“That crossed my mind,” Nancy said, frowning.
“But there’s still the problem with the photograph,” George reminded her. “Peter Greenbriar wouldn’t need it.”
“None of the clues seem to fit together,” Nancy said. “Let’s just hope we find some answers at Marburg’s.”
After lunch, they strolled back to the car and drove over to Fells Point, where they found Marburg’s Saddlery Shop along a quaint cobblestoned street. After parking, Nancy and George got out of the car and walked over to the shop.
As Nancy pushed open the glass-paned wooden door, a bell hanging on the inside made a tinkling sound. Then the smell of leather and saddle soap hit her.
Marburg’s was filled with saddles, bridles, and riding apparel. Odds and ends—brushes, curry combs, and cans of saddle soap—were tossed here and there in baskets. Nothing seemed organized. In fact, Nancy thought, it appeared that the merchandise hadn’t been rearranged in years.
“Wow,” George said, looking around at the overflowing shelves. “It’s like entering another world.”
An elderly man was sitting behind an antique cash register. Taking the glove from her pocket, Nancy went up to him and asked if he remembered who had bought it.
“No, miss, I’m sorry,” he replied in a gravelly voice as he peered at the glove. “I carried this glove a couple of years ago but not recently. I couldn’t possibly remember who bought it.”
“Can you tell me what the size is?” Nancy asked.
The man put on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and studied the glove. “Looks to me like a man’s small,” he judged. Nancy thanked the man and put the glove back in her pocket.
As she turned to leave, she noticed two young women sifting through a rack of riding jackets. The girls were whispering intensely. Curious, Nancy edged closer. She recognized one of the girls—Alexa Shaw’s friend from the cub hunt. The other one was a stranger.
Suddenly, Alexa’s friend whirled angrily toward the other girl. “You’re wrong!” she cried. “She’d never do that!”
“You’ve got to admit it,” the other girl insisted. “Alexa Shaw’s just nuts about Morning Glory. She’s the one who stole him—for sure!”
9
Wired for Danger
Nancy couldn’t believe what she’d heard the girl say. Had Alexa Shaw stolen Morning Glory?
“I’ll be right back,” Nancy said to George. She walked over to where the two young women were standing. “Hi,” she said with a friendly smile to the auburn-haired girl. “I spoke to you yesterday at the cub hunt. I’m Nancy Drew, a friend of Laura Passano’s.”
“Yes, I remember you,” the girl said, looking surprised to see Nancy suddenly appear. She frowned at her friend, then turned back to Nancy. “I’m Isabel Hathaway, and this is my friend Lili Tsao.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Nancy paused. “Hathaway. Are you related to Grant Hathaway, the huntsman with Mill River?”
Isabel nodded. “He’s my father,” she explained. “We’ve known the Passanos for years. Laura called me this morning to tell me about Morning Glory’s disappearance. I’m so sorry.”
“Yes,” Lili put in. “Isabel just told me about it. What a terrible thing to happen!”
“It sure is,” Nancy agreed. “You can imagine how upset Laura is.” Looking at Lili, Nancy asked, “I couldn’t help overhearing—do you really think Alexa Shaw stole him?”
Isabel cut in before Lili could respond. “Alexa was furious when Laura outbid her in the auction, but I know my friend is no thief.”
“You’re right, Isabel,” Lili agreed. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that everyone knows how much Alexa wanted that horse.”
So Alexa had coveted Morning Glory, Nancy mused, just as Laura said. Did Alexa want him badly enough to steal him—then write the note to throw blame on the animal activists? Alexa hadn’t shown up at the hunt, Nancy remembered. Was that because she knew about the booby traps? Nancy’s mind churned with questions as she listened to Lili and Isabel.
After saying goodbye to the girls, Nancy looked around for George. She found her trying on leather gloves at the counter.
“These would come in handy even if you’re not a rider,” George remarked as she handed the gloves back to the elderly store owner. “You could wear them out hiking in the woods, for instance.”
“That’s right, miss,” he said. “They’re great all-purpose outdoor gloves.”
After thanking him, Nancy and George returned to the car. Nancy told George what she’d overheard in Marburg’s.
“Alexa Shaw,” George said thoughtfully as she put on her seat belt. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s behind everything. You’ve got to admit—she doesn’t seem like a very nice person.”
“But that doesn’t mean she committed a crime,” Nancy said. “Still, we’ll have to check her out.” She considered their next move. “What about searching Alexa’s barn?” she suggested. “If she did steal Morning Glory, that’s about the last place she’d take him. But we might find some evidence telling us where he is or about the poisoning.”
“What about Charles Jackson?” George asked, as Nancy started the Mustang. “We should search his barn, too.”
“Absolutely,” Nancy said. “And I think it’s time we poked around Mark Plonsky’s house. We’re bound to come up with something at one of those places. We have to hurry—Opening Day is almost here.”
“Speaking of Opening Day,” George said, checking her watch, “let’s get on to the Mill River Hunt’s offices. Mrs. Passano is expecting us.”
Back in the country, Nancy and George followed Mrs. Passano’s directions to the headquarters of the Mill River Hunt. Nancy drove up a long, tree-lined driveway, then parked under a majestic maple tree beside a spacious old brick farmhouse.
“What a great place for offices,” George commented, as the two girls got out of the car. “I could work here.”
Nancy laughed. “It’s too beautiful, George. How could you concentrate? Besides, Laura told me it’s not only used for Mill River’s offices—it’s also a clubhouse for their social events. And the fox hounds are kept here.” Nancy pointed to an outdoor kennel. They could hear the friendly hounds yapping.
The front door was open, and Nancy and George entered. They immediately spotted Mrs. Passano, coming out of an office. “I’m so glad you’re here, girls,” she said when she saw them. “Laura just called me from home. She’s completely distraught. No one she’s talked to has seen Morning Glory. And I hate to think of what Opening Day will be like if . . . ” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Passano,” Nancy said soothingly. “I just know we’ll find Morning Glory and save the Mill River Hunt.” Privately, Nancy wished she felt that confident. But all she could do was keep investigating—and hope for a break.
