"Not even Erin Seabright? She's no Jill Morone either, if you get my drift."
"Erin? What's she got to do with this?"
"Why isn't she with you anymore, Don?"
He didn't like the familiarity. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly every time Landry used his name.
"She quit. She told me she took another job elsewhere."
"So far as I've been able to find out, you're the only person she actually told about this big change in her life," Landry said. "Taking a new job, moving to a new town. She never even told her family. I find that strange. She only told you. And no one has seen or heard from her since."
Jade stared at him for a moment, speechless, or knowing the wisdom of holding his tongue. Finally, he stood up. "I don't like the direction this conversation is taking. Are you charging me with something, Detective Landry?"
Landry stayed in his seat. He leaned back in the chair and rested his elbows on the arms. "No."
"Then I'd like to leave now."
"Oh. Well… I just have a few more questions."
"Then I'd prefer to have my attorney present. It's becoming clear to me you have an agenda that isn't in my best interest."
"I'm just trying to get a clear picture of the things going on in your business, Don. That's part of my job: to map out the victim's world, put all the pieces in place. You don't want me to get to the truth behind Jill Morone's death?"
"Of course I do."
"Do you feel you need an attorney present to do that? You're not under arrest. You've told me you don't have anything to hide."
"I don't."
Landry spread his hands. "So… what's the problem?"
Jade looked away, thinking, considering his options. Landry figured he was maybe good for another five minutes, tops. A sergeant supervisor sat in a room down the hall watching the interview via closed-circuit TV, watching the readout of a computer voice-stress analysis machine, looking for lies.
"Feel free to call your attorney if you like," Landry said generously. "We can wait for him…"
"I don't have time for this," Jade muttered, coming back to the table. "What else?"
"Mr. Berne said he heard Jill tell you she knew something about Stellar-this horse that died. What did she know?"
"I have no idea what she was talking about. The horse died accidentally in the middle of the night. There was nothing for her to know."
"There was plenty to know if it wasn't an accident."
"But it was an accident."
"Were you there when it happened?"
"No."
"Then you don't really know what happened. If it was an accident, why did the horse have a sedative in its system?"
Jade stared at him. "How do you know that?"
Landry looked back at him like he was an idiot. "I'm a detective."
"There was nothing criminal in Stellar's death."
"But the owner stands to pick up a big check from the insurance, right?"
"If the insurance company decides to pay, which is unlikely now."
"Would you have gotten a cut of that money?"
Jade stood again. "I'm leaving now."
"What time did you leave Players last night?"
"Around eleven."
"Where did you go?"
"Home. To bed."
"You didn't swing by the show grounds, check on your horses?"
"No."
"Not even after what went on the night before? You weren't worried?"
"Paris had night check last night."
"And she didn't notice anything wrong? She didn't see the vandalism?"
"Obviously, she was there before it happened."
"So, you went home to bed. Alone?"
"No."
"Same friend as Thursday night?"
Jade sighed again and looked at the wall.
"Look, Don," Landry confided, rising from his chair. "You need to tell me. This is serious business. This isn't just some nags running around in the middle of the night. A girl is dead. I realize in your world, she might not have counted for much, but in my world, murder is a big deal. Everyone who knew her and had a problem with her is going to have to account for their whereabouts. If you have a corroborating witness, you'd better say so or I'm going to end up wasting a lot more of your valuable time."
He thought Jade might let his arrogance get the best of him and just walk out. But he wasn't a stupid man. Landry imagined the guy's mind sorting information like a computer. Finally he said, "Susannah Atwood. She's a client. I would appreciate if you didn't mention this to any of my other clients."
"Everybody wants to be the trainer's pet?" Landry said. "That's quite a gig you've got going, Don. Ride the horses, ride the owners too."
Jade went for the door.
"I'll need her address and phone number, and the name and number for Jill Morone's next of kin," Landry said.
"Ask Paris. She takes care of my details."
His details, Landry thought, watching him go. That was what a young girl's life came down to for Don Jade: details.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Jade."
J ade needs to run his business differently," Van Zandt pronounced.
We stood alone along the rail of one of the competition rings, watching a pint-sized rider take her pony over a course of small, elaborately decorated fences. Both girl and pony wore expressions of absolute concentration, eyes bright with determination and the fire of competitive spirit. They were a team: girl and pony against the world.
I remembered that feeling well. Me and a bright copper pony called Party Manners. My very best friend and confidant. Even after I had outgrown him, I had taken all my troubles to Party and he had listened without prejudice. When he died at the ripe old age of twenty-five I mourned his loss more deeply than the loss of any person I had known.
"Are you listening to me?" Van Zandt asked peevishly.
"Yes. I thought you were making a rhetorical statement." I had offered to buy him lunch, he had declined. I had offered to buy milk shakes and he had told me they would make me fat. Asshole. I bought one anyway.
"Yes," I agreed. "Murder puts off potential clients."
Van Zandt scowled. "I am in no mood for your sense of humor."
"You think I was joking? One groom disappears. One turns up dead-"
"Disappears?" he said. "That one left."
"I don't think so, Z. The detective was asking about her."
He turned sharply and looked down his nose at me. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing. I've never even met the girl. I'm just letting you know. He'll probably ask you too."
"I have nothing to say about her."
"You had a lot to say the other night. That she flirted with clients, that she had a smart mouth- Come to think of it, pretty much the same things you said about Jill. You know, you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, Z. Especially not when there's a detective in earshot."
"They have no right to question me."
"Of course they do. You knew both girls. And frankly, you didn't have a very good attitude toward either of them."
He puffed up in offense. "Are you accusing me?"
"Oh, for God's sake," I said, rolling my eyes. "Behave this way with the cops and they'll pin the murder on you out of spite. And I'll volunteer to push the plunger when they stick the needle in your arm."
"What are you talking about? What needle?"
"This is a death penalty state. Murder is a capital offense."
"That's barbaric," he said, highly offended.
"So is burying a girl in a pile of horseshit."
"And you think I could do such a terrible thing?" Now he put on his expression of hurt, as if he were being betrayed by a lifelong friend.