Page 49
THE RACE
* * *
“John, you have a package,” his wife told him as he rolled toward Duncan’s office.
John swung his wheelchair around. “Probably just something from the ‘Zon.”
Shannon shook her head. “Nope. It’s from Kentucky.”
Curious, he set his tablet on the corner of her desk and accepted the long package. It was indeed postmarked from Kentucky. He didn’t recognize the name on the box, but that didn’t mean anything.
Using his Kershaw pocketknife, he slid the blade through the cellophane tape. Inside the cardboard box was a long wooden box, wrapped in bubble wrap. Frowning, John lifted it from the cardboard, curious. He dropped the bubble wrap to the floor.
“Oh,” Shannon breathed. “That’s pretty.”
It was a solid oak box, approximately a foot and a half long. There was a stylized design on the top that looked like ivy. Flipping the little clasp, he opened the box. Inside was a bottle of bourbon.
John stared, his mouth open. Surely, it wasn’t…
Turning the box, he reread the label. Yes, it was. Oh, fuck...
“Who’s the old guy,” Shannon asked, leaning around to get a better look.
John snorted, looking at his wife. “He’s a dead man, but he created great bourbon.” Very carefully, he set the bottle on her desk. “There has to be a card.”
There was. Tucked into the corner of the box was a pretty, pale pink vellum envelope. He pulled it out and removed the card.
Told you if I ever hit it big, I would get you a bottle of Pappy. Be sure to watch the Derby this year.
Sincerely, Callum.
“Oh, wow…” John breathed, chortling. He sat back in his chair, looking at Shannon thoughtfully. She wanted the story, he could tell, but Dunc needed to be here too. Chad was out of the office on some errand, so he’d have to be updated later.
Rolling to Duncan’s office, he stuck his head in, grinning. “Come out here a minute, Dunc.”
“So, tell me,” Shannon laughed as John returned to her desk. She was bouncing in her chair, making her breasts do lovely things. He dragged his gaze away as Duncan walked out a few seconds later. John handed him the card. Duncan scanned it quickly, then John showed him the bottle. The older man’s gray brows lifted to his hairline, surprised more than John had seen him for a long time. He took the bottle reverently.
“Is it real?” he asked.
John nodded. “Looks like it.”
Shannon hissed out a breath. “Tell me, darn it. Who is Callum? And what’s up with this bottle?”
John grinned, loving building the suspense for her. “Well, this was before your time, but we got this call one day. Must have been, what, five years ago, Dunc? Completely random.”
Duncan crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet. “About five years, yeah. There was a frantic man on the other end of the line,” Duncan started. “Said his prize Thoroughbred mare, Moonstone Glitter, had been stolen and they were heading through Colorado, on their way to California, he thought. He was behind them in a truck and trailer, but he wouldn’t be able to catch them in time. They had a couple hours’ head start.”
“Or Japan,” John interjected.
Shannon looked at him quizzically. “Japan?”
John nodded. “They have some decent horses over there. And love racing. He thought they could be shipping her to Japan to build their stock.”
She shook her head, bemused, then looked back at Duncan to continue.
“So, someone had told Callum that the thief, a woman by the name of Jocelyn, was rolling through Colorado in the next few hours. Callum had a buddy that had used us before, which was how he got our name. He wanted to see if we could go talk to this woman, delay her, because he knew she was stopping at a friend’s house to let the mare stretch for a few hours.”
“Callum sent us all the documentation to prove he was the owner,” John continued. “He had the original bill of sale from when he bought her as a foal. He had pictures of her on the racetrack when she’d been racing. She’d been retired by the time he called us, and they bred her to a super expensive stud. Callum said it had taken every single penny he had to breed her to that stud. We kind of knew by what he said we probably would not get paid our standard fee, but…” John shrugged a little fatalistically.
