Murder at the Racetrack by Otto Penzler Page A

actually led into the trailer and that Donna Freepoint
     did not meet with physical harm. The daughter of a retired trainer, she was a slender, athletic blonde in her early thirties,
     who had a no-nonsense air about her. Eric found her incredibly attractive and completely out of reach. Not only was he sure
     the difference of perhaps as much as ten years between their ages would make him seem too old to her, he was certain his ignorance
     of horses doomed whatever slight chance he might have. And because he was almost always (eventually) honest with himself,
     he owned up to the fact that she had not shown the slightest degree of romantic interest in him.
    He saw her watching as Shackel followed him out of the office, still shouting, and so he did his best to appear completely
     unruffled. This was not easy, given Shackel’s rage, and only the thought that she might need him to defend her kept him from
     hurrying away from the man.
    She managed to silence Shackel with one look, and Eric realized that not even the burly driver of the transport truck, who
     had just come to her side, was going to need to intervene on her behalf.
    Although Eric had seen a number of horses being ridden or walked around the track grounds, when he saw the big dark horse
     being led toward them, he suddenly felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. There was something… some something about this
     horse that made Zuppa Inglese stand out. He was tall, but not really more of a giant than some of the other big horses in
     the stables. Well, now that Eric looked around, he wasn’t any bigger than average. He just
seemed
taller. He held himself differently, Eric decided. He had an attitude.
    Zuppa Inglese let Donna look him over without making a fuss, even letting her pull his lip to take a quick look inside his
     mouth. “The tattoo checks—he’s your colt,” she said to Eric, further baffling him. Shackel took offense at this, and tried
     to come nearer, but the horse flattened his ears and tried to nip at him.
    Shackel evaded the colt’s teeth and turned to Donna. “The track lip reader not good enough for you?”
    “Don’t worry, everything will be done by the rule book,” she said. She smiled at Shackel in a way that seemed designed to
     further infuriate him.
    A moment later, a pair of Shackel’s workers tried to approach to help load the horse, and Zuppa Inglese tossed his head at
     one and kicked at the other. “I’ll do it,” Donna said, and led the horse up the ramp without further incident.
    “Go on ahead, Mr. Halsted,” she told Eric when this operation was completed. “We’ll see you at Copper Hills.”
    Mr. Halsted. He refused to let himself sigh in disappointment.
    So he began the long drive to Copper Hills Farms, where Jimmy was waiting. Even before Eric had met Donna Free-point, he had
     been pleased with the place. He had visited it twice to make arrangements for Zuppa Inglese’s transfer, and he liked it even
     better now that he had spent time with Shackel. Copper Hills was well equipped—or so Jimmy had said—but it wasn’t showy. The
     grounds were clean and neat, and obviously well-cared-for. The staff was smaller than Shackel’s, but they struck Eric as being
     friendlier. Which was just the sort of observation that would probably make Jimmy roll his eyes.
    At twelve, Jimmy was an expert eye-roller and had a repertoire of other facial expressions designed to let Eric know he didn’t
     think much of his uncle’s intelligence. This was a novel experience for Eric, who held advanced degrees in engineering. He
     also held eleven lucrative patents for robotic devices in use in a variety of manufacturing applications. He knew most other
     people didn’t want to hear about his “widgets,” as Mark had called them. He had wealth from those widgets, though, and had
     been generous with his younger brother and his family. Not that they had ever tried to sponge off him. There had been no need.
    Mark and