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race, especially one she’s wagered on.”
    Higgins hoped she wasn’t engaged in a tryst with yet another man. “She said she wanted to visit the Donegal Dancer in the stables.”
    Longhurst shook his head. “I’ve been to the stables. The police won’t let me through.”
    Eliza took his arm. “My cousin is a Scotland Yard detective inspector. He’ll let us pass.”
    Higgins followed behind, grinning. If only he had a pound note for every time Eliza boasted about her cousin.
    True to her word, Eliza got them into the stables. Jack Shaw was deep in conversation with racing officials and waved to his men to let them through. As soon as Jack was done talking, Higgins would ask him a few questions about Hewitt.
    Up ahead, Eliza, Longhurst, and Pickering entered a stall where a rollicking chorus rang out. “Three cheers to the Donegal Dancer!”
    Higgins glanced into the nearby stalls. Some held curious or nervous horses; others were filled only with hay and feed buckets.
    Longhurst emerged once again. His wife was not with him.
    â€œDid you find her?” Higgins asked.
    â€œNo, and the jockey says no woman’s been near the horse’s stall all day.” He sighed. “I can’t imagine where she could be. Could you help me look for her?”
    As Longhurst walked along the stalls, Higgins searched in the opposite direction. He hoped he would be the first to find her—and whatever man she was probably with. But each stall revealed only another horse, a suspicious trainer, or a tired groom. Not until he reached the last stall did Higgins stop short. A purple turban lay on the pile of straw inside.
    â€œMiss Price?” Higgins asked. “Are you in there?” When there was no answer, Higgins swung open the half-gate and entered the stall. What he saw made him reel back in horror.
    Diana Price lay crumpled on the straw, her body covered in blood. Beside her was a pitchfork, its prongs streaked with red.
    â€œMr. Longhurst, come here!” Higgins shouted, amazed he was able to get the words out. He steadied himself by clutching the gate.
    â€œHave you found her?” He heard Longhurst running toward the stall. “What in the world is she doing down here? I swear, sometimes I could kill that woman.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, Higgins crouched down and felt the woman’s pulse. Clearly someone else wanted to kill her, too.

 
    THREE
    As if sensing the horror of what had happened, horses whinnied from every corner of the stables. Higgins pulled Eliza out of the way when two men carried the blanketed corpse past them. Even after they left, however, the metallic scent of blood lingered.
    After Gordon Longhurst spotted his wife’s dead body, his frantic cries brought the owners of the Donegal Dancer running. Grooms, jockeys, managers, and racing officials soon followed. While the men shouted for the police, Rachel Turnbull fainted at the sight of Diana’s blood-soaked gown. As soon as Scotland Yard arrived, the owners were mercifully hustled into an adjacent stall and instructed to stay there until a policeman told them otherwise.
    Since Higgins and Eliza could not contain their curiosity, they lingered in the corridor. But they learned little. Jack Shaw hadn’t left the stall where Diana was found, and Detective Jeremy stood in front of the gate. His grim expression warned them away.
    A chilling moan rose once again from the stall where the owners waited. “Diana! Oh, God, Diana!” It was Gordon Longhurst. “Who did this to you? Diana!”
    Higgins frowned. How uncivilized for the poor man to be kept here like this. Eliza must have thought so as well; she stepped up to Detective Jeremy and peered over his shoulder.
    â€œMove aside, miss,” Jeremy said.
    Eliza ignored him. “Jack, someone must see about Mr. Longhurst. The fellow has lost his wife. He needs to see a doctor and perhaps a minister,