The Mystery of the Masked Rider Read online

  “That doesn’t mean anything. You can buy blister at any tack shop,” Colleen said.

  “Still, only someone familiar with horses would know about it.”

  Colleen snorted. “That’s just about everyone I know.”

  “Could someone you’re competing against in the International have done this?” Nancy asked.

  “Maybe,” Colleen replied with a shrug. “But they’d be taking a big risk for nothing. I mean, the blister won’t keep me from showing.”

  “True.” Nancy fell silent as Colleen wiped down her horse’s legs. Who could have sneaked in and put the blister on Nightingale? It had to have been someone who knew about the Healeys’ alarm system.

  “Colleen, what time did you and Phil come in last night?” Nancy asked.

  Colleen stood up. “About midnight, I think.”

  “And was the driveway alarm on?”

  “Yes. My dad said it woke him up when we came home.”

  “Hmmm.” Nancy began to pace the gravel drive. “So the person who did this had to know how to avoid the alarm system.” Abruptly she halted in front of Colleen. “Did you hear Phil’s car leave after he brought you home?”

  “Sure. He came in for coffee and then . . .” Suddenly Colleen’s eyes narrowed, and she gave Nancy a suspicious look. “Are you trying to pin this thing on Phil?”

  “No. But he is a suspect. Everyone is,” Nancy added quickly. She knew how mad people got when someone close to them was accused of wrongdoing.

  “Well, forget it,” Colleen said firmly. “Phil might be jealous of the time I spend with Nightingale, but he’d never do anything to hurt her. He knows how much she means to me.”

  “Okay.” Nancy decided to back off, even though Phil was her most likely suspect. He knew about the alarm, he knew his way around the barn, and he had been at the Healeys’ farm. He even had a motive. Maybe Bess thought jealousy wasn’t a strong enough reason for Phil to try and hurt Nightingale, but Nancy wasn’t so sure. One thing was certain: There was no use pressing the matter if Colleen was being adamant about Phil’s innocence.

  “Okay, so let’s look at the people who were here the morning Nightingale got sick,” Nancy began. “Why don’t you tell me more about Gloria Donner, that trainer you mentioned?”

  “Let me turn Nightingale out in the paddock first,” Colleen said, taking the lead line from Bess. “A little grass will take her mind off her leg, and we can watch her from the porch. Besides,” she added, wiping the perspiration off her forehead, “I could use a soda.”

  Colleen led Nightingale to a lush pasture, where a fat Shetland pony was grazing. When he saw Nightingale, he raised his head and whinnied. Opening the gate, Colleen turned the mare loose, then draped the lead line over the fence.

  Nightingale trotted two faltering steps, then stopped to sniff noses with the pony. He squealed and pawed the air. Then the two ducked their heads and began to graze side by side.

  “That’s Jester, my old pony,” Colleen told Nancy and Bess as they walked toward the house. “I learned to ride on him. Now he’s just company for Nightingale.”

  Fifteen minutes later the girls were lying comfortably on deck chairs with sodas in hand. It was a perfect October day—cool and crisp, yet the sun felt warm on Nancy’s skin. Colleen’s parents were both at work.

  “Okay, now back to Gloria Donner,” Colleen began as she relaxed back in her lounge chair. “She’s a trainer who has a small stable about half an hour from here. Nightingale and I have taken a few lessons from her this year. If I continue to show grand prix, though, I’m going to need a full-time trainer. I was thinking about hiring Gloria, and she seems pretty eager to take us on.”

  “Well, that rules her out,” Bess said, reaching for a bowl of chips. “She’d have nothing to gain if Nightingale got sick. If I were you, Nancy, I’d concentrate on the San Marcoses. Diego seemed kind of ruthless to me. Charming, but ruthless.”

  “Mmmm.” Nancy slowly sipped her soda. “Except what would they gain if Nightingale was hurt?”

  Colleen shook her head. “Marisa has been competing against me all year. We both showed in the amateur-owner jumper classes. I usually beat her, but I can’t see them resorting to something this low to win. Besides, at the International, Marisa’s going to be riding amateur-owner while I’m riding grand prix.”

  “What does amateur-owner mean?” Nancy asked.

  “Amateur means you’re riding for pleasure, not for money like a professional. An amateur still gets the prize money if she wins, but someone can’t hire an amateur to ride a horse. I decided to start riding grand prix because there’s more money in it, and if Nightingale’s successful in that level of competition, she’ll be worth more, too.”

  “Got it,” Nancy said. “And now that you and Marisa are riding in different classes, there’s no reason for the San Marcoses to sabotage your horse.”

  “Right,” Colleen agreed. “And since they want to buy Nightingale, they certainly wouldn’t want to see her hurt. Besides, you saw Marisa. She’s crazy about Nightingale.”

  Bess gave a rueful chuckle. “The mystery gets curiouser and curiouser. I think, Colleen, that there’s only one thing for you to do.”

  “What’s that?” Nancy and Colleen asked in unison.

  “Hire two horse bodyguards to go with you to the International Horse Show.”

  For a second Colleen looked confused. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, I get it—you mean I should take you and Nancy!”

  “Right!” Bess cried. “The only thing we’d be missing out on this weekend is a Halloween party Nancy and I were invited to.”

  “I don’t have a costume, anyway,” Nancy added. “And I’d rather see the show.”

  Colleen’s face broke into a big smile for the first time since they’d discovered that Nightingale was lame. “Wow. I can’t think of anything I’d like more. It’ll be fun.”

  Seeing Colleen so happy, Nancy had to smile, too.

  Just then an earsplitting br-r-ring, br-r-ring pierced the air. Bess jumped a foot off the lounge chair, spilling her chips. “What was that?”

  Colleen laughed. “The driveway alarm. I left it on this morning. Someone must be coming. Maybe my mom’s home from work early.” Standing up, she squinted through the row of white pines. A green sports car was zipping up the drive. “It looks like Phil,” she said happily.

  Nancy and Bess started to get up, too, but Colleen gestured for them to stay seated. “You guys relax. I’ll bring him over.”

  She ran to meet Phil. Nancy could see his tall figure getting out of the car. Colleen met him in the drive and gave him a big hug.

  “I’d say they made up,” Bess said under her breath.

  “Looks that way,” Nancy said, her tone grim.

  Bess gave her a curious glance. “You still think he’s guilty, don’t you?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I don’t know for sure, but—”

  Colleen’s cheerful voice cut off her sentence. “Nancy, Bess, I’d like you to meet Phil Ackerman, the love of my life.”

  “The second love of her life,” Phil interjected with a playful grin. “I think Colleen’s first love is Nightingale.”

  “No way.” Colleen punched him gently on the arm.

  Nancy stood up. She could see why Colleen was crazy about Phil Ackerman. He was tall and dark, with a slim yet muscular build and a dazzling smile.

  “It’s nice to meet two of Colleen’s oldest friends,” Phil said, reaching out to shake Bess’s hand. Then he turned to Nancy. “You must be Nancy Drew, the famous teen detective.”

  “I don’t know about the famous part,” Nancy said with a smile. Taking his hand, she shook it firmly. When she did, she glanced down. On the top of his wrist was a reddish-brown stain.

  A shiver ran up Nancy’s spine. The spot on Phil’s arm was the same color as the stain on Colleen’s fingers after she’d touched the blister. That meant one thing—Phil Ackerman must have put the blister on Nightingale’s leg!
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  5

  Sharp Moves

  Nancy couldn’t believe it. The stain seemed to be proof that Phil was the one who’d sneaked into the barn last night and applied the blister. Colleen had said the reddish-brown color lingered even after it was washed off.

  Phil turned back to Colleen and threw his arm around her shoulders. “How’s Nightingale today?”

  Colleen rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe what happened,” she said. Pulling him down next to her on the lounge chair, she began telling him about the morning.

  Nancy looked up at Phil Ackerman. His dark brows were drawn together in what seemed to be genuine concern.

  Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, Nancy thought. Maybe he got a trace of the blister on him from hugging Colleen.

  “At least there wasn’t any permanent damage to Nightingale,” Bess said when Colleen had finished.

  “Thank goodness.” Colleen let out a sigh of relief, but her smile had turned into a small frown. “But that doesn’t mean something else won’t happen to her.”

  Phil took Colleen’s hand. “Well, I have some news that will cheer you up,” he announced. “I’m taking off two days of school and going with you to the show. I might have to study a couple of nights, but otherwise, I’m all yours.”

  “Really?” Colleen’s face broke into a huge grin, and she threw her arms around him. “That’s terrific!”

  Yeah, terrific, Nancy thought. Unless Phil was the one behind Nightingale’s injuries. She couldn’t get the idea out of her mind.

  “Nancy and Bess are going, too,” Colleen told Phil. “They’re going to help watch over Nightingale.”

  “That’s great,” Phil said. Nancy watched closely to see how Phil took the news, but he just smiled and turned back to Colleen.

  “Then it’s settled.” Colleen sat back with a satisfied expression on her face. “Thursday morning we’ll all meet here at the barn—seven on the dot.”

  “Seven in the morning?” Bess squeaked. “But Nightingale probably won’t be awake.”

  “Oh, she’ll be awake,” Colleen assured Bess. “And you will be, too, Bess Marvin!”

  • • •

  “Even the sun’s smarter than us,” Bess said sleepily on Thursday morning. She was hunched down in the passenger seat of Nancy’s Mustang, her eyes shut. “It’s not up yet.”

  Nancy chuckled. She herself had gotten up at five-thirty to pack a small suitcase and roll up her sleeping bag for the three-night stay at the show. Then she’d picked Bess up at six-thirty sharp to make sure they’d get to the Healeys’ barn on time.

  “Just remember, it was you who volunteered us for groom duty,” she said.

  “Ummmph. But I said bodyguard duty,” Bess pointed out. “That sounded easy. I figured we’d just sit around the show and watch Nightingale.”

  “Well, we’d look pretty obvious if we weren’t doing something,” Nancy said. “A groom is a perfect cover.”

  “But we want to look obvious,” Bess protested. “That way no one will try anything.”

  “True. Only I want to catch whoever injured Nightingale. That’s going to be trickier.”

  Bess stifled another yawn. “I’m just glad nothing’s gone wrong since our visit Monday.”

  Nancy nodded in agreement. “Me, too. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that nothing else happens.”

  Flipping on the turn signal, Nancy steered the Mustang up the Healeys’ drive. When they reached the barn, they could see the soft gleam of lights coming from the half-open door. Phil’s sports car was already parked next to a pickup that was hitched to a horse trailer.

  When Nancy and Bess walked into the barn, they met Phil standing in the middle of the aisle, holding Nightingale. “Morning.” He nodded his head.

  “Good morning.” Colleen greeted the girls with a cheery smile. She was kneeling in the tanbark, wrapping bandages around Nightingale’s front legs.

  Bess gasped. “Nightingale didn’t get hurt again?”

  Colleen laughed. “No. These are leg wraps. They protect her legs when she rides in the trailer.”

  Bess let out a relieved sigh.

  Colleen stood up. “Are you guys ready to help load up the truck?” She pointed to a pile of boxes, bales of hay, and blankets.

  Nancy nodded, then pulled a reluctant Bess toward the pile. “Come on, sleepyhead. A little exercise will wake you up.”

  An hour later Nightingale and all her equipment had been loaded onto the truck and trailer. After saying goodbye to her parents, Colleen secured the trailer doors and checked the hitch. Then she climbed in the driver’s seat. Nancy sat in the middle, and Bess was by the window. Already, Bess had her jacket scrunched into a pillow and was settling down for a nap.

  Nancy chuckled. “She needs her beauty sleep.”

  Colleen laughed, too, as she started the pickup and headed down the drive. Phil was following in his car.

  “If nothing happens, we should be there right after lunch,” Colleen said. “I packed some sandwiches so we can eat in the car. That way we’ll get there in time for me to work Nightingale in the ring before my first class tomorrow.”

  “What class are you riding in?” Nancy asked.

  “Friday night is the Gambler’s Choice Jumping Stakes. That’s really a wild class. The riders can take their horses over the fences in any direction or order they want.”

  “Wow,” Nancy said. “How do you decide which way to go?”

  “Each fence is assigned a number of points from ten to one hundred and twenty. You only have eighty seconds, so you try and jump the fences worth the most points.”

  “And if you knock down a fence, you don’t get the points,” Nancy guessed.

  Colleen nodded as the truck rumbled up the ramp onto the highway. “You can’t ride a course that’s too tricky, or your horse will have trouble. But to win you have to make some sharp turns and really pour on the speed.”

  “It should be exciting to watch.” Nancy checked in the side mirror. Phil’s car was still right behind them. “And what about Saturday night?”

  “That’s the night of the big Worthington Cup Grand Prix. The horse and rider who win first place get five thousand dollars in prize money,” Colleen told Nancy.

  Nancy whistled. “That would almost pay for a year of med school. If you and Nightingale keep winning, you won’t have to sell her.”

  “I wish.” Colleen sighed. “Unfortunately, the expense of showing eats up most of the profits. And if I do keep competing, I’ll have to hire a trainer like Gloria Donner, and she’ll want a percentage of my winnings.”

  Nancy shook her head. “Then how do people afford to keep showing?”

  “Some of the riders turn professional,” Colleen explained. “That means they get paid to ride and train other people’s horses. Some pros are good enough to get a sponsor—that’s a company willing to pay expenses in return for publicity.”

  “And some people, like the San Marcoses, just have lots of money,” Nancy added.

  “Right,” Colleen answered.

  Nancy tried to digest all of the information. The sport of show jumping was a lot more complicated than she’d thought. It wasn’t going to be easy to track down the person who’d injured Nightingale.

  From what Colleen had told Nancy, there was no reason for either the San Marcoses or Gloria Donner to try and hurt Nightingale. That left Phil, or some unknown person. At least Phil would be easy to keep an eye on.

  As they rode along the highway, Colleen told Nancy and Bess about the layout of the stable area and show arena, and where they’d be staying. Nancy listened intently, knowing that every bit of information would be important.

  Several hours later Colleen pulled the truck and trailer into a vast parking lot by the Capital Center arena. The lot was filled with trucks, trailers, and large vans. Two huge tents had been erected over temporary stalls.

  Colleen parked in front of an aisle leading into the stable area. A closed gate barred the aisle’s entra
nce. Outside the tent, people were washing, leading, and grooming horses. Under the tent Nancy could see several mounted riders walking their horses.

  “O-o-o-o,” Bess groaned when she jumped from the truck. “I’m stiff from sitting so long.”

  Colleen laughed. “Just think how poor Nightingale feels. She’s been standing in one position, swaying back and forth, for four hours.” She went around to the back of the trailer and swung open the top door. A whinny of greeting came from inside.

  “Let me help you unload her,” Phil said as he came toward them. He’d parked in an empty space several rows away. Opening the side door in the trailer, he ducked inside and unsnapped Nightingale. Nancy and Colleen lowered the back ramp.

  “Ready?” Colleen called up to Phil.

  “Ready.”

  Colleen unlatched the padded bar behind Nightingale’s rump. Cautiously the mare backed out as Phil held on to the lead rope.

  “Nightingale! You’re here!” A squeal made Nancy turn. Marisa San Marcos was hurrying through the gate. She was dressed in a black, pin-striped hunt coat, which was tailored to cut in at the waist and flare at the hips. She also wore white riding breeches, tall, shiny black boots, and a black velvet hunt cap. Marisa’s sharp-looking outfit was completed by a white silk choker, secured by a sapphire-studded pin.

  “How’s it going, Marisa?” Colleen asked as she took the lead line from Phil.

  “Oh, okay.” Marisa wrinkled her nose to show that she wasn’t completely happy. “Topflight won a third, but he knocked down a jump in Tuesday’s class. He’s such a fabulous horse, but he just doesn’t have that urge to win like Nightingale.”

  Beaming up at the mare, Marisa patted her on the neck. “Well, gotta go. I’m jumping again in half an hour. What number is Nightingale’s stall, so I can come visit her?”

  “Twenty-nine,” Colleen told her.

  “Maybe I’ll see you later, then.” With a wave, Marisa headed back under the tent.

  “Isn’t Topflight the horse the San Marcoses paid a hundred thousand dollars for?” Phil asked.

  “A hundred thousand dollars!” Bess gulped.

  “Yeah,” Colleen replied. “Topflight’s a good jumper, too. But the San Marcoses don’t want just good. They want the best.”