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He rammed his fingers through his black, windblown hair and poured them each a drink. “I found Stasia,” he admitted roughly, Tiffany’s heart nearly missed a beat. “It wasn’t all that easy, and if she’d had her way, I never would have located her.”
He walked over to Tiffany and handed her a snifter of brandy, before taking a long swallow of the warm liquor and sitting on the hearth, hoping that the golden flames would warm his back.
“How did you find her?”
“A private investigator by the name of Walt Griffith.”
His gray eyes searched hers. “I had him do some checking on you, too—”
“What!”
He smiled devilishly and his eyes twinkled. “I didn’t figure you’d like it any more than Stasia did. But it was necessary. To find Ellery.”
Tiffany nearly dropped her drink. Her hands began to shake as she lifted the glass to her lips.
“I’m getting ahead of myself,” Zane said. “Walt found Stasia living with some artist-type in Carmel. When I approached her she was shocked, but managed to fall right back into character—she agreed to tell her side of the Ellery Rhodes story for a substantial fee.”
“You paid her?” Tiffany was outraged.
Zane’s eyes rested on her flushed face and he smiled. “Believe me, it was worth it.”
Tiffany wasn’t so sure. “What did you find out?”
“About the accident that supposedly killed Devil’s Gambit.”
Tiffany’s heart was pounding so loudly it seemed to echo against the cherrywood walls. “Wait a minute,” she insisted as the cold truth swept over her in a tidal wave of awareness. “What you’re saying is that—”
“Stasia was Ellery’s mistress. Even when he was married to you, he was having an affair with my ex-wife. Seems that they were hooked on the excitement of carrying on when there was the danger of being discovered.”
“I . . .” Tiffany was about to say that she didn’t want to believe it, but she knew it was the truth. She’d come to the same conclusion herself once she had talked to Dustin. The affair explained so much about Ellery that she had never understood.
“So Ellery?” she asked breathlessly.
“Was killed in the accident,” Zane assured her.
“I . . . never wished him dead,” Tiffany whispered, walking across the room and sitting next to Zane on the hearth.
“I know. You just had to know the truth.” Zane looked into her eyes and smiled. “It’s going to be all right, you know.”
“God, I hope so.”
“We’ll be together.”
Tiffany’s eyes filled with tears of happiness. “Then you’re right—everything will work out.”
“Stasia admitted that the horses were switched,” he said, continuing with his story. “Ellery had thought that the insurance forms had already been processed—”
“The ones that were waiting for his signature?”
“Yes. No one but Ellery, Dustin and Bob Prescott knew that Devil’s Gambit had pulled a ligament after his last race.”
“Not even Mac?”
“No.”
“When?”
“While exercising a few days after his last race. It looked as if Devil’s Gambit, the favored horse, wouldn’t be able to race in any of the Triple Crown races. If Ellery could make it look as if Devil’s Gambit had died in an accident, when in fact it was really another, considerably less valuable horse who was killed, he could breed Devil’s Gambit under an alias in another country, collect stud fees and get the insurance money to boot. It was better odds than just putting him out for stud before he’d really proved himself.”
