part0045

Truly baffling, but I managed the ‘up you go’ thing with a bit too much enthusiasm. I would have slipped up, over, and down Maybelline’s opposite side had it not been for the door handle-shaped thingy-ma-bob attached to her saddle. I grabbed hold. “So far, so goo—”

Lord help me—we were moving.

“Hold on tight with your knees,” Piers said.

I held on tight to the thingy-ma-bob with one hand, and the reins with the other, and tried to concentrate on the instructions Piers was giving. Something about or plotting, or posting, or—

“Doing okay?” he called back.

“Uh,” I answered.

He somehow interpreted that as a yes, and before I knew it, we had graduated from something he called ‘trotting, to the far more terrifying ‘cantering.’ And even more terrifying than that? You guessed it—galloping.

“Inside job!” Piers was saying.

“What if Karen’s been here the whole time?”

“In the old gardener’s cottage,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be ironic? If she never actually left the estate?”

“You’re brilliant, Jessie!”

Before I knew it—make that, after a veritable eternity—I spotted Shinkle Creek up ahead.

“We’re close,” Piers said. “The reforestation area is just past—” He gasped. “Lucy and Goosie!”

“Uh?” I continued with the brilliant repartee .

“Of course they never tracked her this far! Wayne made sure of that. He purposely brought their search to an end by spooking Maybelline.”

I heard a splash and glanced down. Maybelline’s front paws—hooves, whatever—were in water up to her—what? Ankles?

I yanked back on the reins, and bless her equine heart, Maybelline stopped.

“Piers!” I shouted, and he and Badger turned.

“What’s wrong?”

No, really. The horse beneath him was wading knee-deep in Shinkle Creek, and the man actually asked that question.

I let go of the thingy-ma-bob to point. “That’s water.”

Piers shrugged as if this altogether terrifying fact was of no consequence whatsoever and tried claiming Maybelline had forded the “little creek” many times. “She and Mother used to—”

“I’m a cat person!”

He studied me. “The path will only get rougher, Jessie. If you’re more comfortable, go back and get the Land Rover.”

No way was I going to give up when we were so close. I took a deep breath, and Maybelline took the plunge into the depths.

I am exceedingly happy to report the depths weren’t that deep. In fact, Shinkle Creek only came up to her knees, or whatever it is Maybelline has down there. Even more good news? Piers slowed down.

“Far be it from me to complain,” I called over, “but why have we slowed down?”

He pointed ahead. “We can’t gallop through the reforestation project,” he told me. “It’s a sure way to lose our footing. Single-file and stay close. ”

“Do not lose your footing,” I ordered Maybelline. “Please,” I added, and she and Badger began picking their way through the underbrush.

“There’s no trail out here,” Piers said, “but this does look trodden.”

Ooo-oh! Big mistake.

Not only was I on a horse, which I do believe I’ve mentioned, but I was also in the woods—where ants and bugs and spiders and other heebie jeebie-inducing creatures—

I took a deep breath and concentrated on whatever Piers was jabbering on about. He was still marveling at the inside job-slash-inside the gate theory.

Who was inside the gate?

“When Karen called me,” I clarified for Maybelline.

“What’s that?” Piers asked.

Jimmy Beak’s report the other night. Wilson and I had focused on who was outside the gate. But what if—

“Why didn’t I think of the gardener’s cottage?” Piers was saying. “This is all my fault.”

Piers had been inside—inside—the gate when Karen called me.

Whoops! Maybelline stepped in a hole.

“Stop blaming yourself,” I called out. “I mean, look at me. I never once thought to ask Caesar about his cottage.”

“Why would you? You had no idea the place existed.”

“Yes, but I’ve been writing about a gardener and his gardener’s cottage all week,” I said. “Mars Covington and his charming hideaway on the outskirts of Griffondale—”

What the heck was I doing? On the farthest outskirts of the Rigby Estate? Alone? With a murder suspect and two horses?

Wilson had warned me, of course. “Don’t get caught alone with anyone,” he said. “Everyone is still a suspect,” he said .

“Safety first,” I said.

I cleared my throat. “Umm, Maybelline stumbled.”

“For Pete’s sake, don’t fall, Jessie. I feel guilty enough as it is.”

“Won’t fall!” I chirped. I tugged at the reins, and Maybelline slowed down to allow a bit of distance—

“Almost there,” Piers called back. He and Badger picked up the pace, and I caught sight of a tiny structure through the trees.

“Wilson is going to kill me,” I whispered to Maybelline.

“What’s that?”

That is, if Pierpont Rigby didn’t beat him to it.

I yanked back on the reins, and Maybelline stopped completely.

I pulled carefully on the right hand rein, and will wonders never cease, Maybelline stepped to the right!

“Steady,” I whispered. Whether I spoke to horse or rider, I can’t be sure, but I kept tugging to the right, and Maybelline kept turning, and—

“Jessie? What are you do—”

I shouted a four-letter word, and Maybelline understood that also. She giddied up and took off!

Well, I tried. I held on tight to the thingy-ma-bob as Maybelline veritably flew through the woods and tried to think of Wilson’s three favorite things—motive, means, and opportunity.

Maybelline sailed over a fallen log. Did we just jump?

Think, Jessie! Was it Piers?

Would that explain Karen’s girlfriend clue? Would that explain Wayne—

Lord help me—Maybelline jumped again.

Wayne Stasson. Why would Piers kill Wayne?

And why wasn’t he chasing me? If Piers were the bad guy, wouldn’t he be chasing—should I stop and look?

Stop!? So the murderer could catch up with me!?

“How is anyone supposed to think straight on top of a horse?” I wailed at Maybelline. “I’m not like Coc—”

I saw Nell coming straight at me.

I shouted a four-letter word, and Maybelline giddied up faster than ever at the same time I tried another right-hand turn, and something swatted me in the face, and—

In case you’re not quite sure, I had fallen.

To the ground. The dirt ground. Where ants and bugs and—I grimaced and rolled to my right.

Oh, ouch! Something really hurt. A slow breath, and I rolled in the other direction.

Okay. A little better.

“Maybelline?” I called out. Make that, whispered out.

But horses must have good ears. She whinnied, and I caught sight of her under a nearby tree, munching on some foliage.

Perfect. I fall and almost kill myself, and Maybelline decides it’s was time for a snack?

Indignant, I sat up.

Ooo-ooh. Bad idea. I almost feinted from the pain and collapsed back down.

Oh, trials! Oh, tribulations!

A horse was still galloping toward me. “Piers?” I whispered.

But I knew it wasn’t Piers. And I knew it wasn’t Badger.

Despite the pain, I curled up into the smallest ball I could and said a little prayer for streng—

“Don’t do it, Coco!” Piers shouted .

I opened one eye, saw horse hoofs overhead, and rolled to the righ—

Ouch! Ouch, ouch, ou—

I heard a thud and another “Ouch!” But that one didn’t come from me.

“Too bad.” Another female voice. “She tried to trample you, girlfriend.”

I turned and looked. “Karen!” I exclaimed-slash-whispered.

She smiled down at me. “Hey, Jess.”

I fought back tears of joy and pain and took in the sight above me. Pierpont Rigby, our handsome hero, sat atop his trusty steed Badger, but he held the reins with only one hand, because the other was thoroughly occupied holding his lady onto the saddle with him. His lady, the lovely Karen Sembler, had lost her ubiquitous work boots, and her bare feet dangled over Badger’s flank.

“The two of you look just like Alexis Wynsome and Rolfe Vanderhorn atop their white stallion,” I observed.

“Badger’s a bay,” Piers reminded me.

I spoke to Karen. “Your bodice is even torn.”

“It’s a tee-shirt, girlfriend. I haven’t changed clothes in a week.”

“So what!” Piers said gleefully. “You’re beautiful!”

“She looks like hell warmed over, Pee-Pie.” Oh, yes—Coco. I had almost forgotten about Coco.

But who cared about Coco? I focused on Karen. Karen! “Safe and sound,” I asked her.

“Mostly.” She pointed at me. “But what about you, Jess? What’s going on with your shoulder?”

I shifted my head to take a peek and broke into a cold sweat. “I think I broke something,”