by Otto Penzler
“You saw these yesterday, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Remember the prescribing doctor’s name?” He did, and gave it to Pearsley, who then asked, “Any idea how many had been taken?”
“The bottle looked full. And the prescription was over two years old. Why do you ask?”
“Your brother had a remarkably high level of diazepam in his system—”
“Of what?” Eric asked, grabbing a pen and paper.
“Diazepam. Another name for Valium. But there’s nothing to indicate that they found an empty pill bottle at the scene or in his car.” He paused, then said, “I’d like to take a look through the house. Can we meet there tomorrow?”
They made an appointment.
When he hung up, he looked at his watch and said, “Detective Wade, I have to go. My nephew will be home from school soon, and I like to be there.”
“Sure.”
As they were leaving, Donna turned to Wade and said, “I think you’re wrong about something.”
“And what would that be, Ms. Freepoint?”
“We aren’t safe, and we won’t be, no matter how certain Shackel is that he’s managed to get away with two murders.”
“Believe me, I’m aware that whoever did this has a dangerous amount of confidence right now.”
“No, I mean that—we didn’t get a chance to talk about motive with you. Shackel’s motive has something to do with a horse. Maybe he wanted Zuppa Inglese, or just to be able to control how he races. But that’s what this is about.”
• • •
“He’ll never get him,” Eric said as they drove back.
“No, but haven’t you ever been around spoiled people? They sometimes wreck what they can’t have for themselves. I’m glad you’re hiring security for Zuppa. In fact, let me give myself some peace of mind between now and tomorrow morning.” She used her cell phone to call one of her workers at the Fox River track. Reassured that Zuppa was doing fine, she then asked that they keep a close watch on him. “There will be extra security there tomorrow morning, but if you see anyone coming near him tonight, don’t hesitate to get track security involved.”
“Thanks,” he said when she ended the call. “And not just for that. For everything. I don’t know how I could have managed getting through the last few months without you.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “And you’ve done as much or more for me. I don’t kid myself about why my phone is ringing more often these days. Training Zuppa has brought me more business. But it’s more than that, really. I like spending time with you and Jimmy.” She was silent for a time, then asked, “Do you think—do you think Carlotta was killed because she wanted to bring Zuppa to Copper Farms?”
“It’s not your fault, if that’s what you’re asking. Owners removing horses from trainers is part of the business, right?”
“I remember Carlotta talking about how much Shackel pressured Mark, trying to get a percentage of Zuppa before he was born. Mark and Carlotta weren’t going to sell, but I’ll bet you anything she was the one who told Shackel they wouldn’t. Maybe he thought that Mark would sell him a share if the colt wasn’t racing well. He couldn’t slow Zuppa down if he wasn’t the trainer. Not very easily, anyway.”
Eric thought this over. “You forget—Carlotta and Jimmy wanted to take all their horses from him, not just the foal. Mark sold most of their horses off not long after Carlotta died, and I think that was because he had lost heart. But if she had lived, and they had pulled all those horses away from Shackel and brought them to you, wouldn’t that have done serious damage to his reputation?”
“Yes. Yes, you’re right. I guess Mark did eventually figure out Shackel was some kind of rat, or he wouldn’t have left Zuppa to you and Jimmy. He would have sold him, too.”
“Who knows? Jimmy thinks Zuppa had some kind of look in his eye from the day he was born, one that said he could take on all comers. Maybe Mark saw that, too.” He yawned. “Oh, forgive me. Next to no sleep.”
“That reminds me—tell your detective friends that diazepam is used as a horse sedative, too.”
“What?”
“Valium. I saw you write its generic name—diazepam.”
“So Shackel might have had access to a large amount of it?”
“Sure. If a racehorse’s behavior becomes dangerous to humans, you want a way to calm him down in a hurry. There are other uses for it, too. Most would have it in injectable form.”
• • •
He thanked her again when she dropped him off at the house. He watched her make the turn into her own drive, wondering if he had ever before in his life experienced so many warring emotions in a twenty-four-hour period.
He went inside and sat on the big leather sofa, exhausted, but thinking that Jimmy would be home any minute now, and he needed to come up with some way to tell him—well, whatever it was he should tell him.
He dozed lightly, awakening with a start. “Jimmy?” he called, but the house was silent.
He glanced at his watch. Jimmy should have been home by now. He had no sooner thought this than the phone rang.
“Uncle Eric?” Jimmy sounded frightened, almost tearful.
“Jimmy? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
But before Jimmy could answer, a man’s voice came on the line. “You’ve had a busy day, haven’t you?”
“What’s going on? Let me talk to Jimmy!”
“Let’s make a trade, then. The boy for a horse. Simple. Zuppa Inglese is going to be stolen and never heard from again, you’re going to collect insurance, and life will be beautiful. Leave the sheriff’s department out of it. Understood?”
“Yes,” said Eric, his mouth dry.
“Grab your cell phone. Get your girlfriend from across the road to go fetch Zuppa Inglese. The two of you are concerned about his health and have decided not to race him. I’ll know if you give them any other story, understood?”
“Yes.”
“Keep your cell phone on and I’ll give you instructions once the horse is out of the gates.”
The man hung up. For a brief moment Eric stood still, too horrified to move. Then he grabbed his jacket and keys and ran to Donna’s house. As he ran, he tried to place the man’s voice. Vaguely familiar, but not Shackel’s.
• • •
“What if he’s not here?” Eric asked as Fox River Racetrack came within sight. “Maybe my theory is totally wrong.”
“I don’t think so,” Donna said. “It makes sense. Whoever is doing this can’t afford to involve too many people. If he’s a horse owner or trainer who gets caught at it, all his efforts are for nothing—he’ll be run off the track for life. If the voice on the phone had been Shack’s, I’d say it may just be him acting alone. So it might be two—we both know he must have had someone helping him on the night Carlotta died.” She paused as she negotiated the turn into the track grounds. “Thank God you paid such close attention to what he said on the phone. We know at least one person has to be here, or close enough to see our trailer leave the track, or they couldn’t call you when we leave. Jimmy’s probably with that person, because they’ll want to send us running back here after him when they have the horse.”
He had said all of this to her an hour or so ago. Now, repeated back to him, he wasn’t sure it was so smart a theory.
“What do you think they’ve done to him?” Eric asked her as the track security guard opened the gate for them.
“I don’t know. We can’t think like that.”
He swallowed hard. She was right. He had to think about their plans, and not just how wrong they could go. “Your guys are ready?”
“Yes. We all want a piece of these jerks. But they’ll only see Paulo and Estefan.”
She drove to the farthest barn, the one where Zuppa was stabled.
The men who met them were two grooms who had worked for Donna for many years. Paulo and Estefan were brothers, and the grim expression on Estefan’s face made Eric’s heart sink. Pa
ulo, the older of the brothers, was Zuppa’s groom.
“I looked for him,” Estefan whispered, then shook his head. “But others know—Jimmy, he belongs to us all, you understand? They will be looking for him, too. They know to be careful.”
Eric knew that an army of about eight hundred worked the backstretch at this track. Not all of them would be here now. But the four of them weren’t going to be the only ones with their eyes open tonight.
“You’ve got people outside?” Donna asked, just as quietly.
“Yes, everything the way you asked, Miss Donna.” He gave Eric a quick smile. “We had a lot of volunteers.”
“Let’s pray this works, then.”
“Jimmy is here,” Paulo said. “Zuppa, he knows it.”
“What do you mean?” Eric asked.
“Zuppa, you know how he loves Jimmy? When he knows that boy is near, he gets excited. He’s been mad at me today, Zuppa—started not long before you called, Miss Donna. He wants out of that stall.”
“Maybe that’s exactly who we should have searching for Jimmy, then,” Donna said.
“What if someone’s watching?” Eric asked.
“I think we can make it look good.”
When they reached Zuppa’s stall, for the first time, Eric found himself feeling afraid of the colt. The horse seemed frustrated—he moved restlessly, tail flicking, and as they approached he snorted and kicked at the walls. Paulo talked to him, and he ceased the kicking, but it took the combined efforts of Donna and Paulo to get him to the point where anyone felt it was safe to take him out.
“Stand back,” Donna said, no longer whispering. But once out of his stall, Zuppa seemed calmer. He perked up bis ears, then gave a call, one Eric had heard him make often—his greeting when Jimmy came to see him. He stretched his head out toward Eric, who came nearer. Zuppa made a loud sighing sound.
“If I load him in the trailer while he’s in a mood like this,” Donna said, “he’ll get hurt—if we manage to load him in at all. We made good time getting here, so I think I’ll take a minute to walk him around a little, calm him down.” Estefan and Paulo said they would walk with her, just to help out if need be, and all three looked expectantly at Eric.
Realizing this was being said for any potential eavesdropper’s sake, he said, “Oh yes, I’m coming, too.”
As they began to walk down the row of stalls, some open, some closed up for the night, he noticed that Zuppa had tensed again, head high.
“Where’s Jimmy, Zuppa?” Donna whispered to him.
The horse’s ears flicked, and he called again.
Something or someone seemed to be disturbing other horses in a nearby barn. They turned down that row. Two workers appeared from the other end and began going down the row from there, looking in stalls as if checking on unsettled horses, then made slight shrugging gestures.
Suddenly Eric heard a familiar noise. “The wake-up bot!”
“Shh,” Donna said, but she was just as excited. “Where?”
Eric couldn’t quite figure out where the sound was coming from, but Zuppa could. He began to strain against the halter, trying to reach one of the closed stalls.
Eric hurried toward it. Someone had placed a lock on it, illegal if a horse occupied it. Estefan was soon beside him, and before long, the lock was off. Erie pulled open the stall door and saw Jimmy lying on the cement floor, duct tape binding his wrists and ankles, a wide silver strip of it across his mouth. On the ground nearby was the controller for the wake-up bot. Eric ran to him, apologized for the pain that came with removal of the tape gag, and quickly cut his hands and feet free, too. They hugged each other and cried their relief, and Donna soon joined them. “Are you okay?” Eric asked, and Jimmy nodded. From the stall door, Paulo said, “You better come see Zuppa, Jimmy, he’s the one who told us you were here.”
Eric helped him stand and he moved stiffly to where Zuppa waited. The horse butted Jimmy’s chest and whickered, lipping at Jimmy’s neck and ears as the boy held on to him and praised him.
“Don’t give him away to them, Uncle Eric. Don’t.”
“Not a chance. Who did this, Jimmy?”
“That guy Dennis—Laz’s son-in-law.”
Eric was stunned. “Laz? Laz wants Zuppa Inglese?”
“Dennis may not be doing this on Laz’s orders,” Donna said. “Let’s call the sheriff and let him sort it out.”
“Let’s call him from outside,” Eric said, feeling his fists clench.
She looked at him in surprise, then smiled. “All right.”
• • •
There was a good chance it wouldn’t work, Eric knew, but there was also a good chance that Dennis would go into the wind and never be caught by police. Laz was wealthy and might help his daughter’s husband escape punishment.
They put Zuppa into the horse trailer and tucked Jimmy safely into the backseat of the truck’s extended cab, where he couldn’t be seen through the dark-tinted windows. They had given him blankets, and Donna had the foresight to bring a couple of bottles of water. Jimmy was downing one of them. When his thirst was slaked, he told them that Dennis had been waiting for him near the place where the school bus dropped him off, and overpowered him. After restraining and gagging him, Dennis had put him in a large empty feed sack in the backseat of his car, then covered him with feed sacks and blankets and tack. It was stifling there, and at first, Jimmy was just happy when some of the layers were taken off. Dennis carried him and other supplies into the empty stall, took the gag off only long enough to let Jimmy say Eric’s name on the phone call, then left him there. He had been scared that Dennis would kill him. As the night grew colder, he worried that Zuppa would be killed, and Eric and Donna. He’d be left alone, with no one. He managed to get the wake-up bot out of his pocket, and used his chin to try to operate the controls.
“I wasn’t very good at it,” he said.
“You were terrific,” Eric said. “It was a smart and brave thing to do.”
Jimmy was still very shaken, Eric could see, and that infuriated him. Eric knew he had to control what seemed at the moment to be a perfectly reasonable impulse to beat the living hell out of Dennis.
He asked Jimmy for a description of the car. A black Mercedes-Benz. Jimmy didn’t get a chance to see the license plate.
They pulled out of the backstretch area and checked with the guard, saying just what they had been ordered to say, not knowing how close to the guard shed Dennis might be waiting and watching.
They moved the truck and trailer down the street a short distance and parked.
“Why would Laz do this?” Eric asked in a low voice. “Was he just trying to make sure Give Me Room had less competition?”
“I can’t believe it is Laz,” Donna said. “I’ve known him a long time. He’d see, I’m sure, that he just couldn’t kidnap every horse that might be able to beat Give Me Room.”
“Zuppa hasn’t even faced Give Me Room yet. Not until the Fox River Juvenile Stakes next week, right?”
“That race is worth a lot,” Jimmy said. “But Donna’s right. I—I thought about this a lot when I was tied up. Laz would never hurt anyone.”
“I wish they would call,” Eric said, looking at his cell phone.
As if he had willed it to do so, it began to vibrate.
“You turned the ringer off?” Jimmy said.
“Yes. I want him to think my phone isn’t working.”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Donna asked.
“No,” he answered, feeling his palms sweat.
Within seconds, the phone rang again. He waited a few moments, then got out of the truck, hearing Donna whisper, “Be careful, Eric!” as he closed the door. He paced anxiously, telling himself that he had to look as if he didn’t know where Jimmy was right now and was waiting for a call. He kept looking at the phone. The track workers were well hidden, but he avoided looking at the shrubs where they were concealed.
The cell phone vibrated again, and he did not react to it. He
didn’t have to pretend to be anxious now.
After a few moments, he heard a car coming. He moved to stand near the driver’s side window of the truck. When he was sure the approaching car was a dark Mercedes, he said, “Call the sheriff now, Donna.”
Dennis pulled up behind the trailer, and Eric approached with his hands out to his side. Dennis got out of the car, obviously ready to yell, but Eric beat him to it. “You said you would call!”
“I did, damn it!”
“Where’s Jimmy? What have you done to him?!”
“He’ll be just fine if you do what you’re told. We’re not off to a good start here. How am I supposed to give you instructions if your damned phone isn’t working?”
Eric might have pointed out that no plan should be wholly reliant on technology, but Dennis had moved closer to him, within striking range, and Eric could see movement in the shadows nearby. He gave into selfish desire for the first time in months and landed a hard punch in the middle of Dennis’s face.
Before Dennis could cry out more than “You crazy bastard!” he was brought to the ground by a group of a dozen track workers. Estefan and Paulo were among them.
“Here—he has a gun!” someone cried, and wrestled it out of Dennis’s hand before he could fire it.
At that moment, the sheriff’s department arrived.
The confusion was not easily sorted out, but within the hour Dennis was in custody. Several hours later, and after Dennis, Eric, Jimmy, and Donna had spent time talking to Detective Pearsley, Shackel was arrested. Detective Wade appeared not long after. He did not seem happy with Eric, but Eric had all he cared about. Donna and Jimmy were safe. Paulo and Estefan had taken Zuppa back to his stall, promising Jimmy to give him extra apples and carrots.
Laz, informed of his son-in-law’s arrest, was both appalled and embarrassed when he learned why, and told his daughter he would disinherit her if she posted bail. Dennis remained in custody.
After lecturing him briefly on all the things that might have gone wrong as a result of their amateurish plans, Pearsley told Eric that Donna and Jimmy were waiting for him and he could go home.