Mystery of the Midnight Rider Read online

  “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 barns 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!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  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 corner of the barn. My friends and I followed, swept up by the general excitement.

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

  Three horses were running around wildly in the grassy area between barns. 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 barn 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’équipe 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 pa
rents 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 instead, 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 Payton 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, unless 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!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mixed Messages

  “BUTE? WHAT’S TH
AT?” GEORGE ASKED.

  Mickey didn’t answer. He was already sprinting toward the door, calling out for the other grooms. “Nobody feed anything!” he shouted. “I’ve got to tell Dana about this. We’ll have to figure out if any of the other feed was tampered with.”

  A couple of the other grooms rushed in. They seemed surprised to see us in there.

  “What’s going on?” asked Jen.

  “We’re not sure,” I told her. “Um, Mickey just noticed there was some extra stuff in one of the buckets.”

  “Yeah, he called it bute,” George added. “What is that?”

  “It’s a medication,” Jen replied. “It’s very common—sort of like aspirin for horses. Some of ours get it after a tough day of showing. Which bucket was it in?”

  “Midnight’s,” Bess replied.

  “What?” Jen exclaimed. “But that’s not right—Midnight isn’t allowed to have bute today!”

  “Why not?” I asked. “I thought you said it was common.”

  The groom looked distraught. “It is, but you’re not allowed to give it at the same time as certain other drugs,” she explained. “And Midnight is scheduled to get one of those other drugs tonight. If he ended up with both in his system and then got tested . . .”

  She let her voice trail off. I could guess what she was thinking. Midnight was in enough trouble with the drug testers already, without another positive result to add to the mess.

  “Anyway,” Jen went on after a moment, “I know there was nothing extra in that bucket an hour ago—I mixed all of this afternoon’s feed myself!”

  She and the other groom started checking all the buckets. My friends and I took the opportunity to slip out of the feed room.

  “So what do you think?” George asked as we wandered down the aisle. “Does this make Mickey a suspect?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “It sounds like he wouldn’t mind one bit if Midnight got a vacation. And a drug suspension would be a sure way to do it.”

  Bess nodded. “Especially since he was so quick to tell us that the theo-whatever stuff the test found wouldn’t hurt Midnight any. That makes it a likely choice for someone who’s worried about the horse’s welfare, right?”