Puss 'N Cahoots

cars at the foot of their driveway so no one could block them. Windows had been smashed for less.
    As for Route 60, traffic to the show from both east and west would need to be rerouted to park along the curb of town streets.
    Many of the officials feared that spectators would remain home after the week of wild events; after all, how many Saddlebred shows endured a murder, a van blowing up, and a horse being stolen, and then recovered? The reverse proved true. What is it about the human race that draws it to danger, drama? Let there be a car crash, a house fire, a bridge collapse, and folks will travel for miles to view the disaster. The final night of the horse show was no exception. People started pouring in two hours before the first class.
    The grooms feverishly worked to prepare the horses and riders, bringing extra water for themselves as the heat remained unabated; the trainers all dodged the unbelievable press of flesh. By five, two hours before the first class, all prior attendance records had been shattered. Despite the expense for extra security and the anticipated cost of extra cleanup of the grounds, the coffers would overflow.
    Ward, hearing the sounds of cars, people, feet, quipped to Benny, bridle over his shoulder, “This proves there is no such thing as bad publicity.”
    Ward no sooner got the words out of his mouth than Booty appeared, in the company of Miss Nasty.
    “Benny, take a hike,” Booty ordered.
    “Hike, hike, hike,”
Miss Nasty echoed Booty, and for whatever reason this put her in an especially good mood.
    Benny shifted the bridle to his other shoulder, looking to Ward.
    “He stays right here, Booty. What the hell is this about? I’ve been through as much as I care to handle today.”
    Booty half-smiled. “I won’t be as tedious as your insurance agent.” He glanced at Benny, deciding to go forward. “Here’s the deal. I know you serviced Renata, so to speak. You carried the mare to your farm.” Ward stayed expressionless as Booty kept on. “I don’t mind. She got what she wanted out of it. I don’t even want to know what she paid you. But I want to know two things. Did Jorge bring Queen Esther to you?”
    “I told you he did.” Ward ignored Miss Nasty, who left Booty’s shoulder and now pulled on the hem of his jeans.
    “I don’t remember you telling me that.”
    “Alzheimer’s,” Ward joked, but Booty didn’t laugh. “What’s the next question?”
    “Did Charly pay you, too?”
    “What’s Charly got to do with it?”
    “Oh, come on, Ward, don’t play me for a fool. You’re smarter than that and so am I. Renata doesn’t breathe without Charly.”
    “What are you talking about?” Ward raised his voice. “I don’t know what Renata and Charly are doing, but I can tell you I didn’t talk to him. The only person I talked to was Renata.”
    “He’s behind it.”
    “Well, go talk to him. I don’t know anything about it.”
    Booty clucked to Miss Nasty.
    “I don’t want to leave yet.”
The monkey dropped Ward’s hem to snoop in the hospitality room. Might be something scrumptious in there.
    Checking his watch, Booty’s eyebrows raised. “Damn, time gets away from me.” Two long strides and he entered the hospitality room, just as Miss Nasty unwrapped a cold Reese’s peanut butter cup. She left the small refrigerator door open, which Booty closed. “Miss Nasty, no sugar.”
    She popped it in her mouth, trying to swallow it whole. With tremendous effort and a few chews while eluding Booty, she managed.
    Booty came out with Miss Nasty in tow.
    Ward stepped closer to Booty. “I don’t know what your worry is about Charly. Seems to me I have more to worry about than you do. Benny and I could have been blown to kingdom come, and, well, Charly knows all about explosives.”
    Booty, holding the monkey’s paw as she walked along with him, her eyes watering from swallowing such a big hunk of candy, said, “Don’t do business behind my back.”
    “I don’t think doing business with Renata is doing business behind your back. I’ve kept up my end of the bargain concerning you.”
    Booty’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Everything concerns me. If Charly did set up the so-called theft of the horse with you, then how do I know you aren’t siphoning off money elsewhere? Maybe you bring in a load of merchandise on the QT.”
    “I wouldn’t do that. I’ve been straight up.” Ward’s jaw jutted out.
    “Good.” Booty’s tone improved. “If there’s