Bluegrass Peril (10 page)

“T
he pantry door was closed, just like always.” Becky leaned against the kitchen wall, staring at Detective Foster and Jeff. She tried to resist looking toward the bundle of cash on the table, but her gaze kept straying back to it.

Scott, too, kept glancing that way. It was a huge pile, at least a foot long. They hadn’t handled it anymore before the police arrived, but after Jeff unwrapped it, she’d counted twenty-five bundles banded in white paper straps.

“How many bills do you think are in each bundle?” Scott looked at Detective Foster.

“A hundred.” The detective answered without hesitation. “That’s how they’re delivered to the bank from the Federal Reserve.”

Becky did a quick calculation. Her eyes went wide as she looked again at the money. If those were all hundred dollar bills, there was two hundred fifty thousand dollars on that table.

“Tell me exactly how you found it.” Jeff’s pen hovered above the paper, ready to write down her words.

“I was scooping dog food out of the bag, and I felt it in the bottom. I didn’t know what it was, so I pulled it out.”

She glanced toward Detective Foster, half expecting to be scolded for tampering with evidence. In retrospect, she should have left it where it was and called the police as soon as she realized something was in there. If she’d known what the bundle contained, she would have.

Foster didn’t reprimand her. “How was the package situated in the bag?”

“Exactly like it is now, but wrapped in those two grocery sacks.” She nodded toward the discarded sacks beside the money. “It was lengthways, and all the way at the bottom. We’re running low on dog food so I was scooping deep.”

“How long have you had that bag?” Jeff asked.

Becky closed her eyes, trying to remember. Had Neal bought any dog food since she started working here in February? She didn’t think so, but she’d only taken over the job of feeding Sam about a month ago.

She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been here at least a month, but beyond that I have no idea.”

They looked at Scott, and he shrugged. “I’m newer than she is.”

Jeff glanced at Foster. “Do we need to call the crime lab back?”

Foster pushed the edge of his mustache into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Then he shook his head. “They dusted in here yesterday. Whoever burgled the place Saturday night was obviously looking for the money, so if they left any prints we’ve got them.”

Becky caught Scott’s eye with a raised eyebrow. Was he going to mention the tally sheets?

He turned to Detective Foster. “Actually, Becky came across something that might be important when she was going through Haldeman’s desk on Friday. Apparently the man was a frequent gambler, and we think he might have racked up some fairly significant debt.”

Foster and Jeff exchanged a glance. “Like about two hundred fifty thousand dollars’ worth?”

Scott shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We just found some tally sheets that led me to believe that he’s been doing a good deal of betting under the table.”

The detective turned to Becky. “Show me.”

“They’re right in here.”

Becky went through the sitting room into the office, the men trailing behind her. She clamped her jaws together at the sight of the mess the burglar had left. Both desks were piled high with a disarray of papers and folders. How could she find anything in this clutter?

She turned to Scott. “Do you remember which desk you put them on?”

He considered, then shook his head. “No, I don’t. Sorry.”

He went to Haldeman’s, and Becky went to her own desk. Together they began sifting through the jumble. She resisted the urge to organize as she went, to put things into piles for filing. Time enough for that later, after the police left.

Foster and Jeff watched in silence as the minutes ticked by. The detective passed the time by chewing on the edge of his mustache.

Scott finished first. “They’re not over here.”

Becky flipped through the final handful of papers, then shook her head. She raised her head to catch Scott’s eye. “Here, either. The thief must have taken them.”

“It makes perfect sense.” Scott stared into the expressionless face of Detective Foster. “Haldeman had a gambling problem. He hit it big on a bet somewhere and made a boatload of cash. Someone he owed knew about the money and figured he kept it hidden in the barn. The guy broke in, Haldeman heard him, they fought and Haldeman got killed.”

The detective’s face might as well have been carved from stone. Scott shifted his gaze to Trooper Whitley. “It even explains why Sam was confined in the house that night. Haldeman left him here to guard the real location of the cash while he investigated the barn.”

Beside him, Becky nodded. “That does make a lot of sense.”

Whitley looked skeptical, but at least he had showed some expression. “So where did he get the cash?”

“From one of his bookies, probably.” Scott hooked his thumb through a belt loop. “There are always races to bet on, and a confirmed gambler likes the big odds. Occasionally, one is bound to pay off. Maybe after the bookie turned over the money, he decided to come back for it. If we can find the guy who paid Haldeman that money, we might just find the killer.”

“It does make sense,” said Whitley.

Scott nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. “Haldeman recorded the initials of the bookie he placed each bet with on those tally sheets. We were going to compile a list of them today.” He waved at the mess. “Still, it shouldn’t be too hard to find out who Haldeman did business with.” He crossed the floor and stopped in front of Detective Foster. “So what’s our next step? Interrogate the bookies?”

The detective’s expression took on the texture of granite. He awarded Scott a chilly smile. “Thank you for your opinions, Mr. Lewis. We’ll keep them in mind. But for obvious reasons we can’t discuss our investigation with you in any detail. And I must advise you against doing any investigative work on your own. Leave that to the experts.”

Scott shoved a hand in his pocket. He felt like he’d been slapped down. They weren’t even going to talk to him about it, and after he’d turned over all the physical evidence he’d uncovered. He was just trying to cooperate, and he really could help. He had connections.

But they probably had more connections than he did. They didn’t need his help. He should just focus on the horses, do his job and let the cops do theirs.

Still, they didn’t have to be so condescending.

“I understand.” He clipped the words short.

“So, is that it?” Detective Foster’s gaze swept from Scott to Becky.

Becky shrugged. “That’s all we know.”

Whitley clicked his pen and closed his notebook with a snap. “You’ll let us know if you discover anything else missing?”

Scott unclamped his mouth long enough to answer. “You bet.”

Whitley’s lips twitched. “Pun intended?”

Ha, ha. Scott rolled his eyes, and the officer turned away chuckling. Becky followed them to the back door, but Scott stayed where he was, staring at the piles of junk everywhere. Whoever broke in here wasn’t concerned with hiding his or her tracks. If it had been him, he would have searched for the money carefully and tried not to leave a trace that he’d been here.

The storm door slammed, and moments later Becky returned to the room. “You didn’t tell them about EJ.” Her voice held a touch of accusation.

Scott lifted a shoulder. “They didn’t ask.”

“They didn’t know to ask.”

“Hey!” He held out his hands, fingers splayed. “We told them about the initials. You can bet they know every bookie in the state. They’ll probably have a list of Haldeman’s buddies by the end of the day, which is more than we’ll have.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Why do I get the feeling you’re planning to make your own list?”

“Well, I do have a few contacts. Won’t hurt to ask a question or two.” His glance slid away from her shrewd stare. He hadn’t mentioned his conversation with Eddie Jones, and didn’t see any reason to now. “If I discover anything important I’ll turn it over to them.”

“Mmm, hmm.”

He fought the impulse to squirm under her stare. Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just following up on a hunch that Detective Foster obviously didn’t think had merit. It wasn’t like he was doing a real investigation or anything. He was just going to talk to a friend. He returned her stare.

She turned away quickly, but not before he saw a flash of emotion in her eyes. Concern, maybe?

“Do me a favor, would you, Scott?” She busied herself with shuffling papers into a neat stack as she spoke. “Be careful. I’ve lost one boss already.”

Her head was lowered over her desk so he could only see the top of her head, but there was no mistaking her tone. She was worried about him. Warmth flooded his gut. It had been a long time since a woman felt protective enough about him to worry.

He made a snap decision. “Listen, I was wondering if you ever have any free time? You know, without the kids. Like maybe for dinner or something?”

She looked up, her wide eyes searching his face. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“It has been a long time,” she admitted.

“How about tomorrow, then?”

“On a school night?”

He didn’t even think about that. He fiddled with a paper clip on the surface of the desk. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I forgot.”

“It’s okay. I can probably manage to find a babysitter, as long as we don’t stay out too late.”

The thin metal rod of the clip jabbed into his finger as he straightened it. He dropped it on the desk and shoved his hand into his pocket. “So I’ll pick you up at seven?”

The smile broke free, igniting her eyes. “That sounds good.”

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He hadn’t been on a date in years. He stood rooted to the floor, staring into her face until a pretty blush stained her cheeks and she looked away.

“Great.” He turned toward Haldeman’s desk, changed his mind, and swiveled to march toward the door. “I’ll get directions to your house later.”

Sam leaped off the cushionless couch to follow him as he escaped to the barn.

S
cott paced down the center aisle of the horse barn, nodding at a pair of guys mucking a stall on his right. They were working late today. The stable boys usually tore out of here at four o’clock, and it was almost five now. At the far end of the barn, he tapped on the glass window of the door to the Shady Acres Farm office, then cracked it open.

“Zach, can I chew your ear for a minute?”

His former boss looked up from the desk, and a smile brightened his craggy face. “Sure thing. Come on in.”

Scott sat in the seat across the old wooden desk’s scratched surface. The room felt stuffy, thanks to the space heater Zach always ran when he was pushing papers. The gruff farm manager said he could take any amount of cold as long as he was doing something physical, but his fifty-five-year-old joints stiffened up if he sat still too long.

Zach rocked back in his desk chair, work-roughened hands folded across his stomach. “How’s it going over there at the Pasture? You handling everything? You know you can call me if you need any help with those stallions.”

“Thanks, but it’s going great.” Scott crossed his legs and rested his forearm on his knee. “Except we had some more excitement this morning.”

He filled Zach in on the robbery, and Becky’s big find of the day. As he spoke, the older man’s jaw inched open until it gaped.

“You gotta be kidding me. Two hundred fifty
thousand
dollars? In a bag of dog food?” He gave a low whistle. “Do the cops think the guy who killed Haldeman was after the money?”

A grunt of disgust escaped Scott’s lips. “Who knows what they think. But it fits, you know?”

Zach nodded, his thick gray eyebrows high. “It sure is a lot of money. Men have been killed for less.”

“We found something else the other day. Apparently, Haldeman was into Eddie Jones for a fairly significant chunk of change. And Jones wasn’t the only one Haldeman owed.”

“I’m not surprised. He liked to play the ponies, no doubt about it.” Zach speared him with a gaze. “You don’t think Jones killed him, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Scott kept his face impassive. “But I did have a talk with him Friday afternoon out at Keeneland, and I mentioned finding his name in Haldeman’s records. And guess what’s missing after the break-in?”

Zach steepled his fingers and tapped them in front of his face as he studied Scott through narrowed eyes. He shook his head. “I don’t peg Jones as a killer, but he’d eat a load of manure for that kind of cash. And if Haldeman caught him snooping around the place, and they got into a fight?”

Scott sat against the hard chair back. “That’s what I thought, too. And if it wasn’t Jones, it could have been someone else. Unfortunately, I don’t know who Haldeman did business with.” He caught Zach’s eye. “Do you?”

A slow smile spread across the older man’s face. “Now why would you think I’d have any idea about something like that?”

Scott returned his grin. “Just a wild guess.”

He chuckled. “Well, I have been known to place a wager every now and then.” His hands dropped to the desk, and his expression sobered. “But I never talked to Haldeman about it. He might have used Edwards, or Kavanaugh, or maybe McMatthews. Jones would know.”

“He would?”

Zach nodded. “They always know who else their customers are playing with, especially if the numbers start getting big. Makes sense, if you think about it.”

It did. A smart businessman knew the total debt level of his customers. Especially a customer whose tab was growing.

Of course, Eddie had no reason to share that information with Scott. But it couldn’t hurt to ask, could it? They didn’t have a chance to finish their conversation at the race track the other day after Kaci interrupted them.

“I guess I’ll have to pay Eddie another visit.” Scott got to his feet. He might be able to catch him at the track. Oh. Today was Monday. No racing at Keeneland on Mondays.

“You don’t happen to know where I can find him, do you?”

Zach glanced at his watch. “He’ll be down at O’Grady’s in another half hour.”

O’Grady’s was a sports bar in downtown Lexington. Scott had heard of it, but since he didn’t make a practice of hanging out in bars of any kind, he’d never been there.

Zach put his hands on the edge of the desk and rolled his chair backward. “You want me to go with you? I got a thing tonight, but I can cancel it.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

Zach paused in the act of standing. “You sure about that?”

A rush of gratitude washed over Scott. “I’m sure.”

The older man lowered himself back into the chair. He rolled up to the desk and caught Scott’s gaze. “Be careful, son. Some of these guys don’t take kindly to questions.”

Scott nodded and slipped through the door quickly so the heat didn’t escape. As he walked between rows of clean stalls, his step felt light. Zach could be crotchety, and the stable hands trod lightly around him, but when push came to shove, he was a loyal friend. The second person today to exhibit real concern for Scott’s safety. It was enough to make a man stop and count his blessings.

“Please, Amber. The boys would be so excited.”

Becky hated begging, but she was desperate. She propped the phone with a shoulder and pressed a sticky label on a file as she waited for her friend’s response.

“I don’t know.” Amber’s voice held so much reluctance Becky could almost see the scowl on her face. “I don’t have any babysitting experience, you know.”

“You don’t need experience.” Becky glanced at the wall clock. Four fifty-eight. Close enough. She crossed the room and locked the front door, phone still pressed to her ear. “You like kids, don’t you?”

“Selectively.” Becky chuckled at her dry tone. “Let me be honest with you,” Amber went on. “Your boys scare me! They’re rowdy and loud, and yesterday at church I saw one of them sucker punch the other for no reason at all.”

Becky cringed. Tyler. She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice. “They would be on their best behavior with you. They love you.”

“Why can’t you just hire a teenager?”

“The truth?” She sat on the edge of the desk. “I can’t afford a teenager. I figured you’d let me take you out to lunch after church one Sunday as payment.”

“I don’t know, Becky.”

Amber still didn’t sound convinced. Frustrated, Becky tapped her toe on the carpet. She did have a Plan B, though it came with far more strings than she liked. “I guess I could call Pastor Vaughn and Donna. They might watch the boys for me, if I beg them.”

“You are desperate if you’re willing to subject yourself and your love life to Donna’s questions.” A resigned sigh blew through the phone. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Grinning, Becky hopped off the desk. “Thank you so much. I owe you big-time.”

“Yes, you do. And lunch won’t take care of this debt. I’m going to hold it over your head for a while until I figure out an appropriate payment.”

“Anything. I promise. You are the best friend a girl can have.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow a little before seven.”

Becky dropped the phone into its cradle and almost skipped around the desk to get her purse from the bottom door. She had a date! Just wait until she told Daddy.

As she slammed the drawer shut, the phone rang again. She hesitated. The office officially closed at five.

She snatched it up. “Out to Pasture.”

“My, my, my. If it isn’t the little
secretary.
”

No mistaking that voice. She’d recognize that fake drawl anywhere. “Hello, Miss Buchanan. What can I do for you?”

“You?” A haughty laugh sounded. “Not a thing. I’m calling for Scott.”

The comment set Becky’s teeth on edge, but she kept her voice professionally polite. “He’s not here. May I leave him a message?”

“I don’t
think
so.” She paused. “On second thought, yes. Tell him how much I enjoyed seeing him the other evening, and that I can’t wait for the next time.”

A hot flush dampened Becky’s neck. Scott was with Kaci recently? Since she’d been here when Kaci made her appearance Friday morning, and Kaci said
evening,
she must be referring to a different time. A date, maybe? A sick knot formed in Becky’s stomach.

“Did you get that down, or do I need to speak slower?”

The knot exploded into anger at the insult.

“I got it. You can’t wait for the next time.” Becky snapped the words. A catty comment shot from her mouth before she could stop it. “Should I ask him to check his couch for your other earring?”

“Oooh, the pony has a kick.” Kaci’s voice lowered, but lost none of its stinging conceit. “By the way, little pony, I don’t appreciate having the police show up at my home unannounced, asking awkward questions. It makes for an uncomfortable evening.”

A few uncomfortable evenings wouldn’t hurt the haughty woman, in Becky’s opinion. But her hackles were standing at full attention now, and she found herself wanting to punch back. “The police asked us to keep them informed. And even you must admit, having a prominent person stoop to such a blatant trick to get a man’s attention is a little bit suspicious.” She rushed on, anger causing blood to roar in her ears. “It must have hurt your pride to have Neal’s attention directed somewhere else.”

Her laugh was genuine. “Trust me, darling, that filly isn’t in the same class as me, on the track or off. She’s an upstart, that’s what she is. Neal was only dallying with her.”

Fierce loyalty rose up in Becky “You’re right. She’s not in the same class. Isabelle Keller’s got more class in her little finger than—”

“Isabelle? Neal was involved with Isabelle?”

The surprise in Kaci’s voice dumped icy water on Becky’s anger. If she didn’t know about Isabelle, then who was Kaci talking about?

“Uh, well, I…” Becky stammered her way into silence. She couldn’t very well say anything else without betraying Isabelle’s confidence.

Thank goodness Kaci didn’t push for details. “He was a busy man, wasn’t he? Not surprising, though. Neal knew how to treat a woman. If he chose to spread his charm widely, who cares?” Her voice hardened. “But my earring was a private concern, and of no interest to the police.”

“If you’ve done nothing wrong, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I am not worried. Merely annoyed.” She paused. “Given your social standing, perhaps you aren’t aware of the risks involved in annoying a Buchanan.”

Becky’s heart thump-thumped. “Are you threatening me?”

Kaci laughed. “A warning only, darling. Keep in mind that ponies can’t run with Thoroughbreds in
any
race. They just don’t stand a chance.”

A click sounded in Becky’s ear. She stood in place, the dead phone in her hand. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind what Kaci’s warning was about. Scott.

She replaced the receiver and picked up her purse. Her spirits, so high a few minutes before, now hovered somewhere in the vicinity of her shoes.

How could she compete with someone like Kaci Buchanan?

O’Grady’s was a hopping place on Monday nights. Scott found a parking place on the street and walked three blocks to the busy little bar. The patrons spilled out onto the sidewalk in front of the building, many of them puffing on cigarettes they couldn’t take inside.

Scott held his breath as he made his way through a cloud of smoke and into the bar. As the door closed behind him, he stepped to one side to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. The pungent odors of beer and bourbon prickled his nostrils.

A polished bar ran the length of the long room on the left, and when he could see he recognized a few of the people perched on stools there. A row of tables lined the opposite wall, each with four chairs and most of them full. Television sets hung suspended from the ceiling throughout the place. A loud shout went up from two of the tables to his right, and several men jumped to their feet, fists thrust into the air.

He spotted Eddie at the far end of the bar, his head bowed as he listened to the man next to him. A customer, probably. The man’s hands moved constantly as he spoke, and occasionally Eddie nodded.

Scott made his way to the empty stool beside Eddie’s customer and slid onto the seat. The man, whose back was turned toward Scott, kept talking, but Eddie looked up. Their eyes locked.

Scott had the sense Eddie was not surprised to see him tonight.

“What’ll you have?” The muscled bartender swiped a damp towel across the bar in front of Scott.

Asking for iced tea in this place probably wasn’t a good idea. He might get more than he bargained for. “A Coke’s fine.”

The guy’s expression didn’t change. He tossed a cocktail napkin onto the bar and turned away to get Scott’s Coke. Scott watched as he scooped ice into a glass, then poured soda from a hose. Beside him, the man’s voice droned on, low enough that Scott could only make out a word here and there.

“…seventh…carry me…handle another fifty…”

“I can do that.” Because Eddie faced him, his voice carried to Scott’s ears clearly. “Just make sure you’re here on the seventh.”

The man got off the stool, uttering profuse thanks, as the bartender returned with Scott’s Coke. With a nod in his direction, Scott slid his glass, napkin and all, across the bar in front of the vacated stool.

“Mind if I sit here?” He moved onto the stool without waiting for an answer.

Eddie cocked his head. “It’s a public place.”

“I was hoping we could continue our conversation.”

Eddie picked up a thin straw and folded it with a finger and a thumb. “I thought we finished the other day.”

“Ah, but more has happened since then.”

A smile flashed onto his narrow face, gone as quickly as it appeared. “I heard you had some excitement out at the Pasture. Something about a robbery?”

Scott studied him. Was the man mocking him? Hard to tell with that sardonic expression. “I figured you might know something about it.”

Eddie picked up his glass, which had a sliver of lime perched on the side, and sipped. “I don’t know anything more than I read in the paper this morning. Apparently the thief got away with about fifty bucks?” His shoulders jerked with a silent laugh.