The grooms feverishly worked to prepare the horses and riders, bringing extra water for themselves as the heat remained unabated; the trainers all dodged the unbelievable press of flesh. By five, two hours before the first class, all prior attendance records had been shattered. Despite the expense for extra security and the anticipated cost of extra cleanup of the grounds, the coffers would overflow.
Ward, hearing the sounds of cars, people, feet, quipped to Benny, bridle over his shoulder, “This proves there is no such thing as bad publicity.”
Ward no sooner got the words out of his mouth than Booty appeared, in the company of Miss Nasty.
“Benny, take a hike,” Booty ordered.
“Hike, hike, hike,” Miss Nasty echoed Booty, and for whatever reason this put her in an especially good mood.
Benny shifted the bridle to his other shoulder, looking to Ward.
“He stays right here, Booty. What the hell is this about? I’ve been through as much as I care to handle today.”
Booty half-smiled. “I won’t be as tedious as your insurance agent.” He glanced at Benny, deciding to go forward. “Here’s the deal. I know you serviced Renata, so to speak. You carried the mare to your farm.” Ward stayed expressionless as Booty kept on. “I don’t mind. She got what she wanted out of it. I don’t even want to know what she paid you. But I want to know two things. Did Jorge bring Queen Esther to you?”
“I told you he did.” Ward ignored Miss Nasty, who left Booty’s shoulder and now pulled on the hem of his jeans.
“I don’t remember you telling me that.”
“Alzheimer’s,” Ward joked, but Booty didn’t laugh. “What’s the next question?”
“Did Charly pay you, too?”
“What’s Charly got to do with it?”
“Oh, come on, Ward, don’t play me for a fool. You’re smarter than that and so am I. Renata doesn’t breathe without Charly.”
“What are you talking about?” Ward raised his voice. “I don’t know what Renata and Charly are doing, but I can tell you I didn’t talk to him. The only person I talked to was Renata.”
“He’s behind it.”
“Well, go talk to him. I don’t know anything about it.”
Booty clucked to Miss Nasty.
“I don’t want to leave yet.” The monkey dropped Ward’s hem to snoop in the hospitality room. Might be something scrumptious in there.
Checking his watch, Booty’s eyebrows raised. “Damn, time gets away from me.” Two long strides and he entered the hospitality room, just as Miss Nasty unwrapped a cold Reese’s peanut butter cup. She left the small refrigerator door open, which Booty closed. “Miss Nasty, no sugar.”
She popped it in her mouth, trying to swallow it whole. With tremendous effort and a few chews while eluding Booty, she managed.
Booty came out with Miss Nasty in tow.
Ward stepped closer to Booty. “I don’t know what your worry is about Charly. Seems to me I have more to worry about than you do. Benny and I could have been blown to kingdom come, and, well, Charly knows all about explosives.”
Booty, holding the monkey’s paw as she walked along with him, her eyes watering from swallowing such a big hunk of candy, said, “Don’t do business behind my back.”
“I don’t think doing business with Renata is doing business behind your back. I’ve kept up my end of the bargain concerning you.”
Booty’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Everything concerns me. If Charly did set up the so-called theft of the horse with you, then how do I know you aren’t siphoning off money elsewhere? Maybe you bring in a load of merchandise on the QT.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I’ve been straight up.” Ward’s jaw jutted out.
“Good.” Booty’s tone improved. “If there’s one thing I hate it’s a double cross.”
Ward and Benny watched him as he strutted toward his barn, nodding and smiling to all and sundry, Miss Nasty waving, too.
“Peculiar mind,” Benny intoned.
“I’ll say, but he’s one hell of an organizer. I learned that going for the pickups.”
“Yep. Booty succeeds at what he does.” Benny said no more. He kept his personal feelings to himself, a habit learned the hard way.
“Whenever you get that flat sound in your voice, I know you’re not telling me what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking is, what the hell is he worried about? No one has tried to kill him.”
“Maybe he thinks he’s next.” Ward watched as Booty disappeared into the mass of people.
“Be a blessing.” Benny couldn’t help it, it slipped out.
“Sometimes I think that myself.” Ward picked up a can of hoof dressing and entered a stall.
Booty walked into Charly’s barn, finding Charly back in the small dressing room. Carlos was in one of the stalls.
Booty pulled aside the curtain as Spike hollered to the other cats, “That damned monkey is in here.”
“Shut up,” Miss Nasty called back, then ran out into the aisle to irritate the cats, an activity in which she richly succeeded.
“I’ve been thinking.” Booty sat on a navy and red tack trunk. “You sure let Ward off the hook easy.”
“Did we have any choice?”
“Yeah, we could have cut him out.”
Charly shook his head. “Too risky. Plus he does good work, and he is the one who will get arrested first.”
“Well, I’m not overfond of reducing my own profit.”
“Half a loaf is better than no loaf. Ward’s tight-lipped, does what he’s told, and he’s bright enough. He can learn more of the business and hopefully create more profit, which will offset our slight loss in making him a full partner. Plus we don’t have to pay Jorge anymore. There’s a penny saved.”
“There is that.” Booty leaned in toward him. “I figure you and Renata contacted him to steal Queen Esther.”
“The hell I did.” Charly’s face turned bright crimson. “That was her idea.”
“I don’t believe you. She’s an actress. Playing a public scene with you is her bread and butter. Why should I believe you? You both get something out of it.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“Renata.” Booty listened for a moment to one of Miss Nasty’s shrieks and decided it wasn’t life-threatening, since she was cussing cats.
“My relationship with Renata has been rocky, but relationships between trainers and clients can be that way. She’s wound tight.”
“Then let me just say this: if you and Ward are running a little sideline behind my back, I’m going to get really angry.”
“I would, too.” Charly, irritated, rested his hand on the metal crossbar of the portable clothes rack. “Look, I’ve got to get ready. I have a boatload of clients going this last night, and there is the five-gaited stakes, which I’ll be winning.”
Silky smooth, Booty said, “I’ve given that a lot of thought. I’ll be winning that class, Charly, because if you don’t bring Frederick the Great down just enough to come in second, I’m telling the press about Renata stealing her own horse. Might even tell them you were in on it.”
Charly, for a second, didn’t move a muscle. “You son of a bitch.”
“I don’t like a double cross. For all I know you killed that Mexican, too.”
“You’re out of your mind. Out of it! I wouldn’t kill Jorge.”
“Well, you damned well blew up Ward’s van. You’re the only one who could do it. Eliminate someone who knew too much, not just about our business but about Renata. Also increases your profit.”
“Come on, anyone can find information on the Internet about how to build and plant a car bomb.”
“Maybe so, but I know you have that skill, thanks to the United States Army. You’ve even got the medals to prove it, and,” he drew this out, “I know you’re in love with Renata.”
“For Christ’s sake, Booty, Ward’s no threat to Renata.”
“No?” Booty’s eyebrows rose. “He stuck u
s for a full third of a share. Blackmailing Renata could be very lucrative. She oozes money.”
“You’re crazy.” Charly’s lips turned white with rage.
“You made a mistake, buddy, a tiny mistake, but I picked up on it.”
“Oh, and what might that be?” Charly wanted to hit Booty so badly he was shaking.
“When you and Renata performed your screaming match at Kalarama’s barn, you pointed a finger at her and said, ‘I know about you.’” Charly’s face was blank. Booty continued, “A comment like that stays with people. Now, most folks when they heard about it assumed you meant she was sleeping with you. Me, I’m a little different. I investigated. I’ve got more friends than you think.”
“If you pay them enough,” Charly hissed through gritted teeth.
Booty leaned right toward him and lied through his teeth to shake up Charly. “She worked as a call girl before she hit it big. Worked in New York City and Los Angeles.”
Charly, with a vicious left hook, hit Booty like thunder.
Rocked back on his feet, Booty instantly crouched low, then sprang up in Charly’s face. He hit him in the mouth, loosening a tooth.
As blood trickled from Charly’s mouth, he blocked another blow from the slighter man, then smashed him hard with a punishing straight right to his gut, followed by a left uppercut.
Booty sprawled on the ground but made no more attempt to defend himself.
Charly straddled him, daring him to raise up. “Get up, you slimy bastard.”
“Before you hit me again, let me drop this tidbit into your overheated brain. If you don’t take it down tonight just a notch, a tiny notch, Charly, then I go to the press about Renata’s past and about stealing her own horse for publicity.”
“I’ll kill you first.”
Booty, still down, looked at his expensive watch. “Got about two hours to do it. After that we’ll be pushing those clients into the ring.”
Charly stepped back and Booty got up, sauntering off, although he did rub his jaw.
Miss Nasty trundled after him as Spike called down, “Your days are numbered, Nasty. Every cat on this show grounds hates your guts.”
“Oh la.” She lifted her shoulders insouciantly and kept right on truckin’.
Carlos, who’d heard the crunch of fist on jaw, waited until Booty left the barn, then walked into the changing room where Charly was massaging his hand.
Charly looked at him. “I will kill that walking piece of feces.”
Joan felt like she stood at a turnstile, so many people passed through Barn Five, most of them clients, friends of clients, prospective clients. By five-thirty, even before the greatest crush of people, she felt slightly wilted.
“I’ll do the shake-and-howdy for twenty minutes,” Harry offered. “You sneak off and drink a nice tall iced tea with a sprig of mint. That will refresh your spirits.”
Joan wryly smiled. “You sound like my mother.”
“How is Mother?”
“Hasn’t spoken to me since she learned about the pin.” Joan brightly smiled as another person came forward. “Well, Mr. Thompson—”
“John, please.”
“This is Mrs. Haristeen, and there are drinks and sandwiches in the hospitality room. Dad will be here shortly.”
The square-built, middle-aged man smiled back. “Thank you.”
As he walked into the room, Joan whispered, “Looking for a roadster. Dad called me and told me he’d be here probably before Dad and Mom got here. I don’t have but so many roadsters. That’s Dad’s thing.”
From time to time, Paul enjoyed donning the silks to whiz around the ring, although he’d decided to take it easy this Shelbyville, which proved a prescient decision.
As if on cue, both women looked down toward Charly’s barn by the practice ring. They saw Charly, his hand wrapped in Vetrap, a sky-blue thin ice pack underneath. He and Renata stood just outside the barn to the side.
“Hmm.” Joan squinted. “Looks intense.”
Harry noticed their shoulders raised up, faces flushed. “Yes, it does.”
Spike, sitting behind them on the grass for a breath of fresh air, heard the whole thing.
“Shouldn’t you put that in a bucket of ice?”
“I need to use my hand, Renata. Remember, there’s only Carlos. The rest of the help ran like rabbits when INS raided.”
“Guess I would, too.” She reached for his hand, gently looking at it. “Good you put the Vetrap on, it will keep the swelling down. Charly, how can you ride like this?”
“I have to. I have to win.” His chest expanded and he breathed hard, for it hurt even to have her hold his hand. “Look, this can’t wait. I have to know something. Did you work as a call girl in New York and L.A.?”
Stunned, she stammered, “No. I was a messenger. I rode a bike. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Booty. When I threatened you Wednesday and said, ‘I know about you,’ he called in some chits. He said you worked for a high-class escort service.”
“Charly, if that were the case, don’t you think it would have hit the tabloids sometime during my career? It’s ridiculous.”
“You could have paid people off.”
“Not the tabloids.” She dropped his hand. “How could you even listen to such trash?”
“You’re in a hard business, and thousands of beautiful women think they can achieve what you’ve achieved, Renata. And most of them don’t come from solid backgrounds, if you know what I mean.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “You mean they’re poor, they’re from broken homes—like me. Trash, in fact. You think because someone started life on the short end they have no morals?”
“I think the kind of narcissistic ambition it takes to be an actress could lead any woman into anything.”
“Jesus Christ, look who’s talking. Narcissus!”
“Oh, come on. It’s not the same. I would never have had to rent my body to get ahead in this world.”
“Well, Charly Trackwell, I never did, either, and I come from hunger. I worked hard. I took jobs that allowed me to study, but I never sold my body, and I never would. I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you would even consider such slander.” She told the truth.
He wavered. “It’s been a rough week. Maybe my judgment is shaky. But he seemed so sure.”
“Then tell him to give you names and numbers. I will call them myself. Actually, I won’t. I’ll have my lawyers call them, and I will sue their sorry asses into next week. I wouldn’t mind suing Booty, either, but he needs to say it to my face.” Her face, crimson, betrayed her emotions.
Spike moved forward until he was three feet behind Charly.
“You’d sue?”
“You bet.”
Charly exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry.”
The fact that she would sue convinced him Booty did make it up.
“Have you thought that he’s trying to throw you off tonight? He wants this win.”
“He also threatened to tell everyone, media included, about that and that you stole your own horse for publicity’s sake.”
A long cold moment followed. “Did he?”
“Said he’d tie you, me, and Ward up together. Ruin your career.”
“He can try.” Renata had steel in her spine. “He has to prove it. If he doesn’t, he winds up in court. Do you need me to help you since you can’t use your right hand?”
Surprised at this shift of subject matter, Charly blinked, then shook his head. “I can manage.”
“Good. I’m going to pay a call on Booty Pollard, and when I’m finished, he’ll have lost his focus for the five-gaited stake.”
Charly smiled slowly. “Renata, you could make any man lose his focus.”
“Only if he has a set of balls,” Renata sharply replied, then added, “Would you have honored your proposal if I had been a call girl?”
His eyes looked downward, then up to hers. “No. I can’t have a whore for a wife.” He didn’t consider that he was
a thief.
“There are all kinds of whores, Charly. You might qualify yourself. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”
Now his face turned red. “Because I thought you were? Come on, it’s not such a far putt.”
“No, that doesn’t upset me as much as the fact that you wouldn’t marry me if I had made a mistake like that.” She glanced down at Spike, who was paying rapt attention, then up to Charly. “To love is to forgive, to accept. You don’t truly love me. You only love yourself. I deserve better.”
She left him standing there, his hand throbbing even more, and she moved fast toward Booty’s barn.
Joan said to Harry as they watched her, “Trouble in paradise.”
“I’d say that Charly’s goose is cooked.” Harry still hadn’t mentioned Renata’s intent to move back to Charly’s barn and was glad she hadn’t.
“From the looks of it, Booty’s in for a blast.” A devilish moment overtook Joan. “I can’t stand it. I’m going to have to promenade by Booty’s barn.”
Just then Mrs. Murphy and Pewter shot out in front of them, Tucker and Cookie immediately behind.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Cookie opined, her little tail nub straight up.
“It’s Mom and Joan who are curious. I’m going as a guard,” Pewter half-fibbed.
The small contingent, twenty yards from the front of Booty’s barn, heard Renata’s rising tone. Booty’s responses were lower.
The two women looked at each other, the corners of their mouths turning upward. If nothing else, it would be a reprieve from the week’s events, a comical interlude, so they thought.
“Oh, come on, I was trying to rattle his cage,” Booty said soothingly.
“By throwing filth at me?” Renata was so angry that Miss Nasty cowered on Booty’s shoulder.
“He’s in love with you. What better way to hurt him?” Booty didn’t smile when he said this.
“First of all, you disgusting toad, he is not in love with me. He’s only in love with himself. Secondly, you’ve slandered me, and if you ever say anything like that again, I will sue you. I will drive you to your knees, because I won’t give up. I keep a powerful law firm on retainer for just these kinds of cheap shots. So, Booty, you either give me your sources or you get down on your knees.”
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