Free Photo Finish by Bonnie Bryant Page B

direction Duncan Gibbs had disappeared. As soon as they turned the corner, though,they had to stop short to avoid running into him. The jockey was standing still, talking to the reporter Kent Calhoun.
    “I don’t have anything to say about the Preakness,” Duncan was growling when the girls came upon him. “I’m not riding in it, am I?”
    “I know that,” Kent said smoothly. “I was just wondering if you had any thoughts on Monkeyshines—you know, how it feels to know you might have ridden one of the favorites in today’s big race?”
    Duncan’s tanned face flushed a deep red, and he scowled even harder. “I don’t have any thoughts on that,” he said hotly. “I haven’t ridden for that lousy, no-good McLeod in months, and I never will again. He’s a petty, stuck-up jerk who has no business being at the track. Aside from that, I have no comment on anything.” He shoved Kent aside and hurried away without another word.
    Kent Calhoun made a few notes on his pad and strolled away without noticing The Saddle Club.
    “Wow,” Carole breathed when both men were gone. “Duncan sure sounded mad!”
    “You can’t really blame him,” Lisa said. “Kent Calhoun was being sort of obnoxious.”
    Stevie shook her head. “No, there was more to it than that,” she said. “Duncan definitely sounded as though he had something to hide. And he’s obviously still mad atMr. McLeod—did you hear the way he was talking about him?”
    “So what are you saying?” Carole asked. “You think Duncan is guilty,
and
you think Kelly and Eddie are guilty?”
    “It’s possible,” Stevie said, looking thoughtful. “The more we learn, the more it makes sense. It’s like a whole criminal ring or something.” She snapped her fingers. “So what we should be doing is going after the mastermind.”
    “The mastermind?” Lisa repeated skeptically. “Who’s that?”
    Stevie shrugged. “Mr. Kennemere, of course.”

B EFORE STEVIE COULD dash off in search of Garamond’s owner, Lisa brought her down to earth again by reminding her that it was almost time to meet Max for lunch. Stevie grumbled as they began the walk back to Mr. McLeod’s stable. She was sure they were on the verge of cracking the case.
    Carole wasn’t so sure. She was convinced that there was some kind of foul play involved, but she thought it was more likely that the disgruntled jockey Duncan Gibbs was behind it than any of their other suspects. Eddie just seemed too nice, and it seemed unlikely the Kennemeres would take such a risk, no matter how unfriendly Kelly Kennemere was.
    Lisa, on the other hand, was still trying to work thewhole thing out logically. And she had just come up with a logical snag in Stevie’s conspiracy theory.
    “Hey, Stevie,” she said. “Remember what Stephen was telling us about the odds on Monk and Garamond?”
    “Some of it,” Stevie said. “I didn’t really understand all of what he was talking about.”
    “I think I did,” Lisa said. “And I think part of what he was saying was that if a horse is expected to do well in a certain race—like Monk and Garamond are expected to do well in the Preakness—people don’t make very much money from betting on them.”
    Stevie shrugged. “So what? We’re not old enough to bet on Monk anyway.”
    “No, but it means that it wouldn’t make sense for anyone to want Monk out of the race so they could bet on Garamond, because they wouldn’t make very much money that way,” Lisa said.
    Stevie’s face fell. “Oh.” She thought back over what Stephen had said. She still wasn’t sure she understood how it all worked, but she trusted Lisa on that sort of thing.
    “But wait,” Carole said. “There’s more money than just bets at stake, at least for the horses’ owners.” She thought for a moment, trying to remember what Max had told them in the car the day before. “There’s a big cash bonus if a horse wins all three races in the Triple Crown. Garamond has already won the