Cooper said without hesitation, “Oh, yeah. We have to prove it, but he’s our man.”
“Well, it occurred to me that Ziggy Dark Star’s tattoo could tell the tale. We didn’t discuss that,” Harry said.
“Fair did,” Cooper replied.
“You did?” Harry’s voice rose at the end of the question.
“I did.”
“Was there a Ziggy Dark Star?” Harry was puzzled.
“No. I expect Ulysses Malone, the owner of Old Wampum Farm, was paid off. He bought Ziggy Flame’s mother in the dispersal sale in 1974. And he bought the foal born in 1967, the result of Mary Pat’s breeding back Ziggy Flame’s mother to Tom Fool. But before he could register that colt, it ran through a board fence in a thunderstorm and killed itself. Now, there would be no reason to register the death with the Jockey Club, since the colt hadn’t been registered yet in the first place. He hushed it up because he didn’t want people to think he didn’t take proper care of his horses. He also fired his farm manager.”
“Marshall would know the letter sequence. He altered the tattoo.” Cooper was still hungry.
“Wait. Let me get this straight. Ulysses Malone and Marshall Kressenberg create an imaginary horse, send in the paperwork and the blood work to the Jockey Club, and are issued a tattoo number starting with a W for 1967?” Harry couldn’t believe the simplicity yet daring of the plan.
“They sent in Ziggy Flame’s blood,” Fair said.
“But what about Ziggy’s tattoo?” Harry, irritated that she hadn’t thought of this, questioned.
“First off, how many people do you know who have a mare to breed who are going to walk up to a stallion and hold his upper lip?” Fair replied. “And V is easy to turn to W. Who would suspect anything?”
“You’ve got a point there.” Harry nodded. “I’ve been around horses all my life and I’m real, real careful around stallions.”
“We do know that Ulysses Malone died a wealthy man. He’d made the money through breeding. His business took off in the late 1970s,” Cooper said. “I expect he was given a share in Ziggy Flame rather than being paid a lump sum. Safer, plus there was the potential for long-term profits, which, luckily for him, materialized.” Cooper had learned a lot about the breeding industry because of this case. “When Mary Pat’s broodmares were dispersed, he bought the mare who was Flame’s dam. He had the reputation of getting bargains at dispersal sales. She produced a few more foals, too, before she died at age twenty-three.”
“My horses have tattoos. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” Harry, distressed at her oversight, complained.
“Lot going on,” Cooper laconically responded.
“Too much upheaval.” Pewter batted a piece of rye bread. Bread was okay, but meat was better.
Harry turned to Fair. “You didn’t say anything to me?”
“When have I had time? Or you?”
“Well, when did you figure this out?”
“Over the weekend. When I did all the bloodline and color research. I told you about most of that, but the tattoo slipped my mind, really.” Fair apologized. “And one other thing I haven’t had time to tell you. I’ve only told Rick and Cooper.
“I read Mary Pat’s notes. This was the book that Barry found and probably read. She used a kind of shorthand.
“Once you get used to Mary Pat’s system you can figure it out easily enough.
“Mary Pat suspected the nick between her mare and Tom Fool blood would be golden. She jotted it down. Of course, she died before she could have been sure just how good their cross was, but even the late foals that old Malone got out of the mare did very well at the sales and track.”
“Barry must have figured this out.” Harry rubbed her chin. “The real question is what in God’s name did Barry do with this information? Jeez, I must be slipping!” Harry said worriedly. “I didn’t even badger you to read Mary Pat’s notes.”
“You’ve been more rattled than you realize.” Cooper took the bull by the horns. “The whole post-office business is upsetting. I mean, Har, even if you were ready to leave, to move on, it would have been nice if you could have done it your way. Pug Harper—well, it was really Jerome—pushed you.”
“But I thought I was okay,” Harry plaintively said.
“Honey, you are okay.” Fair soothingly draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She kept her hand on the pickle jar, however. “It’s just your way. Everyone who loves you knows that. You aren’t a person who shows much emotion. It kind of works on you from within.”
“Meaning, I don’t know what’s going on?” She thought a minute. “I guess that’s kind of true. If it’s outside me, I can figure it out. If it’s inside me, it takes a long time.”
“Breakthrough.” Tucker smiled.
“It’s a pity she’s not a cat,” Pewter mused. “Life would be so much more clear for her.”
Mrs. Murphy climbed up on the plank seat. She snuggled next to Harry. “Her eyesight would be better, anyway.”
“Okay, I missed the tattoo. Signs point to Marshall Kressenberg’s having something to do with Mary Pat’s death. There are a lot of blank spaces, though, lot of loose ends.”
Cooper leaned her elbows on the table. “Once we get our hands on Kressenberg, I think those ends will get tied up.”
“So the rabies is just that. Not connected?” Fair asked.
“Certainly seems to be the case. Except we have the murder of Jerome Stoltfus hanging over our heads. Marshall, I hope, will spill the beans on who killed Jerome. I’m thinking that somehow, in Jerome’s mania to find the cause of the rabies case, he found damning evidence against Marshall Kressenberg. Jerome figured out that Ziggy Flame was Ziggy Dark Star. Jerome proved much more resourceful than we ever imagined. He’d started doing color research.”
“I’ll be,” Harry sighed. “And you’re sure Alicia doesn’t have a hand in this?”
“No, I’m not sure.” The tall, blond woman folded her hands together over her plate. “But Alicia Palmer hasn’t cracked over all these years.”
“Neither has Marshall Kressenberg,” Fair responded.
“But she had all the money in the world. Why help him?” Harry wondered.
“Because she wanted the fortune. She didn’t want to wait until Mary Pat died an old lady and she herself would be much older. She wanted to be her own woman. As long as Mary Pat lived, Alicia would have to dance to her tune. As it was, they fought over Alicia’s desire for an acting career.” Cooper had seen a lot of mischief over inheritances.
The three humans and three animals sat quietly for a minute or two.
Fair rose, walked to his truck. He held up a white paper bag. “Chocolate chip cookies!”
“Hooray!” Harry clapped her hands.
“It’s not that exciting,” Pewter grumbled.
“Chocolate is the human version of fresh mouse.” Mrs. Murphy closed her eyes, swaying slightly.
“Or marrow bones.” Tucker, full, rested her head on her paws.
“So we’re not out of the woods yet?” Harry returned to the subject at hand. “There might be an accomplice or two?”
“Yes,” Cooper simply replied.
“I’ve had my head in the sand. Wonder what else I’ve missed. Maybe I missed something that would help. I’m upset. At the risk of bragging on myself, I’m usually pretty sharp about details, people, clues. At least I think I am.”
“Harry, you are. You are.” Cooper smiled. “But you are going through a big life change.”
“You mean I have to find a job?” Harry laughed.
“A career. Something you love.” Fair put in his two cents.
“Kind of a muddle right now.”
“Honey, this has all happened fast. Give yourself the summer to think things through and explore options. Everything will be fine.”