Free Murder at the Racetrack by Otto Penzler Page A

that doesn’t matter now.”
    Eric wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this. He turned to Donna. “Did Carlotta mention this to you?”
    “Carlotta didn’t like Shackel. Said the more she got to know him, the more he gave her the creeps. She wanted Mark to move
     the horses here. But he didn’t agree, and I have to say I totally understand why he didn’t. First, that’s not the kind of
     change anyone makes without a lot of thought. Second, not smart to make someone your trainer on the basis of a friendship.
     Third, I have a famous trainer for a father, but that hasn’t won me the trust of horsemen. As long as my dad was still around
     here to keep an eye on things, people figured he was the real reason the horses I trained won. Once he retired…” She shrugged.
    “Carlotta always had good business sense,” Eric said. “So I doubt she would have made the decision on an emotional basis.
     Over the years, I noticed she could usually convince Mark to change his mind if she thought he was making a bad decision.”
    “They got mad at each other about it,” Jimmy said.
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Donna said. “But when it came to Shackel, your mom didn’t have more to go on than a gut feeling.
     She knew your dad would need more than that to end a long working relationship—and Shackel didn’t have a bad record with your
     dad’s horses. They were doing well. You know that, Jimmy.”
    “I also know that sometimes people are wrong about other people. They get fooled. Shackel fools people.” In a quieter voice,
     he added, “He fooled my dad.”
    Eric said, “Maybe not, Jimmy. Maybe selling all his other horses was a way for your dad to have less to do with Shackel.”
    “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He was just… you know, giving up.”
    Although Eric had thought this same thing, he found he didn’t want Jimmy to look at it this way. “Then why keep Zuppa Inglese?”
    “Who knows?” he said. “He did all kinds of crazy stuff after Mom died.”
    “Did he know you didn’t like Shackel?”
    “Yeah. We used to fight about it, too, before Mom died.
    After that—well, we tried not to fight about anything after she died.” He pressed his palms to his eyes, then took a deep
     breath.
    “I think maybe he was moving away from Shackel, Jimmy,” Eric said. “Think about what he added to his will about Zuppa. He
     didn’t tell me to ’do what Shackel says.’ He trusted you, and you just told me he knew you didn’t like Shackel. We’re here
     at Copper Hills because he knew you’d have the strength to take Zuppa to the best trainer. I think he knew you’d bring him
     here.”
    Jimmy looked up at him and said, “You think so? ”
    “Sure.”
    After a moment, Jimmy said, “Maybe people will finally catch on about Shackel.”
    “If Zuppa Inglese suddenly starts winning races,” Donna said, “people are definitely going to have questions about him.”
    Eric thought about this for a moment, then said, “Excuse me, but why would someone want a horse he was training to lose races?”
    “With a juvenile—a two-year-old horse—probably betting odds,” she said. “But I don’t think it can ever really be worth it.”
    Horses might not be Eric’s specialty, but probability and statistics were not foreign territory. “Oh, I see… so, he waits
     to place a bet when the odds are favorable, when he knows that whatever has been slowing Zuppa down is no longer in the horse’s
     system.”
    “Yes, and when Zuppa’s being put in company that Shackel knows he can beat.”
    “Hmm. You think he’s doing this with drugs?”
    “Maybe,” Donna said. “Or sponging—putting a sponge far up in the horse’s nostril before he races.”
    “Good God…” Eric said, appalled.
    “It can kill a horse, but it doesn’t show up in a drug test. Even a drug—drug testing is done on a limited basis. Horses can
     be slowed in a number of ways, and not all of them show up in blood