'Got a key?'
'Sure.'
'I'll need to get in,' I said.
'Why?'
The water sluiced softly over the small chestnut horse, who bent her neck a little so she could look around at me.
'Penny wants me to check something in the files.'
'Nobody said anything to me,' Mickey said.
'No, they wouldn't. It's supposed to be very hush-hush.'
'Gee, I don't know.'
'No, of course you don't and it's not fair to ask you,' I said, 'without explanation. Penny wants me to sort of check up on Security South.'
'Security South?'
'Yes, Jon Delroy, specifically.'
'She wants you to check up on Mr. Delroy?' There was something in Mickey's tone that suggested she thought it would be a good idea to check up on Delroy.
'She's afraid he's stealing from her.'
'Damn!'
'This is the best time to do it,' I said. 'While they're all in Saratoga.'
Mickey nodded. She could see that.
'So I figured I'd take the chance and tell you.' I smiled at her. 'Our secret?'
Mickey smiled. 'Sure,' she said. 'Key's on a nail right inside the door to the tack room.'
'Thank you.'
FORTY-FIVE
THE FILES WERE locked, but I figured there'd be a key somewhere. People who would leave the office key hanging on a nail in the tack room wouldn't be terribly fastidious about the file cabinet. It wouldn't be too high because then Penny couldn't reach it easily. And it wouldn't be too far because people hate to bother. In about five minutes I found it, hanging on a hook in the lavatory, under a hand towel.
It took me a while longer to find anything interesting in the files. But it didn't take forever. The files were immaculately neat, which helped. Everything was precisely labeled, and everything was alphabetical, and near the back was a file folder with no label. I took it out. Inside were reports from Security South dating back more than ten years. There was information about Stonie at the truck stops, about Cord's problems with young boys, about SueSue's adulteries, and Pud's arrests for public drunkenness and assault. Each case included specifics of action taken and sums expended by Security South to resolve the problem. Most of these reports in the earlier years were initialed WC, and in recent years, increasingly, PC.
There was also a three-page typewritten report, unaddressed and unsigned, which in summary concluded that it was quite possible that Walter Clive had been having an affair with Dolly Hartman while he was married to Sherry, and it was entirely possible that Jason Hartman was Walter's son. There was a copy machine on the long table behind the desk. I ran the report through the copier, folded up the copy, stuck it in my back pocket, and put the original back in its folder. I assumed the report was by Delroy, and I assumed it was for Penny. There were no initials on this one, but there was no reason for Walter Clive to commission such research. He'd know whether he could have been Jason's father or not.
I spent about an hour more, but didn't find anything else to help me. It appeared from my fast glom of the files that Penny was running the business, and that the business was doing very well. I locked the files, put the key back, turned off the lights, locked the office door, and put the key back in the tack room.
Mickey had finished washing down the chestnut filly, who was back in her stall, looking out at me. Half a carrot would get me anything. Mickey sat on an upended plastic milk crate, reading Cosmopolitan.
'You got a carrot I can give her?' I said.
'In the bag,' Mickey said, nodding at a black canvas backpack lying near her left foot.
There was a plastic bag of loose carrots in the pack, in among what appeared to be gym clothes and makeup. I selected one.
'Put it on the flat of your hand and let her lip it off,' Mickey said. 'That way she won't confuse your finger for a carrot.'
'Hey,' I said. 'I was born in Laramie, Wyoming. You think I don't know horses?'
'Really? How old were you when you left?'
'Ten or twelve,' I said.
Mickey smiled.
'Hold your hand flat, let her lip the carrot,' she said.
Which I did. The chestnut filly took the carrot as predicted, leaving my fingers intact.
'You find anything?' Mickey said.
