Mystery of the Midnight Rider (Nancy Drew Diaries #3)(20)

“Yeah. Even if it wasn’t their idea, they must’ve agreed with Dana. Because if they thought Payton should go to the wedding in-stead, they could’ve overruled her.” I shook my head. “You know, I’m starting to feel really sorry for Payton. On the one hand, she’s living out her dream—riding at these big shows, super successful, aimed for Olympic glory.”

Bess nodded, clearly seeing where I was going with my thought. “But there’s a dark side too,” she said. "Her life isn’t really her own. She has to make sacrifices to be the best.” She sighed. "It’s just too bad Dana seems to be so, you know, mean about it.” "Yeah.” George glanced in the direction of the tack room. "She really doesn’t sound too sympathetic, does she?”

Her comment made another thought pop into my head. It was one that had been dancing around at the edges of my thoughts all day.

"You’re right,” I said slowly. "If Dana’s the one who forced Payton to come to this show, could that be a clue in itself?”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked. “Do you think Dana should be a suspect?”

"I’m not sure,” I said. "I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve witnessed her being kind of hard on Payton. But if she’s the culprit, what’s her motive?”

“Good question.” George pursed her lips thoughtfully. “She’s Payton’s trainer. So if Payton looks good, she looks good, right? Why would she want to mess that up?”

"And would she really slash up that saddle?” Bess wondered. "I mean, she seems kind of hot-tempered, but not crazy”

"Yeah, I can’t quite picture her going at the saddle with a knife either,” I admitted. "Still, we’d better put her on the list. Just in case.” Something else occurred to me. "And actually, even if she’s not the best suspect for some of the stuff that’s happened, there’s one thing that fits perfectly. She’s the one in charge of Midnight’s care, right? Including everything he eats. So she was in the best position to toss some chocolate or whatever into his bucket to make him flunk that test, right?”

"I guess so.” Bess looked uncertain. "But if that’s true, wouldn’t she get in trouble too?”

"I don’t know.” I realized I still wasn’t clear on how the whole suspension system worked. “Let’s see if we can find someone to ask.”

George glanced toward the tack room. “Good idea. We probably shouldn’t be here when they come out.”

I had to agree with that. If Dana might be our culprit, it probably wasn’t a good thing for her to catch us eavesdropping.

My friends and I tiptoed away around the corner, then started looking around for someone to ask about the drug rules. The first familiar face we saw belonged to Mickey. He was outside Midnight’s stall, stuffing hay into a hay net. The big bay gelding was watching the man’s work with interest.

"Hi.” I walked over and gave Midnight a rub on the nose, then smiled at the groom. "Do you have a second?”

This time I was pretty sure he recognized me, though he seemed less than thrilled to see me. "Uh, I guess,” he mumbled without enthusiasm.

"We were just talking about Midnight’s drug results, and we realized we don’t understand how the system works,” I said. “Who gets suspended when something like that happens?”

“The horse does, of course. Plus whoever signs on the entry form as that horse’s primary caretaker,” Mickey replied, yanking the cords to tie the hay net shut. “Normally that’s the trainer, un-less the owner signs as trainer for some reason.”

"Oh.” I shot a look at my friends. What Mickey was saying seemed to rule out our latest theory, since Dana would be the one who got suspended rather than Payton.

Mickey hung the hay net just outside the stall door, patting Midnight as the big bay horse eagerly yanked a few strands out and chewed. "Wouldn’t be the worst thing for this guy to get suspended,” the groom murmured, running one calloused hand up and down the gelding’s neck. His voice was so low that I wasn’t sure he’d meant to be overheard.

“What was that?” I asked. “Did you say it would be good for Midnight to get suspended?”

“ ’Course not,” he said gruffly. “It’s just that Midnight could use a break, that’s all. He’s been campaigned pretty hard this year. Too many weeks standing in a tiny stall, riding in trailers...Ah, never mind. Stupid thought.”

“No, I understand.” Bess shot the man her most winning and sympathetic smile. “You’re just worried about Midnight. I think that’s sweet.”

Mickey merely grunted in response. But his expression lightened a little bit. Bess has that effect on people. I don’t know how she does it.

"Yeah, you must be really worried about what happened,” I said, trying to sound casual. A lot of people are more likely to talk if they don’t realize they’re being interrogated. I had a feeling Mickey was one of those people. "Especially since someone obviously tried to hurt Midnight by dosing him with theobromine.” I reached out to stroke the gelding’s velvety nose. "That can’t be good for him, right?”

"Not likely to hurt him,” Mickey responded. “Especially not in such a small amount.”