The track had gained notoriety a few years ago when a busted Mexican drug cartel was found to have ties to it. It turns out the stables had been owned by the gang leader’s family. These days, though, there didn’t seem to be much excitement. Looking around, it appeared to be just another day at the races.
Casey shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun as she surveyed the area. The huge grandstand offered two-tiered seating, with a large awning offering relief from the elements. There were also enclosed viewing areas off to the side, with the best location to see the entire track from a slightly elevated vantage point. The paddock terrace seating area had a great view of the saddling paddock. There was also room for standing at track-level, and Casey noticed that a crowd was already forming for the upcoming race.
“Okay,” Casey said, “so here’s how it’s going to work. Amber will stand over by the gate, keeping an eye on things there. Zane, you go to back to the stables and watch the jockeys and horses. I’ll blend in with the horse owners and try to get near Mr. Berlington. Any questions?”
Zane gave her a look as if she’d lost her mind. “Just one: Are you high?”
“What?”
“I didn’t put on an Alexander Amosu—”
“Do you really need to name everything you wear?” she interrupted.
“It’s what wealthy people do, Casey,” Zane answered in an uppity tone. “You’d know that if you were... Well, anyway, the point is that you’re wearing something from a consignment shop and—”
“I am not! I got these at Walmart...” Her voice trailed off at the end, recognizing how it would sound to Zane.
“Wow. Anyway, you’ll be scoffed at by these elite even worse than I scoff at you.”
Casey lifted her head and held it high. “Just because you care about all that posh crap doesn’t mean everyone is that shallow.”
“Look around at all those people, Casey,” Zane said as he gestured around, “and then say that again with a straight face.”
“Fine. Okay, I’ll go to the stables, then.”
“Can I go to the stables, too?” Amber said. “I love horses, and those little kids that ride them are neat.”
“They’re called jockeys, Amber,” Casey hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard her.
“Oh, I thought they were called horses,” Amber said with a frown.
Casey shook her head and sighed. “And they’re not little kids, either. Those are full-grown adults.”
“Well...” Zane began.
“Shut up, Zane,” Casey said, glaring at him. “Okay, fine, I’ve got the gates, Amber has the stables, and Zane’s got the schmoozing.”
Casey watched them walk off to their respective posts, and then she headed to the gates.
THE STABLES
Amber entered the expansive stables, glancing around in case she might notice anything nefarious going on. Having never been inside one before, though, she really had no idea what might be out of the ordinary. The building itself was huge, with turrets on the roof and a large porch making it look more like a fancy hotel than stables. Of course, it was a hotel, of sorts, to the horses who stayed there.
She peeked in several of the stalls, trying to blend in as she leisurely strolled along the length of the perimeter. The place was bustling with activity due to the race that was about to start. She had to move out of the way several times to avoid being run over by a horse being led one place or another.
“Are you lost, little filly?” The deep voice so close to her ear made her jump, and Amber swiveled around to find a handsome older gentleman eying her up and down. He was wearing a cowboy hat and he tipped it to her and grinned, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth that contrasted with his tan face.
“Um, I don’t think so.” She tried to play it off like she belonged there, but she knew he could probably tell she didn’t.
“The name’s Bingo,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Jack Bingo.”
She went to shake it but he grasped her fingers and brought them to his lips instead, giving her a light kiss on the back of her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bingo,” Amber said, smiling back at him.
“Just call me Bingo. All my friends do, and most of my enemies, too.” He let out a hearty laugh that was contagious.
“Oh, okay.”
“Can I get your name, miss?”
“It’s Schwartz—Amber Schwartz.”
“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”
“Schwartz?” Amber said, her face scrunched up in confusion.
“No—Amber.” He winked and then tucked his fingers into his front pockets and leaned against the frame of a nearby stall. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ by the stables?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He grinned at her, his eyes full of mischief. “You think I’m a pretty girl?”
“Very funny.”
“I do what I can, miss.” He then nodded toward one of the stalls. “I’m here ‘cause I get me a horse in this race. He ain’t much to look at, but I’m just gettin’ started in the horse business. More of an oil guy, myself.”
Amber absentmindedly wrapped a lock of hair around her finger and began twirling it. “That’s nice. I’m just here looking around. I’ve always wanted to have my own horse, but I have a little ways to go on that dream. I just got out of college, after all.”
“I see,” Bingo said, and then he twisted his mouth in such a way as to make it look like he was chewing on a piece of straw. He gave her another once-over before settling his eyes on hers. “You know, old Bingo just happens to be in-between wives at the moment. How’d you like to go out for a drink tonight?”
She considered it for a split second and then nodded. “Where?”
“How’s about France?”
“Seriously?”
“A man like me don’t waste time when he sees something he wants, miss.”
“Oh,” she said, and twirled her hair some more.
SCHMOOZING
Zane walked up the steps to the second terrace of the grandstand, looking for the entrance to the private club suites that sat right at the finish line. The club was named after family friends of his father’s, and he knew that’s where he’d find Mr. Berlington.
Inside it was cool and comfortable, looking more like an upscale bar than a grandstand at a horse-race track. There were televisions recessed into the ceiling, large wooden columns spread throughout, and dozens of round tables with upholstered chairs arranged around them. Waiters and waitresses were delivering filet mignon and salmon to the guests, and Zane felt right at home.
He spotted Mr. Berlington over by the bar and walked over to him. The man was in his late sixties to early seventies, had a perfectly cut head of gray hair, was wearing a pair of dark slacks, a button-up shirt, and an ascot. His teeth shone like the moon on a cloudless night and his nails were better manicured than Zane’s mother’s.
“Mr. Berlington,” Zane said, holding out his hand and giving the man a firm handshake.
“Yes?” Berlington said, shaking his hand but clearly not recognizing him.
Zane wasn’t surprised by this, since he’d been about ten the last time he’d seen the man.
“I’m Zane Wolfe. I believe you know my father?”
“Ah, yes. How is old Zeke these days?”
“I think he spends more time overseas than he does here, sir.”
“Ever the traveler, your father. Give him a set of clubs and he’ll go just about anywhere to step on the greens.”
“That’s about right.”
“So what brings you to the track?”
“It’s been a few years and I’d heard that you had a fast horse in the mix these days. Thought I’d put a couple of dollars down on him and enjoy the thrill of the race.”
Zane thought he saw a concerned look cross the man’s face.
“Oh? Well, hopefully you didn’t put too much down on LT. He tends not to do so well on some races.
”
“That’s okay,” Zane said. “Not here for the money. Again, just looking for something new.”
“Right...” Berlington said and then pointed across the field. “Say, who’s that woman over by the gates?” Zane turned to look where Berlington was pointing and rolled his eyes when he saw Casey. “Can’t say as I’ve seen her before,” Berlington added.
Zane stepped in front of Mr. Berlington to try to hide Casey from his view. “Uh... Probably just a worker.”
Berlington looked around him. “Not even wearing a proper uniform. Looks like something my maid would wear on her off day.”
Zane bridled but didn’t say anything.
“Not that I see her on her off days, you know,” Berlington amended quickly. “Just pointing out the obvious.”
“Right,” Zane said, biting his tongue.
“I’d best tell someone about her,” Berlington went on and then glanced around as if seeking someone he could report the incident to. “She looks fishy.”
Zane knew Casey would lose it if Berlington treated her poorly. Zane thought about his own motives for caring about that and then said, “Huh.” He was certain he only wanted to prevent a meltdown. Right?
“Let me take care of it,” Zane said after a moment. “I need to use the facilities anyway. I’ll just stop by the security desk on the way.”
“Right, well, you do that,” said Berlington. “Then meet me up in my suite. No point in hanging down here with all of the riffraff. Wouldn’t want someone spilling their Bearnaise sauce on your Alexander Amosu.”
“You’ve a good eye for fashion,” said Zane with measured appreciation.
“Let’s just say I know the suits I like,” Berlington replied, and then glanced again at Zane’s outfit, adding, “and I know the ones I don’t.”
“Right.”
Zane turned and made his way out of the club, pulling out his cell phone along the way.
SCOOT BACK
Casey stood beside the gates, scrutinizing both them and the people who were walking around them. She trusted no one, and looked for anything that could indicate foul play. The starting gates were painted white, with forest green columns separating them. Against such a stark background, she assumed it would be easy to spot a problem—if there was one.
Her phone rang just then, startling her from her thoughts.
“Yeah?” Casey said, continuing to stare at everyone near the gates.
“You have to get away from the gates,” Zane said with a strange tone in his voice.
“Why?”
“Because Berlington spotted you and he thinks I’m contacting security to get you removed.”
Casey took a step back but didn’t want to appear obvious. “Oh. Well, how am I supposed to see what’s going on, then?”
“Binoculars?”
Casey rolled her eyes. “I happened to have left mine in my other purse.”
“Just set your phone to zoom... Oh, wait, your cell sucks. You need to replace that thing, you know?”
“Well, I can’t do that right now.”
“Ugh. Okay, walk toward the stands like you’re heading to the stables.”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” he hissed. “Look up and you’ll see me heading down the steps.”
Casey did as instructed and looked up to find him on his way down. He was hard to miss with that suit, and that hair, and that... Dammit, she thought, shaking herself back to reality.
“I see you.”
“Good. Now I’m going to hang up and drop my phone off the side. Please make sure to catch it.”
“Why do I want your phone?” Casey asked.
“You remember how to use the camera on it? From the golf case?” He then paused. “Actually, you were pretty awful using it then, but hopefully you’ll figure it out it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
“Hanging up now and will drop the phone in three seconds.”
Casey watched him hang up the phone, and she picked up the pace, even breaking into a jog, but she didn’t quite make it in time. She watched, horrified, as the phone sailed through the air, directly into a large pile of horse dung. It landed with a soft swoosh.
“Damn.”
Casey squatted and began gingerly trying to pick up the phone by one of its corners. This wasn’t one of her finer moments, but it had to be done.
She looked up and saw Amber walking out of the stables on the arm of a strange man.
“Ms. Lane,” said Amber, “why are you picking through the horse doodie?”
“Zane dropped his phone in it,” Casey said matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” Amber said.
Casey narrowed her eyes at the girl. “Why aren’t you back in the stables?”
“I met someone,” Amber said, a huge grin playing over her face as she tilted her head at the large man beside her. “This is Bingo.”
“Bingo?” Casey echoed, wondering why a man in his middle years would allow himself to be called such a thing.
“That’s me, ma’am.” Casey’s demeanor instantly changed at the sound of his voice. She loved that Southern accent, after all. It was so calming. “I like seein’ a woman who ain’t afraid to get all in the muck.” He indicated the horse dung with his chin.
“Uh, thanks?”
“Just sayin’ my mind, ma’am. Here, use my hankie to wipe that phone off with.”
He handed her a large handkerchief that had “JPB” embroidered on it. She didn’t realize people still used these things.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“So, Amber, did you already find something?” Casey said, hoping the girl had accomplished something, rather than just loitering and hitting on the club members.
“Just Bingo here,” she said, still with that I’m adorable grin that made Casey want to strangle her. “He’s taking me to France tonight for drinks.”
Casey paused, not sure she’d heard correctly. “France?”
“I know, right?” Amber said, dreamily looking up at the man who’d called himself Bingo.
Casey blinked. “But you have a job to do.”
“Oh, yeah,” Amber said, her shoulders dropping, “forgot about that.”
“I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t know you was on the job.”
“I should be done soon. Will you wait for me?”
Casey repressed the natural urge to roll her eyes at the scene playing out before her. It wasn’t easy.
“Like a hyena waitin’ his turn,” the man said, and Casey had to close her eyes so no one would see that she was indeed rolling them.
“I have no idea what that means, but I guess it’s good,” Amber said.
“Not if you’re an antelope,” Bingo quipped, and then tipped his hat at Casey. “Nice to meet ya, ma’am.”
“You too,” Casey said, feeling genuinely that way. “And just so you know, if this thing doesn’t work out with Amber, I wouldn’t mind a trip to France.”
“In that outfit?” Bingo said with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Casey looked down at her clothes, once again not understanding the problem.
LOADING THE GATE
Casey went to stand with the other spectators in the grandstand at track level. She maneuvered her way to the front so she would have the best vantage point for the camera phone, aimed it at the gates and zoomed in on LT. Most of the horses looked the same, so it was difficult at first to pick him out, but she recognized Riggs.
“Okay, I think this is recording,” she mumbled to herself. “Ugh, there’s still crap on the phone. So disgusting.”
The patrons near her all backed away slowly.
Through the viewscreen, Casey saw as one of the workers approached LT’s gate and glanced around. She focused in on him as he got closer to the horse.
The guy looked like he was up to something. Sure enough, he took a quick look around again, reached into his pocket and pulled out a large syringe, and he stuck into the hors
e’s hindquarter, right by the tail.
The horse whinnied and jumped up.
Riggs spoke to the horse to try to calm him, while Casey stopped recording and turned off the phone. It had all happened so fast, but she had captured everything.
“Gotcha,” she whispered.
THE RACE
The gates opened and the race started, the horses bolting out and heading down the one-mile-long dirt oval.
LT had started strong, but now he was bringing up the rear and looked like he was ready to walk.
Instead of watching LT, Casey turned and focused the camera phone’s recording on Mr. Berlington. He was standing at the edge of the glass enclosure of his private suite not far above her. There was a knowing smile on his face, and Zane was standing right next to him. Zane made eye contact with Casey and gave her a subtle thumbs-up.
“Gotcha,” Casey whispered again.
THE JIG IS UP
The race over, and LT’s loss confirmed, Casey walked over to where Riggs was tending to the thoroughbred. She heard Zane and Mr. Berlington not far behind her, and she turned around, ready to greet them. Amber and Bingo walked over to join them as well. Mr. Berlington was all smiles as he walked up to Riggs and LT.
“Seems we’ve lost another one,” he said, patting the horse affectionately.
“I just don’t understand it,” Riggs said, visibly upset. “He was fine before the race and then he just slouched.”
“Like I’ve said many times, these things happen,” Berlington noted dismissively. “No skin off my nose.”
“Well, there is off mine,” Riggs groaned. “Nobody’s going to want an inconsistent jockey.”
Berlington gave him a sidelong glance. “You planning to leave my employ?”
“No, Mr. Berlington, but if something happens and you decide to go with another jockey at some point, I need to have my prospects understand that I can get the job done.”
“I’m sure all with be fine,” Berlington said.
“That was quite a show,” Casey said from behind Mr. Berlington, surprising him and causing him to spin around.
Cozy Mystery Bundle #1 (South Lane Detective Agency) Page 12