by Toni Leland
If she could snoop a little, talk to people who worked there, maybe she could find something that would help Garrett with his case. She grinned. Maybe she’d be a hero.
Chapter 45
Quaid leaned his chair back and gazed out the window while he waited for Dixie to pick up. His earlier conversation with Kim had been a little awkward at first, but then smoothed out and left him feeling comfortable about the situation. He didn’t think it would escalate.
When Dixie answered, he smiled, having forgotten what a great telephone voice she had.
“Hey, how’s my favorite deputy?”
“That’s Sergeant, to you, Mister!” Dixie’s infectious laugh burbled through the phone. “How are you, Garrett? Jeez, it’s been ages since we’ve talked.”
“My thoughts exactly. You busy this afternoon?”
“I’m on duty until three, but I could swing by your office after that – bring some coffee and doughnuts.”
“I’ll be here. I take mine black, and I like those fat doughnuts with the gooey sugar glaze.”
For the next half-hour, he leafed through one of the Wheeler death claims, examining each item on each piece of paper in the folder. He could find nothing that might incriminate the woman. All the detailed descriptions in the necropsy reports described what appeared to be a healthy animal with no sign of disease or injury. The physical findings were especially important to Quaid, since he hoped to find evidence of a suspicious injection site. But if there’d been one, the medical examiner hadn’t included it in the report. And that made some sense, since foals were given injections for tetanus or other reasons – and yet, even normal findings were usually noted. Quaid’s question in the latest foal case was the swelling of the injection site. What would have caused that? It must have happened just seconds before death or it would have subsided and become invisible.
“Knock, knock! Anybody here?”
Dixie’s voice echoed in the outer office and Quaid went to the door. Dixie looked great in her crisp sage gray uniform, with her police dog standing regally at attention, ears alert.
Gail’s eyes were wide with astonishment as she stammered, “May I help you?”
Dixie grinned. “Nope, I’m here to arrest Garrett Quaid for being too damned good looking.”
Quaid strode across the room and hugged Dixie, eliciting a low growl from the dog.
“It’s okay, Saskie,” murmured Dixie. Glancing up at Quaid, she shook her head. “You can’t make sudden moves toward me. You’ll get into trouble with this one.”
As they walked into his office, Quaid released a slow breath. “At least I know you’re safe in the company of hoodlums.”
“I’m a cop, Garrett.” She eased into a chair, commanding the dog to lie down, which he did. “How’ve you been?”
“Finally settling in here. How about yourself?”
Her face beamed. “I’m so excellent I can’t stand myself.”
Quaid lifted an eyebrow and waited, seeing the flush on Dixie’s cheeks. Something important had happened.
“Dana and I are moving in together the end of the month.”
“Wow, that was quick.”
He immediately regretted his response.
Dixie frowned. “Not really. I mean, how long does it take to know when you’ve met the right person?” She leaned forward and pinned him with a meaningful look. “You, of all people, should know how that feels.”
Quaid flushed. He’d forgotten how perceptive this diminutive livewire could be. She had needled him constantly about Kim Kovak, fully convinced that the two of them were a match, but that both were too dense to recognize it.
He stammered, “Well, yeah. But congratulations!” He smiled wryly. “I can’t imagine what it would be like for two cops living in the same house, but I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
“We don’t bring the cop stuff home.” She threw him a lecherous grin. “Too many other things to do.”
A hot flush again raced up his neck. Though he adored her and had once foolishly thought they could be a couple, the uneasy knowledge of her sexual preferences still ran stealthily through his subconscious, coloring his feelings.
He cleared his throat and looked away. “Listen, I called ’cause Kovak thought you might be able to help me track down some information. How would I go about finding out if an Interpol agent is legitimate? Does your department have any access to those kinds of records?”
“Gosh, I don’t know, but I would think so. I mean, Interpol is the mediating organization for law enforcement all over the world. Give me a name and I’ll see if one of my buddies at headquarters can get you some information.”
“Sophia Barevsky. She’s Ukrainian, if that helps. I also found a single photograph of someone by the name of Inga Yuchenko who looks exactly like her. Maybe it’s an alias, but that name doesn’t generate any further information on the Internet.”
“You investigating this person?”
“No, but she was peripherally involved in our Chicago case and now Kovak thinks she might be part of the theft ring we uncovered last year.”
Dixie closed her eyes and shook her head. “God, does she ever give up? Garrett, why are you encouraging her on this? The case is over, has been for months. Kim is going to get hurt, or worse, if she doesn’t leave these dirt bags in their muck holes.”
Quaid could only nod. Dixie was right. He was right. Kim Kovak, for all her good intentions, was unpredictably impulsive, and someone needed to help her see the danger in that.
Dixie stood up and brushed doughnut crumbs from her uniform pants. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. And, for the sake of closure, I’ll see what I can find out about your Interpol agent. But we have to look after Kim, first and foremost. The bad guys have always found a way to continue their bad deeds. Stamp out one or two, and three more pop up to replace them. Kim should know that.”
Chapter 46
At noon the next day, following four hours of finger-numbing cold spent photographing horses flying over jumps, Kim sank into the front seat of her car in the parking lot at Roberts Arena. Heat blasted through the vents, but she was so cold it made little difference. The show had been a bust, entry-wise. Only a handful of exhibitors had showed up, and the rounds were finished early. A blessing. All she wanted was a hot bath and a good meal, but it was still early enough to drive to Wheeler’s place in Indiana. Kim left the parking lot and headed toward the main road.
Traveling through the monotonous frozen landscape, Kim thought about her determination to track down the remaining players in the theft ring, and her notion that Barevsky was masquerading as a good guy. A replay of that conversation with Garrett brought a tight knot to Kim’s stomach. She simply could not avoid riling things up every time they talked. He thought she was a loose cannon, and she thought he was narrow-minded.
“Huh, some couple we’d make.”
Considering that statement, she wondered how that would be, if it ever were. Would they be constantly at odds about differing opinions? Would he pull rank and insist on being right because he was the professional investigator? Would her instincts serve any purpose other than to annoy him and cultivate arguments? Would she ever be able to meet him more than halfway on stuff?
A herd of deer moved dangerously close to the side of the road and she took her foot off the gas. Their heads all turned toward the car, ears swiveling. They held no fear, having lived with automobiles for decades, a condition that made them all the more dangerous for drivers. Kim moved her foot to the brake, waiting to see what the animals would do. As they trotted across the road, her thoughts returned to Garrett.
Had she been this independent and opinionated with Peter? She just couldn’t remember much of anything about her former fiancé – the pain of the breakup had mostly obliterated everything except the abandonment. Was she subconsciously torpedoing her relationship with Garrett as a mechanism to keep from getting hurt again? He wasn’t exactly easy to get close to, obviously still smarting from his own trip d
own the relationship rabbit hole, even after several years. Just like me.
The town sign for Portland, Indiana appeared at the side of the road and Kim put her unsettling thoughts back in the box for later. Right now, she wanted to find out more about Vivica Wheeler and her expensive hobby.
Twenty minutes later, Kim made an elaborate three point turn in the Wheeler parking area, affording herself a good view of the back side of the barn. The horse trailer and motor home were gone, but a couple of cars were parked nearby. She glanced up at the eaves of the barn, remembering the surveillance cameras she’d seen on her first visit. Would those be a problem for her today? She put the thought out of her head and walked toward the main entrance to the barn, patting her pocket to find the outline of her mini camera.
Two horses greeted her as she walked through the barn. Of the twenty stalls, eight were empty. Kim hadn’t seen any horses in the turn-out paddocks, so they must be in Missouri at the show. She walked over to one of the curious horses and offered her hand for a sniff. Discovering that no food was forthcoming, the animal turned away. Kim looked at her watch. Mid-afternoon was quiet in most barns, that short space of time between the daily chores and the evening feed. The staff must be around somewhere, possibly catching up on some office work, or sleep. Kim moved toward the rear of the barn where she remembered seeing an office next to the arena entrance. That door suddenly opened and a girl of about twenty stepped out, her eyes widening with surprise.
“Hello? May I help you?”
“Oh, good! Someone’s here,” gushed Kim. “I thought I’d made this long drive for nothing. I’m here to see Vivica Wheeler about buying a horse.”
The girl looked puzzled, then shook her head. “Are you sure you weren’t supposed to meet her at the horse show?”
Kim put on her best disappointment face. “Gosh, no, I mean, I don’t think so. She gave me directions to get here.”
Sympathy filled the girl’s eyes. “Gee, I’m sorry, but she won’t be back until Monday night. Maybe ...well, anyway, I can’t help you about sale horses.” She shook her head, her voice softening. “I actually didn’t know she was selling anyone. The babies are too young to sell.” Glancing around the barn, she looked sad. “But with her, you never know.”
“So, are these the only horses here?”
“Yeah, except for the broodmares and foals. Well, no, there’s some new ones out back, but I can’t imagine she was going to sell any of them since she just bought them.”
“New ones?”
“Yeah, they came in a few days ago, so they’re still in the quarantine barn.”
Kim sighed. “Shoot. What a waste of a trip.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“Cleveland, Ohio. Guess I should have called first, just to be sure she was here.” Kim brightened. “But, heck, since I’m here, can I see the new horses? You never know, maybe Miss Wheeler was talking about one of them.”
“Sure. Why not.”
The girl looked relieved that she might be able to make a potential customer happy.
Kim wondered at that thought, recalling her own interaction with Wheeler. She is probably a bitch on wheels and a nightmare to work for. But if she pays well, most barn workers would grin and bear it as long as possible.
Kim followed the girl through the magnificent arena, then out the same door she and Garrett had used to get to the foal’s body a couple weeks ago. What Kim hadn’t noticed on that day were two smaller, more traditional barns a few hundred yards down the pasture track. The buildings were painted to match the main facility, but were obviously older structures, perhaps the original barns on the property.
Kim pointed down the lane. “What’s down there?”
“That’s the mare and foal barn where all the babies are born.”
Kim nodded, then turned to look at the spot where the dead foal’s body had been deposited. Seemed strange to drag the corpse so far away. What would be the reason for that? Did she dare ask any questions of this girl? Questions about foal deaths?
The girl slid open the door on the closest barn and they stepped into the warm interior to be greeted by whinnies and snorts.
“Here’s our new horses.”
She stroked the neck of one of the horses hanging over a stall door. “These guys are really lonely, stuck back here.”
Kim gazed around. Four of the six stalls were occupied by various colors and sizes of Arabians, each one as lovely as the next.
“Nice, huh?” said the girl. “Vivica only buys the best. These ones came from overseas somewhere.”
Remembering the ominous Léon and his handling of Wheeler’s complaints, Kim’s pulse thumped. She peered inside one of the stalls at a young pinkish-gray filly with a black mane and tail. Her eyes were huge and dark, and she looked frightened. And she was much too thin.
“What horse is this? Why is she so skinny?”
The girl came over and gazed into the stall. “She’s not eating. I think she had a rough trip over on the plane. The air cargo veterinarian made some notes about it.” She turned to Kim. “But you have to understand that foreign horse owners don’t keep their horses as fat as we do. So this little girl would have been underweight before she was shipped. Too bad, cuz she’s a doll. Straight Egyptian, amazing bloodlines.”
As the girl talked, Kim’s stomach lurched. Without a photograph for comparison, she couldn’t be sure, but her gut was telling her that she was looking at one of Shareen Van Khoten’s stolen horses.
Turning away, Kim stopped, then swayed and brought her hand to her forehead. “Ohhh.”
“Oh, my gosh, are you all right?”
Kim closed her eyes and took an audible breath. “I’m feeling lightheaded. I missed lunch because I was so anxious to get here.” She looked around. “I need to sit down for a minute. I’m diabetic, and I think my blood sugar is low. Do you have any sugar or candy?”
The girl stepped over quickly and guided Kim to a tack trunk next to the wall. “I can do even better than that. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
The girl hurried out of the barn. The minute she disappeared through the door, Kim pulled out her camera and quickly snapped off photos of the gray filly, and just for good measure, photographed the other three. They’d all arrived at the same time and were probably from the same broker.
She settled onto the tack trunk again as the girl burst back into the barn. She hurried over to Kim and held out a small plastic tube.
“These are glucose tablets that Vivica keeps for her boyfriend. He’s diabetic too.”
Kim’s brain lit up. Bingo!
She removed one of the orange-colored quick-acting glucose tablets and handed the tube back. “Thanks so much. I probably have some in the car, but I’m not sure.” She popped the tablet into her mouth, surprised at how sweet it was and how quickly it dissolved. “I’ll be fine in a minute and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“No problem. Oh, Vivica called while I was at the main barn. I told her you were here, but she said she didn’t remember talking to you. But anyway, she said to get your name and phone number and she’d get back to you.”
Chapter 47
Quaid had awakened before dawn that morning, his brain spinning with questions about Vivica Wheeler. Though he’d spent the better part of the previous afternoon poring over the case files for her previous death claims, he’d found nothing. He really had no option but to inform headquarters of his findings. Of more interest to him now was exactly how Ms. Wheeler was footing the bill for her Arabian horse operation. He’d put his wild suspicions on hold while he worked on the insurance case, but now the ideas came surging back into his head.
Grabbing a quick shower, then a cup of coffee to go, he plotted his next move. A morning in church would be just the ticket. He chuckled at the prospect of Pastor Lamb’s delight at drawing another sinner into the fold.
A little over an hour later, Quaid parked his truck toward the back of the Glory Church’s full parking lot, but n
ot before cruising the area to look for the old red Bronco. It was not there. That didn’t mean a whole lot, of course. Wheeler owned more than one vehicle, or could have ridden with the boyfriend or someone else. He’d just have to play that one by ear. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember him. Then he shook his head as he approached the entrance. Ms. Wheeler had been incredibly rattled at the time he’d inspected her dead colt. He didn’t dare assume anything.
Quietly entering the huge church, he gaped at the crowd. Every seat was filled and Pastor Lamb stood at the pulpit. Quaid stepped to the side to avoid being in the preacher’s main line of sight, then systematically scanned the faces in the pews, looking for Wheeler’s plain face. The only familiar person he saw was his buddy, Marge, from the café. Assured that he wouldn’t have any problems dodging the primary suspect of his investigation, Quaid settled into a seat and listened to the minister’s eloquent sermon.
Much of what he had to say dealt with changes in the modern world and how those changes affected the population. Toward the end of the service, his direction changed and he talked about the mission work of the church – the countries in need, the starving children, the abandoned women, the crisis of education in third world countries. He put on his reading glasses and peered at a sheet of paper.
“Our wonderful mission secretary, Vivi Wheeler, is out of town today.” He looked up and smiled. “Attending one of her beloved horse shows again, but she gave me this report before she left.”
As Quaid listened to the figures, his brain burned. Vivica Wheeler was responsible for the management and disbursement of hundreds of thousands of dollars each month. How easy it would be for a clever, highly trusted person to pad their own bank account under those circumstances. Quaid glanced around. No one in this crowd would ever have such an unchristian suspicion. But apparently none of them knew about Wheeler’s alter ego. He stood up and quietly slipped out the door. Time for the devil to step in. If what Quaid suspected was true, Wheeler deserved to be dragged through the streets behind a team of horses.