Part 4 (1/2)
”The worst,” the woman said. ”Jane Lennox called today. She's thinking of putting Park Lane with
another trainer. I talked her out of it.” ”I'm sure you did. You're very persuasive, Paris.” ”This is America. You're supposed to be innocent until proven guilty.” ”Innocent always if you're rich or beautiful or charming.” ”Don is beautiful and charming, and everyone believes he's guilty.” ”Like O.J. was guilty? He's playing golf and f.u.c.king white women.” ”What a thing to say!” ”It's true. And Jade has a barn full of horses. Americans . . .” Disdain. ”I'm an American, V.” An edge to the tone. ”Do you want to call me stupid?” ”Paris . . .” Smarmy contrition. ”Stupid Americans buy your horses and line your pockets. You should show more respect. Or does that just prove how stupid we are?” ”Paris . . .” Smarmier contrition. ”Don't be angry with me. I don't want you angry with me.” ”No, you don't.” A Jack Russell terrier came sniffing around the corner then and stared at me while he raised his leg and peed on a bale of hay, considering whether or not to blow my cover. The leg went down and the dog went off like a car alarm. I stood where I was.
The woman called out: ”Milo! Milo, come here!”
Milo stood his ground. He bounced up and down like a wind-up toy every time he barked.
The woman rounded the corner, looking surprised to see me. She was blond and pretty in dark breeches and a green polo s.h.i.+rt with a couple of gold necklaces showing at the throat. She flashed a thousand-watt toothpaste-ad smile that was nothing more than jaw muscles flexing.
”Sorry. He thinks he's a Rottweiler,” she said, scooping up the Russell. ”Can I help you?”
”I don't know. I'm looking for someone. I was told she works for Don Jade. Erin Seabright?”
”Erin? What do you want with her?”
”This is kind of awkward,” I said. ”I heard she was looking for another job. I have a friend in the market for a groom. You know how it is during the season.”
”Do I ever!” She gave a dramatic, put-upon sigh, rolling the big brown eyes. An actress. ”We're looking
too. Erin quit, I'm sad to say.”
”Really? When was that?”
”Sunday. Left us high and dry. Found something more interesting up in Ocala, I guess. Don tried to talk
her out of it, but he said her mind was made up. I was sorry to hear it. I liked Erin, but you know how
flighty these girls can be.” ”Huh. I'm surprised. The way I understood it, she wanted to stay in the Wellington area. Did she leavean address-to have her paycheck sent?”
”Don paid her before she left. I'm Don's a.s.sistant trainer, by the way. Paris Montgomery.” Keeping the
dog tucked against her, she held a hand out and shook mine. She had a strong grip. ”And you are . . . ?”
”Elle Stevens.” A name I had used undercover in my past life. It fell off my tongue without hesitation.
”So, she left Sunday. Was that before or after Stellar went down?”
The smile died. ”Why would you ask that?”
”Well . . . a disgruntled employee leaves and suddenly you lose a horse-”
”Stellar bit through an electrical cord. It was an accident.”
I shrugged. ”Hey, what do I know? People talk.”
”People don't know s.h.i.+t.”
”Is there a problem here?”
The man stepped into the picture. Mid-fifties, tall and elegant with silver temples highlighting a full head of
dark hair. He wore a stern, aristocratic expression, pressed tan slacks, a pink Lacoste knit s.h.i.+rt, and ablack silk ascot at his throat. ”Not at all,” I said. ”I was just looking for someone.” ”Erin,” Paris Montgomery said to him. ”Erin?” ”Erin. My groom. The one that left.” He made a sour face. ”That girl? She's good for nothing. What would you want with her?” ”Doesn't matter,” I said. ”She's gone.” ”What's your friend's name?” Paris asked. ”In case I hear of someone.” ”Sean Avadon. Avadonis Farm.” The man's cold blue eyes brightened. ”He has some very nice horses.”
”Yes, he does.”
”You work for him?” he asked.
I supposed I did look like hired help with my hacked-off hair, old jeans, and work boots. ”He's an old
friend. I'm leasing a horse from him until I can find what I'm looking for.”