Page 9 of No Rules
Ryan frowned. “So if Sam’s Promise hadn’t died, he would’ve been tested, and the EPO would’ve been detected anyway?”
Marilyn nodded. “If he had shown, yes.”
“Shown?”
“Come in first, second, or third place. Other horses are chosen randomly, but the three winners are always tested.”
“Would Sam’s Promise have shown?” Alex asked before Ryan could. He could hardly fault him for that, as it was, once again, a good question.
Marilyn’s eyes filled with tears. “He was in second place when he collapsed. That poor horse raced his heart out for us…and it killed him. I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing something was wrong.”
Sam wrapped his arm around her. “This wasn’t on you, darling. No one saw anything amiss, not even Miguel, and he knew that horse better than anyone.”
Marilyn took a shuddering breath and composed herself. “I apologize. Getting emotional doesn’t help.”
Ryan waved her apology away. “I understand you’re distraught. This was a heavy, personal loss for you. We will do whatever we can to find out the truth. You have my word.”
Marilyn’s expression hardened. “I want justice for Sam’s Promise.”
“Justice is what we’re after,” Ryan assured her, his resolve steeling. By now, he was convinced Marilyn wasn’t involved, which meant some bastard had killed an innocent animal. And Ryan was determined to find out who. “We’ll review the file you gave us and start digging. We’ll be in touch again soon, probably tomorrow. In the meantime, it would help if you could give us a list of names of everyone who works here and anyone else who had access to Sam’s Promise. We’ll also need a timeline of the days leading up to the race.”
“Absolutely. I’ll get right on that.”
Marilyn escorted them outside. Before Ryan got into his car, he took one last look at Marilyn’s sorrowful expression and then turned to Alex. “Let’s get to work.”
3
Ryan might be an asshole and a grouch, but he was an organized one. The bedroom on the second floor of Jesse’s mansion that Ryan had commandeered and turned into his office looked nothing like what Alex would’ve expected from a private investigator. He’d been shocked the first time he’d walked in, and even now that he’d been there a few times, it still jarred him.
It was immaculately organized and spotless, with every surface free from clutter. Neat stacks of colored folders occupied the edge of the desk, the table in the middle of the room was empty, and a massive whiteboard covered most of one wall, black magnets at the bottom waiting to be used. How could a guy who dressed like he only owned three shirts and two pairs of jeans keep a space this tidy? The man truly was an enigma.
No chaos, no full ashtrays, no cigar-smoking PI—though Ryan did have the sarcastic, gruff exterior of one. In that sense, he was almost typecasted, but he’d shown a different side of himself at Marilyn’s. A softer one.
Alex wasn’t sure what to think of that. Was it an act? A mask Ryan put on? Or did he really have a heart buried deep inside the walls he’d built around himself? The compassion and professionalism he’d demonstrated made him seem almost human. It was a refreshing change, but Alex would rather swallow nails than admit it aloud.
“What did you think of Marilyn?” Ryan asked him, pulling Alex from his thoughts. “What were your first impressions?”
Shit, was this some kind of test? He hadn’t known he was supposed to look for something in particular. “She was nice. Distraught, but that’s understandable. That horse meant a lot to her.”
Ryan made an impatient gesture with his hand. “I’m talking about guilt. Did she in any way show she might be guilty?”
“Of killing Sam’s Promise?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
Right. Alex thought back on the conversation, the impression Marilyn had made. “I don’t see a motive for her,” he said slowly.
“Explain.”
“The cops think she did it as an insurance scam, but she has money. Your background research showed that, but you could tell by the state her farm was in. Everything was well-maintained and freshly painted. No signs of decay or lack of upkeep. Plus, she wore a diamond ring.”
“Sam could’ve given that to her.”
“It was too old. Looked like an heirloom ring. And she said the farm had been in her family for many generations and they have a long history in horse racing. Her whole house was filled with pictures of her family, proud people posing next to racehorses. The woman loves what she does. It’s in her blood. That doesn’t sound like someone who would pick such an obvious scheme for money. And she knows way too much about it to choose EPO if she wanted to kill a horse. They check for it, so she would’ve known she’d get caught…” He trailed off when Ryan kept staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you staring?”