Gambling With the Enemy: Horses - Mystery - Suspense

by Toni Leland

  “Sort of.” Her irritation flared. “But, hell, I’m not in the habit of second-guessing people’s motives.” She sighed. “Besides, we really needed the help.”

  “Okay, you mentioned an expensive horse for the little girl. How much did they pay?”

  Dear God, here it comes. Jess cast a sidelong look at her partner. Faith’s eyelids drooped as she fought the sedative effects of alcohol.

  “Eighty thousand.”

  Howard whistled. “For a horse?”

  Faith snapped to attention, her tone indignant. “For a very good horse! Equestrian athletes don’t ride thousand-dollar nags.”

  Jess grinned. “Get Faith on her soapbox and she’s a terror.”

  Howard chuckled. “Okay, I believe you. Did they pay cash for the animal?”

  Jess swallowed hard. “Just the down-payment. Ten percent.”

  Howard shook his head while he wrote. “Eight grand, just like that. I’m in the wrong business.” He looked up. “I guess I’ll need to talk to the woman they bought the horse from. She’ll be part of this investigation, too.”

  Panic roared into Jess’s chest and she fought for the next breath.

  “No, she’s not involved. In a horse sale like this, the trainer acts as agent for the client. When the buyer is ready, the down-payment goes to the trainer, who then deals with the seller.” She glanced at Faith, who nodded. “For that service, the trainer gets a commission on the sale price.”

  “How much?”

  “Usually fifteen-percent.”

  Howard’s eyebrows came together. “That’s a hefty amount–enough to get you out of trouble.”

  Faith jumped in. “Oh, we don’t get the commission until the contract is fully paid.”

  Howard’s eyes narrowed, and Jess could see the wheels turning. She braced herself for his next question.

  “When did you give the down-payment to the seller?”

  She looked away. “Yesterday.”

  Faith sounded disgusted. “Can you believe the post office lost the check? Poor Jessie had to make a special trip to Waterbury to give Naomi the money.”

  Jess exhaled silently. She’d forgotten about the post-office cover-up story.

  Howard scribbled something, then looked up. “When did Samir approach you about hiring his nephews?”

  “The weekend of the Springfield show. . .actually, the day before I met you for dinner at Seven Rivers.”

  A brief shadow flickered through Howard’s expression, then he nodded. “Did he say why he was being so magnanimous?”

  “He told me he knew we were having money problems.” She shook her head. “I think I might have been indiscreet at some point during a conversation. He also knew we do all the chores by ourselves. He needed something to occupy his nephews for the summer. Anyway, I thought he was just being helpful.”

  Howard looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s talk about the poker game, then I’ll call the agent.” He consulted his notes. “You said Samir showed up at the game. Did he appear to know you’d be there?”

  “No, I think he was as startled as I was. . .but I could be wrong. I was entirely focused on winning a pile of money.”

  “How did he act?”

  Jess rankled at the memory. “He was patronizing, treated me like the hired help. . .macho men-stuff in front of the sheikh. We didn’t speak the rest of the evening.”

  Howard set the legal pad aside, and crossed his legs. The shift in body language sent a warning through Jess’s head that she wouldn’t like whatever was coming next.

  “In your current financial circumstances, how could you afford to get into a private game with high-rollers?”

  Jess met his gaze. Please, please, don’t go there.

  Faith sat up straight. “That’s right! I never even thought about that. How did you get the money for a poker game?”

  Jess stared at a small stain on the carpet. “The down-payment on Dania’s horse.”

  No one made a sound, then Faith jumped up and leaped away from the couch, as though she might become tainted. Jess closed her eyes at the outrage in her partner’s voice.

  “Are you kidding me? You used client money? You let everybody think the check was lost in the mail?” Her voice rose. “You’re a damned liar and a hypocrite!”

  Jess’s chest tightened with remorse, and she could barely breathe. “We were out of time. I couldn’t think of any other way to save us.”

  Faith’s cheeks flushed, blotchy and ugly. Her voice snarled. “Did you ever once consider that you might have lost? Really flushed us down the toilet?” She jammed her hands on her hips. “I hate you!”

  Howard lurched out of the chair. “Hey, calm down! You girls have more serious things to worry about than this.”

  The phone rang, and he leveled his tone. “Faith, you keep your personal problems out of this meeting, you understand? Don’t offer anything. Answer the questions without embellishments or opinions.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she looked like she might cry. She threw one last venomous glance at Jess, then nodded silently.

  Jess picked up the phone in the kitchen.

  Mona’s tone was crisp. “Jess, are you about ready? We need to talk again, but not at your place. Meet the guys in the open arena.”

  Chapter 30

  Jess threw a nervous glance toward the barn on the walk across the driveway. In the arena, Peterson appeared to be taking measurements with some sort of electronic device. A black pickup truck loaded with shovels, wheelbarrows, and other tools was parked next to the fence. A sign on the side of the cab read, “Crawford Construction.” She looked toward the carriage house where the nephews knelt on their prayer rugs. Fanatics.

  Howard’s voice intruded, low and urgent. “Quit looking around for them. You’ll raise a red flag.”

  Agent Peterson smiled. “Morning, great day, huh?” He shook Howard’s hand. “John Crawford.” He stepped back. “Our field teams have swept your property for listening devices, and I confirmed the immediate area when I drove in.”

  Jess gasped, and the agent threw her a warning look. “However, we must all be very careful to maintain the image, at all times, that we are discussing the construction project.”

  He gestured toward the covered arena. “This is a dicey situation, and the charade must be believable, or we’ll lose these guys.” He picked up a large roll of paper and handed it to Howard. “Since you’re playing the architect, I’ll let you wave this around.”

  Another truck pulled up, and Agent Kerr climbed out. A minute later, he pushed back his ball-cap and stuck out his hand, his voice low and condescending.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. London, protector of the masses. I thought you gave up and crawled off to Timbuktu.”

  Howard’s expression revealed nothing as he extended his hand. “Hello, Kerr. It’s a real pleasure to see you again, too.”

  The stocky agent shook Howard’s hand, then moved to the end of the enclosure. Peterson followed him, and they started measuring the length of the arena.

  The veiled hostility did nothing to bolster Jess’s confidence. “What was that about?”

  Howard shook his head. “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

  After a couple of minutes, the agents returned to the group, and Howard unrolled the large sheet of sketches.

  Peterson turned his back to the barn. “We’ll look at this for a minute or so, then we can talk.”

  Howard’s tone was firm. “My clients would like to help you, if they can, but first I need to know the details of your interest in them.”

  Kerr muttered, “Always the hero.”

  Peterson nodded. “Mr. London, your clients aren’t under suspicion and, yes, we definitely want their cooperation in routing out this group.” He pointed at something on the drawings, then picked up a clipboard. “Just to be safe, keep your backs to the building, in case they’re watching through binoculars.”

  Jess felt horribly invaded.

  Peterson continu
ed. “In relation to Samir Mahfood’s first visit to the stable, how long afterward did Hafez and Mustafa arrive?”

  “About two weeks.

  “Did you ever overhear them talking about anything other than their work?”

  “I wouldn’t know. They always spoke Arabic to each other.”

  Faith chimed in. “I heard Mustafa talking on a cellphone out behind the barn. I didn’t understand him, but his tone of voice scared me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was real excited, almost like he was high. It made my skin crawl.”

  Peterson wrote something, then pointed toward the bleachers. “After Samir’s first visit here, when did you see him again?”

  Jess’s gaze automatically followed his gesture, but she felt awkward with the charade. “Two days later. He came to my office, said he wanted to spend more time here.”

  A quick look passed between Kerr and Peterson. “Did he give a reason?”

  “Something about enjoying the freedom of living in America.”

  Kerr’s jaw tightened. “Bastard,” he muttered.

  Peterson consulted his notes. “When did you see him next?”

  Faith snorted. “He showed up the following afternoon, dressed like a Hollywood cowboy.”

  Jess suppressed a grin at the memory. “He came to help us clean stalls. I thought it was a generous offer.”

  “Didn’t you think that was a bit odd?”

  “Yeah, but he knew we didn’t have any barn help, and like I said–”

  Howard coughed. “Jess’s opinions aren’t relevant.” He pointed toward the side of the arena. “I’d like a short break to confer with my clients.”

  Peterson set aside the clipboard, and Kerr pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

  Howard led the girls to the fence. “Okay, I think the questioning is about to get tougher. Do either of you remember anything that might be vital to their case?”

  Faith nodded. “When he was asking about conversations, I almost said something about Mustafa throwing the phone away, but I remembered what you said.”

  Howard cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “You said not to add anything. Just answer the questions.”

  He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “I see. Okay, we’ll give them that tidbit when we go back over there.” He turned to Jess. “Do you have anything further to add?”

  “No, I’m afraid I basically ignored the nephews. I had other things on my mind.”

  She glanced at Faith and saw the loathing in her eyes. God, will I ever be able to heal this wound?

  The agents had unrolled the drawings and appeared to be examining them in great detail.

  Howard opened the conversation.

  “John, through a misunderstanding of my counsel, Faith left something out of her story.”

  Faith’s voice shook while she related the strange incident

  behind the barn. Peterson scribbled furiously in his notebook, then looked up.

  “We need to see exactly where this took place. Jess, can you get the suspects away from the farm again for a couple of hours?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Kerr pulled out a cellphone and stepped away from the group. Jess glanced at her watch. The interview had already consumed about twenty minutes.

  Peterson resumed the questioning. “Okay, after Samir showed up to clean stalls, when did you see him again?”

  “At a horse show in Springfield the following Thursday. He and his wife came to watch their daughter ride.”

  “Did he talk to you about anything other than his daughter’s lessons?”

  “No, but he came to the farm the next afternoon. He seemed to know about our financial problems. That’s when he offered his nephews to–”

  “Did you tell him about your finances?”

  “No, but he did have some details. . .” Without thinking, she cast a worried look at Howard.

  Peterson’s tone held a warning. “Watch your facial expressions. You’re happy about building a new arena, remember?”

  She struggled with the masquerade. “How would Samir find out about those things?”

  “A private eye could tell him anything he wanted to know.”

  She didn’t respond, horrified by the thought of someone nosing through her personal agonies. Rage filled every pore and, for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to see Samir burn in hell.

  Peterson’s voice derailed the thought. “Did Hafez or Mustafa ever do anything else unusual, that you can remember?”

  “No, they stayed to themselves, didn’t speak unless spoken to, kept regular hours, prayed all the time.”

  Kerr stepped back into the conversation circle. “Tell us how you got involved in a private poker game with Sheikh Mohammed.”

  A sick feeling churned through Jess’s gut. “Is he part of this, too?”

  “There’s a possible connection, but we can’t prove it yet.”

  She fought the rising nausea. She’d spent hours in the midst of those men, handled all that tainted money, carried it home to salve her wounds–money that had circulated amongst God-only-knows what criminals and thugs. She’d been gambling with the enemy.

  “Jess? You were going to explain how you came to be included in the poker game?”

  She blinked, dragging herself back from the edge. “The casino manager approached me. She wanted another person to round out the game. She’d seen me play.”

  Faith snorted and muttered, “A nice little secret life.”

  Peterson continued. “Did you know Samir Mahfood would be there?”

  Jess shook her head. In retrospect, she’d unwittingly allowed herself to become a pawn in a terrifying game of skill.

  Feeling she had nothing to lose, she arrowed a question at Peterson.

  “Which one of the players was your guy?”

  The agent grinned. “Jimmy Kee.”

  “Figures. He wasn’t much of a poker player.”

  Howard cleared his throat loudly, but Jess ignored him.

  “You already have an eye-witness account of the game. Why are you asking me?”

  “Jess!”

  Peterson shook his head. “It’s okay, London. She’s right.” He smiled. “I’m just interested in your observations of the evening. Did the other two Middle Eastern players do anything that seemed odd?”

  Jess hesitated. The Asian undercover agent would have been more aware of behaviors and nuances than she, and would surely have submitted a full report. Caution slipped into her thoughts and she threw Howard a quick look before answering.

  “I just concentrated on the game.”

  Peterson seemed to accept the dodge. Pocketing his pen, he gazed around the property. “What does it cost to run a place like this?”

  “What does that have to do with the investigation?”

  Peterson smiled. “Nothing. Just curious.”

  Howard pressed. “I’m asking again–are my clients under suspicion?”

  “Mr. London, a recreational gambler–especially a woman–would have a hard time getting into a private game like that, without some inside help. Pretty amazing coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “If you want their help, you’d better take another tack.”

  Peterson nodded, then turned to Jess. “You coordinate with Mona to get the suspects off the property. A search team is standing by.”

  After the agents drove away, the tension in the air began to fade.

  Jess’s voice cracked. “That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Where do you think this is headed?”

  Howard gazed at her for a minute, then shook his head and crossed his arms. “I’m not going to kid you–it’ll get worse before it gets better. These guys are bulldogs–they’ve obviously been gathering information on this group for a long time. Unfortunately, you’ve become part of the process. Right now, they’re verifying each piece of data, connecting it to other pieces, trying to find a pattern, a loop-hole–anything that will
strengthen their position.”

  Faith exhaled sharply. “Do you really think they’ll try to implicate us?”

  “No, I don’t. But for sure, the more cooperative you are, the better you look.”

  He straightened his tie. “I have some things to do in Hartford, but I’ll be back later. Good luck this afternoon, and be careful–both of you.”

  Faith headed for the gate. “I’m going to the barn.”

  Jess started to follow. “Faith, wait–we need to talk. I want–”

  Faith whirled on her heel. “This is no longer about what you want, Jess. You’ve hidden things from me, lied to me, run the show your way. I’ve had enough. I have plenty of my own problems without being caught up in yours.” She slid the gate latch open. “And don’t bother with the guestroom–I’m going home.”

  Her boots crunched across the gravel, and a numbing weariness seeped into Jess’s body.

  Howard touched her shoulder. “Once you get this phone-in-the-woods thing sorted out, you have to sit down with her and draw up a truce. She’ll never cooperate in her current frame of mind.”

  Jess turned and searched his face. “Do you think what I did was so terrible?”

  He smiled wryly. “Not really, but you took a helluva risk.”

  Chapter 31

  Jess found Mustafa working on one of the pasture fences.

  “When you’re finished there, I need some supplies picked up for the horse show this weekend.”

  He answered without looking up. “Yes, Miss.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jess looked over the new purchase orders. Fourteen bales of straw, twelve 8-foot poles, jump cups, eight potted trees, and twenty-five small shrubs. If she didn’t place the order ahead of time, it would take the suppliers a while to get the items together.

  Mona stepped into the office. “How soon can you get rid of those two?”

  “Shortly. I’m sending them to Enfield to pick up some stuff for the show. Between the stable supply store and the landscaping outfit, plus an hour’s drive each direction, they’ll be tied up for at least four hours.”

  “Good. I’ll be in the tack room.”