“That’s me, Susan Holt.” She told them what she knew, omitting mention of the portfolio. “The killer might still be here.”
They quickly searched the house, guns drawn, and reported finding a body at the foot of the basement stairs. “I’m Corporal DeGeorgio,” one trooper said. “We found this key in the dead man’s pocket. It might fit those cuffs. The rest of the place is empty, but a back door is unlocked. This cell phone was on the kitchen table. Is it yours?”
“Yeah,” Mike told him. “He took it from me when he handcuffed me.”
The key unlocked the cuffs and Mike relaxed a little, happy to be free. His familiar lopsided grin returned. “I really got myself into a mess this time,” he told Susan. “I think you saved my life.”
Another police vehicle arrived, and two more troopers entered with cameras and crime-scene equipment. DeGeorgio directed them to the basement, then said, “We’ll need a preliminary statement from you, Mr. Brentnor.”
Mike repeated his story. “I’ve been doing some promotion work for the new racetrack and Gateway casino up here. This Chinese architect, Lam Kow Loon, is designing the racetrack part. He’s done some tracks in China and Hong Kong. Anyway, he was looking for investors to help pay for some additional features not covered in the original budget.”
“What sort of features?” DeGeorgio asked, making notes.
“I don’t know exactly. He never told me.” Mike avoided Susan’s eyes as he spoke.
“Go on. What happened here today?”
“He asked me to come up and talk over my promotion plans for the track.”
“Was he alone?”
“There was someone else in the kitchen that I didn’t see.”
“How did you happen to phone Miss Holt here?”
“He wanted me to suggest investors. I’d spoken to Susan about it earlier so I called her. Lam Kow thought I was trying to make trouble for him. He took out a gun and searched me for a weapon. Then he handcuffed my wrist to that pipe.”
She noticed he’d been careful not to mention the portfolio, which was what Lam Kow Loon must have been after. “Did you witness the shooting?” DeGeorgio asked.
“No. Lam Kow left me here and went into the kitchen to talk with this other person. I could hear the murmur of voices. Next thing I knew, there was a shot. I was really scared then. I could hear noise, probably the body being dragged down the basement stairs, then there was just silence. I didn’t know what to do because I was afraid he’d kill me next. For a long time I was afraid to do anything but keep silent. He’d taken my cell phone so I couldn’t call the police.”
The trooper nodded. “The back door was unlocked. That’s how the killer left. We found a pistol in the trash barrel, probably the murder weapon. You’d better come look at the body.”
“Do I have to?”
“He’s Asian, but we need to know whether he’s Lam Kow Loon or the other guy.”
Mike followed them down the basement stairs while Susan tentatively brought up the rear. The body was at the bottom, faceup, and the bloody steps showed it had been dragged down. Mike gasped and managed to say, “That’s him. That’s Lam Kow Loon.”
“And you don’t know the name of the other man, the one who shot him?”
“I never saw him.”
Corporal DeGeorgio nodded again and closed his notebook. “I’ll have to ask you both to give us your home addresses.”
“We’re not from here,” Susan told him. “I work for Mayfield’s Department Store in New York. Here’s my card.”
“All right. Both of you come along with me and we’ll try to get to the bottom of this.”
Susan was beginning to regret that she hadn’t stayed in New York.
It was almost evening before they were finally free of the state police, having made and signed official statements. As they walked out to their cars, the first thing Mike asked was, “Do you have the portfolio?”
“It’s in my trunk. What’s this all about?”
“Let’s go back to my hotel room and I’ll show you.”
“I don’t want to see your etchings, Mike. I only want to know what you’ve gotten yourself — and me — involved in.”
“Trust me, I’ll show you.”
Susan had already decided to spend the night at the Big Bear rather than drive back to the city so late. When they got there, Rita was still on the desk and checked her in. “You’re lucky to get a room here on a holiday weekend,” she said. “And I see you found Mike Brentnor, too.”
“I sure did!”
“Room Sixteen. It’s right down the hall from his room.”
Susan grunted noncommittally and accepted the key. She followed Mike to his room, realizing for the first time that she’d brought no extra clothes or toilet articles with her for an overnight stay. When she mentioned this to him, he assured her they could purchase whatever she needed. “There’s a drugstore down the road that’s more like a general store. They even sell T-shirts.”
“We’ll try that later,” she said as they entered his room. “Now let’s see your etchings or whatever you have in that portfolio.”
“It’s not mine. Lam Kow Loon loaned it to me to study his proposal. He was upset when I didn’t return it right away. Look at this.” He unzipped the leatherette case and opened it, revealing architect’s renderings of the racetrack and clubhouse, together with a detailed diagram of the racecourse itself, with distances and grading carefully marked. At one point, where the finish line was indicated, a row of dots had been carefully marked across the track, with Chinese symbols next to them.
“He’s the one who tried to sell you shares in this?”
“That’s right.”
“But — but he didn’t own the track, did he? How could he be selling shares in it?”
“He wasn’t selling shares in the track, but in his invention. Look here.” He opened a manila envelope beneath the drawings. It contained press clippings in Chinese and English. One of the English clippings was from a Hong Kong daily newspaper, the other from the New York Times. Both told of the discovery of a remote-controlled device buried in the turf at the starting gate of Hong Kong’s Happy Valley Racecourse.
“What is this?” she asked, still unable to make sense of it.
“They found a mechanism with a dozen launching tubes buried at the starting gate. It could use compressed air to fire tiny darts into the bellies of the racehorses. The darts were filled with poison or a tranquilizer in an attempt to fix the outcome of the races.”
“And you’re part of this?”
“Not of poisoning horses. Lam Kow knew of the Hong Kong plan and claimed to have worked on the device. He said it could also be used to deliver stimulants to horses we want to win.”
“And you asked me to invest in this? They test racehorses for drugs, you know.”
“He claimed these would be undetected.”
“Mike, this is the craziest scheme I ever heard of! Do you think the horses will just stand there quietly when the darts hit their bellies?”
“He claimed the mechanism was already in place at the new track. The starting gate is often moved at tracks, but the tubes are buried at the most frequent gate location.”
“Did you give him any money?”
He averted his eyes. “Two thousand dollars. He said he had to have more. That’s why I asked you to go in with me.”
“I don’t believe any of it. They may have tried that stunt in Hong Kong, but it would never work here. I’ll tell you the sort of bet I like. I’ll bet you ten bucks this device isn’t buried at the new track at all.”
He thought about that. “It’s a bet. Look, as long as you’re staying over, let’s grab dinner somewhere and then go out there and look around.