by Toni Leland
A rack of fur coats stood in front of the next booth, and after that, breathtaking bronze sculptures of horses and eagles and wolves. Kim glanced around. The hall was very busy and most of the shoppers had their wallets out or were carrying bags filled with wonderful things. She sighed and moved a little faster toward the end of the tent where a banner announced a silent auction to benefit the Arabian Horsemen’s Distress Fund.
Several long tables were draped in gold lamé, every square inch of tabletop filled with donations for the bidding. Kim picked up a flyer and read about the mission of the organization behind the auction. The basic principle was “horsemen helping other horsemen.” She began to nod as she read the examples of extreme need that the fund addressed: fires, natural disasters such as hurricanes, tornadoes, or flooding, catastrophic medical issues that could bring a family to its financial knees. She glanced down the length of the table. If she could help even a little bit, she would.
Walking slowly, she examined the wide array of expensive items: elegant gift baskets filled with wines and cheeses, a pair of beautiful soft leather riding gloves, a two-week vacation getaway to Hawaii, a certificate for a month of lessons with one of the top trainers in the business, a pair of men’s Ariat® show boots, a limo-escorted night on the town in Scottsdale, and dozens of other enticing items. Kim looked at the bidding sheets. Obviously, the show attendees were supporting this program one hundred percent. All the sheets had several bids, and the amounts were high. Disappointment flooded her thoughts. Much as she’d like to support this important cause, she simply couldn’t afford to. She moved on and, at the end of the last table, examined an auction lot that consisted of a Coach® satchel in polished wine-colored leather plus a matching envelope clutch, iPad folio, and phone case. Kim whistled softly under her breath. Just the satchel bag alone would sell for around eight hundred dollars, but the other three items pushed that figure to over a couple grand. Generous donation. She leaned closer to look at the bidding sheet to see who’d donated the items.
Wheeler Arabians of Portland, Indiana.
As Kim left the tent, her step slowed. Could she and Garrett be wrong about this woman?
No, she has too much money for a church secretary. And there’s that ‘secret’ horse business.
Chapter 30
Kim stepped back from the mirror and studied her makeup. A little too much lipstick and not enough blush. As she brushed the russet powder over her cheekbones, she formulated her plan for the party logistics. She would locate Vivica Wheeler as soon as they arrived, then stay as far away from her as possible. Once she’d been there for a while, she would excuse herself on the pretext of having a splitting headache, thereby getting the chance to go snoop around Wheeler’s barn.
She scowled at the mirror. “What, exactly, do you think you’ll find that will be of any help?”
Her image scowled back, but had no answer. She snapped off the light and stepped into the hallway, almost colliding with Shareen.
“Whoops! Oh, gosh, Shareen, you look gorgeous!” Kim looked down at her own simple black sweater and slacks. “I didn’t bring any party clothes – will this be okay?”
Shareen chuckled. “Of course. Only a few people dress up for these parties. I am one of them because I never have the opportunity, otherwise.”
She walked toward the terrace. “Albert will be along in a few minutes. He’s checking on the horses. We will have a glass of wine while we wait.”
Kim settled into one of the comfortable wicker armchairs and gazed at the skyline. The raw beauty of the mountains sent a tremor through her chest. The jagged outlines and the sharp contrast of shadows in the crags as the sun sank lower made the range look almost surreal. So different from basically flat Ohio, with its gently rolling hills covered in deciduous forest.
Shareen took a sip of wine, then tilted her head. “How long do you plan to stay? Will you have time to do any sightseeing?”
“I’m flying back on Monday, unfortunately. The weather is nasty at home and it will be hard to leave this. What is your schedule for Sunday?”
“We have several championship classes, then we pack up to come home. You should really try to visit the Grand Canyon. It’s a shame to come all this way and not see it.”
Kim nodded. “I know, but work has to come first.”
Shareen glanced away. “How is that going?”
“Pretty good.”
The silence hung between them and Kim kicked herself for mentioning the real reason she was in Scottsdale. Granted, Shareen could probably provide some more information on Vivica Wheeler, as it pertained to the showing aspect of the woman’s life, but Kim felt uncomfortable going there.
Albert stepped onto the terrace, smoothing his unruly hair. “Okay, Ladies, I’m ready to party-on.” He grinned. “Isn’t that what the young people say?”
Kim laughed. “I think so, but I can’t remember that far back.”
On the drive to West World, Albert glanced in the rearview mirror at Kim. “How was this morning?”
“Very good, and thank you for the job referral.” She hesitated a moment. “Did you know that he is selling all his horses?”
Albert nodded, but didn’t respond.
Shareen turned in her seat, shaking her head. “He was quite lost when his wife died. We encouraged him to find good homes for the horses before they became a burden.”
“How can anyone be sure the horses will end up with people who will be good to them?” Kim shuddered. “I think about all the ones who end up in horrible situations, or their owners just give up and send them to auction. It makes me so sad.”
“Yes, but the horse community here is a tightly-knit group, and we try to look out for each other. Once the sales list is ready, each horse owner will have a copy and spread the word. None of those horses will go to a last-resort auction if we have anything to say about it.”
“That’s comforting to know.” Kim gently chewed her lip. “The whole thing made me realize that I must make some plans for my own horses as soon as I get back home.” She met Shareen’s gaze. “I’m unmarried, and have no family. If I die, what would happen to Bandit and Commander? I must make sure they are taken care of and not just shipped off to be slaughtered.”
Shareen’s eyes widened. “How will you do that?”
“I have no idea, maybe a will or some legal directive. I’m going to find out as soon as I get back. The one thing that’s definite is that I won’t be around forever, and putting it off is just asking for trouble.” She softened her tone. “Have you and Albert considered this at all?”
Shareen’s expression was the answer, but her voice wavered. “No, but you are right. We must do that.”
Albert pulled into a parking space near a large white tent. “Here we are.”
Kim let out a silent sigh of relief. The sober conversation was not a good way to begin an evening of socializing.
Chapter 31
The festivities were taking place in the tent erected next to the entrance to the shopping expo, a location that had certainly been well thought out. Party patrons could move freely between the two areas, enjoying the drinks and food, the gorgeous items for sale, and the silent auction table. Kim hung back, scanning the crowd for Wheeler. She didn’t appear to be there, or maybe she was in the vendor hall. Kim decided to stay on the perimeter so she could keep a good eye on the crowd.
As her gaze drifted from face to face, she wondered how many of these people were putting on a front, spending money they didn’t have just to appear successful in this industry. Keeping horses was not inexpensive, and the cost of showing even modestly would be another chunk of cash. To be a part of all this, one would have to spend inordinate amounts of money just to participate. Shareen had been correct – not many people were dressed in fancy attire – but those who were made spectacular fashion statements. And the vendors attending this show definitely catered to money.
Kim’s surveillance stopped on a mane of white hair. The man from Wheeler
’s box seat that afternoon. He stood with three other men, smiling and talking animatedly while they followed his every word. Kim sidled a bit closer to get a better look and perhaps overhear the conversation. The man’s suit fabric held a soft sheen, as though it might be made of silk – clearly not off the rack. A heavy gold ring gleamed on his right hand as he gestured to make a point. His words rolled with an elegant accent, but his English was excellent.
As Kim watched, a movement caught her eye and she quickly turned away as Vivica Wheeler stepped into the group.
Moving through the crowd, Kim found Shareen at the silent auction table.
“Shareen, look over there, over by the food table. Who is the man with the white hair?”
Shareen craned her neck, then her eyes widened. “That is Charles Léon from Paris.” Her eyes narrowed. “He is an international horse broker.”
Kim cocked her head, curious about Shareen’s emphasis on the last word. Shareen glanced back at the crowd and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It is rumored that he also deals in stolen horses.”
Kim nodded slowly. Wheeler seemed awfully buddy-buddy with the man. Perhaps he was her source for the premium animals in her barns. Were any of them stolen? Again, Kim cursed silently that she and Garrett had never caught the mastermind of the theft ring last year. She glanced over at the man, realizing that the Ohio connection would be small potatoes compared to the scope of the international operation. And they might not even be connected.
With a quick glance at her watch, Kim calculated when she could excuse herself to complete her mission for the evening. They’d only been in the party tent for about thirty minutes, much to soon to feign a headache.
She took Shareen’s elbow. “Let’s go have a look at that fabulous food table.”
On the way, Shareen stopped a couple of times to greet people she knew. Kim became restless. She stepped away and picked out several appetizers, then turned to watch the crowd as she nibbled. Finally, she couldn’t stand it another minute. She discarded the paper plate and found Shareen, still talking to a young couple.
“Excuse me, Shareen. I’m developing a nasty headache. Do you mind if I go sit in the car for a few minutes?”
Shareen fished the keys out of her handbag. “No, of course not. Oh, I hope you are not coming down with something.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing serious. I just need to take an aspirin and close my eyes for a few minutes. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Pocketing the keys, Kim left the tent and walked around the side where she couldn’t be seen, then wended her way through concession stands and headed for the barns. Wheeler’s hospitality tables were empty, but a sign invited visitors to come back tomorrow. Kim stopped at the curtained entrance and listened for any sounds of humans in the area. She heard nothing, but the barn security staff would be patrolling, so she’d better be quick.
She slipped through the heavy drapes and looked up and down the aisle. No one around, and the barn was quiet, other than the assorted noises of the equine inhabitants. As she walked softly down the aisle, curious heads popped up and large, expressive eyes watched her. An occasional throaty whicker was the only sound that disturbed the quiet.
At the end of the aisle, a stall on the left had been set up as a mini office and, with a quick glance around, Kim stepped into it. What was she looking for? If she touched anything, she’d be trespassing. She was taking a big risk on the small chance that Vivica Wheeler might have something here that would incriminate her with the insurance company. Kim’s pulse ticked a little. Police officer gone rogue.
Stepping over to the portable desk, Kim noticed a manila envelope lying next to a laptop computer. A name scrawled across the front of the envelope in dark blue marker: Charles Leon. Kim’s fingers itched to look inside, but her better judgment told her to just take a picture and leave it alone. She reached into her pocket for the mini camera.
“What the hell are you doing in here!”
Kim wheeled around and took a step back, catching her heel on the table and knocking the envelope to the ground.
Vivica Wheeler’s features were skewed into an ugly scowl and her brilliant green eyes glittered. At this close range, Kim could see the caked makeup and heavy lipstick.
“Uh, I just wondered if someone left a note saying when you’d be back–”
Kim stomach lurched as Charles Léon stepped into the stall behind Wheeler. His countenance was not at all pleasant.
Wheeler’s voice held a jagged edge. “Who are you? Hey, I’ve seen you before.”
Kim regained her composure and stood up to her full five-foot-nine. “I don’t think so. Are you Vivica Wheeler? Someone told me you might have a good horse for sale.”
Wheeler’s features did not relax, but she shook her head. “I don’t sell horses here.” She stepped back. “Now get out of my barn before I call security.”
Kim nodded, then leaned down and picked up the envelope, giving it a good shake so that the contents fell out. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry.”
She started picking up the papers, quickly scanning them. They appeared to be importation and customs documents.
Wheeler’s voice rose to a shout. “I said, Get! Out!.” She snatched the envelope from Kim’s hands, sending even more papers fluttering around.
Kim grabbed one and, as she handed it back, saw that the export country was Egypt. Léon grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. She yanked away from him and resisted the urge to clock him one.
She hurried out of the stall and down the aisle, her brain on fire. As soon as she reached the parking lot, she called Garrett and left a message.
“I think Wheeler is involved in more than insurance fraud.”
Chapter 32
The next morning, Kim found a seat in the grandstand and stared at the class in the arena. She didn’t know which one it was, and didn’t care. The episode with Wheeler had shaken her and all she could think about was the fact that she’d now been in several dangerous situations in the past year, and she’d been unarmed in all of them. Her mental block about carrying her gun was beginning to haunt her. She was drifting farther and farther from her law enforcement mentality, and that hurt. Her years with the police department had been the happiest of her life. And ultimately, the saddest.
Her phone rang and Garrett’s name appeared on the screen.
“Good morning, still enjoying the sunshine?”
“Oh, yeah. You still enjoying the snow?”
“It’s not too bad. Tell me what’s going on.”
Kim gave him a quick rundown of the evening’s excitement.
Garrett’s tone quickened. “I’ve heard of that guy. Not someone you should be messing with. Wheeler is definitely involved in something big if she’s hobnobbing with him, but I doubt it has anything to do with our fraud case.”
“Tell me what’s going on at your end.”
“I recommended that the company reopen all the claims. Now it’s just a matter of time. Our work is pretty much done.” He chuckled. “You can come home now.”
“Fine, but you still haven’t shared your secret idea.”
“It’s complicated, so I’ll just wait until you get back. I’m headed out right now to go to that open house at the therapeutic riding place. Give me a call when you get back and we’ll get together.”
“Okay, see you then.”
She disconnected and glowered at the phone. She’d forgotten that Garrett had a personal invitation from Sandy Barnes to attend the open house. Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just an open house. But she couldn’t forget the not-so-subtle admiring looks that Sandy had thrown Garrett’s way when they’d met.
Kim’s shoulders sagged. Other than seeing Wheeler with an international horse broker, Kim hadn’t really found anything to help the insurance case. Sure, the woman seemed to have industrial amounts of money and spread it around freely, but it certainly didn’t come from a few measly insurance claims. Thinking about the Coach bag and accessories th
at Wheeler had donated to the fund raiser, Kim had to smile. If the woman was a thief, it seemed almost comical that she was supporting a charity that helped horse owners in need. All part of the charade.
Maybe Garrett’s coming revelation would provide some answers.
~ ~
Quaid slipped on his good leather gloves and pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. The day was crisp and clear, but colder than it had been the last few days. He climbed out of his truck and trudged toward the barn where the therapeutic riding open house was happening. Inside the door, a large sign listed the day’s activities and a bulletin board directly above it held notices about other events, photos of students, and a help-wanted ad. He stepped closer and read it.
Four days a week, 7 to 2. Stall cleaning, some grooming, occasional help with horses. No dogs, no drugs, no drama. Apply at office.
He chuckled and moved toward the arena door, stopping to get a visitor’s badge from the greeter. A few minutes later, he walked down the aisle of the barn. Groups of people crowded around the stalls, the children reaching through the bars to pet soft noses. Staff volunteers wearing bright yellow vests answered questions and gave lectures, while other volunteers brought one or two horses out into the aisle for a close and personal experience.
Quaid spotted a familiar face and walked toward Sandy Barnes.
“Nice turnout for your event.”
She smiled brightly. “Yes, it is. I’m so glad you could make it. Have you found the food yet?” She rolled her eyes. “The catering company went all out on this. I’ll gain five pounds before the afternoon is over.”
Quaid gazed around. “How many students do you have, on average?”