I sat next to the young man who slumped in the wooden chair across from Jill, Liz leaning against the deputy’s desk with her arms crossed over her chest. I glanced anxiously at the reception area, spotting Rose on the phone, and knew Robert would be back at any moment if her pinched expression and hissing conversation told me anything.
Yeah, told me everything.
Jill didn’t seem concerned by the nasty piece of work at the front desk playing tattle tale, however, as she conducted the interview that had Jimmy—sorry, Edward—nodding in dejected agreement.
“Agent Michaud is right,” he said, lips thinned in what sounded like a mix of anger and bitter acceptance. “I’m Edward Worth.” He made that sound like the worst burden in the world. What could make him not want to be himself? To hide who he really was?
“Mr. Worth,” my deputy friend said, writing notes as her phone recorded the interview, “can you tell me why it is you’ve been lying about your identity?”
From Liz’s expression she already knew. Nice of her to keep me in the dark, grumble, mumble. I held that frustration in check as Jimmy/Edward shrugged, rubbing one upper arm with the opposite hand, like a little boy caught being a very bad child and only sorry because he’d been cornered and forced to admit the truth. “Because I’ve been banned from the show circuit,” he said, “and the only way I could ride was to try to hide who I really am.”
Liz shifted her position, dropping her hands to the tops of her thighs, a faint trace of empathy on her face. Yup, she’d known all right. Didn’t seem to judge him for it, though. “You had to know someone was going to figure it out.” Liz didn’t sound as if she was going to call him to task for lying, that instead she was more sympathetic than I’d been expecting. Her statement still had him sighing.
“I thought I could get away with it.” He looked up, met her eyes with his own brown ones. “It was worth the risk, you know?” Liz nodded while, still in the dark, I waited for him to go on. “I stayed out of the limelight, changed my hair, my eye color.” He glanced at me, then. “You don’t ride, do you?” I shook my head, bemused. “So you don’t get it. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” He returned his attention to Liz who obviously did. “I was kicked out over five years ago and I’ve grown up a lot since then. Maybe I was kidding myself, but I had to try.”
Liz’s lips tightened. “It’s not the same, is it? Riding less than the best.”
His face twisted. He didn’t answer, just hunched miserably with his eyes now downcast.
“Why were you banned?” Jill waited patiently, like she always did, for his answer while he hummed and hawed and seemed to ponder what exactly he was going to say before visibly giving up any attempt to gloss things over and squaring his shoulders at last.
“I cheated,” he finally blurted. “Melina was my coach.” He sounded like that hurt to admit, like he blamed her, even. “I was riding well, the best of my life. Then my horse got hurt.” His lower lip caught between his teeth, voice shaking with emotion when he went on. “You’re right, about riding horses of that quality. There’s nothing like it. Not having that sort of athlete as your partner?” He shook his head. “I might as well have quit then and there. I didn’t have any options, so I made a bad decision I’ve been paying for ever since.” His hands clenched in his lap. “It was give him something to keep him in the game long enough to qualify or forfeit. So I drugged him.”
“And got caught.” Liz was so matter-of-fact Jimmy/Edward seemed to take it like she was almost on his side.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said. “It was Melina’s idea. But as the rider, I’m responsible for my horse’s drug test. That’s the rules. She swore to me they wouldn’t catch the dosing, that it was a one-time thing and I’d be fine. She was wrong.” Bitter, yup.
“You realize that gives you an excellent motive for murder.” I did my best to keep my own voice as low and level as Jill, as Liz and seemed to succeed because Jimmy/Edward kept talking.
“I chose the center because Alphonse Brunbaugh was head coach,” he said. “I’d never ridden with him before, so I figured I could hide who I was.” He tossed his hands before going back to that huddled, lost posture he’d worn since we’d sat him down. Part of me felt maternal, wanted to brush the bits of dirt and straw from his dark hair, the front of his shirt while I held myself tight and controlled against the itch in my fingers to stroke the bangs back from his forehead.
Seriously. My mommy instincts could shove it.
“But Alphonse lost his position,” Liz said.
His heavy nod was filled with regret. “As soon as I realized Melina was taking his place I knew my plan wasn’t going to work. Likely wouldn’t have anyway. I just…” he looked around at the three of us, imploring, hurting. “Horses are everything to me, showjumping my life. And I couldn’t live with the fact I’d never be able to compete again after one stupid mistake.”
I did feel sorry for him, wished there was something I could do. While accepting there was a good chance he killed Melina. Fitting end to the coach who killed his career, right? Though, where did he get his hands on ketamine? Did he steal it from Gretchen?
“I expected her to turn me in immediately,” he said, misery so apparent I finally did reach out and pat his knee. Fee, get a grip already. But it served the interrogation well, because he turned to me then, tears in his eyes. “She was blackmailing me, making me do things for her.”
“Things?” I asked the question kindly, mind racing over possibilities.
He hesitated then spoke. “She had me doping other rider’s horses. Sneaking into the stalls at night and giving them mild doses of anesthesia so they’d have performance issues the next day.”
Wasn’t that one of the side effects of ketamine? That meant he had access to the drug and the syringes. Another bump up for him on the suspect list.
“Mr. Worth,” Jill said, “you do realize you’re the one with the history of drugging your horse. Melina Canty’s record is clean. So it sounds very much like you’re blaming someone who has no history of wrongdoing for something you’ve been proven to have done. And now you’ve given us excellent reason to believe you have a motive for her murder.”
He twitched, eyes huge. “Wait, no, that’s not right. I didn’t kill her, I swear it.” He turned to me again. Did Jimmy/Edward see me as an ally? I wasn’t going to disabuse him of that notion if it meant we got more information from him. “But I do have proof she was guilty of doping.” I nodded to encourage him to go on. “I know where she hid her stash.”
“Where were you when Melina was killed, Jimmy?” Let him believe I cared. I was okay with that because I kind of did. Neither of my fellow officers complained about the rapport I’d created with my mothering, so I let the young man beside me answer with only the barest amount of guilt.
“Breaking into Melina’s office,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Looking for something, anything, to stop her from blackmailing me. I’d decided to leave, go home. Quit riding. I just wanted out. But she was going to have me arrested. That is, until I found where she was keeping the drugs she gave me to dope the horses.” He sat up a bit straighter. “I erased the footage, but I kept a copy.” Learned that from Charlie, did he? “I can share it with you.” He hesitated then rushed on. “There’s a false bottom on the last, lowest drawer of her desk. Press the keyhole and it releases a little hatch.” Good to know. “I was going to turn it over to Gretchen, I swear. And then go home.”
Robert had the sort of timing that irritation is made of, storming into the office just as Jimmy was wrapping up. He joined us in a stomping huff, a bit out of breath as if he’d hustled for the first time in his life to get to us, glaring around at the three of us like we’d purposely cut him out. Well, we had, I guess, except we were just doing our jobs, weren’t we?
Before he could make a further idiot of himself, Jill spoke.
“Mr. Worth, we have to confirm your statement, but I’m going to hold you for now while we investigate what you told us. Do you understand?”
Jimmy/Edward didn’t argue. Jill met my eyes for a second, a slight widening and then a flickered glance toward the door telling me what I needed to know. I slipped out while she let Robert manhandle the kid into the first cell, Liz ducking out behind me.
It was a fast, quiet ride to the center, a rapid speed walk race to Melina’s office. I beat Liz just by a half a step but she grinned and let me go first, handing me a glove which slid over my hand while sitting swiftly in the dead coach’s chair. I pressed the lock on the lower drawer as instructed and heard the satisfying click, sliding the whole mess open to find the hatch had released, as promised. Whistling softly while Liz took a photo.
Jimmy hadn’t lied. The false bottom was lined with syringes and small vials. I lifted one out, turned the label into the light and exhaled a breath I felt like I’d been holding since the young, banned rider told us about this hiding place.
“Ketamine,” Liz said out loud.
But did this mean Jimmy/Edward was our murderer or that someone else got to Melina Canty first? Someone who knew what she was up to?
***