"They used to guard him closer?" I said.

"Used to have somebody right beside his stall."

"Anybody say why they don't anymore?"

"No. Like I say, Delroy shooed me away when I said something to him."

"Must think he's no longer in danger," I said.

"Why they think that?" Rice said. "The horse shooter killed Mr. Clive trying to get to Hugger."

"Maybe," I said.

"What you mean, maybe?"

"Just that we haven't caught the killer. So we don't know anything for sure."

"I been sleeping in the stable with Hugger," Rice said.

"Family?" I said.

"Me? I got a daughter, ten years old, she's in New Orleans with my ex-wife."

"You got a gun?"

"Got a double-barreled ten-gauge from my brother."

"That will slow a progress," I said. "You know how to shoot it?"

"I've hunted some. Everybody grow up down here done some hunting."

"What's he hunt with a ten-gauge, pterodactyl?"

"Maybe burglars," Rice said.

"So what do you want me to do?" I said.

"I don't know. I'm worried about the horse. You seemed like somebody I could tell."

"There a number I can reach you?" I said.

"Just the stable office, they can come get me. Don't tell them it's you. You ain't allowed in there."

"Who says?"

"Penny, Delroy, they say nobody's supposed to talk to you or let you come near the place."

"But you're talking to me."

"I'm worried about Hugger."

"I think Hugger will be all right," I said.

"You know something?"

"Almost nothing," I said. "But I'm beginning to make some decent guesses."

"I'm going to keep on staying with him," Rice said. "Me and the ten-gauge."

"Okay," I said. "And I'll work on it from the other end."

"What other end?"

"I'm hoping to figure that out," I said.

FORTY-TWO

I SAT WITH Becker in his office. The air-conditioning was on and the blades of a twenty-inch floor fan were spinning in the far corner. We were drinking Coca-Cola.

"Two days before Clive was murdered," I said, "he learned for certain that he was the father of Dolly Hartman's son, Jason."

"Learned how?" Becker said.

"DNA test results came back."

"Hundred percent?"

"Yes."

"So he's got another heir," Becker said.

He was rocked as far back as his chair would go, balanced with just the toe of his left foot. He had taken his gun off his belt and it lay in its holster on his desk.

"His will mentions only his three daughters."

"Suppose if he'd lived longer that would have changed?"

"The timing makes you wonder," I said.

"There's other timing makes you wonder," Becker said. "Kid's about what? Twenty-five?"

"Dolly says she had an affair with Clive early, and then disappeared until Sherry was gone."

"Slow and steady wins the race," Becker said. "You figure one of the daughters scragged the old man to keep him from changing his will?"

"Or all three," I said.

"Why not pop the kid, Jason?"

"Old man is readily available," I said. "And if he included the kid, before they knocked the kid off, then his estate would be in their lives."

"You like one daughter better than another?"

"Well, that's sort of sticky," I said. "I figure Stonie or SueSue would be willing to do it, but would have trouble implementing. I figure Penny could implement all right, but wouldn't be willing."

"How about our friend the serial horse shooter?"

"Billy Rice came and told me that there's no more security on the horse."

Becker frowned a little. It was the first expression I'd ever seen on his face.

"Rice is the groom?"

"Yes."

"Well," Becker said. "Been couple months now."

"I know, but it's a valuable horse, and there's still security on the stable area and on the house. But no one's paying any special attention to the horse. Except Billy, who's sleeping in the stable with a ten-gauge."

"Case a hippopotamus sneaks in there," Becker said.

Becker let his chair tip forward. When he could reach the holstered gun on his desk, he tapped it half around with his forefinger so that it lined up with the edge of his blotter.

"So it seems like they're not expecting anyone to try to shoot their horse," I said. "Why would that be?"

"Might be that the horse shooter is a Clive," Becker said.

"And the whole horse shooter thing was a diversion?" I said.

"Except it went on for quite a while before the DNA results came back."

"How about this?" I said. "The killer or killers find out ahead of time about the paternity thing. They know Clive is going to have DNA testing done. They put the serial horse shooting in place so that if it turns out wrong, and they have to kill him, it'll look like a by-product of the horse shooting."

"It would explain why no one seemed to care if the horses died or not," Becker said.

"Yes."

"Nice theory."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Pretty cold," Becker said.

"Very cold," I said.

"Can you prove it?"

"Sooner or later," I said.

"Where's Delroy fit into all of this?"

"I don't know. Pud Potter says that Delroy and Penny Clive are intimate."

"Penny?"

"That's Pud's story."

"Was he sober when he told it?"

"Yes. The other thing about Delroy is that he's a phony. He was never with the FBI. He was never in the Marine Corps. And I'm pretty sure that there isn't any big company that he works for. Security South is him, working out of a letter drop in Atlanta."

"Well, you're a detecting fool, ain't ya?"

"We never sleep," I said.

"On the other hand, so he's bullshitting his way to success," Becker said. "Don't make him unusual. He's got the proper accreditation from the state of Georgia."

"That would mean his prints are on file," I said.

"Sure."

"Maybe you could run them for us, find out what he was doing while he wasn't in the FBI or the Marine Corps."

Becker took a pull at his Coke.

"Yeah," he said. "I can do that."

"While you're doing that, I'm going to commit several covert acts of illegal entry," I said.

"Be good if we get something that will be useful to us in court," Becker said.

"On an illegal entry by a private dick who's not even licensed in Georgia?" I said.

"Be better if you didn't get caught," Becker said.

"Be good if you don't look too close at what I'm doing."

"Be good if nobody asks me to," Becker said.

"Eventually I'm going to find out what happened," I said.

"Be nice," Becker said.

FORTY-THREE

I HAD A drink with Rudy Vallone at a restaurant called the Paddock Tavern, downstairs from his office. There was a bar along the right-hand wall as you came in; other than that, the place was basically the kind of restaurant where you might go to get a cheeseburger or a club sandwich, or if you had a date you wanted to impress you could shoot the moon and order chicken pot pie, or a spinach salad. There were Tiffany-style hanging lamps and dark oak booths opposite the bar, and a bunch of tables in the back where the room widened out. There was a big mirror behind the bar so you could look at yourself, or watch women. Or both.