Platinum Cowboy

Detective Green shook his head. “No, thanks. Just finished lunch.”

Flint nodded and sat down, planting his hands on the desk. “What did you find out about the attack last night?”

The detective removed a pocket-size notepad and glanced at it. “Nothing concrete yet. The medical examiner verified your pilot’s ID, as well as that of the older man, Grover Harper, but there’s a problem with the younger man’s identity. You said you didn’t know him?”

“I have a lot of employees in different capacities, Detective. I don’t know them all personally.”

“You don’t interview them?”

“My manager Jose Ortega is in charge of hiring the ranch hands and Reba Bales oversees the horse people, trainers, assistants and grooms. Didn’t he have ID with him?”

Detective Green made a clicking sound with his teeth. “That’s just it. He did. Name on the ID is Huey Houston, but in the DMV records, we found two Huey Houstons. One is eighty-five years old and in a nursing home in Corpus Christi, and the other died five years ago in a car crash in Austin.”

Flint frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re saying this guy used a fake name?”

The detective shrugged. “Looks that way. If he were Hispanic, I’d think he was an illegal, but this guy was Caucasian. Could be he’d had trouble with the law and wanted to hide out on your land.”

Flint squared his shoulders. “If he was a criminal, you think he might have had something to do with the sabotage?”

“It’s a possibility. We’re running DNA, checking prints and looking at dental records, but that will take time.” Detective Green leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees. “Meanwhile, I’ll need a list of all your employees.”

Flint’s pulse pounded. “You think this was an inside job?”

“Whoever did this had knowledge of your plans, the time your shipment would arrive, where the plane would land.”

Flint shifted, anger mounting in his gut. He didn’t like suspecting his own people.

“Who all was involved in this shipment?” Detective Green asked.

Flint rapped his fingers on the desk. “My business manager, Simon Cornwall, of course. Reuben Simms, the pilot who brought them in. Amal Jabar. He’s my Middle Eastern contact who helped arrange the importation. Then the two hands who were on board.” He paused, seeing their bloody faces in his mind.

“Who else?” Detective Green asked.

Flint sighed. “My partners in the Aggie Four, and Deke Norton of Norton International. But they all had vested interests in the Arabians.”

Detective Green pursed his mouth. “I’ll still need to talk to them. Any problems between you guys?”

“No,” Flint said. “Not at all. I’d trust any one of them with my life.”

Detective Green gestured toward the computer. “Now that list?”

“Right.” He clicked a few keys, entered his password, then accessed the file and hit Print. While they waited, Detective Green pressed on.