by Sasscer Hill
The whole complex had been built with a plan. Its eye-pleasing architecture and matching color scheme contrasted sharply with the straggling motels, box stores, and strip malls that uglified so much of America.
But Will had told me I shouldn’t judge this particular book by its cover.
“Security,” he’d said, “has a master key to every room in the grooms’ quarters. They bust in unannounced at any hour and check for drugs or other prohibited items.”
I was glad I had the money to stay at the Sand Castle. Orlando and Afilio didn’t, and I hoped the remainder of their stay wasn’t marred by gestapo-like middle-of-the-night invasions.
When Orlando and I reached the kitchen, we paused inside the entrance. This far past lunch time, the dining area was almost empty. Air conditioning chilled the room, and the hum of refrigeration equipment seemed louder than the morning I’d had breakfast with Jim. A faint smell of grease laced the cool air.
A number of office doors appeared behind the kitchen’s tables and chairs. Next to me, Orlando fidgeted with a lock of his black hair, his fingers worrying with it repeatedly.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said.
The security office had a closed steel door and a window like a bank teller’s. I’d never really noticed it before. Funny how I could be surrounded by things and not acknowledge them until forced to.
On the other side of the thick glass, only a narrow hall and closed doors were visible. Maybe the hall linked to the other offices I’d seen in the back. The guard behind the glass shield called to someone we couldn’t see, and then unlocked the door and motioned us inside.
He put me in a small room with two chairs on either side of a metal table bolted to the floor. I knew an interrogation room when I saw one. At least he didn’t lock me in, or cuff my wrist to the metal ring on the table.
Orlando threw me a worried glance as the guard led him out of sight down the hall. Probably to his own little happy room.
I sat on one of the chairs and waited. A moment later, I heard footsteps and Stonehouse entered the room, closing the door behind him. He gave me a nod, then sat in the other chair. He placed a manila envelope on the table between us.
“Thank you for coming in,” he said, pulling out the same brown notebook he’d used when he’d notified us about Diablo’s positive test.
I refrained from pointing out I’d had no choice. Wouldn’t do to antagonize the man. “I’ll help you any way I can,” I said.
“Good.” He opened his notebook. “We’re investigating how cocaine came to be in Diablo Valiente’s blood.” He held my gaze. “This is a very serious matter. I’m sure you realize we’ll be keeping a close eye on you and your barn in the meantime.”
I had a wild image of an eyeball with little feet following me down my barn aisle. “Yes, sir.”
“Is something wrong, Miss Latrelle?”
“No sir.”
“The man you saw on your shedrow,” he glanced at his notes. “The one who almost matches the description of your groom, Orlando—”
“Except he was taller than Orlando,” I said.
“I got that,” he said, his eyes hardening back to the granite I noticed the first time I met him. “Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, sir. But he must work here. Wouldn’t he have to have a pass to get on the backstretch?”
“Not if he’s accompanied by someone with a track badge.”
Oops, that was true. Still, it narrowed it down a little.
He leaned back in his chair. “Did you see the horse’s owner, Currito Maldonista, at the barn the morning of the race?”
I thought back to that morning, squinting. “I think he stopped by briefly. But I can’t swear to it.”
Stonehouse stared at me, weighting the room with silence.
“He’s kind of creepy,” I said. “But he adores those horses and seems like…like a sportsman. You know, the kind of guy who believes in good horses, not ones that need drugs.”
Stop babbling.
Stonehouse opened the flap on the envelope, withdrew a photograph, and handed it to me.
Diablo’s win picture, everyone smiling, me in the saddle. I hadn’t even seen it yet.
“This man,” he said. “Who is he?”
I’d been dying to tell someone in law enforcement about Chakri, and I may have babbled again.
I explained Chakri was supposed to be from Bangkok, had an import export business, knew Currito. Stonehouse didn’t seem surprised about the call girls, but leaned forward slightly when I mentioned the young woman I thought was named Lena.
When I finished, Stonehouse let the small room fill with silence again.
Had Carla reached Rick the night before and told him about Lena? Carla and I had played phone tag but hadn’t connected yet.
“Listen,” I said, “I’ve talked about most of this to a Hallandale Beach Vice detective named Rick Harman. You should ask him about Chakri. See what he can find out.” I sure intended to.
“Tell me how you’ve come to know a local Vice detective, Miss Latrelle.”
I’d stepped in it now. I sighed, then told him about the girl that had been killed, and about Carla and Jade.
Stonehouse listened, then shook his head. “You’re having quite at time here in Florida, aren’t you? Maybe I should have shipped you out with Ravinski.”
I stared at him, almost holding my breath.
His stone eyes softened a fraction. “I checked you out. My counterpart at Laurel Park seems to think it’s safe to let you stay.”
He must have meant Maryland racing’s chief investigator, Jerry Offenbach. We had what you might call an uneasy relationship. But I’d heard from several people that Offenbach said I was trustworthy, although I doubted I’d ever hear him say it to my face.
“And Offenbach will tell you Jim Ravinsky might be the most honest trainer he’s got at Laurel Park,” I said.
“We don’t know how the cocaine got into Diablo Valiente. Ravinsky probably had nothing to do with it, but rules are rules.” Stonehouse leaned forward and held out a business card. “Both my numbers are on here. You hear anything about cocaine or any other violations on the backside, you call me immediately. Now, go back to your barn, Miss Latrelle. Try to stay out of trouble.”
He stood, and when I left the room, he came out behind me and headed down the hall to the left, no doubt to talk to Orlando.
“Orlando’s my right hand,” I called. “I know he’s not involved.”
Without pausing, Stonehouse continued down the hall.
I pushed through the door of the security office into the dining area. My cell rang. Carla.
“I’m with Rick,” she said. “Can you come over to the HBPD office and talk to him now?”
CHAPTER 33
The approach to the Hallandale Beach Police Department looked different in the intense south Florida afternoon light than it had in the small hours on the morning when Detective Bailey had brought me in for questioning.
They’d taken me through a back cop entrance then. Today I hurried through a set of glass doors in the front that led into a waiting area. A female officer, protected by a tall counter, grillwork, and a bullet proof layer of glass, glanced up as I approached.
“I’m here to see Detective Rick Harman,” I said, and gave her my name.
A scratchy speaker came on, and I heard her voice.
“I’ll call up there for you. Hold on a minute.” She picked up a phone and punched buttons.
I looked at the ceiling and spotted a couple of video cameras covering the room. One of them pointed right at me. Too bad they hadn’t had these things on Hallandale Beach Boulevard the night that girl had been shot.
The officer hung up her phone. “Take a seat. Detective Harman will be right down.”
I glanced at the elevator, remembering my ride down from the second floor after Detective Bailey grilled me. Across the room, near the glass entry doors, pictures of officers who’d won awards or b
een killed defending justice lined the wall. Their eyes were watchful and steely.
A uniformed officer entered the lobby, walked to the elevator, and slid a pass key into a side slot. When the steel doors yawned opened, he disappeared inside.
Bullet proof glass, locked elevator. Were they afraid drug dealers would rampage in from the mean streets and riddle them with bullets? I rubbed my arms. Did they have to keep the air conditioning so cold in this place?
The elevator returned, and Rick walked out with Carla at his side. The gleam in his eye reminded me of the look I’d gotten from Will, and I thought electricity might arc through me if I tried to walk between them.
Carla rushed over and gave me a quick hug, her warmth and citrus perfume wrapping around me like a down comforter.
Under her breath, she said, “We’re going to talk about this outside.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering why Rick wouldn’t want to be in his office where he had access to computer files and network information. I’d been curious to see if he was located on the same floor as homicide, too.
“Hey, Nikki,” he said.
No question, the man had a sexy smile that rose right up to his brown eyes. When he turned back to Carla, I caught her gaze, fanned myself with one hand, and mouthed the word, “hot.” She winked.
“What?” Rick asked. Then the two of them grinned at each other like high school kids, before Rick ushered us out the glass door into the parking area.
The warm, humid air pressed down on us immediately, but it was late enough that the air carried a hint of coolness. Between us and South Federal Highway, a donut-shaped concrete walk ringed a tightly mowed area of lawn forming an island in the middle of the asphalt parking lot. Shade from palm trees crisscrossed the area, and the city had placed a few benches there. Probably for citizens to collapse on after unpleasant visits to the cop shop.
Rick led us there and we settled on two benches, with him next to Carla and me opposite.
“First,” he said, “we’re meeting out here because we might have a leak in the department and I’d rather not talk about this inside.”
He touched Carla’s forearm. “So you were going to tell me about this guy Chakri and a girl you think—”
“So Carla already told you about this,” I said.
“Actually, no. Carla started to, but I wanted to keep it out of the department, and it made more sense to wait for you. So let’s hear it.”
Carla began describing the scene outside Gulfstream’s grandstand, and Rick shifted on the bench as he listened to the details about the drugged appearance of the girl in the limo.
Glancing at me he said, “You got a first name for Chakri?”
“Yes,” I said. “He was introduced to me as ‘Tau Chakri, from Bangkok.’”
“From Bangkok,” he said, as if to himself. “Huh.” He was quiet for a moment.
Carla said, “You know I’ve used this private detective, George Turner?”
Harman nodded, but his lips twisted as if dismissing the private eye.
“I got George to follow up. He traced the tag number to a company in Bangkok, Worldwide Enterprises.”
Rick listened quietly at first, but when she mentioned Worldwide’s Fort Lauderdale office he looked worried, like Fort Lauderdale was too close to his new girlfriend.
“Damn it, Carla!” he said. “You’ve got to stop chasing this stuff.”
Carla straightened on the bench and drew away from him.
“Easy,” I said.
He scowled at me. “She could get hurt.” He took a breath, then turned back to Carla. “I’m sorry. I’ve seen a lot of bad shit and I don’t want any of that happening to you.”
“I appreciate that, really,” she said. “But this could lead me to Jade.”
Rick shook his head. “You two want to disappear like she did? Then just keep it up. You have no idea how bad some of these people are.”
“I do,” I said. “I saw those men gun down that girl.”
Rick blinked, took a breath and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You did. I’m sorry.”
Carla stretched her hand out and he closed his fingers around hers.
The steady click of high heels caught our attention. Detective Bailey strode from the police station entrance across the parking lot. She wore a black suit, with her hair fluffed up, making her look like an angry red hen. Although she moved on a diagonal away from us, Rick shifted as if uneasy.
“Work with me a sec, Carla,” he said putting his arm around her, pulling her close, and nuzzling her cheek.
I watched Bailey as she reached her unmarked and jerked the door open. She was such a bitch. Was she the leak?
“Don’t stare at her,” Rick said. “She might be trouble, and I’m just a cop on a break enjoying the company of his girl.”
The engine in Bailey’s car came to life, and she drove from the parking lot in a hurry.
“Is she the leak?” Carla asked.
“I’m not at liberty to say. This is why I want you two out of this. If anyone in the department is on the take, it becomes that much more dangerous.” He withdrew his arm from Carla slowly, as if reluctant to lose contact. Then he took a deep breath. “I’m going to run a check on Tau Chakri. He must be new in town. Nikki, who introduced you to him?”
“The man who owns most of the horses in our barn. Colombian. Owns Diablo, the horse I won that race on.” And tested positive for cocaine. But that story could wait. “Didn’t we ever tell you his name? Currito Maldonista.”
“Don’t think you did,” he said. “Huh.” He seemed to recede inside himself a moment, then snapped back. “I’ll run a check on both of these guys.” He glanced at the police station, then hugged Carla again, and she kissed him on the mouth.
“Wow,” he said after she pulled back, probably fanning himself mentally. “If you two don’t have anything else, I need to get back to the office. And please,” he said to Carla, “don’t call the private eye. Don’t drive around anymore looking for people and putting yourself at risk. Let me handle this.”
Then he grinned. “If I have to, I’ll put you in a cell to keep you safe.”
We said goodbye, and I watched him walk away. He carried a lot more size and weight than Will, but still had the athletic figure. Although I understood Carla’s attraction to him, he didn’t have the kind of appeal for me that Will did. But Rick sure liked Carla.
“You know, Carla, I think he was halfway serious about that jail cell. How do you do it, anyway? You’re driving the guy crazy.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she said, her gaze locked on Rick’s receding back. Then she turned and gave me a just-ate-the-canary smile, before standing up and stretching.
“Of course you didn’t,” I said.
“You should see his office,” she said. “He has so many awards and commendations framed on the wall.” Then her smile faded and her expression became doubtful. “He was pretty angry, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, but I think he’s half crazy about you. And he’s right, we don’t really know what we’re messing with.”
The palm shadows over our grass island were thickening and growing longer. I needed to get back to the barn and help Orlando. I wanted to check the bandages on Imparable’s legs. Make sure that one leg was tight and cold.
“What?” Carla asked. “You look like you just stubbed a mental toe.”
She’d always read me too easily. I hesitated, choosing my words.
“Now that they’ve forced Jim out, I have way less free time. I owe Jim so much. I can’t let him down. Maybe Rick is right, you know, let him take care of it.”
Carla’s gaze dropped. She seemed to be considering my words.
And maybe Klaire was right too. She wasn’t a total charlatan, after all. Was I in danger?
“Carla, don’t you think we’ve done enough? We seem to be running into walls, anyway.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t just stop looking. She’s my daughter!”
“But George could follow up. After we tell Rick, of course,” she said.
Just what Rick had told her not to do. “I guess that wouldn’t hurt,” I said.
CHAPTER 34
In the morning, under a chilly, leaden sky, I rode La Bruja into the barn after jogging her around the mile track. A few moments later, Currito showed up. He wore a black leather jacket over a white woven shirt, dark pants, and those expensive reptile shoes. The heavy gold necklace I’d seen before glinted from his neck.
“La Bruja looks good,” Currito said, after Orlando passed us leading the filly on her first turn around the shedrow.
“She really is. She had such an amazing work yesterday, I didn’t want to do too much with her this morning. Just a long, steady jog, you know?”
He nodded, his expression bright and filled with enthusiasm.
“But,” I continued, “I have to tell you, Currito, it was a struggle to hold her to a trot. She wanted to stretch out again so bad.”
Currito moved in close and laid his hand on my arm near my shoulder. “Excelente. And she will run in what, three days?”
I stepped back, not liking Currito’s strong, musky aftershave. Uncomfortable being that close to him.
“Yes. Entries are due in the secretary’s office this morning.”
The man moved right back into my space. “And you will be all right without Mr. Ravnisky, yes?”
“Sure,” I said.
“A most unfortunate occurrence. I don’t like them tainting the colt’s reputation with a disqualification. How could it happen, cocaine in my Diablo’s blood?”
“I don’t know,” I said, taking the opportunity to turn away from Currito and his growing anger by moving toward Diablo’s stall. “But he seems fine, see?”
Currito followed me closely, then hung back when the colt pinned his ears and bared his teeth.