Mystery of the Midnight Rider (6 page)

Research and Gossip

BEFORE I COULD QUESTION MICKEY FURTHER, his cell phone buzzed. "Excuse me,” he said after glancing at the screen. "I have to go.”

He hurried off. "He’s not exactly Mr. Chatty, is he?” Bess said.

"It’s okay. At least now we have a name.” I glanced at George. "Feel like looking up Cal Kidd on your smartphone?”

“On it.” George pulled out her fancy phone, a gift from her parents for her last birthday. Her fingers flew over the keypad.

“So this Cal is Midnight’s former owner,” Bess mused, leaning against the door frame of the tack room as we waited. "If he sold the horse to Payton, why would he be mad at her now? I don’t get it.”

"I don’t either,” I said. “Maybe he thinks she cheated him on the price somehow? Although that wouldn’t make much sense either, since her parents would have been the ones actually paying, right?”

“Got it,” George spoke up. “There are quite a few articles about Cal Kidd on the web.” She held the phone’s tiny screen closer to her face, scanning whatever was on there. "Whoa. Looks like he’s had some gambling problems. Got in a bunch of debt, even went to prison for a bit. Was out of the whole horse show scene for a couple of years and is just now getting back into it.”

“Really?” That sounded interesting. I leaned closer. "Anything about Midnight on there?”

"Hold on, I’m reading...” George went silent.

Bess glanced down the aisle. “Someone’s coming,” she said. “Maybe we should find a more private spot to talk about this.”

I nodded, following her gaze. A gaggle of tweens in riding clothes were coming our way, chattering excitedly at one another.

“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing George’s elbow and steering her down the aisle in the opposite direction. She didn’t say a word— just kept reading, occasionally hitting a key with her thumb.

The show grounds were getting busy by now, and it wasn’t easy to find a spot where we wouldn’t be overheard. Finally we happened upon a small courtyard behind the show office. Nobody was out there, and it was hidden from the main path by a line of shrubs and a large Dumpster.

"Yuck, not exactly my favorite,” Bess said, glancing at the flies
buzzing around the Dumpster.

"Never mind, we won’t be here long.” I turned to George. “What’ve you got?”

George looked up from her phone. “Okay, here’s the gist of this Cal Kidd guy’s history.” She started pacing back and forth like an overcaffeinated university lecturer. "He was some big-time jumper rider for years—started winning big classes when he was almost as young as Payton. Everyone thought he was destined for the Olympic show-jumping team.”

“Sounds familiar,” Bess put in.

"Yeah. He had lots of sponsors buying him horses and riders wanting him to be their trainer. Only then, like I said, he got mixed up in gambling. Ended up in serious debt, lost all his supporters and clients, and had to sell off his horses.”

"Including Midnight?” Bess asked.

"Yeah. That’s the weird thing, though.” George stopped pacing and glanced down at the phone i
n her hand. "It sounds like Mid
night wasn’t even one of his better horses. In fact, it sounds like he didn’t have much success with him at all, even though he won everything there was to win on every other horse he rode.” She shrugged. "Midnight didn’t start winning anything important until after Payton bought him.”

"Interesting.” I stared at the brick wall of the office building, trying to fit this into what we knew about the case so far. “Could Cal be trying to get Midnight back now that the horse is a superstar—a potential Olympic horse?”

"Could be,” George agreed. "That would be a good way to jump-start his return to the sport.” She grinned. “Did you see what I did there?
Jump
-start?”

"Yeah, you’re a comic genius,” Bess said dryly. She turned to me. "But would he really want Midnight back? George just said Cal didn’t have much luck with him the first time. Maybe they didn’t get along.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But it’s worth checking out.” I chewed on my lower lip, trying to figure out how to proceed. “I should’ve asked Mickey if Cal is at this show.”

“One way to find out.” Bess pointed at the building in front of us. "Let’s go ask at the office.”

Within minutes, we had the information we needed. The pleasant woman manning the show secretary’s desk told us that Cal Kidd had reserved a block of three stalls at the show. She even pointed us in the right direction.

My friends and I headed that way. “So what are you going to say to Cal Kidd?” Bess asked me.

"I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I guess I’ll just mention Midnight and then—hold on, is that my phone?”

I dug my cell phone out of my pocket. A text had just arrived from Ned:

FOUND P. SHE & D ARE TALKING PRIVATELY IN THE TACK RM.

George peered at the screen. “Yikes,” she said. “I’m surprised we can’t hear Dana yelling from here.”

I grimaced, then sent a quick response:

KEEP US POSTED. B, G, &
I ARE CHECKING OUT A LEAD.

"I wonder how Payton is taking the news about Midnight’s drug-test results,” Bess said. “She seemed pretty broken up by that drugging accusation yesterday—this is much worse.”

"Yeah.” I squinted at the number on the bam we were approaching. "Look, I think we’re almost to Cal Kidd’s stalls.”

It took another few minutes of wandering around and asking people for help before we found our way to the very back of the barn, where Cal Kidd’s three stalls were tucked into a corner. Unlike Dana’s section in her barn, which was spotless and fully decked out in her bam colors, Cal’s area here seemed a bit shabby and bare. However, the horses loo
king out of the three stalls ap
peared healthy and well groomed.

"Hello?” I called as Bess patted a curious chestnut mare. “Mr. Kidd?”

There was no response. A woman sweeping the aisle in front of the next block of stalls looked our way. "You looking for Cal?” she called in a friendly tone. “He’s not here.”

I stepped closer. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Not sure. Haven’t seen him all day, actually,” the woman said. "I talked to him a bit yesterday, and I don’t think he has any classes today, so I guess he might not be back until feeding time tonight. Want me to let him know you were looking for him if I see him then?”

I was disappointed, but tried not to let it show. "Um, that’s okay. We’ll just check back later. Thanks.”

Returning to my friends, I told them what the woman had said. "Guess there’s no point hanging around here, then.” Bess gave the chestnut one last pat, then stepped back. "Maybe we should head back and see what’s going on with Payton.”

“Hey, did you guys see this?” George was peering up at a cork bulletin board hanging between two of the stalls. It was the only bit of decoration in Cal’s area, containing several ribbons and photos, though I’d barely glanced at it before. "This must be Cal Kidd. Look familiar?”

I stepped closer. “Yeah,” I said. “That looks like the same guy we saw yesterday. The one who seemed so angry when Payton beat him in that first class we watched.”

George nodded. “I think you guys are right. The photos on my phone were so small that I didn’t recognize him before.”

"So that’s interesting,” Bess said. “First Payton turns Cal’s old horse into a big success, then she starts beating him during his big comeback.”

"That can’t be easy to take, especially since she’s, like, half his age,” George added. “Think it’s enough of a motive to mess with her?”

“Maybe.” I stared at the photo for a moment, then turned away. “Come on, let’s go find Ned.”

As we walked out of the barn, George started fiddling with her cell phone again. “What are you doing?” Bess asked.

"Looking up our other suspects,” George replied. "Lenny Hood and Jessica Watts.”

"Finding anything interesting?” I asked.

“Not yet—just regular stuff about their show results or whatever.” George tapped a few more keys. "I’ll let you know.”

She was still searching when we neared the building where Dana’s block of stalls was located. Just outside, half a dozen
teenage riders were gathered by the benches outside the barn entrance. As we neared them, I was pretty sure I heard Payton’s name.

"Hold up,” I whispered, stopping my friends.

George looked up from her phone screen. “Huh?”

I shushed her, trying to hear what the teens were saying. A pretty brunette was talking. “. . . and if she gets suspended, there’s no way the/II even consider giving her a chance at the team this year.”

Another girl pursed her lips. “I bet she did it. She’s so intense—like she’d do anything to win.”

"Yeah,” a third rider put in. "Plus, if you ask me, there’s no way someone her age could win all those big jumper classes without a little, you know, extra help.” She smirked as several of the others giggled.

“Come on, you guys,” a petite blond girl spoke up. “I think Payton’s really sweet, and she seems super honest, too. Maybe it wasn’t her fault.”

That was all I needed to hear. I strode forward to confront them. “Are you guys talking about Payton Evans?” I asked.

The girls all looked startled. One of them, a tall redhead with freckles all over her face, met my eye.

“Who wants to know?” she asked.

"I do,” I responded evenly. "I'm a friend of Payton’s. If there’s something going on, I’d like to know about it.”

The redhead considered that for a moment, then glanced at the others. “Whatever,” she said at last. "Everyone is going to know soon anyway. Payton’s Grand Prix horse just flunked a drug test.” "Yeah,” the brunette put in, her eyes flashing with excitement at the gossip. “And Payton’s supposed to ride him tomorrow night!” "If Midnight ends up on the suspended list, that’ll be the end of that,” another girl said.

“But I heard the test result was actually sort of inconclusive or whatever,” the blonde said. "The committee gets to decide whether they're going to suspend or just give a warning.”

“Do you think they’ll decide before tomorrow?” George asked. "That’s when the Grand Prix is, right? The one the Olympic guy is coming to watch?”

"Yeah,” the redhead said. “And I bet they’ll decide before then. Otherwise it’ll look bad if the news gets out.”

“And it will.” The brunette giggled. “I bet the entire show grounds knows by the end of today!”

"You know that’s got to be killing Dana,” one of the others put in. "I’d pay to see that freak-out!”

The girls already seemed to have forgotten that my friends and I were there. Or maybe they were just too caught up in their gossip to care. I was about to move on when something occurred to me. The last I’d heard, even Payton hadn’t found out about the test results yet. I supposed that was what she and Dana were discussing when Ned texted me, but that was only about twenty minutes ago. How had the gossip spread so fast?

I cleared my throat to remind the girls I was still there. "Where did you first hear about this?” I asked, focusing on the redhead, who seemed to be the ringleader.

“News travels fast around here,” she said breezily.

Not good enough. “No, seriously,” I pressed her. “Who told you about the drug-test results?”

The girl seemed taken aback that I was pressing the point. For the first time her bravado wavered, and she shot a quick, uncertain look at the pretty brunette. Aha.

"Well?” I asked, turning my attention to the brunette. "How’d you hear? Did someone tell you, or were you skulking around in the ba
rn
s eavesdropping on people?”

The brunette frowned. "I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she said, sounding insulted. “Someone told me, okay?”

"Okay. So who was it?”

She looked stubborn. “Who are you, anyway?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve never seen you guys at the shows before.”

“She told you, we’re friends of Payton’s,” George said. "Now spill it. Who told you?”

"Just tell them already, Val.” The redhead sounded bored now. "It’s not like Jessica was even being sneaky about it. I’m sure she’s told lots of people already.”

"Jessica?” I said quickly. “Do you mean Jessica Watts?”

"Yeah.” The brunette sounded surly. "Whatever, it might’ve been her. But you didn’t hear that from me, okay?”

I traded a quick look with Bess and George. How in the world had Jessica found out about the test result so quickly? It wasn’t as if she and Payton were friends—far from it. Then again, if she was the one who’d slipped something to the horse, she might have some kind of insider knowledge. .. .

I opened my mouth to ask how long ago Jessica had started spreading the news. Before I could get a word out, a loud shout cut me off

"Look out—loose horses!"

Fast and Loose

MORE VOICES CAME FROM VARIOUS DIRECTIONS, picking up the shout: "
Loose horses! Loose horses!"

“Oh my gosh,” one of the teen girls said. “I hope my pony didn’t duck out under his stall guard again!”

She and the other girls rushed off around the comer of the barn. My friends and I followed, swept up by the general excitement.

“Uh-oh,” George said as we rounded the comer and skidded to a stop.

Three horses were running around wildly in the grassy area between ba
rn
s. Two of them were big bays, and the third was a rangy liver chestnut.

“That’s not Midnight, is it?” Bess said, pointing at one of the bays.

George gasped. “It
does
look like him! And check it out, there’s Dana trying to grab him.”

I saw that George was right. Payton’s trainer was among those trying to catch the loose horses. She was moving slowly toward the excited bay, her arms out as she spoke soothingly to him.

“Hold up. Actually, I don’t think it’s Midnight.” I peered at the horse. It was hard to get a good look, since he was currently dodging back and forth trying to avoid Dana. But then he lifted his head so I had a clear view of his face. "Nope, it’s not him,” I said with relief. “See? That horse has a white star on his face, and Midnight doesn’t.”

"Oh, you’re right,” Bess said. “Look, I think Dana’s got him.”

We watched as several people, including some of the teenage girls we’d just been talking to, helped catch the other two horses. Soon all three escapees were heading back into the barn.

“Whew, that was kind of crazy,” George said. "The action never stops around here!”

Bess laughed, but I just rubbed my chin. "Yeah.” I agreed. "It’s kind of suspicious, isn’t it?”

George looked surprised. “What do you mean? Do you think someone let the horses out on purpose? Why?”

“Yeah,” Bess put in. “Especially since none
of them
belonged to Payton.”

"I know. But doesn’t it seem awfully coincidental that one of
them was a big bay gelding from Dana’s barn? One that looks a lot like Midnight?” I shrugged. "I mean, we all mistook him for Midnight for a second there. Maybe someone else did too.”

“Oh!” Bess’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think of that. So you think this really could be connected to the case?”

“I don’t know. But we can’t rule it out. Let’s go find Payton. I think we need to talk to her about all this.”

We headed into the barn. A couple of grooms and a middle- aged woman were fussing over the recently recaptured bay gelding, who was now standing quietly cross-tied in the aisle.

"Excuse me, do you know where Dana went?” I asked one of the grooms.

“I’m not sure.” The groom seemed distracted as he ran a rag down the horse’s legs. “Tack room, maybe? She was talking to Payton in there when the horses got loose.”

“Thanks.” I led the way down the aisle.

As my friends and I neared the tack room, we could hear the sound of a raised voice. “Uh-oh,” Bess whispered. “Sounds like Dana’s not happy.”

“Sounds like Payton’s not either,” I said as another angry voice joined in.

I wasn’t sure we should be listening to their argument. But it
wasn’t as if they were making any attempt to be quiet—half the bam could probably hear them. My friends and I took a few steps closer, stopping just short of the doorway.

"... and it’s like you don’t even care about your own reputation anymore, let alone mine!” Dana was yelling.

"That’s not fair!” Payton exclaimed, sounding upset. "If it was up to me, I wouldn’t even be at this show!”

“Huh?” George murmured, raising an eyebrow at Bess and me.

“Shh,” I hushed her, leaning closer to the door.

"Look, I know you’re upset about missing your friend’s party or whatever—,” Dana began.

"It’s my cousin,” Payton snapped, cutting her off. "My favorite cousin, who’s been like an older sister to me my whole life. And it’s not just some party—it’s her
wedding
!
”

“Okay, whatever, I’m sorry,” Dana said. “But in this industry, you need to be willing to make sacrifices. And it’s not every day that the chef d’equipe wants to show up and watch you ride
…
”

Unfortunately, she lowered her voice just enough so it was impossible to make out whatever she said next. I backed up a few yards, and my friends followed.

“This adds a new wrinkle,” I said quietly. "It sounds like Payton
wanted to skip this show to go to her cousin’s wedding.”

"I wonder if that’s the family obligation that’s keeping her parents away until tomorrow night,” Bess said.

“Probably,” I agreed, remembering Payton’s comment the day before. "In any case, Dana must’ve insisted she skip the wedding so she could ride in front of the Olympics guy.”

“Maybe Payton’s parents, too,” George said. "It sounds like they’re pretty competitive and ambitious.”

“Yeah. Even if it wasn’t their idea, they must’ve agreed with Dana. Because if they thought Payton should go to the wedding in-stead, they could’ve overruled her.” I shook my head. “You know, I’m starting to feel really sorry for Payton. On the one hand, she’s living out her dream—riding at these big shows, super successful, aimed for Olympic glory.”

Bess nodded, clearly seeing where I was going with my thought. “But there’s a dark side too,” she said. "Her life isn’t really her own. She has to make sacrifices to be the best.” She sighed. "It’s just too bad Dana seems to be so, you know, mean about it.” "Yeah.” George glanced in the direction of the tack room. "She really doesn’t sound too sympathetic, does she?”

Her comment made another thought pop into my head. It was one that had been dancing around at the edges of my thoughts all
day.

"You’re right,” I said slowly. "If
Dana’s the one who forced Pay
ton to come to this show, could that be a clue in itself?”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked. “Do you think Dana should be a suspect?”

"I’m not sure,” I said. "I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve witnessed her being kind of hard on Payton. But if she’s the culprit, what’s her motive?”

“Good question.” George pursed her lips thoughtfully. “She’s Payton’s trainer. So if Payton looks good, she looks good, right? Why would she want to mess that up?”

"And would she really slash up that saddle?” Bess wondered. "I mean, she seems kind of hot-tempered, but not crazy”

"Yeah, I can’t quite picture her going at the saddle with a knife either,” I admitted. "Still, we’d better put her on the list. Just in case.” Something else occurred to me. "And actually, even if she’s not the best suspect for some of the stuff that’s happened, there’s one thing that fits perfectly. She’s the one in charge of Midnight’s care, right? Including everything he eats. So she was in the best position to toss some chocolate or whatever into his bucket to make him flunk that test, right?”

"I guess so.” Bess looked uncertain. "But if
that’s true, wouldn’t
she get in trouble too?”

"I don’t know.” I realized I still wasn’t clear on how the whole suspension system worked. “Let’s see if we can find someone to ask.”

George glanced toward the tack room. “Good idea. We probably shouldn’t be here when they come out.”

I had to agree with that. If Dana might be our culprit, it probably wasn’t a good thing for her to catch us eavesdropping.

My friends and I tiptoed away around the corner, then started looking around for someone to ask about the drug rules. The first familiar face we saw belonged to Mickey. He was outside Midnight’s stall, stuffing hay into a hay net. The big bay gelding was watching the man’s work with interest.

"Hi.” I walked over and gave Midnight a rub on the nose, then smiled at the groom. "Do you have a second?”

This time I was pretty sure he recognized me, though he seemed less than thrilled to see me. "Uh, I guess,” he mumbled without enthusiasm.

"We were just talking about Midnight’s drug results, and we realized we don’t understand how the system works,” I said. “Who gets suspended when something like that happens?”

“The horse does, of course.
Plus whoever signs on the entry
form as that horse’s primary caretaker,” Mickey replied, yanking the cords to tie the hay net shut. “Normally that’s the trainer, un-less the owner signs as trainer for some reason.”

"Oh.” I shot a look at my friends. What Mickey was saying seemed to rule out our latest theory, since Dana would be the one who got suspended rather than Payton.

Mickey hung the hay net just outside the stall door, patting Midnight as the big bay horse eagerly yanked a few strands out and chewed. "Wouldn’t be the worst thing for this guy to get suspended,” the groom murmured, running one calloused hand up and down the gelding’s neck. His voice was so low that I wasn’t sure he’d meant to be overheard.

“What was that?” I asked. “Did you say it would be good for Midnight to get suspended?”

“ ’Course not,” he said gruffly. “It’s just that Midnight could use a break, that’s all. He’s been campaigned pretty hard this year. Too many weeks standing in a tiny stall, riding in trailers...Ah, never mind. Stupid thought.”

“No, I understand.” Bess shot the man her most winning and sympathetic smile. “You’re just worried about Midnight. I think that’s sweet.”

Mickey merely grunted in response. But his expression
lightened a little bit. Bess has that effect on people. I don’t know how she does it.

"Yeah, you must be really worried about what happened,” I said, trying to sound casual. A lot of people are more likely to talk if they don’t realize they’re being interrogated. I had a feeling Mickey was one of those people. "Especially since someone obviously tried to hurt Midnight by dosing him with theobromine.” I reached out to stroke the gelding’s velvety nose. "That can’t be good for him, right?”

"Not likely to hurt him,” Mickey responded. “Especially not in such a small amount.”

"Oh. That’s good,” I said. “Still, who would want to give him something they knew would test? And how would they even do it?”

I eyed the hay net as Midnight took another bite. “Do you think someone sneaked in and slipped something into his food?”

"Not likely.” Mickey sounded certain. "We’ve got a foolproof system here.”

"You do? What is it?”

The groom shrugged. “Really want to know? I’ll show you.” He headed off down the aisle without another word.

Trading a look with my friends, I shrugged and then followed. Soon we were all crowding into a stall at the end of the row. Like
the tack stall, it wasn’t set up for horses. Instead it contained at least a dozen large feed sacks, piles of empty buckets, a folding table with a bunch of small plastic bags on it, and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t take in right away. Tacked to one wall was a poster- board list of horses’ names written in different colors. Beside each name was some additional writing in black ink, though it was too small to read from where I was standing.

"Feed room,” Mickey said, and I hid a smile. I knew where we were.

"So all the horses’ grain comes from here?” George asked, peering into a large bag labeled as alfalfa pellets.

"Uh-huh.” Mickey pointed to a neat row of buckets along one wall. “One color for each horse. Feed gets measured out there.” Next he indicated the plastic bags on the table. "Supplements there.”

“Supplements?” I echoed.

"Vitamins. Joint aids. Stuff like that,” Mickey said. “When it’s time to feed, grab the bag and dump it in the matching bucket. No way to mix things up.”

Bess stepped closer to the poster and peered up at the list of names. "Midnight’s color is purple,” she said. She moved over to the line of buckets. “Hey, wait a minute. It looks like someone
already added some supplements to this purple bucket.”

“Can’t be.” George picked up a plastic bag filled with powder. A purple sticker was on it. "His bag’s right here.”

Mickey frowned. "What are you talking about?” He glanced at the bag in George’s hand, then stepped over and peered into the purple bucket. His face went pale, and he grabbed the bucket with one hand, reaching into it with the other. "There is some kind of powder in here!” he exclaimed. Lifting his fingers to his nose, he gave them a sniff. “Smells like bute. But that can’t be! Midnight isn’t supposed to get that!”