The Sisters McFadden

Chapter 9 - Horse Theft

It was after dark by the time Rex arrived at the stable in Rolling Hills Estates that reported a horse had been taken, or at least missing. Kurt arrived first and was already talking to the horse's owner and one of the uniformed Sheriff's Deputies that initially responded to the call. The owner, who lived down the hill in Manhattan Beach, explained that their local horse trainer had stopped by late in the day to workout their three prized Arabians. When the trainer arrived, only two of the owner's horses were in the stable. The owner escorted the officers down a steep slope from the gated dirt parking area that led to the stables and riding ring. The two separate stables, which housed ten horses each, were built in a shallow ravine that could not been seen from the road above. The young trainer in his twenties met them in front of the stable with several other Sheriff's Deputies.

"Any chance the horse escaped?" asked Kurt.

"I don' think so," said the trainer.

"Let's get a helicopter over this canyon," said Rex.

"On its way," said a deputy. "Animal Control units coming as well."

Rex looked at the open entryway to the stable. There were no locks. "What did the horse look like?"

"Grey with white spotting," said the owner. "He's a beautiful Arabian breed."

"Big and strong," said the trainer. "A western saddle is missing too."

"Any chance one of your family members or another worker took the horse out for a ride?" asked Kurt.

"No," said the owner. "Everyone we know who is permitted to have access to our horses is accounted for."

"Is there anyone you know with a motive to take your horse?" asked Rex. "Anyone disgruntled?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Any odd characters hanging around the stables recently?"

"Not that we've seen."

"Are there any security cameras?"

"No. This is Palos Verdes. People still leave their doors unlocked. But the gate to the parking lot was chained and locked."

"Is there usually a stablehand on duty?"

"Yes, during daylight hours but he left early today because of the holiday."

"Let's get his statement."

"We spoke to him over the phone," said the owner. "He swears all the horses were in their stalls when he left around three o'clock."

Rex and Kurt walked around the stall the horse had occupied. Nothing stood out. The perpetrator could have easily walked the horse right out of the stable. Given that a saddle had been taken as well it seemed obvious the criminal rode away unseen.

"What was the escape route if access to the road was locked up?" asked Kurt.

"The horse trails," said the owner. "We connect to the trails that run all through the properties on this side of the hill."

Miles of interconnected bridle trails ran throughout Rolling Hills Estates like veins on the hill. The trails were zoned as easements on many of the properties. All the trails were lined with distinctive white three-rail fences with mulched surfaces. Trails ran alongside busy streets as well as deep into rural canyons. Coyotes used the trails to hunt at night. White trail fences were a trademark of the community. Whoever stole this horse could have ridden halfway across the peninsula on hidden trails to a waiting truck and trailer. Even in daylight. The trails provided access to the backyards of hundreds of homes, which was a concern. Arabians were valuable horses. Regardless, it was uncommon for a horse to be stolen on the peninsula.

"How about footprints?" asked Kurt.

"There are a number of different boot-prints around the stable," said one of the deputies.

"There are a lot of people who come down here and ride and take care of the horses," said the owner. "Most wear boots. And it gets muddy around here."

"Let's focus on any footprints that lead to and from the trail," said Rex. "Maybe there will be something distinctive about the imprints. May help us distinguish size and weight."

The men continued to survey the well kept stable. The other horses stood passively in their stalls. Impressive creatures. If only these animals could help. Rex felt their eyes following him. On the far wall, an assortment of tools and riding instruments hung from hooks. All of the hooks were in use for everything from bridles to shovels. All of the hooks except one in which Rex noticed hung unused on the wall next to a fire extinguisher outside a small office near the entrance.

"Over here," Rex called out to the group. "What if anything belongs on this empty hook?"

"An axe," said the trainer without hesitation.

"Did you say an axe?" asked Kurt.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, an axe belongs there. I walk by it every day."

"Any reason it would be taken off its hook?" asked Rex.

"No, I don't think it's ever been used. It's there mainly in case of a fire."

"Looks like our horse thief felt he or she had a use for an axe."

"Terrific," said Kurt. "I am going to check out the entrance to the horse trail."

"Okay," said Rex. "I will meet you out there in a minute."

Rex wanted to take one more look at the horse's stall. Maybe he missed something. He surveyed the stall from corner to corner. Horses were not his expertise. Nothing jumped out at him. The last thing he decided to inspect was the latch on the door to the stall. Again, no lock. Anyone could have opened the stall door and led the horse out. He saw some flies gather around the latch. He dropped to his knees and looked upwards under the latch. There he noticed a three inch sliver of what appeared to be some kind of blackened matter. Not sure, but it looked like dead skin to him, like the skin snakes shed but black and rotten.

"Deputy," he called out. "Please have Crime Scene take a look at this." Rex walked outside and found Kurt at the entrance to the horse trail. "Anything?"

"Who knows," said Kurt. "Lots of foot traffic around this area, human and horse."

Rex wandered out onto the trail. Twigs and leaves crackled under the weight of his feet. He looked up the trail in both directions. Which way did his horse thief go? He knelt and inhaled the smell of manure. And then that cool breeze was back. Just like the one in the morgue. It washed over him. Up the trail he saw a gust of wind blow the leaves across the trail. While faint, he swore he heard galloping hooves in the distance.