Mystery of the Midnight Rider (9 page)

******

The next morning I arrived at the show bright and early. Bess and George were with me, though George wasn’t particularly happy
about it.

"I can’t believe people voluntarily wake up this early,” she mumbled, stifling a yawn as the three of us walked along the path leading toward Dana’s ba
rn
.

“Get over it,” Bess told her cousin. “The Grand Prix is tonight, and we need to figure out before then who’s trying to sabotage Payton.”

"That’s right,” I agreed. “We don’t want this hanging over Payton’s head on the biggest night of her riding life. Otherwise she might not ride her best in front of the Olympics guy.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” George admitted. "So what’s the plan?”

"Good question. I can’t stop thinking about Cal Kidd,” I said.

Bess and George traded a look. I’d filled them in on last night’s events on the ride over.

"I thought you ruled that out when you found out Payton signs her own entries,” Bess said.

“Right. But here’s the thing. What if Cal actually doesn’t know she does that?” I kicked at a stone on the path. “Payton seemed convinced that everybody knows, but I’m not sure we should assume anything.”

"I suppose it’s worth checking into,” George said. “So you still
think Cal might be getting revenge on Dana?”

"Maybe. I can’t stop thinking about what Mickey said about seeing Cal sneaking around the bam the other night. Why would he be there if he’s not our culprit?”

"Unless Mickey is lying about that to throw suspicion off himself,” Bess suggested.

"Even if it’s true, how do you know it’s Dana Cal is after?” George put in. “I still think he could be after Payton because of the Midnight connection.”

I glanced at her. "You know, I almost forgot about that. Probably because while we were talking about Cal last night, Payton never even mentioned that he used to own Midnight.”

"Why would she?” George shrugged. "It’s old news, at least to her. But what if it’s Cal’s real motive? What if he’s targeting Payton because he wants his star horse back, and he figures scaring her out of the saddle is the best way to do it?”

"Except that Midnight wasn’t his star horse,” Bess reminded us. "He wasn’t anything special until Payton bought him.”

"I still think we should go question Cal,” George said. “He’s looking like our best suspect either way.”

"I’ve got a better idea.” I pointed toward the ring we were passing. "Isn’t that Dana over by the rail? Let’s go ask her about Cal. At
least she should be able to tell us if it’s true that he wanted to train with her. And maybe what the deal was with him and Midnight.” We hurried over and joined Dana. She was watching as a stout woman trotted an even stouter horse around the ring.

“Heels down, Sue!” Dana called out. Then she noticed us. “Oh, hello, girls.”

“Hi,” I said. “We were just wondering something.”

Dana didn’t seem to hear me. “More impulsion!” she yelled at the woman. "He’s moving like a slug, not a horse!”

“Sorry!” the woman’s cheerful voice drifted back.

I watched as the rider kicked at the horse’s sides. The horse totally ignored her, trucking along at the same leisurely pace.

Dana sighed, then glanced at us. “What was that?” she said. "Did you girls say something?”

"I wanted to ask you about someone I met yesterday,” I said, trying to sound casual. “His name’s Cal Kidd.”

Dana stiffened. “Cal? What about him?”

“We heard you might know him,” George spoke up. "That he might even have wanted to train with you?”

Instead of answering, Dana turned back to face her student. "That’s enough for today, Sue!” she hollered. “I’ve got to go.” “What?” The woman sounded surprised. “But we haven’t even
warmed up yet!”

"Wait,” I said. "I just want to...”

I let my voice trail off. It was too late. Dana was already hurrying off without a backward glance.

“Okay, that was weird,” George said. "As soon as you mentioned Cal’s name, she totally freaked out.”

Bess nodded. “So what do we do now?”

I wasn’t sure. My phone buzzed, and I answered without bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Nancy? Is this Nancy Drew?”

It was a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize. “Yes, this is Nancy,” I said cautiously. “Who’s this?”

There was a funny noise from the other end of the line. It sounded like a sob.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Nancy!” the voice gasped out again. “This is Annie—Annie Molina? We talked yesterday?”

"Yes, I remember,” I said, perplexed.

Annie choked back another sob. “S-sorry to b-bother you,” she wailed. "But I had to call someone, and you’re the only person at the show whose name I know, and well...I just want to confess!”

The Evans Edge

“THERE SHE IS.” GEORGE POINTED OUT
through the main gate.

Shading my eyes against the morning sun, I looked that way. Annie Molina was hurrying to meet us. My heart pounded. Could this really be so easy? Was Annie about to solve the case for us by confessing?

“Nancy!” the woman blubbered. She was a mess. Mascara dripped down her splotchy cheeks, and more tears were welling up in her eyes. “I’m so glad I tracked you down. I feel just terrible about all this!”

“Okay,” I said. "Why don’t you tell us about it?”

Annie nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "I just wanted to help the animals,” she said. “And horses are so darling and magical—when I read on PAN’s website that they were coming here to protest, I just knew I had to help.”

"So this was the first horse show you protested with them?” George asked. “Or was there another one a few weeks or so ago?”

Annie blinked at George as if wondering who she was. “No, this was my first one,” she said. “I’d never worked with PAN before. They don’t come to this area much.”

"But this time they decided to come and protest the River Heights Horse Show,” I prompted, poking George in the side to shut her up. I didn’t want her questions to confuse Annie, who seemed a little confused already. “So you joined in to try to help the horses.”

"That’s right.” Annie sniffled loudly. “Only I thought we’d just be carrying signs and so forth. It was bad enough when Bill threw that tomato, but then yesterday—oh, dear!” She shuddered.

"Yesterday?” I said.

Annie nodded. “I swear, I only distracted the guard so the others could sneak in,” she insisted, the tears starting to flow again. "I didn’t even want to do that—the whole plan just seemed too risky—but they convinced me that none of the horses would be hurt!”

"Hold it.” I was starting to catch on. "You’re talking about those horses getting loose from their stalls, right? Your PAN buddies were the ones who let them out?”

"That’s right.” Annie pulled a wadded-up tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, I’m just so glad nothing terrible happened! Even so, I couldn’t rest all night. What if one of those beautiful creatures had been hurt? I just couldn’t live with myself if we’d caused any real trouble!” She shook her head. “That’s not what I thought PAN was all about!”

As far as I knew, that was
exactly
what PAN was all about. But I didn’t bother to say so.

"I see,” I said. “So what about the other incidents?”

“What other incidents?” Annie looked worried. "Did something else happen? I just got here myself.” She stared wildly around the parking lot.

“So you don’t know anything about Payton Evans and her horse’s drug test?” Bess put in.

"Who?” Annie said blankly.

Yeah. Maybe Annie wasn’t going to solve the case for me after all. All she was confessing to was the loose-horse incident and the tomato throwing.

Just to make sure, we asked her a few more questions. But it soon became clear that we were wasting our time.

After that, it took several minutes to extricate ourselves from Annie’s sobbing confession. But finally my friends and I escaped
into the show grounds.

“Okay, that was a waste of time,” George said as we walked past the snack bar.

“Not really,” Bess pointed out. “At least now we know for sure that the tomato thing and the loose horses are red herrings.”

I nodded. “And I think we can cross Annie and PAN off the list for the other stuff. It’s pretty obvious they’re not organized enough to pull off anything too devious.”

"Great.” George clapped her hands. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go find our other suspects!”

We spent the next few hours wandering around the show grounds, trying to do just that. Unfortunately, luck seemed to be against us. When we finally located Cal Kidd, he was schooling one of his horses in an out-of-the-way ring. We wasted at least half an hour watching him before giving up and moving on to Lenny Hood. But when we tracked him down, he was surrounded by students—and seemed to be staying that way. As for Dana, she appeared to be actively avoiding us. Was it because of our questions about Cal, or just because she was busy? It was hard to tell.

"This is ridiculous,” George said as we leaned on a fence and watched Lenny canter an ornery-looking chestnut over a low fence while the horse’s young rider watched from nearby. “The Grand
Prix is starting in about an hour, and we haven’t made any progress at all!”

"I know.” I checked my watch. "Let’s go see how Payton’s holding up.”

Halfway to the barn, we heard shouts coming from behind a shed. Bess looked worried. "That sounds like Dana,” she said.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Putting a finger to my lips, I gestured for them to follow as I crept closer to the shed. Dana was still yelling—something about her reputation and how she didn’t want to look bad.

". . . and trust me, having you hanging around all the time isn’t doing me any favors!” she finished.

By then I was close enough to peek around the edge of the shed. I carefully did so, expecting to see Payton cringing before Dana’s fury.

But Payton was nowhere in sight. My jaw dropped when I saw who was facing off against Dana. It was Cal Kidd!

"Whoa!” George breathed in my ear.

I shot her a warning glance. Luckily, Dana hadn’t heard a thing. She was glaring at Cal.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?” she demanded.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me,” Cal said in a surly
tone. “I’m the one who should be mad. I mean, what kind of person won’t even help out her own brother when he needs a hand?” "
Half
-brother
,” Dana snapped. “And as usual, you’re not listening to me. I don’t care if we’re family—I’m not going to be your shortcut back into the show world. Not until you prove to me that you’ve cleaned up your act for good.” She poked a finger in his face. “And bad-mouthing Payton all over the place isn’t helping your cause. I don’t care how badly she beats you in every class!”

I stepped back, pushing my friends with me. My head was spinning with what I’d just heard.

"I can’t believe this,” Bess exclaimed once we were safely away. "Dana and Cal are brother and sister?”

"
Half
brother and sister,” George corrected. “And now that she mentions it, I can sort of see the family resemblance.”

I didn’t say anything for a second. What did this mean? As far as I could tell, it just added one more wrinkle to an already rumpled and confusing case.

“Do you think they could be in cahoots?” I wondered at last. “Dana and Cal?” Bess shrugged. “Maybe.”

George glanced back toward the shed. "Although they didn’t sound too chummy just now,” she added. “Dana actually seemed upset that Cal doesn’t like Payton.”

"This probably explains why Cal was hanging around Dana’s stalls the other night,” I mused. “And why he wouldn’t tell Mickey what he was doing there. He must’ve been trying to catch Dana alone to try to talk her into training him or whatever.”

“So you don’t think he has anything to do with our case?” Bess asked.

"I didn’t say that. We
did
see him freak out after Payton did so well in that jumper class they were both in. And there’s still the Midnight connection.” I rubbed my forehead as if trying to jump- start my brain. The more information we got, the more muddled this case seemed.

We continued to discuss it as we resumed our walk. Unfortunately, we didn’t reach any new conclusions, and by the time we neared Dana’s bam, I was feeling frustrated. Why couldn’t I figure this one out? I had several distinct and troubling incidents, several promising suspects. But none of the pieces fit together!

When we reached Dana’s section of the ba
rn
, we saw a horse cross-tied in the aisle. Jen was hard at work currying the animal’s already spotless gray coat.

“Hi,” I said as we reached her. “Have you seen Payton lately?”

The young groom looked up with a smile. "I think I saw her go into the tack stall,” she said, gesturing with the curry comb she
was holding. “She’s probably getting ready to tack up for the Grand Prix.”

"Thanks.” I led the way toward the tack stall.

"You’re not planning to talk to Payton about the case, are you, Nancy?” Bess asked as soon as we were out of the groom’s earshot. "Because she probably needs to focus right now with the Grand Prix coming up so soon.”

I frowned, realizing she was right. “Okay, we’ll just wish her luck and then leave her alone.” I sighed. "At this point it’s probably too late to solve this before the Grand Prix anyway.”

"That’s the spirit,” George joked.

I was rolling my eyes at her as we stepped into the tack stall. Out of the corner of one of those rolling eyes, I saw Payton bent over a saddle rack. She jerked back in surprise and straightened up when she heard us.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” Noticing that she was holding a pocketknife with the blade open, I glanced at the rack in front of her. It held a saddle with a white pad and leather girth slung over the seat. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she said, reaching over to fiddle with the pad. Then she glanced at the knife. "I mean, I was just scraping some dried
mud off my backup saddle, since my regular one got ruined. Dana doesn’t like seeing dirty tack, especially in the bigger classes.” She smiled weakly, then snapped the knife shut.

"Speaking of your ruined saddle, where did that knife come from?” Bess stared at it. “Did you leave it anywhere that someone could find it?”

Realizing what she was driving at, I shot her a smirk. “I thought we weren’t going to bug Payton about the case before her big class, detective,” I joked.

“Sorry, you’re right,” Bess said quickly. “Don’t pay any attention to me, Payton.”

“No, it’s okay.” Payton smiled uncertainly. “Um, this isn’t my knife. I just borrowed it from one of the grooms. They all keep them around to cut hay twine and stuff.”

That made sense. “So whoever slashed your other saddle probably didn’t have any trouble finding a knife to do it with.” I shook my head. “Just one more clue that’s not as useful as it seems, I guess.”

Just then Jen stuck her head into the room. "Payton,” she said. "Dana just texted me to see where you are. She wants to start warming you and Midnight up in ten minutes. Should I text Mickey so he can come help you tack up?”

“No thanks, I’ve got it. Tell Dana I’m on my way.” Grabbing the saddle and other stuff off the rack, Payton headed for the door. “Good luck!” my friends and I called in unison.

"Thanks!” She tossed us one last smile, then disappeared.

Bess perched on the edge of a tack trunk. “We should probably find Ned and then grab seats for the Grand Prix before it gets crowded.”

"Yeah.” George sounded distracted. She bent down and picked something up from under the empty saddle rack Payton had been using. “Hey, no fair!” she complained, holding up an empty candy wrapper. "Payton was eating a Chocominto bar and didn’t share!”

I grinned. Chocomintos were George’s favorite candy. “Too bad for you,” I said. “But how do you know it was even Payton who dropped that wrapper? We didn’t see her eating any candy. She didn’t even have chocolate smeared around her mouth like you always get when you pig out on those things.”

George made a face at me. "You know, sometimes having a detective for a friend is a real drag.” Tossing the candy wrapper into the trash bin in the corner, she headed for the door. "Let’s go. I want to make sure we have good seats for the Grand Prix.”

******

"Wow,” Ned said. “So Dana and Cal are related? That’s wild.”

“Shh. It seems to be some kind of secret—I don’t think even Payton knows.” I glanced around to make sure nobody had overheard. Luckily, the people sitting in the stands around us were all focused on their own conversations. Everyone seemed excited for the start of the Grand Prix.

The bleachers set up around the main ring were crowded and getting more so every minute. My friends and I had arrived early enough to snag seats in the second row, which gave us a spectacular view of the course. The huge, colorful jumps had actually taken my mind off the case for a few minutes. There were brightly colored rails, a fake brick wall, even a pair of jump standards shaped like riverboats in honor of our town’s riverside heritage.

"It’s hard to believe someone we know is actually going to jump a horse over those, huh?” Bess said, her gaze wandering to the jumps.

"Yeah.” I shivered with anticipation. "I just hope Payton isn’t distracted by everything that’s happened.” I glanced around, won-dering where the Olympic chef d’equipe was sitting.

“Payton seems like a pretty cool customer when it comes to competing,” George said. "I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

"Still, I wish we could’ve figured out this case before now.” I
sighed.

"Me too,” Ned agreed. Bess, George, and I had just finished filling him in on everything that had happened that day—not that there was much to tell. “So back to Cal—if he’s Dana’s brother, does this mean he’s off the suspect list?”

"No way,” George said. “He might still want Midnight back. What better way to make a big splash in his return to show jumping than by riding a star horse? There’s your motive right there. And Cal definitely had the opportunity to do most of the bad stuff, since nobody would think twice about seeing him around the barn. He could’ve easily slipped something into Midnight’s feed bucket. And slashed Payton’s saddle, too.”

"So could Lenny Hood,” I said. "Or Jessica Watts. Or Dana herself. Or Mickey.” I shook my head. "The thing that keeps bugging me is those threatening notes—especially the second one.”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked.

"I mean, I can see how most of our suspects might be able to figure out which car belonged to Payton’s family and leave a note there.” I glanced around at my friends. “But how in the world would any of them know she was staying at Ned’s—or that she’d ever find a note left inside the beat-up old grill at his house?”

"Don’t let my dad hear you talk about Bertha that way,” Ned
joked. Then his expression went serious again. “But actually, that’s a good point, Nancy.”

“Maybe someone at the show overheard us talking about the barbecue,” Bess suggested.

"I suppose it’s possible. Although that makes it more likely to be Dana or Mickey, right? Do you remember seeing either of them hanging around while we were talking about the barbecue?” I asked.

George shrugged. "I don’t even remember when we mentioned the barbecue.”

Just then the crowd roared as the first rider entered the ring. "It’s starting,” Ned said. "We’ll have to talk about this later.”

For the next half hour, I did my best to focus on the action. The Grand Prix was exciting, but I couldn’t help feeling distracted. Why couldn’t I crack this case? There had to be something I was missing—

I tuned back in when I heard the crowd gasp. An older male rider on a fractious black horse had just knocked down the top pole on a jump. Another jump was coming up fast, and the horse was racing forward with its head straight up in the air, looking completely out of control. Sure enough, it veered sideways as it approached the next obstacle, a large, solid-looking jump with a pair
of fake stone columns as standards.

“Oh!” I exclaimed along with everyone else as the horse crashed sideways into one of the columns, sending it flying. The horse stumbled over a pole and almost went down. The rider came off, hitting the ground hard and rolling out of the way of his mount’s flying hooves.

"Yikes,” Bess said. "I hope the rider’s okay.”

"He’s already getting up.” I clutched the edge of my seat and leaned forward, my gaze shifting back to the horse. It leaped over the scattered poles and glanced off the other standard, knocking that one over as well. Then it started galloping wildly around the ring, reins and stirrups flying, veering around the people who hurried in to try to catch it. Everyone gasped again as the horse headed for one of the other jumps, leaping over it wildly and knocking down a couple of more poles.

George squinted down toward the in-gate. “Check it out, there’s Payton. Let’s hope Midnight doesn’t see that other horse and get any ideas, huh?”

I turned to look. Payton was riding Midnight toward the gate. The big gelding looked magnificent—his bay coat gleamed, set off by his crisp white saddle pad. Dana was scurrying along beside the horse, talking a mile a minute, though we were way too far away to
hear what she was saying.

Payton halted a few steps from the gate, watching with everyone else as the people in the ring final
ly caught the black horse. Mean
while Dana stepped toward Midnight’s midsection, her hand reaching to move Payton’s leg aside. But Payton nudged her trainer’s hand away with her boot, then swung the horse aside and leaned forward from the saddle, slipping her own hand under the girth. I was too far away to see clearly, but I was pretty sure Dana had a frown on her face, though she stepped back as Payton straightened up again.

My friends were watching too. “What was that all about?” Ned wondered.

“Dana was trying to double-check that the girth is tight enough,

I think,” I said. “When I was a kid, my riding teacher used to do that before I rode. It’s a safety thing—you don’t want the girth to be too loose, or your saddle might slip.”

"I guess Payton wanted to check it herself,” Bess said. “Maybe she’s still mad at Dana from that blowup we overheard yesterday.”

"I wouldn’t blame her,” George put in.

“Maybe that’s it.” I frowned slightly as I glanced from Payton to Dana. “Or maybe there’s a reason Payton doesn’t trust Dana when it comes to her safety equipment.”

Ned shot me a worried look. “Do you think so?”

“It might be worth asking Payton about later,” I answered thoughtfully.

“Hey, Ned, here come your parents.” Bess pointed.

Ned stood for a better look. “Payton’s folks are with them,” he said. "That’s good—Mom was afraid their plane would be delayed and they’d miss Payton’s big moment.”

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out to his parents, then waved so they could see where he was sitting. Moments later, the Nickersons and Payton’s parents were squeezing in beside us. Mr. Evans was a big man with a booming laugh, while Dr. Evans was petite and delicate-looking like her daughter.

“Made it in the nick of time!” Dr. Evans exclaimed, peering down at the ring.

Mr. Nickerson nodded. “Looks like Payton’s on deck.”

"Right,” I said, glancing out at the ring. The black horse was gone, and Payton was riding in. She started walking Midnight around at the end of the ring as the crew reassembled the jumps the black horse had knocked over.

"She’s looking good, isn’t she?” Mr. Evans said. “Focused. Strong. ”

"You must be very proud of her,” I said with a smile. "It’s
amazing that she’s competing at this level at her age. That Evans Edge stuff is really working!”

Payton’s father chuckled. “She told you about that, eh?” "Uh-huh. She seems to take it pretty seriously.” I couldn’t help thinking that a certain aspect of the Evans Edge had almost ended up causing her to be suspended from competing. "Especially the part about signing her own paperwork at the shows instead of having Dana do it.”

"Oh, that.” Mr. Evans rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that’s a pain in the neck if you ask me—it means I’ve had to fax my signature to every dang show for the past three or four months, since she can’t legally sign on her own yet.” He smiled and shook his head. "Still, once Payton gets an idea in her head, there’s no changing her mind.”

His wife heard him and chuckled. "Yes, I wonder where she got that from?” she quipped, reaching over to squeeze her husband’s hand.

"Wait a minute,” I said, a little confused. "You mean signing as her own trainer was
Payton's
idea? But I thought she said—”

"Look!” Ned exclaimed, cutting me off. "Payton’s starting!” While I was talking with Mr. Evans, the crew had finished rebuilding the jumps. We all watched as Payton finally nudged her horse into a relaxed trot, beginning a big, loopy circle around part
of the ring. From watching previous rounds, I knew she was waiting for the buzzer to sound so she could begin.

I glanced over at Mr. Evans, who was chatting with Bess. Why was his last comment bugging me so much? Okay, so Payton put as much pressure on herself as her parents did. That was obvious. It didn’t have anything to do with the case—did it?

My mind sorted through the clues and incidents again, looking for patterns. Any of our suspects
could be the culprit—right? Ex
cept I kept getting stuck on that note in the grill. I tried to picture Lenny Hood following Payton home from the show grounds, then sneaking into the Nickersons’ backyard. Or Jessica. Or Cal or Dana or Mickey.

It just didn’t compute. How on earth would any of them pull it off? Perhaps more important, why would any of them hide a note in such an out-of-the-way place?

There was only one logical answer. They wouldn’t. That meant somebody else must have done it.

I glanced over at Dr. Evans and Mrs. Nickerson, who had their heads close together as they chattered and laughed while waiting for Payton’s round to start. A new idea cre
pt into my mind. Could it be...
?

The buzzer sounded, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Here she goes!” Mr. Evans exclaimed as Payton cantered Midnight around to the end of the ring, picking up speed as she aimed him toward the timer flags.

There was a loud whoop from down by the gate. Glancing that way, I saw Dana standing there, watching Payton.

I gasped as the answer hit me like a horse’s hoof to the gut. "Stop!” I shouted, leaping out of my seat so fast I almost tripped over Bess. "Stop her!”

"Nancy!” Mrs. Nickerson cried. “What are you doing?”

The others were gasping and crying out too, but I ignored them.

I lunged down the bleachers, almost stepping on the hand of the man sitting in front of me.

"Stop her!” I yelled as loudly as I could, waving both hands over my head. "Please! You have to stop this round!”