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groom made it up?”
    â€œNobody could get to him through our security.”
    â€œHow about the other horse, Saddle Shoes?”
    â€œHe was shot at long range,” Delroy said. “We can’t be everywhere.”
    â€œâ€™Course not,” I said. “Why would the groom lie?”
    â€œMost of them lie,” Delroy said.
    â€œGrooms?”
    Delroy snorted. “They wouldn’t tell a white man the truth if it would make them rich.”
    â€œWhat’s the SS for on your collar?”
    â€œSecurity South.”
    â€œOh, it’s not Schutzstaffel ? ” I said.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œA little Nazi humor,” I said.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œThe SS was Hitler’s bodyguard,” I said. “It’s an abbreviation of Schutzstaffel.”
    â€œThis pin stands for Security South,” Delroy said.
    â€œYes.”
    Delroy looked at me for a moment. Martin was silent beside me, his eyes on the horses moving around the track.
    â€œYou’re a big guy,” Delroy said.
    â€œI try,” I said.
    â€œWell, to be honest with you, size doesn’t impress me.”
    â€œHow disappointing,” I said.
    â€œWe’re professionals, every one of us, and quite frankly, we don’t think we need some wizard brought in here from Boston to tell us how to do our job.”
    â€œWell, it’s certainly a nice professional-looking earpiece,” I said. “Can you listen to Dr. Laura on it?”
    â€œI command a twelve-man detail here,” Delroy said. “I need in-touch capability.”
    â€œMilitary Police?” I said.
    â€œI joined SS five years ago. Before that I was with the Bureau and before that I was an officer in the Marine Corps.”
    â€œThe Corps and the Bureau,” I said. “Jeepers.”
    â€œWhat are your credentials?”
    â€œI got fired from the cops,” I said.
    Delroy snorted. Martin kept watching the horses.
    â€œHow the hell did you weasel onto Walt Clive’s payroll?” Delroy said.
    â€œMaybe size impresses him,” I said.
    â€œWell, let’s put it on the table where we can all look at it,” Delroy said. “We’ll complete our mission here with you or without you. You do whatever you want to, or whatever Walt Clive wants you to do. But if you get in our way we’ll roll right over you. You understand?”
    â€œMost of it,” I said. “Martin here can help me with the hard parts.”
    â€œAnything has to do with that horse,” Delroy said, “you go through me.”
    He about-faced smartly and marched away.
    â€œFirst Pud, now him,” I said to Martin.
    â€œSouthern hospitality,” Martin said absently. His mind was still on the horses.
    â€œJust so we’re clear,” I said. “I’m not after your wife. I won’t tell you how to train horses.”
    â€œMy wife will be sorry to hear that,” Martin said.
    â€œBut the horses won’t give a damn,” I said.
    â€œThey never seem to,” Martin said.

SIX

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    I WAS SITTING in an office at the Columbia County Sheriff’s Lamarr substation with a man named Dalton Becker. He was a big, solid, slow black man. He had short graying hair. His coat was off and hanging behind the half-open door. His red-and-blue-striped suspenders were bright over his white shirt. He wore his gun tucked inside his waistband.
    â€œYou care for a Coca-Cola?” he said.
    â€œSure.”
    â€œVonnie.” He raised his voice. “Couple Coca-Colas.”
    We waited while a young black woman with bright blond hair sashayed in, chewing gum, and plopped two Cokes on his desk.
    â€œThank you, Vonnie,” Becker said.
    She sashayed back out. He handed one to me, opened his, and took a drink.
    â€œHere’s what I know about this horse business,” hesaid. “First of all, there’s been three horses attacked. Not counting the alleged attack