The brutal beating of Aldous Bolger caused a sensation. The story was extensively covered by the local and state newspapers, which had a major interest in anything that occurred in Kentucky horse country, especially an event of this nature.
Naturally, the crime was given continued attention by the national racing press, Rexroth’s Horse Racing Journal leading the way. The fact that it had been committed on Willowdale property resulted in Rexroth expressing his outrage in a number of media settings. Rexroth himself authored a ringing front-page editorial for Horse Racing Journal, decrying this “despicable act against this outstanding horseman of international reputation,” and offering a reward of $100,000 for information leading to the arrest and conviction of “the criminal or criminals involved, whose motives remain as mysterious as their methods were heinous.”
Doyle was infuriated by what he considered to be Rexroth’s sanctimonious posturings. While he didn’t suspect Rexroth of attacking Bolger, or ordering the attack, Doyle felt in his gut that Rexroth was tied to it somehow, probably through his employee, Mortvedt.
Doyle said nothing about his theories to Caroline, for early on in Doyle’s working relationship with Aldous Bolger the two men had agreed to keep from Caroline any knowledge of Jack’s connection to the FBI, and the FBI’s interest in an ex-jockey ex-convict named Mortvedt.
“If she knows that,” Aldous had said, “she’s going to worry about me. I know that. This girl has had to go through more than enough already. I don’t want to add to her burden. And,” Aldous had noted, “there’s no real reason for her to know anyway. Let Caroline enjoy herself as best she can while she’s here.”
Bolger had also cautioned Doyle against “trying to pass yourself off as a lifetime horseman” to Caroline. “She’d sniff that out as a lie in a minute. You can tell her, and truthfully, that you’ve had some experience working on the racetrack. But don’t go past that, it’ll never fly.
“Caroline’s taken a bit of a fancy to you, Jack,” Bolger added, grinning at Doyle. “That’s good on ya, mate, as far as I’m concerned. But I’ll give you this piece of advice if the feeling is at all mutual. Don’t try to bullshit this girl. She’d suss that in a second.”
“My story is supposed to be that I decided on a midlife career change,” Doyle said. Thanks to the FBI, he added to himself.
“Jack,” Aldous had said, “I don’t give a boiled banger why you’re doing this. Those agents just told me I was going to be given some help. You don’t have to tell me any more than that, man.”
Approximately thirty-six hours after Doyle found the New Zealander, Karen, Damon, and Doyle were seated at a table in a conference room in the Dalton House Hotel on the outskirts of Lexington.
“Never,” Doyle said slowly, “never would I have gone ahead with your plan if I thought Aldous Bolger would be at risk. What was done to him…I can’t believe it.” Doyle rose so abruptly from his chair that it fell over behind him. He walked over to the curtained window and stared out, palms on the sill.
After a glance at Damon, Karen said, “Jack, ease up a little bit, won’t you? I know you’re furious. I know your Irish is up. But we have to get past those emotions and approach this situation in a professional manner. We had no idea Aldous would wind up like this. How could we have envisioned that? But there’s nothing to be gained from looking back on that now. What we’ve got to do is concentrate on finding who did this.”
Earlier, Karen and Damon had spent considerable time commiserating with Doyle. Embittered as he was, Doyle’s skeptical streak made it hard for him to accept the truth-which was that their sorrow was sincere. Both Karen and Damon had admired the New Zealand horseman for his courage in calling them into the case of the horses being killed, for his bravery in agreeing to work with Doyle in a combined effort aimed at nailing the culprits.
Damon had said, “Jack, these are not courtesy condolences we’re feeding you here. Bolger was a stand-up guy. What happened to him was terrible. But we’ve got to move on here together, and that includes you.”
Doyle finally turned away from the window and faced the agents. “All right,” he said. “I’m sorry I lost it there. Sorry I blew up at you. Deep down, I know damn well this wasn’t in your plans.
“But I’m having a hard time with this. I can’t get over what was done to that good man. I can’t get out of my head the look on Caroline’s face when I told her about her brother.”
Doyle began pacing back and forth on the brown carpet of the conference room. He said, “Aldous must have discovered the horse killers at work there in the stallion barn. Or preparing to work, anyway. There’s no other way to explain what happened to him.
“The man didn’t have an enemy on either side of the world. You know that from all you’ve learned about him. No, those bastards must have jumped him after he stumbled on them. Why in hell Aldous didn’t come and get me before he went down to that barn…we were working on this together…that was the whole idea. He should never have gone there himself.
“And why they had to batter him like that….” Doyle shook his head. “I just don’t understand something like that. What kind of animals would beat a man that way?”
No one spoke for several moments. Doyle, tired as he was from nearly two days without sleep, was energized by his agitation. He continued pacing. Finally, Karen said, “Jack, I’m sure that Aldous acted on the spur of the moment. Maybe he couldn’t sleep and decided to patrol the grounds. He was known to do that.
“Then, he must have spotted something out of the ordinary. Aldous was a big, strong man, and a pretty independent fellow. You know that about him, certainly. I’m sure he was confident that he was capable of handling anything that he ran into on that farm.
“As to the beating he took…well,” Karen said with a grimace, “if you saw some of the things we’ve seen….” She looked over at Damon, who said, “Jack, my friend, you’ve got no idea what’s out there. I could give you war stories from here to Christmas morning.”
Tirabassi shifted in his chair. After sipping from his coffee cup, he turned to look out the window at the motel courtyard, a pensive look on his long face. He said, “It’s absolutely no comfort to anybody involved but, believe me, what happened to Aldous Bolger is not some unique phenomenon. Not in this world.”
Doyle recognized the validity of Damon’s statement. He also realized that the two FBI agents did not deserve the anger he had leveled at them. In addition to Bolger’s murderer, there were other elements feeding his fury.
Immediately after news of the attack spread, the Kentucky horse industry rumor mill, a machine rarely dormant, had cranked up big time. Bolger, it was said, had been beaten for not paying gambling debts….He’d been assaulted by thugs hired by the irate husband of a local woman he’d secretly been seeing….The attack was an attempt to silence him before he began cooperating with officials who were attempting to crack a horse country cocaine ring.
Doyle had heard various versions of these and other rumors. He knew there wasn’t a scrap of truth attached to any of them, and they bothered the hell out of him.
Suddenly, Doyle banged his fist down on the table with a force that startled both agents. “Where in the hell is Mortvedt?” he said loudly. He looked first at Karen, then at Damon. “I can’t believe that the vast resources of the FBI can’t locate this little crook. You know in your heart Mortvedt killed those horses, and probably attacked Aldous, and I know it. Why can’t you track him down?”
Karen’s face reddened. She said, “Contrary to what you think, we don’t know anything for sure about what Mortvedt’s done. It’s all speculation, speculation based on pretty solid background, yes. Certainly we suspect Mortvedt of killing those horses. And he may well have done Bolger, too. But we don’t have a speck of proof regarding either matter. We can’t put Mortvedt on a most-wanted list if we’ve got nothing to back up our suspicions. That’s not the way it works, Jack.”