Death on the Diagonal - By Nero Blanc Page 0,33

wife of yours. Tomorrow. Lunch. Come early so Ryan and I can show you around—the whole royal tour. Like I said, I’d give my eyeteeth to meet the Belle Graham, and I think she’d appreciate the names I’ve given my babies.”

“Babies—?” Rosco started to ask, but Collins continued talking as if there’d been no interruption.

“How’s about ‘Lingo,’ ‘Catch Phrase,’ and ‘Palindrome’—just for starters? I told you I was a word-game nut. All the horses I breed here have names like that. ‘Sobriquet’s’ sire is ‘Shibboleth,’ and so forth . . .” Collins’s monologue paused only a second in order to change tack. “Is the little lady there with you now? Go ahead, ask her—and tell her she’d be doing me the biggest favor.”

“Actually, I’m not at home, Mr. Collins.”

“On a day like this? You’re not with your wife? You should be shot.” He laughed loudly. “Ryan wouldn’t let me get away with ornery behavior like that.”

But before Rosco could reply, Todd added a buoyant, “See you tomorrow, okay? Let’s say about ten, how’s that? Oh, and wear clothes you can ride in. I’m thinking of matching your wife up with ‘Eponymy.’ He’s a sweetheart, a gelding, and gentle as a pony.”

Rosco considered the invitation for the briefest moment. “How do you feel about dogs, Mr. Collins?”

“Is that a request? ’Cause my answer is: Bring ’em. I love dogs. But how do your dogs feel about horses? That’s the question. Oh, and if your wife doesn’t take to ‘Eponymy,’ we’ll saddle up ‘Murder the King’s English.’ What about that for a perfect moniker?”

CHAPTER

12

After all was said and done, Belle and Rosco opted to leave their dogs behind, rather than give them a day in the country at King Wenstarin Farms. Most likely Kit would have gotten along just fine, but given Gabby’s penchant for chasing any and all moving objects—regardless of magnitude or temperament—it seemed ill-advised to allow her free range among a few dozen horses fifty times her size. However, in an effort to keep all family members appeased, Rosco took “the girls” out for a three-mile run before breakfast, and by the time the couple snuck out of the house at nine-thirty the dogs were snoozing comfortably on the warm wood floor of Belle’s sunny office.

As Todd Collins had predicted, the day was bright and clear, with a temperature climbing into the mid- to upper fifties. A few wispy clouds were floating far out over Buzzards Bay; and although they couldn’t actually see the ocean from the house, they felt its presence in a slightly tangy breeze and a wide and open sky. Rosco had yet to put the canvas top and door panels back on the Jeep, so the couple turned up the collars of their jackets and headed out, recognizing that this could well be their last open-air ride until the following spring.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this yesterday,” he said as they pulled away from the city limits, “but I’m glad the weather’s held for another day.”

Belle reached over and took his hand. “Me, too. I’m looking forward to seeing the Collins farm. I’ve driven by it so many times that I’ve been tempted to sign up for riding lessons just to get a peek at what’s on the other side of that big gate.”

“Grass, horses, and white fencing mostly. And of course, a smattering of road apples.”

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “You’re such a romantic. But speaking of that, I’m sure happy Sara is seeing Dr. Arthur about her knee and not your Dr. Bownes. He doesn’t sound like he has a very sympathetic bedside manner.”

Rosco shook his head and smiled. “I’m not even going to ask how you jumped from horse manure straight to Sara’s knee injury.”

“What? It’s simple; A is for apple, and Saul Bownes is an underling with the orthopedic group of Aaron, Abbott, and Arthur—or the ‘pedestrian’s Triple-A,’ as Sara calls them. It’s completely logical to make that association. Anybody would.”

“Anyone who spends their days counting letters, that is.”

But Belle’s mind, in typical fashion, was already plunging ahead. “I told Sara I’d take her to her appointment with Dr. Arthur at three this afternoon, so I guess we should be leaving Wenstarin Farms at two, if that’s okay?”

“Sure. If our lunch with Todd and Ryan seems to be lasting longer, we’ll just have to excuse ourselves.”

Belle leaned her head back and let the cool autumn wind blow her hair. “Oh,” she sighed, “this is perfect. I love it when the