Balancing Act: Kovak & Quaid Horse Mystery Series (Kovak & Quaid Horse Mysteries Book 2)

by Toni Leland

  Grabbing some travel brochures from a rack by the vending machines, he waited. A moment later, a crowd of men and women flooded the corridor, some heading for the elevators, some heading for the lobby. Quaid watched for Ferguson’s bald head, but a few minutes later, the conference attendees had all but disappeared.

  “Crap,” muttered Quaid, tossing the brochures onto a table. When did he slip out of there?

  The conference room doors stood wide open and Quaid heard voices. He walked slowly past, keeping his head down. Ferguson stood at the front of the room, deep in conversation with two men. Quaid turned and headed back to his observation post in the lobby.

  Ten minutes later, Ferguson appeared and walked toward the elevators. Quaid followed, pretending to listen to someone on his phone, then stepped onto the elevator behind Ferguson. As the elevator rose, Quaid put the phone away and watched the lighted numbers over the door. This ride should give him Ferguson’s floor, but the elevator rose all the way to the fifteenth floor and everyone got out to head toward the bar. Quaid stopped in the doorway and watched Ferguson walk over to a table where the same woman sat. How had she gotten back into the hotel without Quaid seeing her? It must have been during that few minutes he’d been scoping out the doors in the conference area.

  The woman rose from her chair and embraced Ferguson, then they sat down and began talking. Quaid frowned. Something about their interaction didn’t seem quite right. Of course, they couldn’t exactly be kissing and groping in public, but the platonic atmosphere was almost too obvious if they were, indeed, lovers. Was Quaid staking out the wrong woman? Was some sweet young thing curled up in Ferguson’s room, waiting while he talked business in the bar?

  Quaid ordered a beer and settled in to wait. To pass the time and look busy, he brought up Kovak’s list on his phone and studied the various names and occupations. The cast of players was large and it would take some time to dig into these people’s lives. If I ever get back to my room, he thought. Then a movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Ferguson and the lady were leaving. Quaid paid for the beer, drained the glass, and slid off the stool, hurrying to catch the elevator. The couple stood to the rear and Quaid stayed up front, watching the numbers light up, one by one. At the tenth floor, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He stepped aside, turning just in time to see them embrace.

  Ferguson said, “Bye, Honey,” then stepped out into the corridor.

  The doors closed and the elevator continued down. Quaid smiled at the woman, noting her flushed face and happy expression.

  She met his eye and grinned. “My dad. I hardly ever get to see him except when he’s here in town on business.”

  A few minutes later, Quaid let himself into his room and peeled off his jacket, his brain on fire with the turn of events. Why wouldn’t Elizabeth Ferguson have mentioned that their daughter lived in Chicago? Quaid reached for his laptop. Maybe she and the woman were estranged. Or maybe this was a daughter from a previous marriage. The computer screen came to life. Or maybe, just maybe, the “daughter” thing was a big ruse. But that didn’t make any sense, either. If they were lovers, why weren’t they off somewhere loving? A call to Elizabeth Ferguson was the next step. Tomorrow. Right now, he wanted to have a peek at some of the people Kim Kovak thought might be involved in a horse crime.

  “You did what?” Dixie’s blue eyes flashed.

  Kim smiled sheepishly. “You heard me, but listen, I couldn’t let them send that horse off to be killed. No way.”

  Dixie came over and put her arms around Kim. “I think you need your head examined, but I do understand.” She stepped back. “What are you going to do with him? You can barely ride Bandit.”

  “I thought Quaid might want him.” Kim reached out and quickly touched Dixie’s arm. “But please don’t say anything to him. I know you guys talk, but I want to tell him. Ask him. Whatever.”

  Dixie’s expression was solemn. “I won’t, but I need to tell you something before you get too far with this. He’s been offered a job in Columbus.”

  “No way! Is he–”

  “He hasn’t made a decision yet, and you can’t let him know I told you. But it could make a difference in whether he’s ready to own a horse or not. Just be forewarned.”

  “Wow. I never imagined he would leave investigative work.”

  “He’s not, it’s the same company. But I think you need to hear all this from him, so that’s all I’m saying.” She grinned. “So when were you planning to drop this horse on him?”

  “I’m heading back to Chicago – I’ll probably tell him sometime in the next few days.” Kim sighed. “Or not.”

  Chapter 16

  Dixie called Kim around five the next morning.

  “So, have you figured out how you’re going to tell Garrett about the horse?”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “No, but I’m sure the opportunity will present itself.”

  “Good luck with that. And be careful – try not to get into trouble. Love ya, bye.”

  Kim watched Dixie’s number fade. Just a few months ago, Dixie had been the rock that Kim needed and she’d leaned heavily on Dixie’s solid support. But Kim’s heart now ached for the friend who seemed so alone. Saskia had filled a large part of the empty spot in Dixie’s heart, but could a dog replace the partner that Dixie had lost to breast cancer? Kim checked the lock on the deck slider and gazed out across the trees, wishing she could wave a magic wand and bring a new love into Dixie’s life.

  Miss Kitty rubbed against Kim’s leg.

  “Maybe I could find a magic wand that would keep me from being so impulsive.”

  The cat looked up and mewed. Kim scooped her up and roamed around the living room, glancing out the deck doors in time to see Dixie’s patrol car ease down the drive in the dim dawn light. Kim’s mind whirled with thoughts and questions. The horrific idea of Commander going to the slaughterhouse was justification enough for her brash actions the day before, but she realized now that she should have tried to find out a little more about the horse. Brooks had never answered the question about Commander’s age, and some of his comments about the horse’s temperament were unsettling. Commander’s “white elephant” status made her nervous. Surely the horse had some usefulness left in his life.

  A couple of hours later, Kim parked beside the barn at Running Brook and sat for a moment, watching barn staff lead horses out to the pasture. Horses that lived the good life, loved and cared for by owners who cherished them. At least until something changed the situation. Then, any one of those animals could become a liability or burden to someone’s financial circumstances, become a possession hard to discard. Kim’s throat tightened. Commander had been just such a victim. But had she just repeated the same possible scenario by her own situation? She certainly wasn’t in a good financial place.

  Walking quickly into the barn, Kim vowed she would have as much information as possible about this horse before she approached Quaid.

  The atmosphere was charged with the sounds, sights, and smells of morning chores. Stall doors stood open, a radio played country western music, and horses waited eagerly for their turn to be taken outside. Bandit’s stall was empty, as was the stall where Sandy’s chocolate brown mare lived.

  Chance waved from one of the stalls. “Morning! Back to ride again?”

  “Not today, but I wanted to talk to Mr. Brooks. Is he around?”

  “Doesn’t usually come in until mid-morning, but you could ask at the office.”

  Kim nodded, then walked toward Commander’s stall. She could see his back, but his head was down, probably munching hay. She came up close and gazed at him. He was even more beautiful than she remembered. Well-muscled, sturdy conformation, smooth but dusty coat. She frowned at the tangles in his mane and tail. He wasn’t being groomed on a regular basis. What did that mean? An uneasy coil began in her stomach. Brooks said the horse wasn’t handled much, which probably accounted for his temperament.

  Her foot bumped the stall d
oor and Commander’s head snapped up and he snorted. Wheeling around to face her, he waited only a second, then lunged at the door, ears pinned flat, eyes bulging, teeth bared.

  Kim jumped back, letting out an involuntary cry. Commander backed away from the door and turned his rump toward her. His ears flicked back and forth as he assessed her location and movements.

  “Told you he was a little temperamental.”

  Kim jumped again, nerves singing and pulse thumping.

  She glowered at Brooks. “You didn’t tell me he was dangerous.”

  The old man grinned. “You didn’t ask.”

  “Well, I’m asking you now. If I’m going to take this horse off your hands, I need as much information about him as you can give me.”

  Brooks’ amused expression shifted to earnest. “Fair enough.” He turned his gaze to the black horse. “I trained him as a five-year-old, after he’d been gelded.” Brooks threw her a glance. “As I told you, that operation wasn’t a hundred percent, so he tended to be easily distracted by the ladies. Anyways, after showing him for a few years, the owners took him home. I have no idea what happened during those years at their farm. By the time he came back here, he was different. He was like you see him now.”

  Brooks walked over and leaned on the stall door, clucking softly to Commander. The horse pricked his ears and shuffled forward enough to smell Brooks’ hand. Then the tiny, fine ears flickered and Commander redirected his attention to Kim, standing behind Brooks. Commander’s ears went down and he backed away from the door.

  Brooks turned. “I’m thinking that sometime in his past, a woman abused the hell out of him. He doesn’t act like that around men. The problem with animals is that we usually never know what their lives were like before we got them. Whether it’s a horse or a dog from the pound or a cat from a private home – they keep their horrible secrets from us. All we can do is try to work with what we get.” He shook his head. “Sometimes, there’s no help for some of them.”

  Kim wouldn’t let her thoughts go there.

  “My horse, Bandit, has a past I don’t know about – although I suspect he was raised at a racing barn.”

  “Yeah, I have to agree with you. I’ve watched him in the pasture. He’s got perfect conformation for the sport, and real nice movement, but his temperament is too laid back to be a real contender.” Brooks grinned. “But he should be one helluva nice riding horse, even at his age.”

  Kim blinked. “How old do you think he is? I don’t really know.”

  “At least twelve, maybe older, but that’s not old age for a horse. They actually don’t even mature until they’re five.” He gestured toward Commander. “You wanna see him go? He’s really impressive.”

  Kim glanced at the black horse watching them from the corner of his stall. “Can he be ridden?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Kim exhaled sharply. “Well, I’ve done it again. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

  Brooks grinned. “Kinda like a cop.”

  “Yeah. Kinda.”

  Well before 7 a.m., Quaid picked up a newspaper in the lobby and headed for the hotel café. Coffee and a good breakfast would fortify him while he waited until a decent hour to call Elizabeth Ferguson. He was not looking forward to that conversation, but it would be a turning point in the investigation. Before he could do anything further, he had to find out for sure if the woman Ken Ferguson had met was, indeed, a daughter. Something about the whole thing really bothered Quaid.

  Setting the paper aside, he stirred his coffee and thought about Kovak’s list. There were so many possibilities with such a wide range of contacts, but Quaid had a hunch that knowing more about the victim, Natalie Danseur, would be the most important first step. His preliminary Internet search had revealed basically nothing of interest, other than statistics – name, approximate age, last few addresses, and so on. After a long day of tracking Ken Ferguson, Quaid had been too tired to get into the databases that would cough up the goods on Danseur, but that was next on his agenda.

  His breakfast arrived about the same time Ferguson walked into the restaurant. Quaid had a good view of the table, so he enjoyed his eggs in a leisurely manner while Ferguson settled in and ordered breakfast. A few minutes later, his face broke into a big smile and he jumped up from the table. Quaid followed the direction of his attention. Ferguson’s woman walked across the room, guiding a small boy who looked to be about five years old. Ferguson hugged her, then squatted down and smiled at the child, talking earnestly. Then they all sat down and Quaid stared at his bacon. There didn’t seem to be any mystery here, but Elizabeth Ferguson would be the only person who could shed light on it.

  An hour later, Quaid returned to his room and made the call.

  “Good morning, Mr. Quaid. I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you.”

  Quaid tried to lighten his tone. “Oh, these things take some time. They don’t happen as fast as in the movies.”

  A long silence. Obviously, she hadn’t been amused.

  He cleared his throat. “Ah, Mrs. Ferguson, I did observe your husband with a woman–”

  “I knew it!”

  “Just hear me out. They didn’t appear to be, ah, intimately involved, but definitely more than acquaintances. I had the opportunity last night to speak to the woman in question, and she said that your husband is her father.”

  Quaid heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

  “Mr. Quaid, we have no children. The woman is lying. How could you be fooled so easily? I thought you were one of the best private investigators in the area. Obviously–”

  “Excuse me, but I saw her again this morning and she had a small child with her. I would bet my career on the fact that your husband is not sleeping with this woman.” He bit his lip, then plunged on. “Have you considered that perhaps your husband had a child before he met you?”

  Quaid’s brain lit up. But why would he have kept it a secret all these years? Most likely, the dalliance was after he married Elizabeth.

  Her voice faltered. “I can’t imagine... Why wouldn’t he have told me?”

  A sob filtered through the phone. The Iron Lady was crumbling.

  “Mr. Quaid, will you get to the bottom of this? I need to know for sure before I confront my husband.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Quaid hung up and dropped the phone in his lap. “Damn.”

  It rang and he stared at Harriett Post’s name on the screen.

  “Double damn.”

  He considered letting the call go to voice mail. He hadn’t given one thought to the job offer during the entire time he’d been on the road. He didn’t want the damned transfer, but he sure didn’t want to lose the income from the insurance company.

  He took a deep breath and answered. “Hi, Harriett. What’s up?”

  “Listen, I know I told you I needed an answer by Friday, but something’s come up in Columbus and I really need to know right away if you’re on board. Sorry to cut your time short...although, I would think you’d have some idea by now. Yes?”

  Yes, but not the one you want.

  “I’ve been out of town and working on something else, so I just haven’t had a minute to call you. Here’s the thing, I did some accounting and it looks as though this is a lateral move for me, maybe even a reduction in my income. I’m not sure–”

  “Yes, I realize that, which is another reason that I’m calling. I spoke to a couple of board members and they don’t see any reason why you can’t continue to receive your regular commission on the cases you personally take on. You could hire another investigator to help with the overflow, especially from the Cleveland office. Garrett, I really need you on this. You can set your own hours.”

  Quaid squinted at the patterned rug. How could they economically justify this? But why does that matter? As long as I can keep my independence and good income, I can play the game.

  “Okay, that sounds fair. What’s the next step?”

 
“The office space in Columbus should be ready for occupancy before the end of the month. In the meantime, when can you come in and finalize the paperwork?”

  Quaid closed his eyes. This was starting to feel claustrophobic.

  “It will depend on how long my current project takes to wind up. I’ll have to let you know.”

  “Thanks, Garrett. I’m glad we’re not going to lose you.”

  There it was – the admission that, if he didn’t take the job, he was out of the picture.

  He swallowed hard. “Me too.”

  Chapter 17

  Kim eased into the westbound stream of traffic on I-70, then settled back into the driver’s seat and set the cruise control. She glanced at the page of names lying on the passenger seat, reaching over to pull it close, wondering if Quaid had found any time to check on them. He hadn’t sounded optimistic, but in all fairness, he was working on something else too. At least she could get some preliminary legwork done while he did the background searches. A stir of excitement pooled in the pit of her stomach and she took a quick breath, surprised at how eager she was to see him again. Once she’d admitted to Dixie that Quaid interested her, the thoughts unleashed had been unsettling, especially with him living a couple of hours away in Cleveland. But now...maybe Columbus? She took another deep breath, not liking the feelings that surfaced. Garrett Quaid was no more interested in her than the man in the moon. He’d been disparaging and chauvinistic during the time they’d worked on the theft case. Granted, the man had come around a bit and had helped out while she recuperated, but that had been months ago.

  “Why am I thinking like this?”

  The sound of her own voice startled her and she laughed.

  “Jeez, I need to get a grip. Now, where was I?”

  Growing up as an only child and raised by a grandparent, Kim had always talked to herself and an imaginary friend. Hearing words and ideas out loud somehow helped them make more sense, and sorting through Natalie’s contacts was no different. Except Kim couldn’t focus on those possible suspects. She wanted other answers.