Her Winning Ways by J.M. Bronston (26)

 

It was a fifteen-minute ride back to headquarters, with Annie sulking in the backseat and Liz taking cell phone photos like mad.

“Wait till I tell the boys about this.” Liz was beaming. “They’ll be telling everyone, ‘My mom got to ride in an NYPD squad car.’ With photos for show and tell. I’ll score a million points.”

“You’re such a tourist,” Annie muttered under her breath.

Liz poked her with her elbow. “Well, aren’t you Miss Sophisticated!”

When they entered Captain Simon’s office, they found him as they had left him, at his desk and still poring over paperwork.

“You’re back,” he said. “What’s up?”

“You know Annie Cornell, sir. And this is her sister, Liz Cameron. Ms. Cameron is accompanying her sister on her visit to New York. She is also visiting from Wyoming. She has some information that may be useful. About the Buljornia protesters.”

The captain peered at Liz.

To Bart, he said, “This is going to help us find Lindy?”

Bart stood up even straighter and avoided Annie’s eyes.

“Perhaps, sir. But it’s more about the threat to Ms. Cornell.”

The captain frowned. He looked skeptical. What could the sister possibly have to contribute?

“Take a seat, Ms. Cameron. I’ll be interested in hearing your contribution.” To Bart he said, “Sergeant, bring over a chair for Miss Cornell.”

When Annie and Liz were settled and Bart took up his position, standing near the door, the captain invited Liz to begin.

“Well,” she said, a little nervous at first but soon settling into her account, “Annie had been out—we’re staying in a hotel—Annie won this contest—”

“Yes, I know about that.”

Liz took a breath and settled down.

“Well, I was alone in the hotel room and I decided to take a walk. Just see a bit of the city, you know. I was sort of nervous the first few days—we don’t have such crowds of people back home, except maybe at a football game—but I was kind of getting used to it and thought I’d give it a shot. So I walked around, looked in some stores, had dinner. And I was going back to the hotel, just about a block away, and I noticed this ratty old white box truck that was riding along, but it was sort of keeping pace with me. Which seemed sort of funny. But before I could think about it much, the truck stopped and these two guys came out and they came right up to me, a short, fat guy and a taller one, skinny, and the skinny one was right in my face and he says, ‘Lady, you must to come with us.’ I noticed his funny way of talking. Foreign, you know? And like I told these two”—she gestured at Annie and Bart—“I had no intention of going anywhere with them and I was thinking of all those things I’d heard about how dangerous it is here and I wished I had brought my Colt revolver even if concealed carry isn’t legal here, but before I could do anything, the fat guy tells the other one to stop, they got the wrong lady. And the tall one looks me over like I’m a statue or something, and says, ‘Right hair, wrong lady.’ And they run right back to the truck and they take off. Fast. And when I got back to the hotel, Annie and Bart were there and I told them what had just happened and they got all excited and showed me some pictures and it was the same guys—there was a third one in the pictures and I’d seen him in the truck, behind the wheel. And I said, ‘Yes, those are the same men,’ and they said I had to come here and tell you. And that’s the whole thing. And I have no idea what this is all about.”

She sat back in her seat, ready to be illuminated.

“And that’s everything?” Captain Simon was still frowning, but also now more interested.

“Well, yes. Except that nothing about this trip to New York has turned out the way we expected. I feel like I’m in a multiplex movie, trying to watch two shows at once. We came for the whole contest thing and Lady Fair and Annie’s shopping spree—and there’s this whole other thing happening, with Annie meeting Bart, and his horse being stolen, and kidnappers, and here I am sitting in a police station reporting—I don’t know what—reporting that two goofy men with big mustaches stopped me on the street and then ran away. I’ll be glad to get back to Laramie where life moves a little more slowly and it’s easier to keep up.”

While she talked, Captain Simon was studying her carefully.

“Yes,” he said, finally. “I can see it. Same general build, same long, very light blond hair. It was dark. And raining. They could have mistaken you for your sister.”

Liz looked at Annie, sitting next to her, and then to Bart, standing behind them, and then back to Annie.

“I don’t understand.”

“Ms. Cameron, I think your sister hasn’t explained everything to you.”

She laughed. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You know about the theft of one of our horses?”

“Yes. I saw it in the paper this morning. And Annie went rushing off, saying she had to find him—the horse, that is. I knew she’d gotten to know the horse’s rider—Bart, here, I guess—and I know how she is about the livestock back home. She’s very protective of all the animals. But I didn’t think she’d come to New York and get involved with finding a lost police horse.”

“Not lost, Ms. Cameron. Stolen. And we take our animals seriously, too. These horses are very valuable, highly trained, and a very important part of our effort to protect the public.”

“Well, yes. Of course.” Liz felt a little scolded. “Anyway, I think she said she was going to the library. I just figured she’d be busy researching something or other. She likes to do that. It could be all day, so I just went on with my own plans.”

Captain Simon nodded. He’d heard enough for now. He pulled out the file and placed it in front of him.

“Now, Ms. Cameron,” he said, “I need to share some information with you. First of all, we believe the horse was taken to be held as a hostage by the same people your sister got caught up with in that demonstration on Sunday, at the UN.”

Liz glanced briefly at Annie. I told you to stay out of trouble, didn’t I?

“Yes, I saw that on the TV. Was that Bart—Sergeant Hardin—I saw in the news report?”

“Yes, it was. And we think these people also saw that report, realized Lindy’s publicity value, and got the idea to steal him. We think they’ve been following Sergeant Hardin since Sunday. And I’m afraid they’ve seen him with your sister. Not her fault, of course. She couldn’t have known.” He opened the file and took out the latest note. “We’ve had several notes delivered here, threatening Sergeant Hardin and Lindy. But I think you should see this one that arrived just this afternoon.” He handed it across the desk.

She read it.

Several heartbeats passed while she took it in. Her face paled. Then she looked at her sister.

“Oh, Annie! What have you gotten yourself into?”

“It’s not her fault,” the captain said. “She had no idea, of course. But she is in some danger. Apparently these men have figured out where she’s staying and were waiting for her to arrive. You do have a strong family resemblance—same general build, same long blond hair. They didn’t see their mistake until they got close. And as soon as they did, they ran off.”

Annie burst in here—she couldn’t help herself. “And I’m sure they had Lindy in that truck. Liz, you said it was a ratty old white truck, dirty with patches of rust—a lot like Walt Jeppsen’s old box truck back home that he uses for hauling feed and tack and stuff like that. A horse could be hauled in a truck like that. I’m sure those men are holed up somewhere in the area, and all we have to do is find that truck.”

Captain Simon looked at Annie and it was not a friendly look. His lips compressed and his impatience was apparent.

“Miss Cornell. I’ve tried to make it clear that while we welcome citizen eyes, ears, and support, and we value useful information, we have the very best technical and forensic resources in the country, and we are hindered in our work if amateurs get in our way.”

“But you’ll admit those men are at least good candidates for the kidnappers?”

“Yes, I think they are. And we’ll be looking for them. But I do not believe they had a horse in that truck. I do not believe anyone is riding around Midtown Manhattan with a valuable horse inside a ratty old vehicle like Walt Jetson’s box truck back home.”

“Jeppsen,” Annie muttered under her breath.

“Now I’m going to show Ms. Cameron some pictures for her to identify, and Bart—Sergeant Hardin—will write up a full report. And then he’s going to take Ms. Cameron back to the hotel, and in the meantime, you, Miss Cornell, are going to wait here at headquarters and stay out of everyone’s way. If you’d like to go into the stables, and visit the horses, I’m sure you won’t get into any trouble there. And then the sergeant can come back and resume his guard duty. The two of you can go off and amuse yourselves however you like, but please—do you hear me, Miss Cornell—please stay out of everyone’s way.”

Annie was very much offended. Captain Simon did not care the least little bit.

“You may go now, Miss Cornell.”

She stood up. She said to Bart, “I’ll wait for you in the stables. Take good care of my sister. She’s the only one I have.” She turned to the captain. “But I know that horse is in that truck!”

Captain Simon leaned back in his chair. He smiled at her.

“Miss Cornell, if you find Lindy in a ratty old truck on a street here in this city, it’ll be a miracle. And I do not believe in miracles. I’d be willing to bet that you will find nothing. And then, if you’re wise, you will go back to your fashion magazine and your contest and your pretty clothes. And when you’re finished with that, you will go back to Wyoming, where you belong, and you will not bother us here anymore.”

“And what do I get if I’m right?” Bart rolled his eyes and pulled at her arm. Stop it, Annie. Don’t talk to the captain like that. She shook him off. “You’re betting I’ll fail. What do I get if I succeed?”

Captain Simon’s irritation was visible. This girl was close to being in trouble with him. Insubordinate is what she was. “Miss Cornell, if you pull that off, I’ll have the Police Pipe Band perform for you. Kilts and all.”

Annie smiled sweetly at him. “Great. I look forward to hearing them.”

And she walked out and went into the stables

What is it about horses? Why is it that people find comfort around them? Annie’s mood mellowed as soon as she was walking among the stalls. The horses came to greet her, to examine her, to see if she had something for them. She didn’t, of course, but she could stroke a face and pat a mane as she said hello. And she could talk quietly to them.

“They’re all mad at me,” she told them. “Your captain thinks I’m a fool and a nuisance. Bart thinks I’m a silly, innocent, cute little librarian from a small western town, so dumb I need a keeper. And Liz is mad at me for getting into trouble. They all think I’ve taken on more than I can handle.”

Annie’s pride was pricked. But she was a tenacious sort and she knew what she meant to do. She continued discussing her plans with the horses. “Lindy was taken from his stall during the night. Probably he had no halter. I’m going to need a halter. You guys keep any rope around here?”

They waited while she hunted around the stables until she found a coil of rope that had been dropped on top of one of the feed bins. Probably left there by a hostler. She checked it out. Length was okay and flexible enough for her needs.

She got comfortable on the floor. This would take about twenty minutes.

“Thank you, Jimmy Ray,” she whispered.

Way back when she was little, maybe nine or ten, one of the ranch hands, Jimmy Ray Tyson, had set about teaching little Annie how to tie a rope halter. Jimmy Ray said anyone who worked around horses should know how to manage with just a good length of rope, and he spent hours teaching her how to make a halter out of a twenty-five-foot piece of double-braid polyester. She’d been fascinated by the intricacies of the task, learning to tie the knots, the ins and outs and overs and unders, the complexity of making the fiador and getting the nose piece and the cheek pieces lined up just right. How many hours she’d practiced that skill, sitting in the porch swing, and at night in her bedroom, until she had it down perfectly and could whip up a rope halter blindfolded, in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Grandpa Cornell had been so pleased, he added another hundred dollars to her college fund and told her she was a good little rancher and he was proud of her. He’d also slipped Jimmy Ray a little something extra.

“That’s all I need,” she said, standing up and brushing off the seat of her pants. She draped the halter around her neck to leave her hands free. She stepped to the front of the stalls and addressed the whole group.

“Now,” she explained to them, “as soon as I’m sure the captain’s finished with Liz and she and Bart are gone, I’m slipping out of here. I don’t think Bart will get in trouble. The captain ordered him to go with Liz. And I really do know what I’m doing.”

None of the horses disagreed with her.