Nancy doubted that was the only reason Cam and Thea paid so much attention to each other, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
“There they are,” Cam said as he, Thea, Nancy, and Bess circled the single wooden rail surrounding the track. Cam pointed at the stunning black filly that was thundering toward the back-stretch. She was rapidly approaching the area where they were all standing, her strides eating up the turf. Nancy recognized the redheaded jockey sitting high in the saddle astride her.
Toot Sweet’s muscles gleamed like oiled satin. She looked tough and fit and a match for any of the colts that would be running against her on Derby day.
“Wow,” Bess said, taking a step backward as Toot Sweet swept around the curve, turf kicking up from behind her flashing hooves. Even though the rail separated them from the track, Bess obviously wasn’t taking any chances.
“She looks terrific, Cam,” Thea murmured appreciatively, stepping close to him and away from the girls.
Toot Sweet charged forward, moving toward them. An extra movement beneath her belly suddenly caught Nancy’s eye. The girth had come undone!
“The saddle!” Nancy cried, pointing.
At that moment McHugh pitched forward on Toot Sweet’s neck. Confused, the Thoroughbred pulled sharply to the right, tearing straight toward them.
Bess screamed. Nancy stepped back in horror. A thousand pounds of thundering Thoroughbred was charging out of control. Toot Sweet was about to crash through the rail—straight at Bess and Nancy.
Chapter
Three
NANCY DOVE to the right, pulling Bess with her. Inches from the rail the horse twisted and reared. McHugh and the saddle slid off her back and landed hard in the packed dirt. Frightened, Toot Sweet bolted, zigzagging around the track.
Nancy picked herself up off the ground and helped Bess to her feet. Cam vaulted the rail to help McHugh, who was still lying on the ground.
“Oh, Nancy. What happened?” Bess asked, her voice shaking.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said grimly, climbing over the rail to help Cam.
Thea and Bess were on her heels. “I’ll catch Toot Sweet before she hurts herself,” Thea said.
When Nancy reached Ken McHugh, the jockey was struggling to his feet and dusting himself off.
“What happened?” Cam asked furiously, not bothering to ask if McHugh was all right. “Toot Sweet could have injured herself and you, too!”
“Well, it wasn’t my fault!” McHugh snapped back. “The saddle slipped and the horse went crazy!”
“Why wasn’t the saddle cinched properly?” Cam bit out. “You should have checked it!”
“I did!” McHugh’s face turned as red as his hair. Bending down, he hefted the saddle to his knees. The cinch dragged against the ground. “Somebody must have loosened it. Maybe one of your enemies, Parker,” he added with a sneer.
Cam became very quiet and Nancy’s interest quickened. Had Cam Parker made the kind of enemies who would stoop to killing his jockey?
McHugh dropped the saddle and vaulted the rail. Cam, as if coming out of a trance, muttered, “I should see to Toot Sweet.”
Nancy nodded. Near the other end of the track she could make out Thea and a dozen other track workers finally getting control of the skittish filly. Cam ran in their direction.
“Let’s wait at the barns for them,” Nancy suggested to Bess, who by now had dusted herself off. “I’d like to ask some questions about that loosened cinch. There’s a lot going on here.” At Bess’s confused look, Nancy explained, “Cam was furious until McHugh zinged him with that line about his enemies.”
“What do you think he meant?” Bess wondered.
“I don’t know. But—”
“You intend to find out,” Bess finished for her. “I know, Nancy. I know.”
Nancy smiled to herself. Maybe there actually was a simple explanation for what had happened, but her detective instincts screamed that there was a mystery brewing right there at Churchill Downs. First McHugh’s argument with the guy with the broken nose, then the uncinched girth strap, and now the jockey’s remark about Cam’s enemies.
Bess and Nancy were waiting by Pied Piper’s stall when Thea finally returned, looking very worried. Seeing them, she stopped short, surprised. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about you two.”
“How’s Toot Sweet?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, fine. She’d worked herself into a nervous lather, but Cam’s got her almost calm now. She’s stabled down in barn eight. I don’t understand how McHugh could be so careless,” she added, sounding angry.
It was clear to Nancy that Cam and Thea laid the blame at the jockey’s feet.
Pushing dark strands of hair out of her eyes, Thea said, “Whew! What a day. Why don’t you come with me while I check out another Derby favorite, Flash O’Lightnin’. He’s working out next. Then we still have time to catch a couple of races before we have to get ready for the party.”
“Party?” Bess asked, perking up.
“There’s a big party for racehorse owners, trainers, jockeys, and friends tonight,” Thea explained. She’d been so involved with Pied Piper and the other horses she’d forgotten to tell the girls about the elegant event.
Bess grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Well, let’s go see this Flash horse and make tracks out of here, then.”
She and Nancy walked with Thea across the stable area to the backstretch rail. There were several clusters of people there already. A gray horse was just charging from the gate. Flash O’Lightnin’ looked as fit and hard as Toot Sweet. For a moment, as he tore toward them, Nancy held her breath, afraid that something might happen to Flash and his jockey, too. But the gray horse with the jagged white blaze on its nose galloped around the curve without incident.
“He’s going to be tough to beat,” Thea predicted. “Even for Toot Sweet.”
“Isn’t Pied Piper working out today?” Nancy asked. She was anxious to see how her father’s Thoroughbred compared to the two favorites.
“His workout was this morning. You’ll see him tomorrow,” Thea assured her with a smile.
Only fifty feet away Nancy noticed Ken McHugh, his red hair glowing like a beacon, watching Flash through narrowed eyes. Apparently he also thought the colt would be hard to beat.
Beyond Ken stood a beautiful, friendly-looking, dark-haired girl wearing a full-length mink coat. It was late afternoon and still warm. She must be baking, Nancy thought, wondering why she would bother with the elegant fur.
Just after Flash’s time was announced over the loudspeaker, Nancy heard the girl’s soft laughter. Glancing at her, Nancy noticed that she kept shooting sidelong glances at Ken McHugh.
Nancy had turned to ask Thea who the girl was when Thea muttered under her breath, “Uh-oh. Here comes Eddie Brent. He’s Flash’s owner and trainer, not to mention the owner of Brentwood Stables in California. The guy with him is Ace Hanford, the jockey who just gave Flash his workout. He’s going to ride the colt in the Derby.”
“Why did you say ‘uh-oh’?” asked Bess.
“You’ll see,” Thea said grimly.
Eddie Brent and Ace Hanford were walking over to where they were standing by the back-stretch rail. “Why didn’t you bring out the whip sooner?” Brent demanded of the jockey in a voice loud enough for them all to hear. “Flash was just waiting for you to ask for some speed!”
Ace Hanford stayed calm. He seemed older and more assured than Ken McHugh and Jimmy Harris. Years of working outdoors had etched lines beside his eyes and weathered his skin to a deep bronze. He paid no attention to Eddie Brent’s ranting and raving.
“Did you hear Flash’s time, Thea, my girl?” Eddie Brent asked when he was at her side. “Flash is looking really fine. I’m afraid that horse of yours doesn’t stand a chance.” Brent was grinning from ear to ear.
“We’re gonna grind Toot Sweet in the finish, you just watch,” he continued. “And Pied Piper isn’t even in the running.”
“Guess we’ll ju
st have to prove you wrong, huh?” Thea rejoined, a tight smile barely curving her lips. She pulled Nancy and Bess away as quickly as possible.
“Nice guy,” Bess observed sarcastically.
“Eddie talks big,” Thea said, “but he’s never had a Derby winner. Flash could be the one, though,” she added.
They watched the rest of the races, then checked on Pied Piper once again. By the time Nancy and Bess had left the barns to head back to their hotel, dusk had fallen. The track lights began coming on automatically. Soon it would be dark.
“Isn’t that Ken McHugh?” Bess asked, pointing ahead of her. McHugh was just exiting the stable area gate, a saddle in his hands.
“It sure is. And look, Bess. There’s that girl in the mink coat we saw earlier today.”
The girl was inside the stable area, talking to an older man with silvery hair who was wearing a gray flannel suit.
“Who do you suppose she is?” Bess asked, looking at the girl.
“I don’t know. Bess, would you mind if I talked to McHugh for just a minute? I’d like to ask him about that girth strap.”
“Sure. But make it fast. I don’t want to be late to the party, and I still don’t know what to do with my hair!” she declared, fidgeting with her baseball cap.
“Mr. McHugh?” Nancy called out as he was heading into the parking lot.
He stopped and turned back, eyeing Nancy warily. “Who wants to know?”
“My name’s Nancy Drew. I happened to be standing by the backstretch rail when your saddle uncinched during the workout earlier. I just wondered—”
“Uncinched?” He laughed harshly.
“Do you have any idea how it happened?” Nancy was about to tell McHugh she was a detective and had overheard the heavyset man threatening him earlier, but it wasn’t necessary. McHugh was already holding up the saddle and yanking at the girth strap. He shoved one end of the strap in front of Nancy’s nose.
“Does this look uncinched to you?” he demanded.
Nancy stared at the strap. The leather had been cut three-quarters of the way through. The rest was torn and frayed where it had broken loose.
“Someone cut this,” Nancy said quietly.
McHugh nodded, his nostrils flaring. “You got it right! Someone who wants me dead!”
Chapter
Four
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 br
eeder.” 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.