”

  “They will.” His expression was almost smug.

  “What about von Waechter? He had to know about the meth lab.”

  “Maybe not. The baron isn’t the hands-on type. He let Duvayne run the place, claims he thought the lab was a body shop. But he’s got some charges comin’ to him. State of Virginia and the IRS aren’t too pleased with him skippin’ those liquor taxes.”

  Cormack glanced down the hill toward the big Victorian. “How’s Miss Bunny doing?”

  “Great!” I smiled. “She’s so different without those drugs. She’s selling the place. Has a sister in North Carolina. Gonna move down there.”

  “Good.” He paused, his eyes settling momentarily on the cottage. “You and your friend patch things up?”

  “Lorna, you mean?” When I’d tried to apologize, she hadn’t wanted to hear it. Even if she forgave me for Bobby, our relationship would never be the same. “Not really.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “What will happen to Bobby?” How had that slipped out?

  “You women still can’t resist that boy?” Cormack shook his head. “After what he did?”

  “He saved my life.” Maybe my words came out too sharp, but the miracle of Bobby slicing that rope would stay with me forever.

  “That may be, but he knew what those two men planned to do to you two. Hadn’t been for Talbot showing him Catherine’s ring . . .”

  A breeze rustled a withered leaf across the cold ground, lodging it against my foot. I glanced back at Cormack.

  “I know.”

  We stayed silent a few beats, then Cormack grinned. “Don’t worry about young Duvayne. He’s testifying for the Commonwealth’s attorney. They’ll have him paroled out in no time. As for Talbot, he’s got that cousin lookin’ after him. Word is, findin’ Catherine’s put him on the road to recovery.”

  Remembering that triumphant flush on Talbot’s face, I didn’t doubt it. Maybe Bobby would be all right, too. He was out from under his father and he knew his mother hadn’t abandoned him. Had loved him. But Bunny’s boys . . .

  “What happened to the Cheswick sons? Was Bobby involved?”

  Cormack pursed his lips, blew that soft whistle through his teeth. “Bobby left with a woman just before 11:30. Left those two boys alone to sell a load of crystal meth. It was Cheswick’s connection, two men he knew from North Carolina.”

  “So, what, those guys just gunned down the boys, took the drugs, and kept the money?”

  Cormack nodded. “Except those fellows from North Carolina vanished. Anderson thinks Cheswick and Duvayne might have hunted them down.”

  “Jesus.” I pulled my jacket tight again. Shifted closer to my Toyota. Overhead, the sun broke through the clouds, highlighting a trace of bright crimson and emerald green on the dead leaf near my feet.

  Cormack stared at me a moment, then sighed and took a half-step back. “All right, then, Nikki. Y’all have a good trip.”

  “Thanks, Cormack. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” I stepped forward, shook his hand. His eyes seemed to glisten as I climbed in my Toyota.

  #

  I pulled up next to our barn as Mello and Ramon finished loading supplies into the smaller trailer for our trip home. The meet had ended the day before. The departure of horses, grooms, and exercise riders left an empty feeling – like children might get at the end of summer camp.

  Next to the shedrow, Jim’s trailer, hooked to the Ford 350, waited for the horses to load. In the distance, Lorna and Sable walked back from the kitchen with Cokes and bags of chips. At least Lorna and I were on speaking terms. She’d agreed to drive back with Sable in my Toyota while I drove Jim’s rig with the horses.

  I wrestled the animal cages into the back seat of the Ford’s stretch cab and went to help Mello and Ramon load up. I hadn’t spoken to Amarilla. A commercial Sallee van had arrived to take her horses. Daffodil was already gone.

  “I declare,” Mello said, leading Hellish from her stall, “it be mighty fine to get back to Maryland. Yes, sir. Mighty fine, indeed.”

  “Amen,” I said.

  With Lorna’s help, we got the six horses loaded, and I climbed into the Ford’s cab.

  “Hey, wait up.” Will hurried toward me. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye?”

  As little as he’d spoken to me the last two weeks, I’d been uncertain about approaching him. I shrugged. “You leaving soon?”

  “Yeah.” He put one foot on the running board, grabbed the open window frame, and swung up to my level. His eyes were green, intense, and hard to read.

  “So you’re going back to Maryland?”

  “Yeah. You heading that way?”

  “No. Allbright’s got first call on me for the Gulfstream Park meet.”

  “Oh.” The disappointment, knowing he’d b
e so far away, took me by surprise.

  “You ever thought of riding down there? It’s fabulous. Warm. The ocean. Takes you right through January and February.”

  “Sounds great. But I can’t leave Jim. He’d never send me to Florida, anyway.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.”

  Did he sound disappointed?

  “Take care of yourself, Nikki.” He hopped down, walked away without looking back.

  I turned the key and cranked the big engine. Shoved the shift into first gear.

  “Nikki, wait!” Lorna ran around to the passenger side and opened the door. “I thought . . . I thought I’d better ride with you. That McNugget might get loose, cause a wreck or something.”

  “He could. You better get in.”

  She did, and I released the brake. We rolled out of Colonial Downs and headed for the highway.

  Acknowledgements

  My thanks to Virginia Commonwealth Attorney, C. Linwood Gegory, for his time and advice on my questions about prosecution in the State of Virginia, and to Maryland Veterinarian, Dr. Forrest Peacock, for endless patience and equine medical advice. Additional thanks for technical advice and support go to both Joseph Roney, Director of Security and Enforcement for the Virginia Racing Commission, and racehorse trainer Barry G. Wiseman.