High in Trial - By Donna Ball Page 0,50
nodded. We’d done all we could do.
“We’re leaving now,” I said, standing. “Don’t worry about the dogs.”
He didn’t look up from the card. “I was going to fix everything. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Miles and I let ourselves out.
“That was rough,” Miles said quietly as we went down the walk.
I drew in a steadying breath. “Yeah.” Then I glanced at him. “You were pretty quick to go through that door for someone who was just lecturing me about being reckless.”
“Oh, come on, the guy was on crutches. And covered with blood. There was no way I was leaving without finding out how he got that way.”
He glanced at me with an expression that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but smug as we reached the car. “And by the way, did you notice? I was right.”
“You weren’t right. It’s crazy. Everything he said was crazy.”
He opened the car door for me. Cisco sat up in the back seat, grinning to see us, and the two border collies peeked over the barrier. “Where there’s money and sports,” he said, “there’s corruption. It’s a rule.”
I sank into the seat and tugged on my seat belt. I waited until he was behind the wheel to point out, “Well, even if it is true, it’s the Standard Cup that’s corrupted, not the AKC.”
He started the engine. “That makes a difference?”
I scowled and sank down into my seat. “You bet it does.”
I was lost in dark thought until he pulled into the parking lot of a pancake house. By then it was almost lunchtime, and I walked the dogs along the grassy area of the parking lot before we went inside. Miles ordered steak and eggs, and I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich with three orders of steak and eggs to go, hold the salt, hold the gravy, hold the hash browns.
Miles lifted an eyebrow at me. “Sirloin?”
I frowned at him. “The dogs have had a hard day.”
He shrugged. “You’re paying.”
I said, “It doesn’t make sense. Assuming, just assuming, there was some kind of mob activity involved—”
He raised a cautionary finger. “Politically incorrect. They prefer ‘organized crime.’”
“Why break Neil’s knee?” I persisted, ignoring him. “He was the one who could’ve won the Standard Cup for them. It makes no sense.”
“Unless you’re betting against him,” Miles pointed out.
The waitress brought coffee for him and orange juice for me. I stared at it, wondering why I’d ordered it.
“Look, sweetie,” Miles explained, taking out his phone. “In the world of professional sports gambling, there are two ways to win: bet on the winner or bet on the loser. My guess is these guys, whoever they are, figured out Neil wasn’t going to play ball a long time ago and put their money on his competitors. His only mistake was planning to run the other dog—Bryte, is it?—for the win.”
I stared at him, jaw slackening. “How do you know these things?”
He didn’t even glance up from the message he was texting. “Remember I told you about my dad, the town drunk? He also played the ponies, among other things. You pick it up here and there.”
“Who are you texting?” I demanded in sudden alarm. “You can’t—”
He held up a hand for calm. “Mel. She sent a message earlier and I don’t want her to worry. Smile, sweetheart.”
He pointed the phone at me and I quickly managed a smile and a wave as he snapped the picture. He said, “Check your messages. She copied us both on a group photo in front of the hotel.”
I found the photo and texted back a series of hearts and smiley faces. It was the best I could do.
Miles tapped out a few more commands, scrolled a screen or two, and said, “Just like I figured. Bail bonds and DUIs.”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus. This was an awful lot to take in for someone who only had a couple hours’ sleep. “What?”
Miles pocketed his phone and explained. “Most people think all lawyers are automatically rich, but lawyers are a dime a dozen these days, and unless you’re in a big city with a big firm, it can be hard to make a living—particularly if you’re not very good at it and you have expensive hobbies and high-class tastes. I don’t know if you noticed that van she was driving, but it had to be forty, fifty grand.”
“Aggie said Marcie has a huge training facility and the property sounds gorgeous,” I admitted. “She said their whole club has events there.”
“She has a storefront practice