style="font-size:15px;"> “I’m sure Kentucky is nice and hot in August,” Noah replied.
“You’re right, but I’m in San Diego at the moment,” Carter replied. “We’ve got horses running at Del Mar.”
“So this Leopold’s Legacy problem hasn’t screwed things up for the other horses at Quest?” Noah asked him.
He should have known his brother would have heard about the scandal. The news about Leopold’s Legacy had been splashed across every newspaper in the country with headlines like: Derby Winner a Phony and Triple Crown Contender from the Wrong Side of the Track.
ESPN Magazine had added to the feeding frenzy with an in-depth article about the horse’s mystery sire entitled: “Who’s Your Daddy?” That was also the question Carter was trying so hard to answer.
Right now, it was only Leopold’s Legacy who was not allowed to race, but if they didn’t find answers soon, the local and regional racing commissions would enact a ban against all horses majority-owned by Quest.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as he entered the ballroom and took a deep sip. It wasn’t to his taste, since he preferred his liquor hard and strong, just like his women. Not that Carter had found much time for romance since this scandal with Leopold’s Legacy had erupted.
“Hey, are you there” Noah asked.
Carter blinked, realizing he’d let his mind wander again. “Yes, I’m still here.”
“Well, one of the reasons I’m calling is that you just got a late invitation to your fifteenth high school reunion. It’s this weekend.”
“Just throw it away,” Carter told him.
“You’re not coming back for it?”
He heard the disappointment in Noah’s voice, but Carter knew he couldn’t even consider going home until this mess with Leopold’s Legacy was cleared up. The Prestons were like a second family to him and he couldn’t abandon them now. “There’s no way I can make it. I’ve got too much work to do.”
“That’s what you always say,” Noah replied. “I think you should try to have some fun for a change and the reunion sounds like a blast.”
He checked his watch, realizing he didn’t have much time left to bid. “I’m at a charity auction right now and while I wouldn’t exactly call it fun, I do need to bid on something.” Carter scanned the multitude of items on display. “I’m trying to decide between a set of Limoges china, an authentic silk kimono, and an old saddlebag that was used on the pony express. Which one do you think I should bid on?”
“Can’t you just fly to Chicago for the weekend?” Noah persisted. “I’d like to talk to you about something….”
That’s when Carter saw it.
His heart skipped a beat as he stared at a breathtaking portrait of Leopold’s Legacy. Or rather a bay horse that looked like Leopold’s Legacy’s identical twin. The stallion in the painting had the same clover-shaped star on its forehead and the same unique flaxen color in its tail.
But there was something more.
The artist had captured the same spirit that Carter saw in Leopold’s Legacy. The majestic stallion in the painting had his head turned toward the sun, the light gleaming off the powerful muscles in his neck and shoulders.
Carter couldn’t believe this was just a coincidence. The horse in the painting wasn’t Leopold’s Legacy, but it looked as if they might have the same bloodline and very possibly the same sire.
“Carter?” Impatience laced Noah’s voice. “Are you still there?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, barely able to think, much less talk coherently. “I’ve got to go.”
“All right, but call me back. I really need to talk to you.”
“Okay,” Carter said, barely comprehending his brother’s words as he slipped the cell phone back into his pocket. He was too fascinated by the portrait and the possibility it presented.
Carter watched a man wearing a ten-gallon hat make a bid on the painting. The silent auction was ending soon and he didn’t have time to waste.
“Only fifteen minutes left, sir,” said a middle-aged woman with a name tag that proclaimed her as Shirley Biden. “So make your bid count.”
Carter picked up the pencil and a bidding slip from the table. “What can you tell me about this painting?”
“It’s called Picture of Perfection,” she replied. “That’s the name of the horse, too. If you’re the top bidder, I’ve arranged it so you not only win the painting, but get an opportunity to meet the artist.”
He stared at the painting, his gut telling him that Picture of Perfection might hold the key to his search for Leopold’s Legacy’s true sire. At the very least, it could be a first step toward solving the mystery that plagued Quest Stables.
“Ten minutes, sir,” Shirley said cheerfully.
Although Carter had been asked to bid on an item for Quest Stables, he’d find something else for them. He scribbled down a figure that would make his accountant drop him as a client, but he wanted this painting for himself.
He signed his name to the bid, then handed it to the woman. Her eyebrows shot up when she looked at the number. “Thank you very much, sir. And good luck.”
Carter placed another bid on the vintage leather saddlebag for the Preston family, knowing how much matriarch Jenna Preston liked antiques. Then he paced the ballroom, waiting for the silent auction to end.
He found himself wondering about the identity of Picture of Perfection’s dam as well as when and where she had been bred. Artificial insemination was forbidden by the Jockey Association and the International Thoroughbred Racing Federation, which meant Thoroughbreds had to be conceived the old-fashioned way. He and Brent Preston, Andrew’s brother and Quest’s head breeder, had actually watched the breeding between Apollo’s Ice and Courtin’ Cristy at Angelina Stud Farm. That’s what made the DNA results for Leopold’s Legacy so incomprehensible.
Carter declined the offer of a second glass of champagne from a passing waiter, wanting to keep a clear head. He needed information about Picture of Perfection such as breeding date, birth date and genealogical data before he could make any solid determinations. Anything that might point him toward a possible connection with Leopold’s Legacy.
Carter found himself standing in front of the portrait, staring at the horse. There was no denying the talent of the artist. The horse looked as if it could leap off the canvas at any moment. He read the artist’s signature at the bottom left corner.
G. Cameron.
He wondered if Mr. Cameron had any of the answers he sought. Not likely, but he could probably lead Carter to the owner of the horse.
The chime of bells sounded in the ballroom, signaling the end of the auction. Carter tensed as the director of the charity took the stage. He was a robust man with a full mustache and beard. Carter recognized him as one of the bigwigs at the Del Mar racetrack.
