“Perhaps not so lucrative.” Cooper watched a buck-moth caterpillar crawl along a limb, followed by others. They seemed to be gregarious creatures. “Do you consider Marshall a friend?”
Big Mim thought a moment. “No. A business associate. We have a good relationship. As I said, he’s a good horseman and I appreciate that. He has good manners, is pleasant company.”
“Anything else you can think to tell me?”
She paused. “Well, he’s hardworking. He always says he’s lucky, he had good advice early. Studied Mary Pat’s organization. Hung out with Humphrey Finney, the auctioneer. He tried to learn from the best. He married a lovely girl, a St. Mary’s County girl, I believe, and they have four children. Also, he gives generously to various charities, and his wife heads the Heart Fund in Carroll County.”
“How much business do you do with him?”
“Not too much, Cooper. He’s strictly a flat-racing man, and I’m a ‘chaser,’ if you will. Occasionally I’ll run a horse on turf or dirt, but my real love is steeplechasing and foxhunting, of course. I don’t think I’ve bought more than two mares from him over the years. I liked their conformation, the bloodlines. I see him at the sales, at the Preakness, and occasionally when he comes back here to Albemarle County.”
“You never took a mare to Ziggy Dark Star?”
“No, no. That would have been foolish.”
“Why?”
“Seventy-five thousand dollars for a season to Ziggy Dark Star. For what I do that would be throwing money away. You see, dear, I can go to the ‘two-year-olds in training and up’ sales—meaning older horses—and find a well-bred horse who isn’t fast enough on the flat track for a reasonable amount of money. I can turn those into steeplechasers. Or I can breed one of my mares to a good stallion who isn’t as expensive. I have always liked doing business with Payson Stud in Lexington, Kentucky. I’ve had wonderful luck crossing my mares to St. Jovite, Lac Ouimet, Salem Drive. Granted, St. Jovite is a little pricey for my purposes, but he’s a marvelous animal, just marvelous.” Big Mim loved studying bloodlines, watching horses move, run over fences, or walk around the paddock. She possessed a razor-sharp eye.
“I’m totally ignorant. I don’t see steeplechasers in your barn.”
“They’re with a trainer in Pennsylvania. I like him and I like the way he brings along my horses. There’s no point in my building a track, hiring a trainer, the whole nine yards. This works better, and when the horses retire, I bring them home and Paul will turn them into foxhunters.”
“How do you know they can do that?”
“Steeplechasing grew out of foxhunting. I know the horses can jump. What Paul has to do is let them mellow out, if you will, teach them to go in company, and we have to acquaint them with hounds. He’s a good man with foals, too. I’m quite pleased with him, and I think he’s going to work out.”
“Do you think Marshall Kressenberg was capable of murdering Mary Pat and stealing Ziggy Flame?”
This took Big Mim by surprise. She sat up straighter. “Why, I don’t know. I never thought of such a thing. I—I don’t know.”
“Do you think Alicia Palmer capable of the crime?”
“Never.” She was vehement. “She loved Mary Pat.”
“Lovers routinely kill each other.”
“No.”
“She became rich beyond most people’s wildest dreams,” Cooper probed.
“No.”
“What if she made a deal with Marshall? He kills Mary Pat and she gives him Ziggy Flame.”
“No. Absolutely not. Alicia’s a heart person, not a money person. You don’t know her.”
“No, I don’t, but she certainly had a crystal-clear motive. And you are her friend. One can be blinded by friendship.”
“Cooper, I’m not even blind to my own children’s faults. I’m not that kind of person. I’m not a subjective person. It causes my family some distress. It’s one of the reasons my son, Stafford, moved to New York. He says I was never a warm, loving mother.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you, but we’ve had a break in the Mary Pat case. I have to ask difficult questions. What do you think about Ziggy Flame and Ziggy Dark Star being the same horse?”
“Ziggy Flame was a chestnut. Ziggy Dark Star was a bay. A horse of a different color,” she wryly commented. “Are you sure you’re on the right track?”
“Marshall could have dyed the horse.”
“Good Lord!” This had never occurred to Big Mim.
“We’ve combed all the articles about Marshall, and each one says only he handled the stallion. This was presented as fanatical devotion. It was, but perhaps for the wrong reason.”
The queen of Crozet, speechless for a moment, opened her left hand, her large engagement diamond catching a ray of light. “Oh, Cooper, never, never would I have thought of such a thing. It’s horrible. It’s too horrible.”
“Clever. And he’s gotten away with it—or they’ve gotten away with it, if Alicia is involved—for thirty years.”
“Cooper, I know, know in my heart of hearts that Alicia could never do such a thing.”
“I know, but none of us thought of Ziggy Dark Star being Ziggy Flame, either.”
Big Mim leaned back in the chair, the wrought iron hard against her back. “Does Marshall have any kind of criminal record?”
“Rick checked. Speeding tickets. Other than that, clean as a whistle.”
“I see.” Big Mim paused. “Are you going to question him?”
“Yes.”
“Might I make a suggestion?”
“Please. You know so much more about people than I do.” Cooper meant this sincerely.
Big Mim smiled. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It would seem to me inevitable that Marshall Kressenberg will find out about Mary Pat. It will be in the news tomorrow, right?”
Cooper nodded, then grimaced. “Along with the story that Carmen Gamble is nowhere to be found.”
Big Mim, wise in the ways of Sheriff Shaw, and picking up the lack of urgency in Cooper’s voice concerning Carmen, simply replied, “Carmen will appear in good time, hair the latest cut, nails polished, lipstick bright.”
“Let’s hope so.” Cooper smiled. “What’s your idea about Marshall?”
“If you question him, he’ll be defensive, alert, whatever. However, if we have a ceremony for Mary Pat, bury her remains, and Marshall is invited, then perhaps you can spring a trap.”
“What if he doesn’t want to come down?” Cooper asked.
“Let me take care of that. I’m going to present this as a gathering of all who loved her and worked for her. We put her to rest at last. Just let me handle it. Herb can conduct the actual service, and the burial will be at St. James, with Alicia’s permission.”
“Don’t tell Alicia—about Marshall, I mean.”
“I won’t. Have you told Alicia yet about Mary Pat?” Big Mim folded her hands together.
“I have not. I was going to her after seeing you.”
“Allow me to go with you.”
“All right.”
By the time they reached the large, varnished front door with the pineapple knocker at St. James’s main house, Cooper was curious as to what Alicia’s reaction would be. Big Mim had enlarged on her idea for a trap on the drive over. That was on Cooper’s mind, too.
A housekeeper led them to Alicia on the screened-in porch.
Big Mim broke the news.
Alicia took it calmly until Mim hugged her, then she broke down with racking sobs.
She tore Cooper’s heart out, except in the back of the young deputy’s mind was the nagging fact that Alicia was one of the greatest actresses of her generation.
48
With effort, Big Mim and Little Mim steered the gathering to the business at hand. Shrewdly, Big Mim opened the interior doors to the huge flagstone-floor porch. As the meeting commenced, everyone could see out onto the porch, where Mim’s staff, under the able direction of Gretchen Robb, placed dishes on the two tables. Seeing the dazzling repast awaiting them, everyone wanted to finish in a hurry.