Page 21 of No Rules
“But that would’ve made the payout low,” Alex piped up. “Because the odds were in his favor.”
“True, but you can still make good money. If you bet ten grand and the odds are one in three, you still make twenty grand. Or people will bet an exacta or a trifecta.”
Thanks to Alex’s research, Ryan knew those were terms for betting on the exact horses who came in first and second, or first, second, and third. And those odds would’ve been more lucrative if they’d gotten them right.
“So it’s safe to say that with the death of Sam’s Promise, a lot of people lost money,” Alex said.
“Yes. And we’re talking big sums,” Tom confirmed.
Ryan saw where Alex was going with that. If people had lost that much money, they’d be pissed as hell at Marilyn if they found out she’d killed her horse. “When you heard about the EPO, what did you think?”
Tom’s mouth set in a hard line. “I thought it was bullshit. Pardon my French. I figured the pathologist had made an error. No one in their right mind would use EPO, not for a high-profile race like this, where they know the winners will have to give urine and blood samples.”
“You didn’t think Marilyn might’ve been involved?”
“Absolutely out of the question.” Tom’s eyes were blazing as he leaned forward. “That woman lives and breathes horses. They’re her whole life and her whole legacy. And she treats them better than anyone I know. She won’t even allow her jockeys to use a riding crop.”
“I thought they all used one.” Ryan had seen the footage from the race and, holy shit, it had been brutal to witness that beautiful horse go down. He’d watched it several times until he’d been sick to his stomach.
“Strict regulations dictate how often you can use a crop and during which part of the race, though they vary per state and sometimes per track. But Marilyn wouldn’t allow her jockeys to use one at all. She insisted on treating her horses well, and she considered using a crop abuse.” Tom’s eyes softened. “You can’t tell me a woman like that would kill her horse in such a horrific way.”
On that, Ryan had to agree. It seemed completely out of character. “Have you both met Sam?”
Gayle seemed taken aback. “Of course we have. He’s been Marilyn’s partner for five years now.”
Hmm, they had no issue with the age gap, then? “Do they seem happy to you? Are there any relational problems you’re aware of?”
Gayle and Tom shared a look. “Look,” Gayle said. “People have opinions on their relationship for sure because of their age difference, and from how you phrased your question, it seems you’re one of them.”
Oops. Maybe Gayle wasn’t quite as innocent as Ryan had thought. She’d picked up on that easy enough. “I didn’t mean to imply judgment.”
Gayle waved her hand. “Oh, I’m sure you did, but you’re not the only one. When she and Sam got together, everyone and their mother had an opinion. People called him a gold digger and her a cougar.” Gayle made a face. “Such a demeaning term. They fell in love. Yes, there’s an age difference, but in the end, does it matter? They love each other, and they’re both way above the age of consent. Other than that, it’s nobody else’s business, now is it?”
The latter was said with a sharp look at Ryan, who covered a smile behind his hand. Not quite as sweet as he’d reckoned, but he was starting to like her, which was unexpected. “I can’t argue with you there.”
“I didn’t think you would, considering you’re living with Jesse.”
Did they know what was going on inside his house? That would surprise Ryan. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Gayle chuckled. “We know the kind of club Jesse owns, Mr. Mason. And we noticed when your team moved in…and stayed. The details we can fill in ourselves.”
Jesus, had he pegged her wrong. He’d written her off as a sweet but somewhat dumb rich housewife, but she had far more spunk than he’d given her credit for. “Feel free to use your imagination.” He winked at her, and her giggle strangely delighted him.
He grew serious again. “If you had to take a guess at who was behind this, what would you say?”
Tom stroked his chin, his forehead marred with deep lines. “Gayle and I have discussed little else since we found out. Here’s the thing. We can’t think of anyone. I’m sure Marilyn mentioned Caroline Fletcher to you. Well, that woman is vile, and a viper, and I wouldn’t trust her further than I could throw her, but do I think she’s capable of this? No. She’s ruthlessly ambitious, but she takes care of her horses. Literally, the only thing she and Marilyn see eye to eye on is that horses should be treated well. That’s why I doubt she has anything to do with this…though you should still pay her a visit.”
Ryan had already planned to do so, though he’d hoped to talk to Caroline Fletcher first. He liked going in with a blank mind and without preformed opinions. Alas, Caroline hadn’t been willing to clear her schedule for Ryan—not that he could blame her, as she was under no legal or moral obligation to speak to a private investigator—and wouldn’t have time for him until the next week. It was what it was.
“And other than her, you can’t think of anyone who’d wish Marilyn harm?” he asked.
The couple shared another thoughtful look, then shook their heads in unison.
“When it happened, can you remember anyone reacting strangely? Anything that stood out from how others responded?”
“That whole moment is a blur. I was so shocked, so upset…” Gayle shook her head. “I couldn’t believe it, you know? So I don’t even remember anything else. We wanted to comfort Marilyn, but we couldn’t get to her. Security had closed things off immediately. Understandable, under the circumstances, but it killed me that I couldn’t be there for her.”
Tom made a hmm in agreement. “Everyone was in shock. Accidents happen at the track, and it wasn’t the first time we saw a horse die. But this was so unexpected, so gruesome… I think everyone wanted to get to Marilyn and tell her how sorry they were. She’s well-liked.”