I’VE ALREADY taken this up with the secretary’s office!” McHugh said, shaking the strap in his fist and striding swiftly away.
“Do you think someone really meant to kill him?” Bess asked, coming up behind Nancy.
“Well, someone wanted to scare or hurt him pretty badly to cut that strap,” Nancy answered thoughtfully. “Or someone wanted to hurt Toot Sweet.”
“The horse?” Bess blinked several times. “Do you think it has something to do with that man who was threatening McHugh earlier?”
“Maybe.” Nancy slowly shook her head, following McHugh with her eyes. “I wish I knew what that was all about. What did McHugh mean when he told that guy he wasn’t ‘stiffing’? Remind me to ask Thea.”
McHugh passed between several horse trailers. A movement on the other side of a van caught Nancy’s eye. “Look, Bess!” she said excitedly, pointing. “Isn’t that the man who threatened McHugh?”
Bess squinted against the darkening gloom. “Where?”
“Over there.” As Nancy watched, the figure disappeared. “Maybe we should follow McHugh and make sure he’s okay.”
Bess groaned but agreed. She trailed after Nancy as they picked their way between the vans, trailers, and cars. Suddenly the figure emerged from a shadow and planted itself directly in front of McHugh. It was the man who’d threatened McHugh earlier!
“That is the guy!” Nancy whispered excitedly.
At first, the two men argued, but then McHugh waved the heavyset man away and took off in another direction. After a moment the heavyset man went the opposite way.
“Well, I guess that’s over for now,” Nancy said uneasily. “I wish I’d heard what they were saying, though.”
“Come on, Nancy,” Bess said. “You’ve had more than enough mystery for one day.” Nancy reluctantly let Bess steer her toward their car. “Besides, we’ve got a party to get to.”
• • •
The Carlisle Hotel ballroom was already filled with dozens of elegantly dressed people when Nancy and Bess stepped through the wide double doors.
“Do I look all right?” Bess whispered to Nancy as she paused just inside the room, anxiously fluffing her bangs.
Bess’s dress was a strapless powder blue shift with a kick pleat up the back. She had pulled her hair back, twisting it into a sophisticated bun at the nape of her neck.
“You look fabulous,” Nancy told her, smoothing down her black strapless gown. The dress sported a cream-colored bolero jacket, and Nancy had looked long and hard for the twisted strands of tiny cream and black jet beads that circled her throat. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders.
“Wow! This is terrific!” Bess cried. “It’s so elegant!”
“You’re right, Bess,” Nancy agreed. “Look, there’s Thea.”
She and Bess eased their way along the edge of the dance floor toward the trainer. Gone were Thea’s work clothes. That night she was wearing a simple white dress that showed off the wonderful tan she’d acquired from spending so much time outdoors. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face with ivory combs and fell in soft curls down her back. Spying Nancy and Bess, she beckoned them to her.
Cam was a few feet away, deep in conversation with Eddie Brent, whose smug grin remained firmly in place even as he talked. From Cam’s frosty but polite smile, Nancy suspected Eddie was telling Cam how wonderful Flash O’Lightnin’ was.
“Doesn’t Cam look great?” Bess whispered in Nancy’s ear.
“He sure does,” Nancy agreed. In a tuxedo the trainer’s good looks were only intensified.
“I was wondering if you two were going to make it,” Thea said when Bess and Nancy were in earshot. “I thought for sure you’d beat me here.”
“We got delayed,” Nancy said, deciding not to explain about McHugh just yet. She wanted to sort through some things in her mind before she told Thea about the cut girth strap.
“Nancy’s got another mystery on her brain,” Bess explained. “That’s why we were delayed. In fact, if it hadn’t been for—” Bess stopped short as Nancy gently stepped on her toe.
Thea turned her dark gaze to Nancy. “A mystery?”
“I was just wondering about that man we saw talking to McHugh earlier,” Nancy was forced to explain. “Do you know who he might be? He seemed so threatening.”
“Well, I doubt if he’s an owner, trainer, or jockey,” said Thea thoughtfully. “I know most of them.”
Nancy glanced over the crowd. She recognized Ace Hanford, Flash O’Lightnin’s jockey, standing near the punch bowl. Ken McHugh appeared at that moment and started heading toward Ace.
There was a faint stir in the room, and Nancy followed the crowd’s glances toward the door. The girl who’d been wearing the mink coat that afternoon was just entering the ballroom, her hand on the sleeve of the older man she’d been with earlier. She wore a full-length silver lamé gown, and around her neck was the most elaborate diamond necklace Nancy had ever seen. A silver and white fox stole had been artfully thrown over her shoulders to appear casual but elegant. The man with her wore a black formal suit complete with tails. They were a matched pair, like the bride and father of the bride.
“Who on earth is that?” Nancy asked Thea.
Thea’s mouth twisted sardonically. “Laura and Evan Johnson.”
“Who are they?” Nancy squeezed closer to Thea as the crowd swelled. Bess moved in on Thea’s other side.
“Evan Johnson is Laura’s father. They’re from a well-known Kentucky horse-breeding family. Evan’s brother, Ulysses Johnson, was a renowned champion racehorse breeder. He started Johnson Farms and produced more winners for ten years than any other breeder.” Thea shook her head in remembered admiration. “U.J., as he called himself, died a few months ago. Since then, Laura and Evan have become a fixture here at Churchill Downs—even though neither one of them knows very much about horses.”
“Johnson Farms,” Bess repeated. “That’s where Toot Sweet’s from.”
“Uh-huh.” Something in Thea’s tone made Nancy sense there was more to the story. “Are they running Johnson Farms now?”
“Mmmm,” Thea murmured, glancing over at Cam.
Taking that for a yes, Nancy asked, “How does Cam feel about working for them?” She could imagine the kind of problems that might crop up for a trainer when the owners knew next to nothing about horses.
Thea drew a heavy breath. Nancy had the feeling she was weighing her words carefully before she spoke. “Well, it was quite different when Laura’s uncle was alive. U.J. was a bit of a tyrant. A lot of people couldn’t stand him and there were rumors about some shady business practices. But he knew horses and he trusted Cam.”
“So Ken McHugh is one of Johnson Farms’ jockeys, then,” Bess observed thoughtfully.
Nancy wondered if that was why Laura had been observing McHugh so closely at the racecourse earlier.
“McHugh is distantly related to Laura—I think they’re second cousins,” explained Thea. She paused a moment, as if uncertain how much to reveal, then shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, U.J. liked him as a jockey, and he put in his will that McHugh had to be kept on at Johnson Farms.”
Nancy glanced over at Cam, who had escaped from Eddie Brent and was now standing with Evan and Laura Johnson. Laura was gazing adoringly into Cam’s eyes, but Cam’s expression was stony. His eyes were fixed on the girl’s father, and it appeared he didn’t like what he was hearing.
“If Cam doesn’t like working for the Johnsons, why doesn’t he leave?” Nancy asked. “Surely there are other horse-breeding farms where—”
“Cam’s happy where he is,” Thea cut her off unexpectedly. “Does anyone want a glass of punch? I’m dying of thirst.” She glanced from Nancy to Bess, but when both girls shook their heads, she worked her way to the punch bowl alone.
“What was that all about?” Bess wondered aloud.
“I don’t know. Thea seemed eager to talk until I mentioned Cam.”
“Do you think something serious is going on between Thea and Cam?” Bess asked, glancing wistfully at the handsome, dark-haired trainer.
“Yes, I do,” Nancy told her friend, following Bess’s gaze. “But it looks like Laura Johnson hasn’t figured it out yet.”
At that moment Laura detached herself from her father and Cam and wandered in Nancy and Bess’s direction. She was sipping from a champagne glass, glancing over the crowd. Nancy put her age at somewhere in her mid-twenties.
“You’re Laura Johnson, aren’t you?” Nancy asked politely when Laura came within earshot.
“That’s right,” she said, a friendly smile curving her lips.
“I’m Nancy Drew, and this is my friend Bess Marvin.” Realizing she needed some way to connect herself, Nancy added, “I guess you could say I’m a part owner of Pied Piper. My father has a quarter interest in the colt.”
“That’s interesting,” Laura murmured, her eyes scanning the crowd.
“I understand you’re Toot Sweet’s owner,” Nancy pursued.
Laura’s lashes swept her cheeks and her lips tightened a fraction. “That’s right.”
“I saw Toot Sweet work out today,” Nancy began, still trying to get the girl’s attention.
“That’s nice. Look, will you excuse me? There’s someone I need to talk to.” With that, Laura headed for the crystal champagne fountain.
“For someone so rich, she obviously never was sent to charm school,” Bess said, shaking her head. “Should we head over to the punch bowl and get something to drink now?” Bess asked. “I’m thirsty.”
“Good idea,” Nancy agreed, her gaze landing briefly on Evan Johnson and Ken McHugh, who were directly in her line of vision. Johnson held a champagne glass in his right hand. At that precise moment the glass suddenly shattered into pieces. Nancy gasped. He’d squeezed it so tightly it had broken!
Blood flowed down Evan’s hand and onto the ballroom’s black-and-white tile floor. A sudden chill made Nancy shiver.
She followed Evan’s gaze, which was still fastened on Ken McHugh. There was murder in his eyes!