Mystery of the Midnight Rider (Nancy Drew Diaries #3)(31)

Realizing what she was driving at, I shot her a smirk. “I thought we weren’t going to bug Payton about the case before her big class, detective,” I joked.

“Sorry, you’re right,” Bess said quickly. “Don’t pay any attention to me, Payton.”

“No, it’s okay.” Payton smiled uncertainly. “Um, this isn’t my knife. I just borrowed it from one of the grooms. They all keep them around to cut hay twine and stuff.”

That made sense. “So whoever slashed your other saddle probably didn’t have any trouble finding a knife to do it with.” I shook my head. “Just one more clue that’s not as useful as it seems, I guess.”



Just then Jen stuck her head into the room. "Payton,” she said. "Dana just texted me to see where you are. She wants to start warming you and Midnight up in ten minutes. Should I text Mickey so he can come help you tack up?”



“No thanks, I’ve got it. Tell Dana I’m on my way.” Grabbing the saddle and other stuff off the rack, Payton headed for the door. “Good luck!” my friends and I called in unison.

"Thanks!” She tossed us one last smile, then disappeared.

Bess perched on the edge of a tack trunk. “We should probably find Ned and then grab seats for the Grand Prix before it gets crowded.”

"Yeah.” George sounded distracted. She bent down and picked something up from under the empty saddle rack Payton had been using. “Hey, no fair!” she complained, holding up an empty candy wrapper. "Payton was eating a Chocominto bar and didn’t share!”

I grinned. Chocomintos were George’s favorite candy. “Too bad for you,” I said. “But how do you know it was even Payton who dropped that wrapper? We didn’t see her eating any candy. She didn’t even have chocolate smeared around her mouth like you always get when you pig out on those things.”

George made a face at me. "You know, sometimes having a detective for a friend is a real drag.” Tossing the candy wrapper into the trash bin in the corner, she headed for the door. "Let’s go. I want to make sure we have good seats for the Grand Prix.”





******





"Wow,” Ned said. “So Dana and Cal are related? That’s wild.”

“Shh. It seems to be some kind of secret—I don’t think even Payton knows.” I glanced around to make sure nobody had overheard. Luckily, the people sitting in the stands around us were all focused on their own conversations. Everyone seemed excited for the start of the Grand Prix.

The bleachers set up around the main ring were crowded and getting more so every minute. My friends and I had arrived early enough to snag seats in the second row, which gave us a spectacular view of the course. The huge, colorful jumps had actually taken my mind off the case for a few minutes. There were brightly colored rails, a fake brick wall, even a pair of jump standards shaped like riverboats in honor of our town’s riverside heritage.

"It’s hard to believe someone we know is actually going to jump a horse over those, huh?” Bess said, her gaze wandering to the jumps.

"Yeah.” I shivered with anticipation. "I just hope Payton isn’t distracted by everything that’s happened.” I glanced around, wondering where the Olympic chef d’equipe was sitting.

“Payton seems like a pretty cool customer when it comes to competing,” George said. "I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

"Still, I wish we could’ve figured out this case before now.” I sighed.

"Me too,” Ned agreed. Bess, George, and I had just finished filling him in on everything that had happened that day—not that there was much to tell. “So back to Cal—if he’s Dana’s brother, does this mean he’s off the suspect list?”

"No way,” George said. “He might still want Midnight back. What better way to make a big splash in his return to show jumping than by riding a star horse? There’s your motive right there. And Cal definitely had the opportunity to do most of the bad stuff, since nobody would think twice about seeing him around the barn. He could’ve easily slipped something into Midnight’s feed bucket. And slashed Payton’s saddle, too.”

"So could Lenny Hood,” I said. "Or Jessica Watts. Or Dana herself. Or Mickey.” I shook my head. "The thing that keeps bugging me is those threatening notes—especially the second one.”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked.

"I mean, I can see how most of our suspects might be able to figure out which car belonged to Payton’s family and leave a note there.” I glanced around at my friends. “But how in the world would any of them know she was staying at Ned’s—or that she’d ever find a note left inside the beat-up old grill at his house?”

"Don’t let my dad hear you talk about Bertha that way,” Ned joked. Then his expression went serious again. “But actually, that’s a good point, Nancy.”

“Maybe someone at the show overheard us talking about the barbecue,” Bess suggested.

"I suppose it’s possible. Although that makes it more likely to be Dana or Mickey, right? Do you remember seeing either of them hanging around while we were talking about the barbecue?” I asked.