didn’t seem unduly surprised or worried. Shootings were commonplace.
‘I’ve come to pick up Ryder’s horses.’
That was quick, I thought. Hayden Ryder hadn’t yet been dead for four hours and someone was already here to take away his horses.
‘Where are you taking them?’ I asked.
‘Chattanooga.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Tennessee,’ said the driver. ‘Three hundred miles south.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Is this going to last long? I’ll have to get going by midday at the
latest, or I’m stuck here overnight. I’d be out of hours.’
I looked at the side of his truck. ‘CHATTANOOGA HORSE TRANSPORT’ was painted in large black letters on the white side of the trailer.
‘Have you come from Chattanooga this morning?’ I asked him.
‘Sure have,’ he said. ‘I’ve been on the road since five.’
‘Five this morning?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Made really good time up I-65 from Nashville.’
‘How many horses are you collecting?’
‘A full load,’ he said. ‘Fifteen for me. There’s another truck behind me for another nine.’
All twenty-four horses.
Hayden Ryder’s whole barn of Thoroughbreds would have been shipped out of Churchill Downs 300 miles south to Chattanooga only three days before the planned FACSA raid.
Could that be a coincidence?
I didn’t like coincidences.
‘When were you booked for this trip?’ I asked the driver.
‘Yesterday,’ he said. ‘Rush job. I’ve had to postpone a trip down to Tampa to fit it in.’
‘Which racetrack are you taking the horses to?’
‘It’s not a racetrack – there’s no horseracing at all in Tennessee. They’re going to Jasper, west of Chattanooga. To a horse farm.’
No horseracing in Tennessee.
How convenient, I thought.
There would be no state racing commission to authorise any testing. And Jasper might be far enough away not to bother to send someone from Louisville.
‘Do you have a name?’ I asked the driver.
‘Elvis,’ he said.
I laughed.
‘It’s true. Elvis O’Mally. My dad came over to Tennessee from Ireland as a boy. He was a huge fan of the King.’
‘Well, Elvis,’ I said, ‘you wait here. I’ll try and find out when you can get the horses.’
I wandered a little away from his listening ears and called Tony on the non-smart phone.
‘I can’t talk,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m in a meeting with the mayor.’
‘Don’t hang up,’ I replied quickly. ‘Listen. Two horse trailers have arrived here to collect all Hayden Ryder’s horses and take them to Tennessee. The trailers left
Chattanooga at five o’clock this morning. They were booked yesterday.’
I allowed time for the significance of the information to sink in.
‘And another thing,’ I said. ‘Norman knows.’
‘Knows what?’ Tony said.
‘He knows the real reason why I’m here. I had to tell him or I’d have been arrested.’
Or shot.
‘I’ll get back there as soon as I can,’ Tony said.
He hung up.
I walked back to Elvis the driver, who had climbed down from his cab.
‘You’ll have to wait,’ I said.
‘For how long?’
Good question.
Tony returned shortly after midday, by which time Elvis and his fellow Chattanooga Horse Transport driver had given up waiting.
‘It’s a damn shame,’ Elvis had said. ‘I should have been sunning myself on the beach in Tampa, not hanging around up here.’ He climbed up into his cab.
‘I’ll be back tomorrow morning for this lot.’
I doubted it.
I wasn’t certain what would happen now to the twenty-four horses still standing in the barn, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be going to Jasper, Tennessee.
It would be up to their owners to find them new trainers, either here at Churchill Downs or at another track.
Elvis was backing up his truck. I went over and banged on the driver’s door. He lowered the window.
‘What time yesterday did your trip to Tampa get postponed?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, uninterested. ‘Must have been in the
‘I’ve come to pick up Ryder’s horses.’
That was quick, I thought. Hayden Ryder hadn’t yet been dead for four hours and someone was already here to take away his horses.
‘Where are you taking them?’ I asked.
‘Chattanooga.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Tennessee,’ said the driver. ‘Three hundred miles south.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Is this going to last long? I’ll have to get going by midday at the
latest, or I’m stuck here overnight. I’d be out of hours.’
I looked at the side of his truck. ‘CHATTANOOGA HORSE TRANSPORT’ was painted in large black letters on the white side of the trailer.
‘Have you come from Chattanooga this morning?’ I asked him.
‘Sure have,’ he said. ‘I’ve been on the road since five.’
‘Five this morning?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Made really good time up I-65 from Nashville.’
‘How many horses are you collecting?’
‘A full load,’ he said. ‘Fifteen for me. There’s another truck behind me for another nine.’
All twenty-four horses.
Hayden Ryder’s whole barn of Thoroughbreds would have been shipped out of Churchill Downs 300 miles south to Chattanooga only three days before the planned FACSA raid.
Could that be a coincidence?
I didn’t like coincidences.
‘When were you booked for this trip?’ I asked the driver.
‘Yesterday,’ he said. ‘Rush job. I’ve had to postpone a trip down to Tampa to fit it in.’
‘Which racetrack are you taking the horses to?’
‘It’s not a racetrack – there’s no horseracing at all in Tennessee. They’re going to Jasper, west of Chattanooga. To a horse farm.’
No horseracing in Tennessee.
How convenient, I thought.
There would be no state racing commission to authorise any testing. And Jasper might be far enough away not to bother to send someone from Louisville.
‘Do you have a name?’ I asked the driver.
‘Elvis,’ he said.
I laughed.
‘It’s true. Elvis O’Mally. My dad came over to Tennessee from Ireland as a boy. He was a huge fan of the King.’
‘Well, Elvis,’ I said, ‘you wait here. I’ll try and find out when you can get the horses.’
I wandered a little away from his listening ears and called Tony on the non-smart phone.
‘I can’t talk,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m in a meeting with the mayor.’
‘Don’t hang up,’ I replied quickly. ‘Listen. Two horse trailers have arrived here to collect all Hayden Ryder’s horses and take them to Tennessee. The trailers left
Chattanooga at five o’clock this morning. They were booked yesterday.’
I allowed time for the significance of the information to sink in.
‘And another thing,’ I said. ‘Norman knows.’
‘Knows what?’ Tony said.
‘He knows the real reason why I’m here. I had to tell him or I’d have been arrested.’
Or shot.
‘I’ll get back there as soon as I can,’ Tony said.
He hung up.
I walked back to Elvis the driver, who had climbed down from his cab.
‘You’ll have to wait,’ I said.
‘For how long?’
Good question.
Tony returned shortly after midday, by which time Elvis and his fellow Chattanooga Horse Transport driver had given up waiting.
‘It’s a damn shame,’ Elvis had said. ‘I should have been sunning myself on the beach in Tampa, not hanging around up here.’ He climbed up into his cab.
‘I’ll be back tomorrow morning for this lot.’
I doubted it.
I wasn’t certain what would happen now to the twenty-four horses still standing in the barn, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be going to Jasper, Tennessee.
It would be up to their owners to find them new trainers, either here at Churchill Downs or at another track.
Elvis was backing up his truck. I went over and banged on the driver’s door. He lowered the window.
‘What time yesterday did your trip to Tampa get postponed?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, uninterested. ‘Must have been in the
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