back around two or three car lengths. From that distance, she couldn't distinguish who was driving.
Her spine tingled. At last she saw the exit for the interstate north and turned onto it. The brown car didn't follow her. She let out a big sigh of relief and pushed the incident to the back of her mind.
On the second day of her trip when she was two hours from Saratoga Springs, Kate called Maria. They had arranged to meet for dinner at a Greek diner not for from Saratoga. Kate informed Maria that she was running on time and would meet her at the diner as planned.
After complimenting each other on how good the other looked, they settled into a back booth. Maria ordered the Greek salad, and Kate ordered the chicken Caesar salad. They both wanted to save room for the baklava.
Over coffee, Maria imparted, "Oliver was able to get a FBI friend of his to leak a follow-up report about the crash. I couldn't keep the report, so I memorized it for you."
Kate laughed and then said, "Are you still doing that? I hated you in college when you could memorize information for a test whether or not you understood it, and I had to learn everything."
Maria grinned and said, "It comes in handy. Anyway, here goes.”
"Wait, I want to take notes." Kate removed a pen and pad from her purse. "Okay, I'm ready."
"Interpol identified the fingerprints as belonging to one Lei Chung, a drug smuggler from China. They have never been able to make a strong enough case against him, but he has been arrested a number of times." Maria leaned forward in her seat. "Now, for the really interesting part -- he was arrested with an associate in France for whatever constitutes their DUI." After straightening herself, Maria picked up her fork and gestured with it as she talked. "The French police have blood samples from each one."
"I can guess what happened next," Kate interjected. "Some of the hair samples from each of the three victims were sent to the French police."
"Of course," Maria answered, "and the DNA from one of the hair samples matched the DNA from Chung's associate. Now, get this." Maria pointed with her fork. "He turned out to be Nikolay Dmitriyevich, a member of the so-called Russian Mafia. And one of the other hair samples matched Chung's DNA."
The waitress approached them carrying a coffeepot. "Anyone care for more coffee?"
"Yes, please," said Kate. They sat silently while she poured. Looking around, Kate saw that the diner was no longer crowded. It appeared that most of the customers had eaten and left.
"Looking extremely serious, Maria asked, "Now, what were two big time drug smugglers doing in little Saratoga? Oliver has been quietly asking questions of his FBI friends, but no one wants to talk about it."
"Maybe, the FBI is in the dark about this as much as we are," Kate suggested.
"Maybe, but Oliver senses they know a little more than they are willing to tell. He told me to tell you that he will keep trying for you."
Placing her pen and pad back in her purse, Kate said, "What you have told me helps tremendously. In Georgia I met with a contact of mine. He overheard members of the cartel talking about Saratoga and horse racing, but after our meeting, he was run over by a hit-and-run driver. He's in critical condition."
Maria's eyes widened. "Be careful, Kate. If you do need help, call me. I'll bring the whole State Police department to your rescue."
"The whole State Police department," Kate repeated, laughing.
"Okay, not all of them, but you know I will get you help."
"Spoken like a true friend and police detective. But enough of that I want to hear more about your wedding."
"Everything is pretty much all arranged."
"I want to know all the details. What color theme are you using?" asked Kate, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Kate, I want you to be surprised -- no details." They paid their check and walked outside. Standing in front of Kate's car, Maria handed her a key and said, "That's the key to the townhouse. The address is on the key ring. Teri left a light on for you. She told me to tell you to use it like it was your home. I have to run now. I told Oliver I would meet him at his apartment to go over a couple of changes.” Maria gave her a quick hug and walked over to her car.
* * *
Being too tired to do anything else that night, Kate drove to the townhouse, grabbed her bags, and unlocking the door, stepped inside. "Oh, my," she verbalized. She felt as if she had entered a botanical garden. Small potted trees were lined up in front of a set of sliding glass doors. Large pots containing all kinds of foliage covered every inch of the floor except for a traffic pattern and where the furniture sat. Even the television had small plants sitting on top of it. Leave it to Maria, she concluded. She saw that the ceiling contained skylights as she tried to find the bedroom.
When she crawled into the bed surrounded by plants, she thought for sure a mosquito net was going to drop from the ceiling and cover her.
Early the next morning after making coffee, Kate phoned Bob's office and left the phone number with his secretary for the fax in the townhouse. Next, she decided she needed to learn as much as she could about the sport of horse racing and betting. Going to the track for breakfast and taking the public tour of the horse stables and backstretch areas would be the perfect place to start. She hurriedly checked some of the plants and decided they were wet enough.
After the champagne breakfast, she joined the group lining up for the tour. The guide announced that her name was Sandy and gave them a short history of the track as they rode in the open shuttle to the backstretch. "The Saratoga Racetrack, which first opened in 1863, is one of the oldest in the country,” she recited.
Then as they toured the stables, Sandy explained how the racehorses were pampered. “Their accommodations are more spacious and cleaner than those of anyone traveling with them. They are exercised each morning, and after that they are walked for forty-five minutes. They eat all day long and usually only run once or twice a week.”
Although Kate found the talk informative, she was looking for a different kind of information. When the shuttle stopped to let a horse and rider pass, she jumped off and ducked behind a row of stalls. Walking along, she spotted a young man cleaning out one of the stalls and stopped. “Who knows the most about this track?” she asked.
“That would be old Mose. He’s been around this track forever,” the man replied.
“Where could I find him?” she inquired, smiling.
“He’s usually over at Highwayman’s stall.”
“Thanks,” Kate said. And after receiving directions, she went to find Mose.
* * *
"I've always wondered who comes up with the names for racehorses," Kate declared as she approached a tall lean man with close-cropped gray hair, patting and talking to Highwayman.
"I know what you mean. I have often wondered about that myself," the man answered.
"You're Mose, right?" asked Kate.
"That's right."
"May I touch him?" She looked admiringly at the reddish brown horse.
"You
