Win, Place or Die

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy wrinkled her nose in distaste. Eddie Brent might own one of the classiest breeding farms in California, but he had no class. He was sensationalizing McHugh’s accident!

  Cam, Thea, and Laura Johnson were standing outside Toot Sweet’s box. Following the direction of Laura’s gaze, Nancy knew that Cam was her primary interest, not Toot Sweet.

  “Hi.” Thea greeted Nancy and Bess with a relieved smile. She seemed glad that someone had come to break up their little threesome.

  “Hi,” Nancy and Bess chorused.

  “Any news on Ken McHugh’s condition?” Nancy asked the group at large.

  “He’s still in a coma,” Cam answered soberly. “We’re going to have to get another jockey for the Derby.”

  Nancy glanced at Laura, who was smoothing a single strand of her beautifully styled dark hair back in place. The girl was wearing a set of teardrop diamond earrings and a pink-and-green floral print dress. A single strand of diamonds adorned her left wrist. “Well, don’t look at me,” she said with a laugh. “Ask Cam who he’s asking to ride.”

  Nancy glanced expectantly at the trainer, but Bess continued staring at Laura. Cam answered her unasked question. “I asked Walt Collins, who also rides for us pretty steadily, to be Toot Sweet’s jockey. He’s arriving tonight.”

  Laura closed her eyes and shuddered delicately, as if she’d just been reminded of an unpleasant topic. “Did you hear there might be an investigation into Ken’s accident?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  Thea’s breath caught. “Really?” Nancy murmured.

  “Well, it’s a waste of time,” Cam snapped.

  “I agree with Cam,” Thea said, surprising Nancy. “It’s all just rumors anyway.”

  “Rumors?” Nancy asked, exchanging a look with a surprised Bess. “What kind of rumors?”

  “There haven’t been any rumors about McHugh,” Cam clarified, shooting a warning at Thea to be quiet. Nancy noted the look.

  “Well, I’m going back to the hotel to change for dinner,” Laura announced, ending the conversation. “You’re coming with Daddy and me tonight, aren’t you?” she asked Cam in a pleading voice.

  “I’ll be there after I pick Walt up,” Cam said with a sigh.

  Laura left when a stable boy called Cam to check out one of the other Johnson Farms horses.

  “Let’s go to the races,” Thea suggested, her voice a little tight. Nancy wondered if she was upset with Cam for trying to keep her quiet, or with Laura for flirting so openly with her boyfriend.

  The Wednesday afternoon races were on when Nancy, Bess, and Thea found places to stand at the rail. The reporter who’d been interviewing Eddie Brent was now talking rapidly to several people Nancy recognized as track personnel.

  “I’m telling you, it’s a fact,” the reporter declared loudly. “McHugh’s bloodstream was loaded with sedatives. He didn’t have an accident. Someone tried to kill him!”

  Chapter

  Seven

  KILL HIM!” Thea cried out.

  The reporter glanced back at Bess, Nancy, and Thea. Apparently he didn’t think they were important, so he turned back to the others he’d been talking to.

  Thea was white as a sheet. “Attempted murder,” she muttered in a trembling voice. “No, it can’t be.”

  “If he’d been given a sedative, that would explain why he slid off the horse,” said Nancy. “He was passing out and couldn’t hold on.”

  Thea pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes huge. “He would have known in the starting gate that something was wrong. Why would he take such a risk?”

  “Maybe he didn’t understand what was happening,” Bess suggested.

  “But who would have done such a thing?” Thea asked, her face pale.

  Nancy remembered Cam’s comment about McHugh’s big mouth getting him into trouble someday. Did Cam have a reason for wanting McHugh dead or know of someone who wanted him dead?

  “I know you won’t believe all the rumors, just the facts,” Thea suddenly put in.

  Nancy was about to ask Thea what she meant, but she was interrupted by a police officer. Like the reporter, the police officer had been interviewing racing officials and personnel. According to the officer, the police had been called in to investigate both of McHugh’s accidents. McHugh had shown the cut girth strap to someone in the secretary’s office, and that initial incident had been reported to the police.

  “We’re putting Mr. McHugh under police protection,” the officer added after he had finished his questions. “In case we uncover foul play.”

  After he left, Nancy turned thoughtfully to Bess. “I think I’ll do a little investigating on my own. I’d like to locate our mystery man with the smashed nose and find out exactly what he was trying to get Ken McHugh to do.”

  Saying a quick goodbye to Thea, Nancy and Bess took off for the stables. They spent the afternoon asking the stable boys, grooms, jockeys, trainers, and owners if anyone had ever seen the heavyset man who’d threatened McHugh. No one volunteered any information, but Nancy got the distinct impression that some of the stable boys and jockeys knew who she was asking about. They just wouldn’t talk.

  “It’s so frustrating,” Nancy complained to Bess late that afternoon when they hadn’t come up with a single lead. “Why won’t anyone talk about this guy?”

  “He must be really bad news,” Bess offered, resting her hands on her hips. That day Bess had dressed in denim shorts and an aqua tank top. Her hair was clipped away from her face, and she seemed to have forgotten the trauma of her bangs.

  “You were really staring at Laura earlier,” Nancy remembered. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Nothing much. But you know that dress she was wearing? I saw it a few years ago. It was by a really trendy European designer.”

  “A few years ago?” Nancy’s brows lifted. “Laura doesn’t seem the type to wear anything that isn’t this year’s style.”

  “That’s what I thought. She’s too concerned about her appearance to be caught dead in something that old.”

  They were strolling in front of the barns when they saw Cam coming through the stable gate. Beside him was a short blond man who Nancy guessed was Toot Sweet’s new jockey.

  Bess stopped short as Cam and the shorter man headed their way. Walt Collins, Nancy remembered, as Cam began to introduce him.

  “Walt’s one of the best jockeys around,” Cam finished as the jockey shook hands with Nancy, then Bess. His hair was a thatch of unruly gold that fell appealingly over his forehead. His eyes were a brilliant sky blue.

  “Nice to meet you, Walt,” Nancy said, amused at the way Walt’s gaze was centered on Bess. Bess, Nancy realized in amusement, was staring back at him.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Walt answered, still looking at Bess.

  With Bess and Walt standing so close together, Nancy was struck by how much they looked alike—both blond and cute! Bess had that starry-eyed look Nancy knew so well. She had already fallen for Walt!

  “I hate to break this up,” Cam said dryly, “but we’ve got work to do.”

  “Are you going to be around later?” Walt asked Bess pointedly.

  She nodded vigorously. “Nancy’s father is part owner of Pied Piper. We’re here with the colt.”

  “Great. I’ll catch you later!” he said, taking off at a jog to catch up with Cam, who had gone on ahead.

  “Isn’t he the cutest?” Bess said breathily.

  “I thought you had a crush on Cam,” Nancy answered innocently.

  “Who, me? Oh, no. Cam’s great looking and all, but he’s only interested in Thea. Besides”—Bess’s dimple showed—“you know I’m a sucker for blonds.”

  “Five-foot-tall blonds?” Nancy asked.

  “Oh, I know he’s kind of short. A couple inches shorter than me, actually,” Bess admitted. “But who cares?” She looked stricken. “You don’t suppose he could weigh less than I do, do you?”

  Nancy grinned. “A Derby horse can only carry one hund
red and twenty-six pounds with the saddle.”

  Bess groaned. “That does it. I’m going to have to skip dinner tonight. Remind me, will you? Well, at least I won’t eat anything fattening.”

  Nancy laughed, then noticed Eddie Brent outside one of the last barns in the row. “There’s Eddie Brent. I’d like to find out what he thinks about McHugh’s accident.”

  Brent was berating a stable boy for apparently not looking after Flash as he should have. The stable boy was saying nothing, but his anger showed in his tightly clenched jaw.

  “Good luck,” Bess said with feeling, falling into step beside Nancy.

  “Hello, Mr. Brent.” Nancy introduced herself with a smile. “We haven’t officially met, but I’m Nancy Drew. My father’s part owner of Pied Piper, and I’m here as the representative owner.”

  “Oh?” He shook Nancy’s outstretched hand, assessing her carefully.

  In her peripheral vision Nancy saw Ace Hanford, Flash’s jockey, lean against the edge of Flash’s stall, unabashedly eavesdropping on their conversation. Good, Nancy thought. If Eddie couldn’t help her, maybe Ace could.

  “I’m a detective,” she told Eddie, “and I’m looking into the circumstances surrounding Ken McHugh’s accident. I heard you talking to a reporter earlier. Would you mind—”

  “Forget it,” Eddie declared, his scowl deepening. “Detective?” He looked at her as if he found it hard to believe. “I don’t talk to detectives. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know a heavyset man who looks as if his nose has been broken?” Nancy called after him as he stalked away. “I’d really like to speak to him. He was talking to McHugh here at the track on Monday.”

  Eddie disappeared down the row of stalls, pointedly ignoring her. Nancy sighed. She’d struck out again.

  “Nice guy,” Bess muttered sardonically.

  Nancy’s eyes met Ace’s. He was still leaning against the stall. Glancing in both directions, he said just loud enough for her to hear, “Come back here tonight, around nine, alone.” Then he quickly walked away.

  “Now, what do you suppose that was all about?” Bess asked, amazed.

  Nancy’s eyes sparkled. “I don’t know, but it looks as though I’m about to get my first solid lead!”

  • • •

  It was dark and a brisk wind had kicked up by the time Nancy and Bess returned to Churchill Downs that night. They’d changed from shorts to jeans and each had thrown on a lightweight jacket. Wanting to blend into the predominantly male scene, Nancy had tucked her hair into a cap. Now she could almost pass for one of the stable boys.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go over to meet Ace with you?” Bess asked for the third time.

  “He said for me to come alone,” Nancy reminded her friend.

  “I know, but that’s spooky. These barns are dark at night. There aren’t a lot of lights on.”

  “Don’t worry, Bess. The stable boys sleep on cots in the barns to guard the horses.” Nancy smiled assuredly. “I’ll be fine.”

  They ran into Walt outside of Toot Sweet’s barn, and as soon as he spied Bess, he came running over. “You want to go down to the stable cafeteria? I bring my own food, but we could get tea or something.”

  “You bring your own food?” Bess repeated curiously.

  Walt nodded. “Strictly healthy stuff. I can’t eat all the grease and preservatives they pack into cafeteria food.”

  Knowing Bess’s love for french fries and chocolate, Nancy wondered how her infatuation with Walt was going to turn out. “I’ll meet you both at the cafeteria later,” she said, chuckling to herself as she headed for the barn where Flash O’Lightnin’ was stabled.

  Although the racecourse had outdoor lights, there were many dark shadows, and as Nancy approached Flash’s barn, she noticed there wasn’t a single light on. Thea had told her earlier that the gray colt had been stabled away from most of the other entries because he was extremely nervous and excitable.

  Wishing she’d brought her penlight, Nancy shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and strode toward Flash’s stall.

  Peering into the gloomy barn, Nancy was struck by how eerily quiet it was. Where were the grooms and stable boys who slept in the barns to watch over the Derby horses? she wondered uneasily, not daring to go inside. Why wasn’t anyone watching over Flash?

  Hearing a noise at the far end of the barn, Nancy turned sharply. A shadowy figure was just disappearing around the far corner. Was it Ace? If so, why was he being so secretive?

  Nancy followed the intruder. On the ground just in front of her lay a riding crop. Picking it up, she wondered if it was Ace’s.

  “Mr. Hanford?” she called softly.

  There was no answer except for the moaning sound of the wind. Nancy headed back to the barn entrance and crossed inside. Surely Ace wouldn’t allow the colt to be completely alone.

  She could hear Flash’s shuffling hooves long before she saw him. Alert to her presence, the colt suddenly snorted and restlessly pawed the straw.

  Nancy opened her mouth to say something soothing to him when a strong arm shot in front of her, pinning her arms to her sides. Before she could scream a hand was clapped across her mouth.

  “Move it!” a voice growled.

  Nancy’s blood ran cold. She struggled to get free, but the hands held her tight. She was being dragged toward the dark, empty end of the barn!

  Chapter

  Eight

  WHO ARE YOU and what do you want?” a familiar voice demanded in Nancy’s ear.

  She stopped struggling instantly. It was Ace!

  “Don’t yell, or you’ll scare the horse,” he ordered, releasing his hand from her mouth.

  “Mr. Hanford, it’s me,” Nancy managed to say after taking a deep breath.

  The jockey muttered an oath and twisted her around, staring through the gloom at her face. “Nancy Drew? I didn’t recognize you in that hat and jacket! What were you doing sneaking up on Flash with that crop? You could have scared him into hurting himself!”

  He escorted her outside the barn and into the cool dark night. A small sliver of a moon turned Ace’s face a ghostly gray.

  “I’m sorry,” Nancy apologized. “Where are the stable boys? Who’s watching Flash?”

  “I am. Flash is real skittish, and I stay at the barn with him most of the time.” He glanced over his shoulder toward Flash’s stall. “I gave the stable boys the night off. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

  “But you weren’t guarding the horse when I got here,” Nancy pointed out.

  “I heard something,” Ace admitted. “Like somebody walking real soft. So I went to see who it was. When I got back, you were heading for Flash with this in your hand!” He lifted the crop. “Why did you bring it with you, anyway?”

  “I found it beside the barn,” Nancy told him. “Someone must have dropped it.”

  Ace grunted. “Probably that stable boy Eddie was so mad at. He used it on Flash earlier, and the horse nearly hurt himself.”

  “Did you find whoever was walking around the barn?” Nancy asked.

  “No,” the jockey growled, glancing toward Flash’s stall once more. Nancy heard the colt shuffling in the hay. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time,” Ace went on, his voice low and secretive, “but I heard you asking about Dollar Bill, and I thought maybe it was time I said my piece about the crook.”

  “Dollar Bill?” Nancy questioned.

  “The man you were looking for. The one you saw talking to McHugh. That’s Dollar Bill.”

  “Just who is Dollar Bill?” asked Nancy, keeping her own voice just as quiet.

  Ace’s expression darkened. “He’s a bookie and a crook. You can place any kind of bet with Dollar Bill, but you’d better pay up quick.”

  Nancy frowned. “He was threatening McHugh when I saw him, telling him he’d better get the money or else.”

  “That’s Bill,” Ace said, nodding. “He’s got half the jockeys around
here scared to death. If you don’t pay, he puts the squeeze on you in other ways, you know what I mean? I know he was leaning on McHugh. Wanted him to stiff a horse in the Derby. McHugh said no way.”

  “Dollar Bill is into race fixing?” Nancy’s heart was pounding now. She finally had a solid lead!

  Ace nodded grimly. “Among other things. The man’s like a bad wind blowing across horse racing.”

  Nancy’s mind was clicking as she sorted through the facts. “So McHugh placed bets with Dollar Bill, then couldn’t pay up when he lost,” she concluded. “What I don’t get is why McHugh went through Bill when he could place a legitimate bet at the track?”

  Ace shook his head emphatically. “No, ma’am. Jockeys can only bet on the mount they’re riding, and then they can only place the bet—”

  “Through the horse’s trainer or owner. That’s right,” Nancy finished, remembering what Cam had told her. She also recalled that McHugh was a heavy gambler. “So McHugh placed some illegal bets, lost, and couldn’t come up with the money?”

  Ace nodded. “That’s right. McHugh had talked Bill into waiting until the Derby. He was going to bet on Toot Sweet and get his money back. But then he fell,” Ace said, shaking his head sadly.

  “Do you think Bill could have drugged Ken McHugh?” Nancy asked.

  “It’s possible, but not likely. I mean, Bill wants his money. Until McHugh’s better, he won’t get it.”

  Nancy couldn’t argue with Ace’s logic. Dollar Bill had to want McHugh unharmed—at least until he was paid off.

  Glancing once more toward the barn, Ace said, “I’ve got to get back to Flash, but don’t tell anyone I was the one who told you about Dollar Bill, see?”

  Nancy saw. From what Ace had said, Dollar Bill was one tough and powerful crook. If he knew Ace was the person who’d fingered him, he might do more than just threaten the jockey. “I won’t tell,” she assured him.

  Ace nodded and disappeared back toward the barns. Nancy stood for a moment in silence, listening. A light snapped on, and for a moment she saw Ace checking out Flash O’Lightnin’. He glanced her way but made no gesture of acknowledgment. From now on, it looked as though Ace Hanford was going to pretend he had no idea who she was.