Lucky Thirteen

by Melanie Jackson

  “Charles, what would you say if I told you that I work for the Hope Falls police department where I quite often help to solve some of their most difficult criminal cases?”

  “I’d say you’re having me on.”

  “Well I do, work there, and I’m not, having you on. I’d like for you to help me carry out an investigation into the culprit behind the doping of Soft Spoken Hal. Are you up for it?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. I mean, I trust you and all, that’s not the problem, but such an act is stepping over the boundary of the employer/employee relationship.”

  “Step one.”

  “Yes?”

  “Find Miss Hightower. Not only because I’m concerned for her safety, but because she had something important to tell me before she disappeared.”

  “Right. Now that I can agree to,” Charles said.

  After exchanging cell phone numbers, Charles, Alex, and I set off in different directions to canvass the track for Miss Hightower. Charles chose the stables, Alex the viewing stands, and I opted to comb the lobby and other public areas inside the structure. After an hour spent searching, I’d found nothing. Charles and Alex each called to report that they’d found no trace of Miss Hightower. We gathered in the parking lot to see if we could locate her car. It wasn’t difficult to find since it was a baby blue vintage Thunderbird. Alex found the car parked in a public space and gave us directions to find him in column L9. The car was locked.

  “Now what?” Alex asked.

  “I say we call the police,” Charles offered.

  “We’ll eventually have to. But first, maybe we should notify the track officials and see if they have any luck locating her.”

  “Good idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself,” Charles agreed.

  While Charles headed off to discuss Miss Hightower’s disappearance with the track officials, Alex and I returned to Miss Hightower’s viewing box to wait. Charles eventually arrived and we waited together. While we waited, I took no interest in what was happening on the track. What had once thrilled me could no longer interest me in the slightest in the wake of my friend’s unexplained disappearance. The skies outside became overcast to reflect my mood. Two hours later, we received a call informing us that the track officials had conducted a thorough search of the grounds for Miss Hightower and turned up nothing.

  “I’m calling the police,” Charles said.

  “You do that, but they’ll most likely insist you wait twenty-four hours before opening a missing persons case,” I informed him.

  Alex and I listened in on Charles’ side of the phone conversation. Based on what I heard, he was running into exactly the difficulty I thought he might come across. The police didn’t want to begin investigating until twenty-four hours had passed. Charles argued the matter the best he could and after telling the person on the other end of the line the name of the missing person and the circumstances, seemed to make some headway.

  “They’re putting me in touch with a Detective Phillips to hear my story,” Charles informed us, holding the phone away from his face.

  Charles returned the phone to his ear and after waiting several minutes began relating the situation once more. Again he was rebuffed, but he continued to press for assistance. Finally, he thanked the detective and terminated the call.

  “The detective says that he gets off work in an hour and that he’ll stop by the track on his way home to take our statements.”

  “Good going, Charles,” Alex said.

  I smiled at him. Charles returned a weak smile and we once more found ourselves waiting.

  An hour later I watched in frustration as the stands emptied after the final race of the day. An hour after that, there came an authoritative knock on the door of the viewing box. Charles rose to admit a gentleman in his late fifties wearing a rumpled sports coat and slacks. He needed a shave and looked tired. His presence would most likely have been improved if only he would have stopped frowning for a moment. I immediately recognized him as your standard police detective.

  “I’m Detective Phillips,” the man said, stepping into the room and flashing his badge.

  Detective Phillips stood and examined us all. Charles offered him a seat and remained standing as the detective fell into his chair and removed a notepad and pen from his coat pocket.

  “What time did Miss Hightower go missing?” he began.

  Two hours of grueling questioning and the detective had gathered the salient facts. He raised a questioning eyebrow when Alex and I tried to explain our odd relationship with the missing person. Other than that, he seemed bored as he recorded our responses. In any case, he asked all the right questions and I concluded that he was most probably very good at his job.

  As night fell over the track, the detective tucked away his notebook and pen as he rose from his chair.

  “I can’t promise you anything,” he told us. “In most cases, the missing person shows up of their own accord within a few days. From the sound of things, Miss Hightower has had a terrible shock. It could be that she simply needs some time alone.”

  “I hope you’re right, Detective,” I replied, trying to sound optimistic but failing miserably.

  After distributing business cards and admonishing us all to call if anything should turn up, the detective left, and Charles went to retrieve the Rolls. When we were alone, Alex turned to me with concern written all over his face.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “I suspect foul play. I think that Miss Hightower is in a great deal of danger and that we’d better find her soon.”

  Alex nodded his head gravely in agreement. We left the building to find Charles waiting at the curb holding open the back door of the Rolls. Alex and I climbed in. Everyone was silent during the drive to our hotel, no doubt mired in their own confused thoughts.

  I was worried, but at the same time I felt a sense of exhilaration. Because, you see, I was back on the case.

  Chapter 5

  I sat on the edge of the bed in our hotel room, my cell phone still in my hand which was now lying in my lap. I’d just gotten off the phone with Charles. Miss Hightower had yet to show herself at the estate and neither he nor the family had received any word from her. Charles sounded quite upset by the whole situation. I tried to analyze the case using my deductive powers but found that I had too few facts with which to work. Somehow I needed to gather more information to feed my frantic brain and could think of only one place to find exactly what I needed to know.

  “Alex, I’m going to drive out to the Hightower estate today and see what I can dig up,” I called toward the bathroom.

  “I expected no less,” Alex admitted as he stepped from the bathroom freshly shaved and buttoning the cuffs on a clean white dress shirt.

  I thought he looked quite sexy in slacks, an open-collared work shirt, and bare feet, but there was nothing I could do about that now if I was going to get cleaned up and make it to the estate before noon. I set my cell phone on the end table and sauntered past my husband on my way to the bathroom. I dropped the robe off my shoulders and peeked playfully behind me. Alex was watching my every move as I hoped he would be doing. I entered the bathroom to shower with the expectation of amorous goings-on during the coming night.

  As soon as I stepped out of the shower and started to dry, I heard the hotel room door open and close, followed by conversation between Alex and someone I couldn’t identify by voice alone.

  “Alex, who is it?” I called through the door.

  “It’s me, sweetheart.” This time I clearly recognized the voice of Mark Halifax. “Why don’t you come out and say hello?”

  “I will when I’m dressed.”

  “I won’t mind if you come out now. After all, I’m almost family.”

  “Knock it off, Mark,” I heard Alex scold, followed by a hearty laugh from Mark who was beginning to get on my nerves.

  I worked on drying my hair and applying a light layer of makeup before putting on my underwear and pull
ing on a pair of my favorite jeans and a western shirt. I left the bathroom in search of a pair of socks and sneakers to complete my casual attire.

  “Oh, you got dressed,” Mark quipped. “I’m disappointed, but I must say the parts that are exposed are exceptionally sexy. Especially your feet. Alex, have you ever noticed how sexy a woman’s feet can be when no other parts are exposed?”

  “Knock it off, Mark,” was Alex’s standard response.

  I ignored him and pulled up a spot on the edge of the bed to shoe my feet.

  “Come on, Mark, we have to get going,” Alex said. “Chloe, I’ll be back late this evening. Call me if you uncover any important news.”

  “I will,” I assured him.

  The men turned to leave. Before they made it to the door, I had a thought that seemed worth pursuing.

  “Mark, before you leave,” I began.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Where did you go the previous night after you left us at the Hightower estate?”

  “Chloe!” Alex protested.

  “Wait a second now,” Mark said, holding up a hand to ward Alex off. “Am I a suspect in the recent goings-on that Alex has been telling me about? After all, Alex told me that you’re something of an amateur detective.”

  “Amateur,” I replied, raising my eyebrows.

  “Chloe,” Alex replied in exasperation.

  “I’d just like to know where you were, to clear the record so to speak.”

  “Well, for the record, I returned to the hotel here where I went straight to bed.”

  “Alone?” I couldn’t believe I’d actually asked.

  “Chloe, that’s enough!” Alex insisted.

  “Alone,” Mark answered with a chuckle.

  “And I suppose that fact can be corroborated by someone,” I prompted.

  “Afraid not,” Mark replied. “I didn’t run into a soul on the way back to my room. Are you ready to arrest me now?” Mark asked, holding his wrists out as if to be handcuffed.

  I frowned at his childish antics. Alex grabbed Mark’s arms and guided him back toward the hotel room door.

  Alex had been looking for a partner for a while and I hadn’t been willing to quit work to come onboard full time, but I was not certain that Mark was the best choice.

  “Come on, Halifax. I’ll see you tonight, Chloe.”

  After the men had left, I walked around the room gathering up my things in preparation for my own departure. Luckily, I was able to store all my stuff in a fanny pack which I carried with me out the door. I hate carrying a purse, especially during an investigation. After all, you never know where a lead will take you and in many situations a purse was nothing more than an encumbrance.

  I left the hotel and a doorman held the back door of a taxi for me while I climbed in. I gave instructions to be taken to the nearest rental car agency. Once there I rented an inexpensive economy car and obtained directions and a map to the Hightower estate in the country. In no time at all I was back on the highway speeding my way toward the next stop in my investigation. I felt my heart beating wildly at the prospect. In an attempt to calm myself, I put my mind to work ordering the information that I’d so far been able to gather.

  Someone had sabotaged the crucial horse race required for Miss Hightower to retain control of her estate. The most likely culprits were either Hillary and his family or Harrigan. Miss Hightower herself was about to provide an important piece of information just before she disappeared. I suspected foul play in her disappearance connected with the doping of Soft Spoken Hal. I assumed that if I identified the individual behind the doping that I would also uncover the whereabouts of Miss Hightower—please, God, alive and not dead. Finally, I made note of the fact that time was not on my side. The longer my investigation took, the greater the probability that I would never see my friend again. These facts were sobering and helped to both steel my resolve and settle my nerves.

  It required almost two hours of driving before I arrived at the front gates of the Hightower ranch. I drove through the open gates without hesitation and parked my car on the gravel drive before the mansion. At the front door I knocked and was pleasantly surprised when Charles opened the door. He looked both shocked and relieved when he saw me.

  “The family is just sittin’ down to lunch in the dining room,” he said, which I suspected was his way of directing me to where my investigation should begin.

  “Still no word of Miss Hightower?” I asked hopefully.

  “No,” Charles declared with a frown.

  I decided to take advantage of his lead by following him to the dining room, where I stepped into the room as he announced me. There was a stranger at the table who was guiding Hillary through signing a stack of papers while Hillary continued to eat. I assumed it was Hillary’s lawyer and that they were already working out the details of the property transfer. And with his sister missing. I was disgusted.

  “Good God, Ms. Boston,” Hillary declared, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “What the blazes are you doing here?”

  “Your sister has disappeared, or hadn’t you heard?” I replied. “I was hoping that I might be of some assistance in finding her.”

  “Who invited you?”

  “Your sister did.”

  “Well, now I’m uninviting you,” Hillary said, setting his napkin aside on the table and standing to better confront me.

  “You aren’t the master of the house yet, Hillary,” I volleyed back.

  “I am when my sister is absent. Tell her, Mr. Samuels,” he said, gesturing to his lawyer.

  “I’m afraid that he’s right, miss,” the little man concurred.

  “Charles, would you please escort Ms. Boston from the property?”

  “Not so fast,” I said, stepping forward to take a seat at the table.

  Hillary appeared positively apoplectic at the effrontery of my presence. I for one was disgusted by the fact that he and his family were able to carry on their routine business in the absence of his beloved sister. And I had questions, which I was determined that Hillary was going to answer.

  “Where were you the night before Soft Spoken Hal was found to have been doped?” I began.

  “I don’t have to answer your questions. You’re not the police.”

  I decided to throw in a Hail Mary pass.

  “What would you say if I told you that I saw you come downstairs the night that I stayed and drive one of the golf carts to the stables?”

  “I would say that you’re a liar. I was sound asleep in bed the entire night. It sounds as if you were the one creeping around that night and therefore the one who should be investigated.”

  “And I suppose your wife can verify your alibi?”

  Instead of replying to my challenge, Missy lowered her head and looked away.

  “Yes, she can,” Hillary replied for her.

  “And what about you, Sissy?”

  While I asked my questions I paid particular attention to the family’s responses. Hillary’s hostility and Missy’s timidity I expected. What I did not expect was Sissy’s reaction. She looked genuinely terrified by my presence.

  “Enough!” Hillary declared. “Charles, I insist that you lead this woman from the premises immediately.”

  “Come, Chloe, it’s time you left,” Charles said from behind.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” I said, standing.

  I allowed Charles to guide me from the room; after all, I didn’t want for him to get in trouble with his employers. However, before exiting I turned to insert one last barb.

  “Hillary, I suspect that you had a hand in your sister’s disappearance. And I’m going to prove it.”

  I then left before he could have the satisfaction of getting in the final word. Or so I thought.

  “I’ll have you arrested if I find you on my property again,” he threatened from the other room.

  Charles and I shared a smile and a shake of our heads as he led me out the front door of the mansion.

  “I�
��m glad you’re here, Chloe. I’m concerned about the madam and have been considering what you told me about starting an investigation.”

  “Have you heard anything from Detective Phillips?”

  “He called to say that he would stop by sometime this afternoon to take statements from the family.”

  “I can assure you that will uncover nothing of any help. I’m sure they’ll be as closed-mouthed with him as they were with me.”

  “I fear you may be right,” he replied solemnly.

  “Has anything peculiar been going on around the house lately?” I asked.

  “Other than the appearance of Hillary’s lawyer, nothing strange. Except the new master of the house has begun fattenin’ himself up by having additional servings of food sent to his room.”

  I stood for a while, unsure of what to say to give Charles hope. He looked just as lost for words.

  “Charles, before you throw me off the property, I was hoping you’d allow me to have a look around the stables.”

  “It’s fine with me,” Charles replied. “Just keep a low profile. The master will throw a fit if he finds out you’re still here.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be sure I’m not seen.”

  I gave Charles a hug, which surprised him but ultimately evoked a smile in return, before climbing into my car and driving to the stable which housed Soft Spoken Hal. I parked behind the stable in the hope my car would be harder to see and walked inside like I owned the place. The stable hands ignored me. I found Soft Spoken Hal’s stall empty and was about to enter when I was challenged by a familiar voice.

  “You there, what do you think you’re up to?”

  I turned to face Jerry Dietz, the head trainer. He was carrying an ominous-looking pitchfork in his hand. Since I knew that he had others to muck out the stalls and distribute hay, I suspected that he was brandishing the tool as a threat.

  “You,” he seemed to snarl. “What do you want?”

  “I came to ask a few questions about the doping of Soft Spoken Hal and the subsequent disappearance of Miss Hightower.”

  “What would any of us here know about any of that?”

  “That’s what I plan to find out.”