Hugger Mugger

EIGHTEEN

THE HORSE SHOOTER upped the ante on a rainy Sunday night by shooting Walter Clive dead in the exercise area of Three Fillies Stables. I was there at daylight, with Becker and a bunch of Columbia County crime scene deputies.

"Exercise rider found him this morning when she came into work," Becker said. "Right there where you see him."

Where I saw him was facedown in the middle of the open paddock in front of the stables, under a tree, with the rain soaking the crime scene. Someone had rigged a polyethylene canopy over the body and the immediate crime scene, in hopes of preserving any evidence that was left.

"Where is she now?"

"In the stable office," Becker said. "I got one woman deputy, and she's in there with her."

"Will I be able to talk to her?"

"Sure."

I stepped to the body and squatted down beside it. Clive was in a white shirt and gray linen slacks. There were loafers on his feet, without socks. His silver hair was soaked and plastered to his skull. There was no sign of a wound.

"In the forehead, just above the right eyebrow," Becker said. "Photo guys are already done-you want to see?"

"Yes."

Becker had on thin plastic crime scene gloves. He reached down and turned Clive's head. There was a small black hole above his eyebrow, the flesh around it a little puffy and discolored from the entry of the slug.

"No exit wound," I said.

"That's right."

"Small caliber," I said.

"Looks like a.22 to me."

"Yes."

"Figure he caught the horse shooter in the act?" Becker said.

"Be the logical conclusion," I said.

"Yep. It would."

"Where was Security South during all this?" I said. "Busy polishing their belt buckles?"

"Security guy was in with the horse," Becker said.

"Hugger Mugger."

"Yeah. When I say the horse, that's who I mean. He heard the shot, and came out, ah, carefully, and looked around and didn't see anything, and went back inside with the horse."

"It was raining," I said.

"All night."

"How far out you figure he came?"

"His uni was dry when I talked to him," Becker said.

"No wrinkles?"

"Nope."

"Probably didn't want to be lured away from the horse."

"Hugger Mugger," Becker said.

I looked at him. He was expressionless.

"Of course Hugger Mugger," I said. "What other horse are we talking about?"

Becker grinned.

"So nobody sees anything. Nobody but the guard hears anything," Becker said. "We're looking for footprints, but it's been raining hard since yesterday afternoon."

"Crime scene isn't going to give you much," I said.

"You Yankees are so pessimistic."

"Puritan heritage," I said. "The family's been told?"

"Yep. Told them myself."

"How were they?"

"Usual shock and dismay," Becker said.

"Anything unusual?"

Becker shook his head.

"You been a cop," he said. "You've had to tell people that somebody's been murdered, what would be unusual?"

"You're right," I said. "I've seen every reaction there is. Delroy been around?"

"Not yet," Becker said.

We were quiet for a while, standing in the rain, partly sheltered by the tree, looking at how dead Walter Clive was.

"Why'd you call me?" I said.

"Two heads are better than one," Becker said.

"Depends on the heads," I said.

"In this case yours and mine," Becker said. "You been a big-city cop, you might know something."

I nodded.

"Between us," Becker said, "we might figure something out."

I nodded some more. The rain kept coming. Walter Clive kept lying there. Behind us a van with Columbia County Medical Examiner lettered on the side pulled up and two guys in raincoats got out and opened up the back.

"Here's what I think," I said. "I think that you are smelling a big rat here, and the rat is somewhere in the Clive family, and they are too important and too connected for a deputy sheriff to take on directly."

"They're awful important," Becker said.

"So you're using me as a surrogate. Let me take them on. You feed me just enough to keep me looking, but not enough to get you in trouble. If I come up with something, you can take credit for it after I've gone back to Boston. If I get my ass handed to me, you can shake your head sadly and remark what a shame it was that I'm nosy."

"Man do that would be a devious man," Becker said.

"Sho' 'nuff," I said.