Mystery of the Midnight Rider (5 page)

“Who are—,” I began.

The shrill buzz of Dana’s phone cut me off She whipped the phone to her ear. “Dana here,” she said.

She listened to whoever was on the other end for a moment. Her expression went grim. When she hung up, she didn’t keep me in suspense about why.

“Well, that does it,” she said. “Midnight just flunked his drug test!”

Test Case

“WHAT?” I EXCLAIMED. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, he flunked?”

Dana dropped her phone into her pocket. “What do you think I mean?” she snapped. “They found a forbidden substance when they tested his urine. Theobromine, to be specific.”

"Theobromine? What’s that?”

“What do I look like, a chemist?” Dana said. "All I know is it’s an ingredient in chocolate, and tea, and maybe some other stuff like that.”

I wrinkled my nose in confusion. "I don’t get it. Who would give chocolate or tea to a horse, and why? And even if they did, who would even know something like that was against the rules?”

Dana’s frown deepened. “Anyone who shows seriously on the A circuit, that’s who. Or they
should
, anyway. I know for a fact that Payton knew. Someone she knows at another ba
rn
got in big
trouble for letting her horse drink cola at shows. Similar kind of thing.”

I almost smiled at the image of a horse drinking cola. But this wasn’t the time.

“How does the testing work?” I asked. “I mean, did someone just go grab Midnight out of his stall just now and—”

“Not just now.” Dana stared at me as if I were the stupidest person on the face of the earth. Or at least at this horse show. "He was chosen for testing at a show a few weeks back. Takes a while to get the results, and if it’s negative you never hear anything. But if it’s positive...”

“I see.” This put a new spin on the case. If Payton was being framed or psyched out, it clearly hadn’t started at this particular show. “Could someone have slipped him something with theobromine in it, then set him up to be tested that day?” I asked. “Like the same person who gave the stewards that anonymous tip, for instance?”

"It doesn’t work that way.” Dana shook her head. “The testing is totally random. There’s no way to tell which horses will be pulled at any given show.”

I could feel my theories deflating in the face of the facts Dana was telling me. "All right, then who does the actual testing? Any
chance there was some hanky-panky there?”

"No,” Dana replied flatly. "The testers are mostly vets or other outside people, and they send the samples to an independent lab. Everything’s carefully monitored by the USEF—that’s the national governing body of these shows. There’s about a one in a zillion chance of hanky-panky in the process.”

“So you’re saying it’s got to be true,” I said. “Midnight really did have theobromine in his system. How did it get there?”

"That’s what
I'd
like to know.” Dana sounded testy. "Apparently the level of theobromine they found is borderline, so there’s going to have to be some kind of official ruling made about whether a suspension is warranted. Luckily, our records are clean, but...” "You mean yours and Payton’s?”

"And Midnight’s, too.” Dana yanked her phone out of her pocket. "I need to talk to Payton about this.
Now
. Here, take him back to the barn.”

She tossed the chestnut gelding’s reins at me. I gulped. “Wait, I—”

It was too late. Dana was already stomping away, madly texting as she went. A moment later she disappeared around the comer of the nearest building.

I stared up at the horse, who suddenly seemed a
lot
taller than
he had a second ago. Definitely a lot taller than those ponies from my long-ago lessons.

"Nice horsie?” I said uncertainly. "Urn, good boy?”

I gave an experimental tug on the reins. The horse yanked his head up, almost ripping the reins out of my hands. He regarded me suspiciously, then took a step backward.

"Wait,” I said. "Don’t do that. Um...”

"Hi,” a friendly voice said behind me. "You’re Payton’s friend, right? Are you okay?”

It was one of the teens who had filled us in about Lenny Hood the day before. "Oh, hi,” I greeted her with relief. "Listen, Dana just left me with this horse, and I’m not sure what to do with it.”

The girl reached out to take the reins from me. “That’s Dana,” she said with a touch of fondness in her voice. "When she gets hyped up about something, she tends to forget that not everyone is there to be her servant.” She giggled. "One time my grandma came to one of my shows, and Dana wanted her to jog a horse so Dana could see if it was lame. My grandma’s seventy-six, uses a cane, and never touched an animal bigger than her Pekingese!”

I smiled. "So is Dana your trainer too?” That explained how the girl knew so much about Payton.

"Uh-huh. I’m Rachel, by the way.”

"Nancy. Thanks for rescuing me.” I gestured at the horse, who now stood placidly at the other end of the reins. "I think he was about to take off for the hills.”

Rachel giggled again. "No problem. See you later.”

She headed off with the horse in tow. My smile faded as my mind returned to what Dana had just told me. As if Ned’s parents and my anniversary plans weren’t enough, now I had an even more important reason to want to solve this case quickly. If I didn’t, and the horse show officials decided against Midnight, Payton could lose her chance to ride in front of the Olympic chef d’equipe tomorrow!

I pulled out my phone and called Ned. “Sorry, it looks like I might need a rain check on those anniversary plans after all.” I filled him in on the news about the drug test.

"Wow,” Ned said. “That’s serious business.”

"I know. So did Dana find Payton and tell her? What does she think?”

"I don’t know.” Ned sounded worried. "I was actually about to call you for two reasons. The first is that I lost track of Payton a few minutes ago.”

“What? But you promised your parents you’d stick with her.” I wasn’t really that worried about Payton’s physical safety while she
was on the busy horse show grounds. But still, we’d promised.

"I know, but it’s really their fault,” Ned said. “My mom called me a little while ago, and I guess Payton must have wandered off while I was on the phone.”

I leaned against a handy fence post. “Okay. What’s the second reason you were going to call me?”

“Like I said, my mom called.” Ned sounded grim. "I guess she was feeling guilty about keeping all this from Payton’s parents. So she called them a little while ago.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t say I was surprised. Mrs. Nickerson wasn’t the type of person to be comfortable keeping secrets. Especially from one of her best friends. "How’d they take it? Were they freaked out?”

"Not exactly. They said it wasn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

"What?” I pressed the phone closer to my ear as several pre- teens wandered past me, chatting and laughing loudly. “What do you mean?”

"A similar note turned up at a show Payton rode in a couple of weeks ago,” Ned said. “It was tucked under the windshield wiper of her parents’ car after the show. Sounds like Payton’s dad was convinced it was just sour grapes from some competitor. He
insisted everyone ignore it. Wouldn’t even let Payton tell Dana or anyone else at the barn.”

“Wow.” I took that in, adding it to the growing case file taking shape in my head. “So whoever’s trying to scare Payton either knows her well enough to know which car belongs to her family
…

“Or is a stalker type who follows her around so he or she can leave those notes in weird locations,” Ned finished. “Creepy.”

“Definitely. Which means this case just got a lot more serious.”

I bit my lip. “We’d better get back to work. I want to find Dana again—she was about to tell me about Payton’s enemies when she rushed off.”

"Sounds like a plan. I’ll try to find Payton and let her know what’s going on.”

As I hung up the phone, it buzzed again. Checking the readout,

I saw a text from Bess reading WE’RE HERE.

I texted back, and soon we met up near the entrance. "Those PAN freaks are back again today,” George said before I could say a word. “They practically accosted us on our way past.”

“Uh-huh.” I wasn’t interested in the protesters just then. “But listen, you guys will never believe what’s been happening around here...

Their eyes widened as I filled them in. When I finished, George let out a low whistle. “Do you really think someone could be stalking Payton?” she said. “But why?”

"And is it connected with Midnight’s drug results?” Bess added.

"That’s what we need to find out. I’m hoping Dana can help.” I sighed. "She started to tell me about how Payton has a few enemies, but that phone call interrupted and then she rushed off.”

“I can tell you one enemy,” George said. "That girl Jessica. If looks could kill, we would’ve witnessed a murder at least twice over just yesterday.”

"Yeah.” I agreed. "Jessica really seemed to have it out for Pay- ton. But she’s even younger than Payton herself. I could see her leaving nasty notes, maybe. But would she really follow Payton back to Ned’s house to do it? And what about that drug test?”

“I don’t know,” Bess said. “But I know who else should be on the suspect list—that rude trainer we heard insulting Payton yesterday.”

"Lenny Hood.” I nodded. “I was thinking about him too. I definitely want to ask Dana about him.”

“So let’s find her and ask,” George said. "Where do you think she could be?”

“Last time I saw her, she was looking for Payton.” I shrugged. “Guess we should start by checking at the barn.”

We hurried across the show grounds, pausing at each riding ring we passed just long enough to ascertain that Payton wasn’t in any of them. She wasn’t at any of her horse’s stalls, either, or hanging out on the benches out front with the other kids from her bam.

The day before, Payton had shown us around the stabling area and pointed out the tack stall where all the saddles and other equipment were kept. When I glanced in, the place was deserted except for Rachel and a younger girl in riding clothes. They were huddled around one of the saddle racks in the comer, their voices loud and excited.

"Hi,” I said as my friends and I stepped in. “Have either of you guys seen Dana lately? Or Payton?”

The girls spun around. “Nancy!” Rachel exclaimed. "Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it!”

"Can’t believe what?” I asked.

"Come look!” She grabbed my sleeve, dragging me to the saddle rack. "Can you believe someone did this to Payton’s saddle?”

I gasped. The saddle’s seat had been slashed to ribbons!

Vandal Scandal

“AR
E YOU SURE THIS IS PAYTON’S SAD
DLE?” I asked the girls.

“Definitely,” the younger one spo
ke up. "It’s practically brand-
new, too. Her dad bought it for her after she won a big class at Devon.”

"I already texted Dana to tell her,” Rachel put in. "She’s on her way.”

“Good.” I leaned closer to the saddle for a better look, but didn’t touch it. If Dana called the cops, I didn’t want to mess up any potential evidence.

“Pretty thorough job,” Bess said over my shoulder.

"Yeah.” The leather seat was a total loss. Every inch of it was sliced all the way down to the padding underneath.

“Who would do something like this?” the younger girl wondered, her voice shaking a little.

I turned to face her. “I was just going to ask you two the same thing,” I said. “Do you know of anyone who dislikes Payton?”

Rachel and the younger girl traded a look. Then they both shrugged.

“Out of the junior riders on the circuit, it’s mostly just
Jessica
,” Rachel said, "
Jessica
Watts. She’s this rider from another bam near ours. She’s always super rude to Payton when they compete against each other.”

“Or even see each other,” the second girl added.

"Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve seen her in action.” George grimaced.

"She’s around Payton’s age, right?” I said. “Brown hair, narrow chin, rides a tall gray horse?”

“That’s her,” Rachel confirmed.

“Why doesn’t she like Payton?” Bess asked.

“We don’t know,” Rachel said, as the other girl nodded. “Probably just because Payton usually beats her, I guess.”

“Does
Jessica
hate Payton enough to do something like this?” George waved a hand at the ruined saddle.

Rachel glanced at it, looking dubious. "I don’t know. I always thought she was just kind of snotty. But you never know, I guess.”

A thought occurred to me. “That big jumper class Payton
won—the one you mentioned just now—did
Jessica
ride in that class, too?”

"You mean the one that got Payton’s dad to buy her the saddle?” the younger girl asked. "That wasn’t a jumper class, it was an eq class.”

“A what class?” George asked.

“Eq—that’s short for equitation,” Rachel explained. “That’s where the rider is judged instead of the horse. You know—for having the proper riding position and stuff.”

"Okay,” I said. "But was
Jessica
in it too?”

"
Jessica
doesn’t do eq,” Rachel said. “She only rides jumpers.” “And hunters, sometimes,” the other girl put in. "At least she used to, before she sold her pony.”

My head was spinning with all the horse show jargon. But the one fact I needed seemed clear enough regardless of the details. "So Payton didn’t beat
Jessica
out for some big prize in that particular class?”

"Not
that
one.” The younger girl giggled. "Just, like, every
other
class Jessica’s ever been in.”

So the saddle probably wasn’t some kind of symbol of a particularly heinous defeat. That didn’t
necessarily mean Jessica could
n’t still be the culprit. But
I didn’t want to jum
p to conclusions.

“Anyone else you can think of who might have it out for Payton?” I asked, waiting for Rachel to mention Lenny Hood. After all, she was one of the ones who’d told us about his history with Payton.

Instead it was the younger girl who spoke up. "Um, maybe,” she said hesitantly. She paused, shooting a look at Rachel. “What about Cal?”

At that moment Dana burst into the room like a small tornado. "This is the absolute last straw!” she exclaimed breathlessly. "I’m serious. Payton has to stop messing up my life, or I won’t be around to live it! Then where will you all be? Who will be there to fix all your disasters and help pick up the pieces, huh? I ask you!” She glared at the two girls, who didn’t answer. In fact, both of them were inching backward toward the door.

"Did you find Payton?” I asked, stepping forward. "What did she say about—”

"No, I didn’t find Payton!” the trainer cut me off irritably. "You’d think at a small-town show like this, she wouldn’t be so hard to track down. Just one more way she’s making my life difficult.”

She pushed past Bess and snatched the ruined saddle off the rack. Then she stomped toward the door.

"Wait!” I said. "I need to ask you—”

"Sorry,” she cut me off again. "I need to find Payton. Like, seriously,
now
”

"Wow,” Rachel said once the trainer was gone. "She seemed really mad.”

"Yeah.” The younger girl grabbed Rachel’s arm to check her watch. "We better go start tacking up, or she’ll be mad at us next.” The two of them rushed out of the room without another word. “Leave it to Nancy,” George said.

“Leave it to Nancy what?” I asked, distracted by my thoughts. George smirked. "To show up at an innocent, fun-filled day at the horse show, and have everything go down the drain.”

Bess rolled her eyes. "You’re blaming Nancy just because a mystery happened to show up where she happened to be?” she said. “That makes about as much sense as Dana blaming Payton because someone vandalized her saddle.”

“Right.” I was kind of disturbed by the trainer’s reaction myself. "It’s like Dana can’t wait to criticize everything Payton does.”

"Think she should be a suspect?” George asked.

"You never know,” I said. "But there are a few better ones I want to check out first. Like Jessica Watts, and Lenny Hood, and maybe this Cal that girl just mentioned, whoever that might be.”

Bess nodded. “And what about the animal rights group from
the parking lot? They’re the ones who tossed that tomato.”

"True, though I haven’t seen any sign that any of them has actually been inside the show grounds, which would make it hard for them to slash the saddle.” I paused. “Besides, I can’t imagine why they’d be targeting Payton in particular.”

“Maybe because she wins a lot?” George suggested. "They might figure it’ll make more of a splash for their cause or whatever.”

“I
don’t know. Sounds a little far
fetched. Still, you’re right— let’s not cross anyone off the list just yet.” Spotting Midnight’s groom hurrying past outside, I stepped into the aisle. "Hey, Mickey!” I called.

The groom stopped and glanced at me. "Yes?” he said politely, no hint of recognition on his weathered face. "Can I help you?”

"I’m Payton’s friend,” I prompted him. "Nancy. We met yesterday.”

“Oh.” Mickey didn’t seem interested. But that didn’t matter—I wasn’t looking for small talk. Just information.

“You’ve probably seen the animal rights people protesting outside, right?” I said. “I was wondering if you’ve noticed them at any other shows in the past couple of months. Especially the recent one where Midnight got drug tested?”

For the first time, the groom showed a glimmer of emotion. Namely, confusion. “I don’t know. I don’t usually leave the grounds much during a show.” He shrugged. “Didn’t hear anything about any protesters the past few shows, though.”

“Did you hear about the ones at
this
show?” George asked. "Yeah.” The groom shot her a look. "I heard. Had to clean their mess off Midnight’s coat yesterday, didn’t I?”

"Okay, one more question,” I said. "Do you know of anyone around here named Cal?”

"Cal?” Mickey blinked. "The only Cal I know of is Cal Kidd. He’s a jumper rider—and he’s the one who sold Midnight to Payton.”