problem. She knew where she had to be. Third stall from the left. Poking her head out of it, watching intently, was a two-year-old filly named Fullerton Avenue, who had been just recently donated to the Carmel vet school by her Chicago owner after being injured in training, an injury that would prevent her from ever competing on the racetrack. Thus, her retirement and donation to the school .
She paused for several moments to speak softly to the wide awake, nervous Fullerton Avenue, who was eyeing her apprehensively until she finally settled, accepting the presence of this stranger. Perhaps happy for the unexpected late-night company.
âAt least theyâve fed you well while theyâve demeaned you,â she whispered, stroking the horseâs long brown face.
Then she reached into the pocket of her rain jacket for the loaded syringe.
Chapter Fifteen
Feeling not a bit jet-lagged as he settled in the backseat of the taxi taking him into Chicago, Doyle dialed his home message machine. He trolled through robo-call offerings of reduced mortgage rates (he didnât have a mortgage), âvirtually freeâ electricity billing, offerings of life insurance rates so absurdly low that he laughed aloud. Ahmad, his driver, looked back over his right shoulder. âWhat you call good news, then, sir?â
âHardly. Just nonsense news,â Doyle said before continuing.
Next came a series of eight messages from the FBI, each of the last seven more urgent than its predecessor. Tirabassi and Engel alternated in asking, then pleading, then ordering Doyle to return their call ASAP. He decided heâd wait until he was home before doing so.
Ahmed drove directly to Jackâs northside Chicago condo without further comment or question. Doyle was impressed.
âAhmed, how do you know so much about the city? Where to go? According to that license pinned up on the dashboard, youâve only been driving a cab six months.â
A wide grin appeared under Ahmedâs impressive mustache.
âI studyâ¦I am what you call a slick study, since I got here.â
âQuick study,â Doyle said, immediately wanting to retrieve his automatic reaction in correcting his driver.
Ahmed, unfazed, turned the final corner toward Doyleâs address, slowed, and pulled carefully into the No Parking space in front of the condominium building.
Jack paid the fare and added a sizeable tip.
***
After unpacking his suitcase, Doyle went to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of Guinness, and sat down at his desk before reaching for the phone. He quickly reviewed the FBI messages. Then he called Karenâs number. She picked up on the first ring.
âJack. Where are you? Weâve been trying to contact you. Weâve got bad news. Another horse killing.â
âAw, damn,â he said. âI was in Ireland for a few days. Sorry to hear this. Where and when did this killing happen?â
âTwo nights ago at Carmel College over in north central Indiana. Same MO, same result. And same kind of ALWD message left behind. This creep not only has a murderous bent, but he seems to enjoy rubbing our faces in it.â
Tirabassi came on Karenâs speaker phone. âWhere the hell were you, Jack? I thought you promised us youâd concentrate on this case. And you went, where, to Ireland?â
âYou know damn well I went to Ireland. Your vast organization could easily figure out my travel schedule. Damon, I had some business over there. Took a couple of days. I didnât think I need your permission to use my passport. Remember, Iâm a volunteer here.â He slammed the Guinness bottle down on the desk.
Karen came back on. âSorry to be so critical, Jack. Itâs just that weâve got to get to the bottom of this posthaste. Our Super is seriously on our backs.â
âKaren, that I understand. But look at it from my standpoint. All I can do is use my racetrack contacts, keep