Photo Finish (11 page)

“Hi there,” she said brightly, giving him what she hoped was a dazzling smile. “My name’s Stevie.”

The jockey, who was a couple of inches shorter than Stevie, looked up at her. “Hi yourself, Miss Stevie,” he replied. “I’m John.”

“Hi, John,” Stevie said quickly. “Um, do you by any chance know a jockey named Duncan Gibbs?”

“Know him?” John said. “Sure, I know him. He’s a buddy of mine. Why’re you asking?”

Stevie shrugged. “No reason,” she said. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions about him.”

John grinned. “No problem, missy,” he said. “Let me see if I can guess what particular information you’re after.
Duncan is twenty-four years old, five foot two, and no, he’s not married.” He winked at the girls.

For a second Stevie was confused. Then she realized what John was talking about—he thought they had a crush on Duncan! “No, you don’t understand,” she said urgently. “That’s not the kind of questions I meant. We need some more specific information—”

“Oh, I get it,” John interrupted, still grinning. “You probably knew all that other stuff from the newspaper, right? Well, if you need to know anything more detailed than that, maybe you’d better talk to Duncan yourselves. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll even give you his autograph.” He winked again and walked away.

Stevie sighed in frustration. “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” she exclaimed.

In the distance, Lisa heard the track loudspeaker announce the post parade for the third race. She cleared her throat. “Stevie? Maybe it’s time to give up,” she suggested tentatively.

“Give up?” Stevie cried. “The Saddle Club never gives up! Besides, we’re closer than ever to solving this mystery!”

“But we don’t have much time,” Lisa said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Carole said. “Stevie’s right, Lisa. We’ve narrowed down our list of suspects. All we have to do is find a way to prove that Duncan is guilty. We can’t let him get away with trying to poison Monkeyshines.”

“What?” came an outraged cry from very close behind them.

The three girls whirled around and found themselves face-to-face with Duncan Gibbs, who was accompanied by the red-haired jockey John.

“What’s all this about Monkeyshines?” Duncan demanded. He had obviously overheard what Carole had just said.

Stevie faced him bravely, hands on her hips. “We found moldy hay in his stall this morning,” she said. “We think you put it there to make him sick, because of your fight with Mr. McLeod.”

“You’re crazy, little girl,” Duncan snarled. “I did no such thing.”

“But we saw you near his stall—” Carole began to say.

Duncan cut her off with a look. “Listen, you junior Nancy Drews, or whatever you are,” he growled. “I may not like McLeod much, and I have my reasons for that. But no matter what I might like to do to him, there’s no way I’d ever take it out on a great colt like Monkeyshines.” He was quiet for a moment, and his expression softened a little. “That horse was one of the best I ever rode,” he added in a low voice.

Stevie, Carole, and Lisa exchanged glances. Duncan sounded sincere. But for all they knew, it could just be an act.

“Look, girls,” John put in, stepping forward. “I have no idea what this is all about, but I can tell you one thing.
Duncan is as honest as the day is long. He’d never do anything illegal or unethical, especially if it involved hurting a horse.”

“Don’t waste your breath, John,” Duncan snapped, whirling around and beginning to stalk away. “Let’s get out of here.” The two men disappeared into the jockeys’ room.

Just then Stephen, Mr. McLeod’s jockey, walked toward the girls from the opposite direction. “Well, hello there,” he greeted them with a smile. “How are you enjoying your day at the track?”

“Stephen, how well do you know Duncan Gibbs?” Stevie asked the jockey, not bothering to answer his question.

“Duncan? Weren’t you asking about him earlier today?”

“We sure were,” Carole said. She glanced at Stevie and Lisa. “I think we ought to tell him why.”

Her friends nodded. The Saddle Club proceeded to tell Stephen the whole story. When they’d finished, he just shook his head.

“If there’s any bad guy to be found, I can tell you one thing for sure—it isn’t Duncan Gibbs,” the jockey said.

“But you were just telling us how much he hates Mr. McLeod, so we thought—” Stevie began to say.

Stephen didn’t let her finish. “Like I was also telling you, Duncan is a bad-tempered, stubborn blowhard who sometimes thinks he knows better than the trainers he
works for. That’s cost him some jobs, not to mention some friends,” Stephen said. “But he’s no criminal, and he really does love the horses he rides. He’d never do anything to hurt them.”

Stevie, Carole, and Lisa glanced at one another again, unconvinced.

“If you don’t believe that, then at least you can believe this,” Stephen said. “You say you found that hay around seven this morning, right?”

The girls nodded.

“Well, I was in the track cafeteria having breakfast this morning from around twenty of seven to about five after,” Stephen said. “And Duncan Gibbs was there the whole time I was, reading the newspaper. He couldn’t have been skulking around Monk’s stable planting bad hay.”

“But what other explanation is there?” Stevie exclaimed, unwilling to lose their last suspect.

Stephen shrugged. “The explanation is, there’s no explanation. It must have been an accident.” He glanced at his watch. “Whoops, I’d better get inside if I don’t want to be late. Hold Fast and I are in the next race, you know.”

“We know,” Lisa said. “We’ll be cheering for you.”

The girls waved good-bye as the jockey headed in to get changed. Then they wandered aimlessly back around the paddock toward the gate to the clubhouse.

After a few minutes of silence, Stevie spoke up halfheartedly. “You know, we don’t really know Stephen all
that well,” she said. “Maybe he’s covering up for Duncan.…”

Seeing the looks on her friends’ faces, she let her voice trail off. Stephen wasn’t covering up for Duncan, and Stevie knew it. She sighed. After all their work, she couldn’t believe they were no closer to solving the mystery than when they had started.

“You know, I’m beginning to think Stephen is right,” Carole said quietly. “I think it must have been an accident after all.”

Stevie shook her head. “I still can’t believe it,” she said with a frown. “Something just doesn’t seem quite right about it—there are too many coincidences that don’t make sense.”

“Maybe,” Lisa said, “but we’re fresh out of suspects.”

“And motives,” Carole added.

Stevie shrugged and sighed. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “But I really wish we could get to the bottom of it.”

“Come on,” Lisa said. “Let’s go back to our seats. It’s almost time for the next race.”

The Saddle Club rejoined Max in the box. Mr. McLeod and Judy were there too. The three adults were discussing Hold Fast’s chances and didn’t notice the girls’ glum expressions.

Lisa rested her chin in her hands and stared ahead moodily, waiting for the race to start. The more she thought about it, the more she thought Stevie was right.
The moldy-hay incident was just a little too suspicious to be written off as an accident. Even though she hadn’t been that interested in the investigation at first, she couldn’t help thinking that now they seemed to be giving up, and that meant they’d failed. It wasn’t like The Saddle Club to fail at anything—and it certainly wasn’t like Lisa. She didn’t like the feeling.

To take her mind off it, she picked up her camera and started fiddling with the focus, aiming it at different people in the crowd. Then, when the horses stepped onto the track for the post parade, she focused on them. But she was so far away that she could recognize Hold Fast only by Stephen’s blue and white silks. She snapped a picture anyway. It turned out to be the last one on the roll, and Lisa barely had time to put in a new one before the race started.

It was an exciting race, and The Saddle Club cheered loyally for Hold Fast, but they weren’t feeling quite as enthusiastic as they had earlier in the day. Somehow just being at the track didn’t seem quite as exciting to them anymore—even when Hold Fast finished third.

“What now?” asked Carole after the race was over.

As Lisa tucked her roll of used film into her bag, she remembered the pictures she’d taken to the developer before lunch. “My film should be ready by now,” she said. “How about if we run and pick it up?”

Carole glanced at her watch. “Okay,” she agreed. “We have a good hour and a half before the Preakness.”

Stevie nodded, perking up a little. “No matter how much we kid you about this photography stuff, I can’t wait to see the pictures,” she said. “I hope you got some good ones of Monkeyshines.”

The Saddle Club quickly told Max and Judy where they were going. Then they headed for the track entrance.

“H
ERE YOU GO
,” the clerk at the photo shop said, handing Lisa several thick packets.

“Thanks.” Lisa paid her bill, then she and her friends left the shop.

“Okay, let’s see them,” Stevie urged once they were outside on the sidewalk. “Open them now.”

“All right, just a second,” Lisa said. She carefully slit open one of the envelopes and pulled out the first batch. Stevie and Carole crowded closer so they could look at the pictures over Lisa’s shoulders.

“Oh! There’s a good one of Garamond,” Carole said admiringly as Lisa flipped slowly through the pile.

Stevie nodded. “And check out that one of Judy by the track entrance,” she said. “Some of these are really good, Lisa!”

“I guess all that practicing is paying off,” Carole commented.

“Practice makes perfect,” Lisa said with a grin.

Meanwhile Stevie was staring at the next picture.
“Hey, look, it’s Blackie! This one turned out really well—you can see every detail.”

“It’s true,” Carole said. “I think this is the best one yet.” Suddenly she frowned, and leaned a little closer. “Hey, isn’t that that reporter in the background?”

Stevie and Lisa looked closer too.

“You’re right.” Lisa squinted at the tiny figure that could just be seen at the edge of the picture. It was Kent Calhoun, and he was leaving the Maskee Farms stable. “What’s he doing there?”

“I don’t know,” Carole said. “I didn’t notice him there when you were taking the picture.”

“He almost looks as though he doesn’t
want
to be noticed,” Stevie said. “See how he’s sort of peeking out? Like he doesn’t want anyone outside to see him leaving.”

Carole gasped. “You’re right!” she exclaimed. “Do you know what this means? He could have been the one who tried to poison Monk!”

“Of course!” Stevie cried. “Why else would he be skulking around Mr. McLeod’s barn at that time of the morning?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Well, let’s see,” she said. “He could have been looking for Mr. McLeod to interview him. Or he could have been looking for Stephen to interview him. Or Eddie, or Judy, or the trainer, or any of half a dozen other people.”

“No way,” Stevie declared. “He’s guilty. I can feel it in my bones.” She grabbed the photo out of Lisa’s hand and
waved it in the air. “And we have the evidence right here.”

Carole shook her head. “I’m not sure about this, Stevie. What possible motive could Kent have? Besides, the picture isn’t evidence. All it shows is a man walking out of a stable shed. There’s no law against that.”

“Come on, you guys,” Stevie said. “Don’t tell me you’re not just a tiny bit convinced that Kent might have done it.”

Lisa shrugged. “I’m not convinced either way,” she said. “He was there at around the right time—the picture
does
prove that. But just because he was there doesn’t mean he did it.”

“What it
does
mean is that we’ve just got to do a little more investigating,” Stevie said eagerly. “Even if his evil plot failed, we still can’t just let him get away with it!”

Carole looked doubtful. “We don’t have much time. The Preakness starts in a little over an hour, and we’ll probably leave pretty soon after that.”

“Then we’ll have to come up with a good plan,” Stevie declared. “Come on, we can talk about it on our way back to the track. We’ve got a horse poisoner to catch!”

“I
DIDN
’
T THINK
any more people could squeeze their way into this place,” Carole gasped as the three girls shoved their way through the grandstand a few minutes later. “But they did!”

It was true. The racetrack was packed to the eaves with people, all eager to see the exciting showdown between Garamond and Monkeyshines. It was so crowded that The Saddle Club could hardly move.

“How are we ever going to find Kent Calhoun in this mob scene?” Lisa asked, dodging to avoid a baby carriage. She breathed a sigh of relief as they finally reached the entrance to the clubhouse. It was a little less crowded there, though not much.

“We’ll have to split up,” Stevie decided. “It’s the only way.” She glanced around. “I’ll go back out to the grandstand
and look there. Lisa, why don’t you stay here in the clubhouse, and Carole, you can search the stable area.”

“What do we do if we find him?” Carole asked.