Page 13 of No Rules
A petite woman in her mid-thirties with wavy auburn hair tied in a loose ponytail waited for them at the entrance. “Hey there! You must be Ryan and Alex. I’m Daisy.”
Her handshake was firm. “Ryan Mason.”
She shook Alex’s hand as well, then tilted her head. “What are you looking for here?”
“We were hoping you could give us a tour of the place and fill us in on some of the history. I want to get an impression of horse racing, since we’re unfamiliar with this world.”
“Of course! I’d be happy to show you around. Please put these visitor badges on so security will know you’ve been cleared.”
They clipped the badges on and followed Daisy into the inner sanctum of the track. Their footsteps echoed through the empty area, the stands looming above them. The silence was heavy, almost a little eerie. Kinda like Ryan imagined one of those abandoned amusement parks would feel like.
“The racing season here lasts from mid-July to early September. We have various types of races, like stakes, allowance, claiming, and maiden special weight races,” Daisy explained. “There are several tracks at Saratoga, including the main dirt track, the turf course, and the steeplechase course, plus various chutes.”
“What’s a chute?” Ryan asked.
Daisy pointed to one of the tracks. “See that? That’s a chute. An extension of the main track that allows for straighter and longer races. It eliminates the need to start a race on a turn, which can be difficult for horses.”
She showed them the various tracks and the betting windows, and then they walked to a closed-off area with endless rows of stalls where the horses were stabled before and after a race. This part of the track wasn’t empty. Various jockeys leading horses to or from a training track passed them and people were milling around. The scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the air, mingling with the unmistakable aroma of horses.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the numerous security cameras strategically placed on walls, in corners, and even high up on poles, their sleek black domes and tinted lenses resembling the unblinking eyes of some mechanical predator. Security was much tighter than Ryan had expected, but then again, these horses were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not more.
“Who’s in charge of the track?”
“The New York Racing Association, or NYRA, owns and operates the Saratoga Race Course. They’re responsible for managing and overseeing everything related to the track. We have several managers who each manage a part, like hospitality, logistics, medical care, you name it.”
Ryan gestured at a jockey walking a horse. “I thought the track was closed?”
Daisy shrugged. “In the after season, we still have some horses who train here. Mostly locals.”
When they’d circled back to where they’d started, they stopped. “I’m sure you have an opinion on what happened to Sam’s Promise,” Ryan said.
“It’s awful. Just awful. That poor horse. He was so beautiful, so graceful…” Daisy shook her head. “He had a bright future ahead of him. Would’ve won Marilyn a lot of races.”
“You think so?”
She chuckled. “It’s my job to know, and yes, I do. He was one of those once-in-a-lifetime horses. Truly special.”
Hmm, that brought a new perspective. “You’re saying whoever did this must’ve had it out for Marilyn. They must’ve picked this horse deliberately.”
“For sure. He was the best she’d ever had and, of course, even more special because he was named after Sam. And she lost everything because Sam’s Promise died. Not only will the insurance not pay out unless she’s cleared of all wrongdoing, but it cost her her reputation. She’s ruined.”
“Can you think of anyone who’d want to do this to her?”
Daisy was quiet for a long time. “I’ve asked myself that question so many times. Who could do this? All I can think is that it has to be someone who hates horses. Or at least, who doesn’t love them. Because no horse lover would ever do something as heinous as this.”
“Thank you so much for your time.” Ryan shook her hand again. “We appreciate it. Is it okay if we walk around for a bit?”
Daisy hesitated. “You’re not supposed to, but I guess since hardly anyone is here, it’s okay. Anything to help Marilyn.”
“Thank you.”
Daisy walked off, and Ryan turned to Alex. “Impressions?”
“The part about Sam’s Promise expecting to earn a lot of money was new to me. I mean, we knew he was good, but I hadn’t realized he was an almost guaranteed winner.”
He was a good listener, better than Ryan had given him credit for. “Agreed. It also drove home that this feels personal, like a vendetta.”
“Which begs the question, who hated Marilyn enough to hurt her like this?”