Murder at the Racetrack by Otto Penzler Page B

the three locations were in a triangle and did not lie along the same route. Leaving the restaurant, she took a different
     road to go to the farm than she would have taken to go home. Unless someone knew that she was on the way to the farm exactly
     at that time, on just that night—was it possible?
    The only people who knew her plans were Mark, Jimmy, Shackel, and perhaps a few of Shackel’s workers. Maybe the veterinarian,
     if there had even been one there, but anyone who was attending the birth of the foal wouldn’t have been able to lie in wait
     for Carlotta. Detective Wade had interviewed the last two people to see her alive. Two restaurant workers, who knew she was
     excited about the birth of the foal, but who had no idea that she had gone toward the horse farm—both thought she was going
     home. Neither had any idea where Shackel Horse Farm was located.
    Eric finally locked the folders away in his safe again and went to bed.
    Sleep eluded him.
    Mark changed the will for a reason, did what he did with the sale of his horses for a reason. He must have suspected Shackel
     or someone connected with Shackel of arranging Carlotta’s fatal accident. Did Mark commit suicide?
    Again the nagging doubts arose, but this time they were based on something more than his inability to believe that Mark would
     abandon Jimmy. If Mark was planning suicide, he would not leave those photos of Carlotta’s death behind, not if there was
     any chance that Jimmy might find them. And suicide did not fit in with his apparent drive to discover what happened to Carlotta.
    Or did Mark feel guilty about her death?
    Not for intentionally causing it, but bringing her closer to someone who did… that might have been hard for him to bear, but
     would he kill himself before seeing her killer brought to justice? Leave Jimmy behind, unaware of what had happened?
    Then he wondered if Jimmy were so unaware after all. He remembered the way he had talked about Shackel, warning Eric to be
     careful.
    He dozed off, but awoke well before dawn. He showered and dressed and made a phone call to a security company he had used
     on other occasions. The regular staff wasn’t in yet, but he was promised a call back as soon as possible.
    He put on a warm jacket and wrote a note for Jimmy, who would be up soon. He walked across the road to Copper Hills, his breath
     fogging in the chill air. Despite the cold and the darkness, grooms and others were already at work in the barn area. He found
     Donna talking to an exercise rider. He waited out of earshot, not wanting to intrude, but she saw him, smiled, and came over
     to where he stood.
    “You’re up early this morning,” she said.
    “Or up late, depending on how you look at it.”
    “Hmm. That doesn’t sound good.”
    “It’s not. I need to talk something over with you—I know this is the worst time of day—”
    She waved this off and invited him into her office. He poured out his story. Although her face registered shock, and then
     sadness, she listened quietly, not interrupting. She stayed quiet for long moments after he stopped talking. He wondered if
     he sounded crazy to her, but nothing in her manner indicated that she was withdrawing from him. This was simply the way she
     dealt with any crisis—she stayed calm, reflective, and did not shout out the first thing that came to mind.
    “Where’s Jimmy?” she asked.
    He glanced at his watch. “He’ll probably be over here in a few minutes.”
    “Then let’s talk again after he goes to school. I don’t want him coming in on the middle of this, do you?”
    “No. In fact—let me call this detective. Maybe I’ve made something out of nothing.”
    “Maybe, but all of it taken together—I think there might be something to this. And I can understand why it kept you up last
     night.” She paused, then said, “You need help getting Mark’s car from the impound yard?”
    “Yes, but I’ve already taken up so much of your time—”
    “I