Mystery of the Midnight Rider (Nancy Drew Diaries #3)(21)

"Oh. That’s good,” I said. “Still, who would want to give him something they knew would test? And how would they even do it?”

I eyed the hay net as Midnight took another bite. “Do you think someone sneaked in and slipped something into his food?”

"Not likely.” Mickey sounded certain. "We’ve got a foolproof system here.”

"You do? What is it?”

The groom shrugged. “Really want to know? I’ll show you.” He headed off down the aisle without another word.

Trading a look with my friends, I shrugged and then followed. Soon we were all crowding into a stall at the end of the row. Like the tack stall, it wasn’t set up for horses. Instead it contained at least a dozen large feed sacks, piles of empty buckets, a folding table with a bunch of small plastic bags on it, and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t take in right away. Tacked to one wall was a poster-board list of horses’ names written in different colors. Beside each name was some additional writing in black ink, though it was too small to read from where I was standing.

"Feed room,” Mickey said, and I hid a smile. I knew where we were.

"So all the horses’ grain comes from here?” George asked, peering into a large bag labeled as alfalfa pellets.

"Uh-huh.” Mickey pointed to a neat row of buckets along one wall. “One color for each horse. Feed gets measured out there.” Next he indicated the plastic bags on the table. "Supplements there.”

“Supplements?” I echoed.

"Vitamins. Joint aids. Stuff like that,” Mickey said. “When it’s time to feed, grab the bag and dump it in the matching bucket. No way to mix things up.”

Bess stepped closer to the poster and peered up at the list of names. "Midnight’s color is purple,” she said. She moved over to the line of buckets. “Hey, wait a minute. It looks like someone already added some supplements to this purple bucket.”

“Can’t be.” George picked up a plastic bag filled with powder. A purple sticker was on it. "His bag’s right here.”



Mickey frowned. "What are you talking about?” He glanced at the bag in George’s hand, then stepped over and peered into the purple bucket. His face went pale, and he grabbed the bucket with one hand, reaching into it with the other. "There is some kind of powder in here!” he exclaimed. Lifting his fingers to his nose, he gave them a sniff. “Smells like bute. But that can’t be! Midnight isn’t supposed to get that!”





CHAPTER NINE




Mixed Messages



“BUTE? WHAT’S THAT?” GEORGE ASKED.

Mickey didn’t answer. He was already sprinting toward the door, calling out for the other grooms. “Nobody feed anything!” he shouted. "I’ve got to tell Dana about this. We’ll have to figure out if any of the other feed was tampered with.”

A couple of the other grooms rushed in. They seemed surprised to see us in there.

“What’s going on?” asked Jen.

“We’re not sure,” I told her. "Um, Mickey just noticed there was some extra stuff in one of the buckets.”

"Yeah, he called it bute,” George added. "What is that?”

"It’s a medication,” Jen replied. "It’s very common—sort of like aspirin for horses. Some of ours get it after a tough day of showing. Which bucket was it in?”

“Midnight’s,” Bess replied.

“What?” Jen exclaimed. "But that’s not right—Midnight isn’t allowed to have bute today!”

"Why not?” I asked. "I thought you said it was common.”

The groom looked distraught. "It is, but you’re not allowed to give it at the same time as certain other drugs,” she explained. “And Midnight is scheduled to get one of those other drugs tonight. If he ended up with both in his system and then got tested...”

She let her voice trail off. I could guess what she was thinking. Midnight was in enough trouble with the drug testers already, without another positive result to add to the mess.

"Anyway,” Jen went on after a moment, "I know there was nothing extra in that bucket an hour ago—I mixed all of this afternoon’s feed myself!”

She and the other groom started checking all the buckets. My friends and I took the opportunity to slip out of the feed room.

"So what do you think?” George asked as we wandered down the aisle. “Does this make Mickey a suspect?”

"Maybe,” I said. "It sounds like he wouldn’t mind one bit if Midnight got a vacation. And a drug suspension would be a sure way to do it.”



Bess nodded. "Especially since he was so quick to tell us that the theo-whatever stuff the test found wouldn’t hurt Midnight any.



That makes it a likely choice for someone who’s worried about the horse’s welfare, right?”

"Good point.” I couldn’t help feeling dubious. “But if he’s the culprit, why would he just blurt all that info out to us? I mean, he pretty much handed us his motive on a silver platter.”

"Guilty conscience?” George suggested.

We’d reached the barn exit by then. Bess paused in the doorway, squinting against the sunlight streaming in from outside. "No, maybe Nancy’s right,” she said. “Mickey seemed genuinely surprised and upset when he saw that powder in Midnight’s bucket just now. Either he’s a really good actor...