Past The Post (Miami Jones Florida Mystery Book 12) by A.J. Stewart

Past The Post (Miami Jones Florida Mystery Book 12) by A.J. Stewart

Author:A.J. Stewart [Stewart, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jacaranda Drive
Published: 2020-04-13T23:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twenty-One

The driveway wound its way for about half a mile until we arrived at a phalanx of buildings. There were a couple of barn-like structures and one longer shed that looked smaller yet similar to the horse stables I’d seen at Palm Meadows. To the north was a stand of oak trees that appeared to have been there forever.

I parked in the middle of the wide gravel lot, and we got out. It was quiet. I could hear birds chirping and a whinny from a horse in a paddock I couldn’t see.

Finally, a man appeared from one of the barns. He looked like a farm worker. He was slightly built and older, with gray whiskers that matched his unruly hair. His shirt was a light denim, and his jeans were the same material, just darker. The man wore heavy, dirty work boots, and he looked neither friendly nor hostile, more puzzled that we had arrived on his doorstep.

“Good afternoon,” said Danielle.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he said. He didn’t have any kind of Texan accent. If I had to guess, I would have said New Jersey, so the howdy sounded kind of fake.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

“We’re looking for Dwight Renfield’s farm,” she said.

“You found it. This is Versailles Stud Farm.”

Danielle shook the man’s hand while I stayed several steps back.

“Great,” she said. “Is Mr. Renfield at home?”

The man offered a smile. “Can I ask what it’s regarding, ma’am?”

“Of course,” she said, taking out her ID. “My name is Special Agent Castle from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. I just have a few questions for Mr. Renfield.”

The guy was the first person I’d seen with anything to do with thoroughbred racing who didn’t seem put out by a visit from the FDLE. Maybe he was one of those guys who appreciated the necessity of the bureaucracy, or maybe he was one of those crazies who just liked paperwork.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” said Danielle. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Wills,” he said. He didn’t specify if that was his first or last name, and Danielle didn’t get into it.

“How long have you worked here?” she asked.

“Many years, ma’am. Many years.”

“So you would have known Leo Casper,” she said.

Once again, I watched his face for some kind of tell but got nothing. Either the guy would have been hell to play poker against or he’d never heard of Leo.

“The name does not ring a bell.”

“He was a jockey. He worked for Mr. Renfield.”

“I see. But not here,” said Wills.

“That’s something I’m trying to ascertain,” said Danielle.

“Well, I can assure you of that. I know everyone who’s worked here for the last five years, and no one called Leo worked at the farm.”

“He mainly rode workouts at Palm Meadows.”

Wills nodded. “I see. Well, I don’t get down to the training tracks very often. There’s far too much to do here. If he rode down at the tracks, you’ll need to speak to the trainers. They probably know him better.



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