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A shrug. “Don’t know. Then again, I didn’t know you had a Mercedes S500, either. Were you aware that was the make of the only tire treads found at the crime scene?”
“I assumed as much. Frederick drove the same make and model.”
“Just like all the other execs. Quite a coincidence.” Monty flattened his palms on the desk and looked Rhodes straight in the eye. “I understand the cabin Frederick died in belonged to one of your suppliers. A Gary Bolten, president of Paper and Plastics Limited.”
“That’s right.” Rhodes didn’t avert his gaze, but a vein throbbed at his temple. “Gary loaned the cabin to Frederick for the weekend.”
“So he said. Apparently, he thought Frederick could use some R&R. Any idea who conveyed that idea to him?”
Rhodes’s pupils dilated. “Obviously, you already know the answer to that. So let’s cut to the chase. What is it you’re accusing me of?”
“Just curious why you never mentioned that fact, to me or the police. Too insignificant? Or too incriminating?”
“Too misleading. It was an innocent gesture of friendship, meant with the best of intentions. I never anticipated—” Rhodes broke off. “I have nothing more to say.”
“And I have nothing more to ask.” Monty turned. “Night, Rhodes.”
Monty was halfway down the hall when Frederick’s bulldozer of a secretary, Marjorie Evans, rushed up to him.
“Mr. Montgomery.” She didn’t look like a bulldozer now. She looked frazzled and panicky. “Wait!”
He stopped in his tracks. “What’s up?”
“Edward Pierson needs you in his office right away. There’s been an accident.”
CHAPTER 16
Edward was pacing behind his desk, his complexion ashen.
“Ms. Evans found me,” Monty announced, walking in and shutting the door behind him. “She said there’d been an accident.”
“Yes.” Edward stopped, taking a gulp of water. “At Wellington. During today’s competition.”
“Was James injured?”
“No. He wouldn’t have been, even if he’d been riding. What he would have been is disqualified.”
Monty frowned. “Explain.”
Edward leaned heavily against his desk. “James was scheduled to ride my stallion Future in the intermediate level of today’s event. He called me this morning and said he was sick—too sick to even get out of bed, much less compete. So I pulled a few strings, got a doctor’s note and permission to sub in another rider—Bill Granger, one of my grooms. He was the logical choice. He’s a damned good rider. He exercises Future every day. He and Future make a great team. The switch should have been no big deal.”
“But?”
“At the third jump, Granger collapsed and fell off Future. He’s in the hospital now. I’m waiting to hear how bad his injuries are.”
Monty’s eyes narrowed. “What was the cause of his collapse—pressure? Heat?”
“Neither.” Edward took another gulp of water. “The drug testing turned up positive for hydrochlorothiazide. That’s a diuretic.”
“Yeah, it’s taken for high blood pressure.”
“That’s the thing. Granger doesn’t have high blood pressure. Just the opposite. His pressure’s low.”
“Which explains why he collapsed. So why did he take the stuff?”
“He didn’t. Someone must have slipped it in his water or his coffee. And whoever did it thought he was sabotaging James.”
“Why? Does James have low blood pressure, too?”
