Blood and Roses (Holly Jennings Thriller) (15 page)

She would have to heed Chad’s words and be as careful as possible.

30

There is a reason why people call Kentucky the bluegrass state. As the puddle jumper descended into Lexington, the land spread out below with what Holly could tell was farm after farm—all with that green bluegrass growing abundantly.

There is also a reason that Lexington is called the horse capital of the world. No one walking through the small airport could miss the signs advertising the World Equestrian Games from 2010, Keeneland, race farms, and of course the university, which specialized in education in various equine fields.

Walking through the glass sliders, heading to the garage to locate her rental car, Holly saw life-size bronzes of what she assumed were famous racehorses off to the side of the curved walkway. They were gorgeous pieces of art. It was already after five by the time she got behind the wheel of the rental car, but she decided to take a chance and see if she could find Rafael Torres. She’d love to be able to get this little inquisition finished and add either another suspect, or at the very least some new information, to her notes.

The October day held on to some humidity as dark thunderclouds rolled in over the green pastures that spread out on either side of the road she drove after she exited the highway. The smells of must and earth filled the air. The place was beautiful. Plantation homes sat before the background of the pastures, some overlooking lakes dotted with ducks and geese. Horses grazed on the lush feed
behind either black or white wooden fences. Cornstalks grew tall in some places, and grapevines climbed avidly the farther Holly drove out through Lexington-Fayette Urban County. She passed the world-famous horse park and, shortly after, found the street she needed, which wound into a few curves before she came up to the farm she was looking for—Donahue-Fields. A large wrought iron gate barred her entrance. Things could get tricky from here. She didn’t want to involve local law enforcement—all she wanted to do was have a talk with Rafael Torres. No need to involve the locals. She just had to hope Torres was on the farm.

She buzzed the call button at the gate and waited. Nothing. She buzzed again. A couple of minutes later she spotted a golf cart headed in her direction. A security guard got out and came through the side door of the gate, stooping to talk through her car window. “How may I help you, ma’am?”

“Hi. I’m Holly Jennings. Detective Holly Jennings. I’m here to see Rafael Torres.”

She showed the lanky, bald guard her shield. “What is this regarding, Detective Jennings?” he asked politely.

“It involves a murder investigation in Los Angeles, and it’s possible that Mr. Torres may have some information.”

The guard lifted a hand to his chin and scratched. “Oh, I don’t think so. I think you’d better get on back to California.”

Holly stepped out of the car. Her five-foot-five frame was no match for this guy. But her gun was, and she made sure he saw it as she moved her blazer just slightly off her hip. “Here’s the thing…what did you say your name was?”

“I’m Harold.”

“Okay, Harold. I am a nice cop. I do my job, and I do it well. My job has just sent me thousands of miles away from home. I have been traveling for about eight hours at this point and all I want to do is go to my hotel, have a drink and some food, and get some rest.
But first, I need to speak with Mr. Torres. Are you going to help me with that, or do I need to call local police to get involved? I’m sure you would like your day to end on time. But if we don’t do this the nice-cop way, I can pretty much guarantee you that neither one of our days will end in a timely manner. That will suck for both of us.”

He cleared his throat, looking away as if seeking the right answer from a pocket of air. He made up his mind quickly. “Follow me.” He returned to the golf cart and opened the gate. Holly returned to her car and drove on through. She spotted Harold speaking into a walkie-talkie, surely giving a heads up to whoever needed one.

As she drove through the gates, an entire new world opened up. Straight ahead, along a circular drive, stood a replica of Tara from
Gone with the Wind
. She followed the golf cart, which veered off to the right of the driveway. On the right side of the drive, vines grew in intertwined succession, and to her left was a small lake with a floating gazebo, ducks, and a couple of swans. “Jesus,” she found herself saying out loud. The road wound around and they came upon a racetrack on the left side, just after the lake. Straight ahead stood two massive barns that looked to be constructed out of cobblestone, their roofs a dark wood. Everything about it looked to Holly like old-world money.

In front of the barn on the right, handlers loaded horses into a semi horse trailer, one after the other.

Harold parked the golf cart. She pulled up next to it and got out. “Mr. Torres is over by the trailer. There.” He pointed to a tall, dark, and—as stereotypical as she knew it sounded—handsome man standing next to the trailer. He was barking orders at the others.

She headed his way.

“Lorenzo, make sure all of the supplements for that mare are packed.”

“I have, sir.”

Dark and handsome nodded and then shifted his very direct look on her, as if studying prey. “Hello,” he said.

“Good afternoon.” Holly stretched out her hand. “I’m Detective Holly Jennings.”

He looked surprised as he took it. “Rafael Torres. Detective? Not from around here, I’m guessing.” He glanced over his shoulder at a horse being led up a ramp onto the semi. “Careful with that one.” He looked back at Holly. “As you were saying.”

“I’m not from here. I’m from San Diego, and I’m investigating a murder.”

Torres cocked his head to the side. “Lyons’s? Katarina’s? Tieg’s?”

“Yes. All of the above.”

“Uh-huh. Not sure how I can help you, Detective. Scary, creepy, strange stuff, though.” He leaned against the barn and crossed his arms.

“Very much so. But you know, you may be surprised. Sometimes I speak with people, and they say things that help connect the dots. I’m hoping, Mr. Torres, that you can help me connect even just a few dots. It’s my understanding that you and Mr. Tieg had a history.” She kept a trained eye on the man’s body language.

He gave her that predatory look again, and she held his stare. Finally, Torres said to the guys loading horses, “I’ll be a few in my office. When they’re all loaded, let me know.” He then started to walk off through the barn. Without looking back he said, “You can come with me,
Detective
.”

She jogged through the barn, which looked cleaner than her home on most days, to catch up with him. The smell of straw permeated the air, and the whispers of live animals were obvious as the horses minded their own business.

He looked sideways at her. “I’d give you a tour of the place, but as you can see I’m busy and need to get packing.”

“Oh. No problem. Where are you headed?” She figured a little small talk might soften him some.

“Vegas, for the Infinity.”

“Oh. Nice. You have a horse running in the Infinity?”

“Yeah. He’s on his way there now. I just have to be certain the two-year-olds are loaded and out of here without any problems, then I’m off to the airport. My assistant is traveling with a colt owned by the syndicate here. Donahue-Fields is a large operation, made up of several folks from the two families and then friends, business acquaintances. Keep an eye out for our colt. His name is Devilish.”

“Cute.”

“Yes. He’s more than cute, and he is very fast.”

“Sounds great for you,” she replied.

He didn’t respond. Small talk over.

At the end of the row, he opened a door to the right and entered. She followed him into a nice office. Dark woods, a caramel-colored suede sofa, a curio cabinet with trophies, and a good-size desk. Torres took a seat behind the desk in a leather chair, motioning for Holly to sit opposite him. She did.

“As I mentioned, I’m busy, and I’m not sure how I can help you.” He kicked his feet up on the desk, crossing them.

“Let’s start with the last time you saw Marvin Tieg.” If he wanted the no-nonsense approach, she would give it to him.

“Last year when he fired me.”

“Okay. I’d like to address that. I know there was some controversy around the colt you were training for him. Cayman’s Cult?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and it was all bull. I don’t give my horses illegal drugs. Ever.”

Holly watched him as he rubbed the fingers of his right hand over a gold wedding band. He was clearly not comfortable with this discussion. “Why don’t you tell me your side of the story.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Fine. Maybe you will connect some of those dots. I’ve kept my mouth shut for some time because I’m a private man, and I didn’t feel I had anything to prove. I don’t rock the boat, and I believe karma wins in the end. I frankly don’t care that Tieg is dead. What I do care about is that you catch the killer. From the stories running rampant throughout the racing world it would seem you, Detective, have a sadistic serial killer on your hands who is targeting industry people.”

She tried to hide her surprise at his candor.

“And I knew both Tommy and Katarina. Katarina was set to be the first woman jock to ride a Donahue-Fields horse.” He shook his head. “She was a good jock. Both kids were talented and good people.”

“You believe they were killed by the same person who murdered Tieg?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t take a detective to put two and two together.”

She leaned forward. “Do you think that if this is the same killer, it’s someone who is involved with the industry?”

“I think you’re the cop. I think that could be one theory.”

“Any others? Theories, I mean?”

“Not really.”

“Any ideas who could be capable of such crimes?”

“Lots of people work in racing. I don’t know them all. I studied some psychology in my day and know enough that heinous acts like these are generally the work of sociopaths. And sociopaths are very good at fooling people.”

“What are you saying, Mr. Torres?”

“Your killer could be anyone.”

She already knew this, but hearing what this guy knew, or thought he knew, was a good way to gain new perspective. “Do you
know a guy named Scott Christiansen? He owns a company out in Southern California? Equine Heath Systems?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know him. Heard of the company, though. Seen the ads in some of the magazines. That’s about it.”

She observed his movements closely and from what she could tell, Torres was telling her the truth. “Why don’t you expand a bit on the Cayman’s Cult scandal?”

“Dermorphin. Racing commission is just getting on top of it, but there will be something else that comes along to take its place. Frog juice. Yeah. Know about it, did not use it, refused to use it.”

“Were you asked to inject the colt with it?”

He took some time before he answered. “Yes.”

“By whom?”

“Tieg.”

“Tieg?”

He nodded.

“And you were investigated. Did you tell them—the racing commissioners—what you’ve just told me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew at the time that it was unlikely the drug would be detected in the horse. There were suspicions but no hard evidence. I knew that if I started pointing fingers, Tieg was an ass who would do all he could to be sure I lost my career.”

“But didn’t your reputation take a hit?”

He laughed. “No. I’ve been in this business for thirty years. The people who know me know my ethics and practices. When it was all said and done, I just wanted to walk away.”

Holly narrowed her eyes, deciding if he was being truthful. “If Tieg asked you to inject the horse with this frog juice, and you didn’t, who do you think did?”

He uncrossed his feet and sat up. “I’m going to tell you some things that I don’t want to get out there. I mean, I don’t want others to know what I’m saying, you know?”

He certainly had no love for his former boss. “Okay. Discretion is something that comes with my job title.”

“Good. As I said, I believe in karma, and Tieg got his. Jim Gershon, who now trains for Tieg, gave the horse the drug. He was my assistant trainer at the time.”

Holly worked to process this information without signaling her surprise. “Jim Gershon. Okay.”

“Gershon wanted my job. He’s one who will do things that aren’t always on the up and up. I refused. He complied.”

“Where did they get the drug?”

“Perez is a punk. He always has been. He comes from some village in Guatemala. He’s got some shady connections. He’d been riding some of Tieg’s horses, including the colt. He told Tieg about a friend of his here in the States who was an out-of-work chemist and said that his friend could manufacture something that would go undetected and make the horses run faster. And be harmless. That stuff is not harmless.”

“Were you privy to this conversation?”

“No. My brother was. My brother Frederico—he was my business partner, and he also worked with the horses, but he could sometimes be not as ethical as I am. He knew that if I caught wind of Perez’s plan that heads would roll. He was right.”

“Can I speak with your brother?”

“He’s dead.”

Holly sat speechless for a moment. “Dead?”

“Yes. Only two days after he told me about what Perez, Gershon, and Tieg were involved in, he died from a heart attack.”

“You don’t believe it could have been foul play, do you?”

“I don’t know. My brother did have a heart condition, and that is what the autopsy report read. If those guys had a hand in it, I have to believe they’ll get what is coming to them by something bigger than me. I went to Tieg and told him I knew about his deal. I knew that he set up shop someplace in Guatemala for this
chemist
to manufacture frog juice. He assured me that he’d had a change of heart, that what I’d heard was untrue. I was reeling from my brother’s death. Cayman’s big race was that weekend. I loved the colt. I wanted to see him win. Then the shit hit the fan the day before the race when blood draws came back inconclusive. There was skepticism all around and a lot of pressure on me. I advised withdrawing the colt because of the rumors. Tieg made sure he exposed that tidbit to my colleagues. But they knew the truth. The commission came back and said they were going to investigate. I was questioned up and down, but nothing came of it, except I was fired before I could quit working for Tieg.”