Just to be sure, she picked up the champagne bottle and inhaled the aroma. She could almost taste the toasty, fruity liquid, a deep enticing blend of other elements she couldn’t place adding to the bouquet. Then she smelled the glass again, wrinkled her nose, coughed once, and put it back.
She ran for a deputy, the sheriff, anyone in law enforcement. She forgot all about Miss Nasty, who had observed everything.
T he hospitality suite in Barn Five was overflowing when Harry burst in, motioning for Fair to come outside. Joan and Larry, surrounded by guests, watched out of the corners of their eyes.
Frances finally spoke to Joan as she, too, had noticed Harry’s flushed face, and Harry was usually a cool customer. “Joan, you should see to Harry.”
Renata, surrounded by people, started to wiggle free.
“What’s up, honey?” Fair asked.
“I can’t find a cop.”
“They’re probably down at the show ring or,” he paused, “at the celebrations after the show. A lot to contend with.”
“Fair, Charly was poisoned. I’m pretty sure.”
“What?”
“Come with me.”
Joan and Renata came out together just as someone—well-meaning, probably—let Pewter and Mrs. Murphy out of their crate.
The two cats shot out, skidding into the main aisle.
“Follow Mom!” Mrs. Murphy headed after Harry, Fair, and Tucker.
Cookie waited for Joan, saying, “Come on, come on!” To emphasize her point, the Jack Russell ran circles around both Joan and Renata.
Joan took the hint, hurrying after Harry and Fair.
As the little half platoon moved on to Charly’s barn, Booty was regaling a large number of well-wishers. Booty, Senator in his groom’s hands with a monstrously large tricolor ribbon hanging for all to see, was in his glory.
Ward popped in to congratulate him. “Hear anything about Charly?” Booty asked loud and clear.
“No, but Charly’s too mean to die.” People laughed, and Ward continued, “I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if Charly was on the operating table at this moment getting some kind of bypass surgery or a little balloon in an artery. He blued up on us there.”
“Charly doesn’t have a heart,” someone said jokingly but with a bite.
“Well, he sure tried to knock me in the dirt tonight.” Booty smiled triumphantly. “Hey, it’s competition that makes a good horse race, right? I bet you he’ll be back at it at Louisville. By the way, anyone see Miss Nasty after her disgraceful conduct?”
“No.”
Benny piped up. “Last I saw her, she was heading down to Charly’s barn.”
A panicked look crossed Booty’s face. “She’s always where she shouldn’t be. One of the really great things about Miss Nasty, as opposed to the real Miss Nasty, is she can’t use my credit cards.”
This called forth an uproar of mirth, so Booty continued in this vein. He did, however, want his monkey.
Spike retreated when the humans came into Charly’s barn, but he then came out to sit on a director’s chair.
“Smell the champagne.” Harry pointed to the bottle.
One by one, Fair, Joan, and then Renata smelled the champagne, still inviting.
“No wonder he fell off his horse,” Joan joked.
“Does he usually drink before a big class? Calm his nerves?” Fair wondered.
“I’ve never seen him take a drink, smoke a cigarette, or take a toke before a class,” Renata offered. “He was in pain, though. His right hand might have been broken.”
“Well, smell this.” Harry pointed to the glass, took a red grooming rag, and picked it up by the stem.
Fair gingerly took the glass and rag from her first. “Doesn’t smell like champagne.” He noted the yellow crystals still forming. “Smells like poison.”
Joan, next, inhaled. “I don’t know what it is.”
Renata then inhaled. “How do you know it’s poison?”
Fair answered, “I’m around a lot of substances that can kill horses, remember. I’m pretty sure this is poison, natural poison. He didn’t clutch at his heart. Charly’s face blued up a little, and my hunch is he was either bitten or drank snake poison. It stops your respiratory system if you’re full of a fatal dose. And when snake venom dries, it crystallizes. Pour liquid on it and it will melt again.”
“I didn’t see a deputy anywhere. I wanted Fair to smell it because, well, because I didn’t want to make a mistake,” Harry said. She knew Booty kept snakes, as did the others. Now it was a game of flushing out your quarry.
“You didn’t. Anyone have a cell phone? I left mine in the truck. Maybe we can call the sheriff down here.”
The ladies didn’t have their cell phones, either, as they didn’t fit in their dresses.
Miss Nasty called down, “I know where there’s a cell phone.”
Joan looked up and wondered if she’d ever get that pin back, although given the immediate circumstances the fluted champagne glass was more important. “I’ll walk up to the barn and get mine. It’s in the changing room.”
“Where’s the cell phone?” Tucker asked the monkey, sidling down the rafters to reach the top of a stall beam.
“I told you I had the pin.” Thrilled with herself, Miss Nasty strutted, ignoring the request.
“Where’s the phone?” Mrs. Murphy inquired.
“I said I knew where it was, I didn’t say I’d tell you.” Miss Nasty grinned.
“I’ll kill her.” Pewter danced on her hind paws.
“Shut up,” the tiger cat advised. “And don’t climb up the stall post.”
Joan, moving through all the people back at Barn Five, smiled and kept saying, “Excuse me, I’m on a mission.” She finally stepped into the changing room, took her purse from the tack trunk, grabbed her thin phone.
Her mother ducked her head in and said, “Joan, what’s wrong?”
Joan’s polite behavior to the crowd didn’t fool Mom. “Found Miss Nasty. I’ve got to get that pin, Mom.”
Frances looked at Joan’s face, looked at the phone. “With a phone?”
“I’ll explain later.” Joan left the room, saying to people who stopped her for a chat, “I’ll be right back, right back.”
Frances left the room and found Paul standing out in the main aisle with sixty other people. She pointed toward Joan, who was already heading down the slight slope to Charly’s barn, and said, “Paul, something’s not right.”
Paul observed, then said, “Wait and see. Got a whole lot of people here, honey.” They returned to the responsibilities of being host and hostess.
As Joan briskly walked away, Booty, needing a breath of air from the hordes in his own main aisle and hospitality suite, stepped outside for a moment, although still surrounded by people. “Seen Miss Nasty?” he called to Joan.
“She’s in Charly’s barn.”
Now it was Booty’s turn to promise he’d be right back.
No fool, Joan flipped open her cell and called the sheriff before she even reached the barn. This Shelbyville week had kept her on pins and needles. The hair rose on the back of her neck. She didn’t know why, but she trusted her instincts.
Ward and Benny, who were putting up Shaq, had seen Harry, Fair, Joan, and Renata go by first. Then Joan came back up the hill. Now Joan was going back down, Booty trailing.
“Benny, something tells me we’re in the ninth inning and it’s a tie game. Come on.”
Benny double-checked Shaq and the other horse there, then both men headed down the path.
Joan entered the barn. “Called Sheriff Cody. Said he’d be here in a minute.”
“Good.” Renata seemed especially relieved.