by Toni Leland
She looked at the list of eight pet or pasture horses, again highlighting the locations. Three from California, two from New York, and one each from Ohio, Missouri, and Oregon. There didn’t seem to be any pattern on this list, except the California horses. Maybe the information would make more sense after she compared it to horse events.
She started a new list, one that documented the horse shows where she’d seen the mystery couple. If what Kim suspected was true, she’d find the answers online in show photographs.
At the top of the list, she placed her own documentation from the Washington National Show, the Egyptian Event in Lexington, and the charity show in Cincinnati. An involuntary shudder passed over her shoulders at the recollection of the man with the hard, dark eyes. He’d seen her, knew she was watching him. If she ran into him again, he might go underground and no one would ever find out what was really going on.
She continued searching her own show photos, soon coming across the images she’d taken the previous September at Delaware’s famous Little Brown Jug harness racing event. Instead of examining the speed-demon Standardbred horses flashing before the camera, she concentrated on the spectators. Thousands of them, from all over the country, there to watch the second leg of the prestigious Pacing Triple Crown. In moments, Kim was staring at the dark-eyed mystery man. Throughout the series of images, he appeared at the rail, in the grandstands, and at the betting windows. Two photos showed him deep in conversation with other spectators. Kim shuddered and added the information to her list. With purses upwards of $600,000, the Little Brown Jug would be an attractive arena for connecting with moneyed folk.
Continuing on with important horse shows in California, Kim pulled up website after website, scanning the photographs for the familiar faces in the crowd. After six or seven dead-ends, she was ready to abandon her theory. Checking just one more, a regional Quarter Horse show in Sacramento, she saw the couple again, standing at the rail of a final performance class, watching a big, muscular roan winning the regional grand championship trophy. She read the caption to find names. “Joe Cody’s Buddy” was on Kim’s list of stolen show horses, an animal with a string of national titles and worth over $100,000. He’d been reported stolen from his own stall six months ago after the owner realized that the horse at the training barn was a look-alike. Kim shook her head. Another case of an absentee owner. Would that be a factor in some of the other thefts?
Chapter 16
Quaid took a sip of beer, then opened a small notebook.
“Roberta, how long did you work for Teri Fortune?”
“Over a year. I took care of everything at that place, the stalls, the feeding, the trips to town to pick up stuff. All she did was bitch. Nothing suited her, but she was desperate for the help. You’d think she’d be appreciative, but nooo.” Roberta finished the last of her first drink and reached for the fresh one. “I showed up on time every goddamned day, sometimes worked later than usual. An’ she fires me for lighting up a joint. Hell, I wasn’t even anywhere near the hay barn. An’ why did she care? I was on break.”
Quaid noted the discrepancy between Teri’s story and this one. True, marijuana was considered a drug, but Teri had led him to believe the girl was shooting up or snorting. Another thing that popped into his mind was that the dismissal might have had more to do with wanting Dodge out of the picture because she knew something that Teri didn’t want discovered.
“Roberta, think back to January if you can, when a horse from California was delivered. His name was Talisman.”
She smiled for the first time. “Yeah, big bay. Nice horse.”
The smile changed her face completely.
“Ms. Fortune says you took delivery of Talisman. Is that right?”
She nodded. “Teri was always running into town for something. I ended up managing the place most of the time. I personally think she had a boyfriend—probably married—which would explain the sudden trips in the middle of the day.”
“Tell me everything you remember about the day the horse was delivered.”
“Not much to tell. The transport arrived around eleven in the morning. I went into the trailer and led the horse out. The driver handed me the paperwork, which I signed, and he was on his way. I put the horse in the stall and left the papers on Teri’s desk.”
“Did the driver act nervous or anything like that?”
She thought for a moment. “No, he was pretty much just doing his job. He did take a couple minutes to sweep out the trailer before he left.”
“Do you remember anything about the horse that day?”
Roberta cocked her head, her dark eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah, the poor thing was a nervous wreck. Jumpy as hell, flinching at every touch. And oh-my-God, he hollered for the rest of the day. Like he was lost or something.”
Quaid blew out a long breath. “He was. Someone stole him and switched him for the real Talisman.”
“You are shittin’ me!”
“Nope, and I’m hoping you can help me find out if Teri Fortune had anything to do with that.”
“I’ve already told you what I know, which ain’t much.” She pursed her lips and looked away. “I do need to find a job, so if you have any suggestions on that, I’d appreciate it.”
Quaid laid his business card on the bar and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, if you think of anything else, give me a call.” He hesitated. “I’ll need your number in case I hear of work.”
She looked at him long and hard, as though weighing the disadvantage of being easily found and the advantage of finding work. Finally, she jotted her number on a napkin.
Quaid scooped it up and laid a twenty on the bar. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks again for your help.”
“Don’t mention it. A chance to screw Teri Fortune would be a good thing.”
Quaid pondered that comment as he drove back toward civilization. Would Roberta Dodge fabricate information just to get back at the woman who’d fired her? He didn’t know, but it was a chance he had to take. At this point, the horse healer was looking better and better for deliberate involvement in this case.
Heading north again, Quaid remembered the transport company. He pulled over and situated his Bluetooth, then dialed.
“This is Garrett Quaid with United Equine Assurance. I need to talk to someone about a delivery job back in January.”
The woman who answered took the information, then put him on hold. A radio talk show droned into Quaid’s head, chatter about some politician. A minute or so later, a man’s voice came on the line.
“This is dispatch. You’re asking about a single horse transport from California to Delaware, Ohio in January? I have one job matching that description, but it was a December pick-up.”
“Yes, but the delivery was January 10th. Owner’s name is Jasper Martin.”
“Okay...here, I got it. That job was done by one of our oldest and best drivers.”
“I’d like to talk to him personally. Could you give me his number?”
The dispatcher cleared his throat. “I’m not supposed to give out personal information about our drivers.”
“I’m looking into a theft case. You can let me talk to him, or you can deal with the flack after the police get involved.”
“Gimme a minute.”
Quaid tried to tune out the talking heads. They hadn’t moved off politics.
The dispatcher came back on the line. “Talked to my supervisor. He gave me the go-ahead, but I can tell you, ol’ Butch never did a dishonest thing in his life. He’s been with us—”
“Sir, the driver is not being investigated. I just need verification of some dates and times.”
“Oh, well, okay then. He’s on the road right now, but he has a cell phone.”
Quaid took the number, thanked the man, and disconnected. He was just outside New Lexington as he dialed the driver. A man answered almost immediately. The dispatcher had probably called to give him a heads up.
“Is this Butch Hunt?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
Quaid identified himself and made some small talk before getting to the point of the call. The driver seemed agreeable to answer some questions.
“I can’t talk long, cuz I’m gettin’ close to my next delivery in Newark.”
“Huh, you’re clear out in New Jersey? That’s a long haul.”
“Newark, Ohio. I don’t do the East Coast anymore.”
“Butch, I’m not far from Newark right now. Could we meet? I’d rather talk to you in person.”
“Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour.”
Quaid took the address of the ranch were Butch would deliver his cargo.
“Okay, I’ll see you there.”
“Wait, that’s probably not a great idea. I’ll meet you at that truck stop just off Route 16 at the Granville exit.”
Quaid entered the ranch address into his GPS anyway. This was working out better than he’d expected. Reading body language was one of his best skills and he’d be able to witness the driver’s reactions to the questions.
~~
Kim’s tenacity drove her research. After finding one connection, she eagerly visited dozens of show results, adding several more matches of lost or stolen horses to shows where the mystery couple appeared in photographs. This could be no coincidence. If all the events were in a single location, then it would not be unusual to see the same people over and over, but with shows spread across the country, no way.
She sat back and rubbed her neck. She’d found four “for-sure” stolen valuable horses. Now, if she could match up possible doubles from the list of non-show animals, she’d have something concrete.
“And just what am I going to do with this?”
If her suspicions were correct, then she had a responsibility to give the information to the authorities. Or to Quaid? No, he was working on a single case, not a possible theft ring. She wandered into the living room and looked through the doors onto the deck. The sun was almost down, casting a soft glow into her living room.
What would Quaid think of her theory? Remembering the smirk in his eyes the last time she’d seen him, she frowned. His arrogance annoyed her beyond reason, yet she couldn’t dismiss his reputation or his skill as an investigator that she’d seen firsthand. What did he think of her now that he knew of her police background? He’d screwed her up by telling Dixie about his discovery. What had possessed him to check up on her? A little self-satisfaction sneaked into her brain. Could it be that he was interested in her? Hardly. More like he was checking her out as a threat to his investigation. Would he slough off her idea as ludicrous?
More important…could she, in good conscience, let this go?
This theory involved horses and owners who’d been separated and put through hell for the sake of someone’s wallet. If nothing else, Kim could at least alert someone to what might be going on. But it wouldn’t be Garrett Quaid.
~~
Quaid arrived in the Granville area about forty minutes later. With time to kill, he decided to go have a look at the ranch address that Butch had given him. Pulling off the road next to a pristine farm with white board fences, he gazed at several nice pintos grazing in the pasture on the right side of the driveway. On the left, two big brown llamas watched him with large, suspicious eyes. The house and barn were set at the back of the property, and some expensive cars sat next to the house.
The horse transport truck was already there and two men stood talking at the rear of the trailer. Quaid watched for a minute, then drove on past and headed back to the truck stop. He’d look up the ranch owner later. Probably unrelated, but it never hurt to have too much information.
Twenty minutes later, Quaid watched the black truck and sleek horse trailer with “Cross Country Equine Transport” emblazoned across the side. The driver expertly maneuvered the long rig into a spot that wouldn’t block anyone’s access to the road. The door opened and he climbed down, then looked around. Quaid honked and got out of the car.
“Butch? I’m Garrett Quaid.”
The man was older than Quaid had expected, sporting a couple days’ beard stubble and wispy gray hair poking out from under a faded blue ball cap embroidered with “Quarter Horse Congress”.
His handshake was firm. “Good to meet ya. Let’s get a cuppa. I need to get the rubber outta my legs.”
Quaid glanced at the trailer. “You need to check on horses first?”
“Nah, I’m empty. Time for a shower and a good night’s sleep, then over to Pennsylvania to pick up a load.”
Quaid felt almost disappointed. Nothing about this man indicated that he might be mixed up in something illegal. The guy was just a regular working man, probably glad to be still employed, though he looked as though he could have retired a few years back.
They slid into a booth in the restaurant and the inviting aromas coming from the kitchen reminded Quaid he hadn’t eaten anything all day.
He grabbed a menu. “You gonna eat?”
“Just coffee. I had a sandwich on the way here. So, what do you want to know?”
Quaid set the menu aside and took out his notebook. “You picked up a horse in Altadena, California last December 29th from a man named Jasper Martin. The horse was going to Delaware, Ohio. Can you tell me anything about that trip? The pickup? The delivery?”
Butch screwed his eyebrows together, then nodded. “That fancy show horse. Yeah, that was the trip from hell.”
“Meaning?”
The waitress brought coffee and asked about food. Quaid shook his head. “We’re good.” His stomach growled.
Butch stirred three sugars into his coffee and took a sip before answering.
“Well, the guy was a real jerk. Insisted that I pick the horse up at three a.m., said he’d pay extra for that service. Cash.” Butch grinned. “Can’t pass up a three-hundred-dollar tip. Anyways, he had a helluva time gettin’ that horse on the trailer. What a sucker!
Kicked and reared and damned near knocked the guy down. I told him I wasn’t takin’ that horse off the trailer, not with a bad attitude like that.”
Quaid made a note, remembering Jasper’s comment about the friendly horse at Teri Fortune’s place.
“How’d he react to that?”
“Never batted an eye. Said he had some calming pills I could put in the horse’s water so he could be handled.”
“Do you remember what the pills were called?”
Butch shrugged. “I’m just the driver, I do what I’m paid for.”
“So after he loaded the horse and gave you the pills, what happened next?”
“I picked up another horse just outside San Bernardino and got on Route 40.”
“Wait, you picked up another horse? What did it look like?”
Butch gave him a quizzical look. “Hell, I don’t remember. Just a horse from some people who were dispersing their herd. There’s a lot of that going on right now, cost of feed ’n’ gas.”
“I need the address where you picked up the second horse and where you delivered it.”
“I’ll have to get my logbook for that. You know, you’re makin’ me kinda nervous. Am I in any trouble?”
“No, not at all. I’m just trying to gather all the details about the transfer of Jasper Martin’s horse.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
“The horse you picked up from Martin was not the same horse that you delivered to Ohio.”
All the color drained from Butch’s face and he let out a low whistle, confirming in Quaid’s mind that the driver had not been involved in the switch.
~~
Quaid sat in his truck and watched the horse transport ease slowly out onto the highway. Once Butch had recovered from his shock, he’d been quite helpful. Quaid looked at his notes. Butch’s trip had been uneventful until he reached the Texas Panhandle, then it had gone all to hell. He said the calming pills had worked pretty good on Jasper’s horse, but he thought it had more to do with having a companion for the ride. Damn! It would sure
be nice to know what that other horse looked like. Wouldn’t it be something if Talisman’s twin had been right there on the trailer with him?
One thing that really bothered Quaid was the issue of paperwork. Talisman’s Coggins and shot record would be mandatory for interstate transport and, more than likely, his registration papers and photo would have been part of the package. Either Jasper had paperwork that matched the switched-out horse, or someone had gotten into Butch’s truck and made the change. The only time the rig was left unattended, according to Butch, was during the ice storm in Texas.
He’d located a layover ranch not far from the interstate and, rather than upset the horses, he’d left them on the trailer for the night. The next day, the roads had not improved enough to continue the trip, so he’d unloaded them and paid for stalls. He’d been adamant that nothing was amiss.
“One of the barn hands helped me get that sucker off the truck, but it was a struggle. I guess the pills had worn off. I made sure to put an extra one in his water bucket that night.”
The storm had passed by around noon the next day and Butch retrieved his cargo and headed east, unloading the second horse in Tulsa. Quaid looked at the name and address of the layover in Texas. This was a perfect place to make a switch.
He closed the notebook and listened to his stomach growl. Dixie’s face swam before him, an unexpected mental detour. He toyed with his phone. Should he? His stomach growled again and he put the phone down.
Stick to the original plan. Not ready to be shot down again.
~~
Teri Fortune called later that evening and Kim listened to the girl’s ordeal. True to Kim’s suspicions, the police had found tire tracks in the dirt near the hoof prints. Teri was incredulous that someone could pull off such a bold stunt.