A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys, but I've been pretty sick this week and haven't felt like writing. Anyhoo, please enjoy and review. Thanks - DL
Chapter 6
The last two races were canceled, much to Matthias' relief. Wearily he went to change his clothes in the locker room, and trailed off to give his mounts a last pat before departing for home. They'd done their best; it wasn't Jump's(short for JumpNShout)fault that she hated mud and couldn't run effectively in it. He hated mud, too. He tugged at her ears, then scratched between her eyes where she liked it. "Time for me to go home, milady," he commented to her.
The horse snorted and bobbed her head as though nodding in agreement to his statement. Matthias turned away from her stall, and saw one of the stable girls coming out of King's stall not far away. "Hey, Matty," she greeted him.
"Hi, Donna," he replied.
"On your way home?" she asked, looking at his street clothes.
"Yeah. The last two races got canceled. I can't say that I'm unhappy about that; the mud's up to my eyebrows out on the track."
"Ouch. Best to go home and snuggle up in front of the fire, instead," she said with a smile as she picked up a bucket. "Wish I could do that, too. I hate the rain."
He paused, looking at her. After a moment he spoke up: "Donna? What did the cops talk to you about yesterday?"
She stopped in her tracks, still holding the bucket. "They asked me a lot of questions about Julie," she remarked, her face sad. "I couldn't tell them much. She didn't talk about her personal life, at least not to me."
"Who did she hang out with here at the track?" Matthias asked her.
"Anybody?"
She shrugged. "Not really. Of course, we all hung out together sometimes after work, but none of us were really good friends with her. A couple of times I saw her talking to..." she trailed off, her shoulders lifting.
"Who? Who did you see her talking to?" Matthias asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
"Well, I saw her talking to one of the owners a couple of times, just casually. Nothing important."
"Which owner? And did you tell the cops?"
"Oh, Seymour Rochet. And no, I didn't tell them. It didn't seem important. They were always out in public when they talked, and it's not like they were doing anything wrong. Just chatting about the horses, I think. Julie really loved them, even more so than most."
"I see," Matthias replied. This didn't sound like something really useful, though he'd mention it to Josh just the same. They had so few leads in this case that anything at all would help, even if it came to nothing. 'Thanks for telling me. I'm gonna go home and take a long, hot bath."
"Have fun," she said with a smile, walking away with her bucket.
Matthias drove home and happily immersed himself in a hot bubble bath, soaking away the aches and pains in his muscles. He sighed in pleasure as he set his chin on the bubbles, his eyes half-closed. The only way that this could get any better was if he was sharing the tub with a certain decidedly hot homicide detective...Mmm, what a nice thought. It would be a lovely way to end a day, being pressed back against a firm, muscular naked body while hands soaped him up from behind.
This image made his breath catch, and he fumbled under the water for his cock. He moaned lowly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers moving on his own penis, while images of sharing a bath with Josh drove him on. When he came, his back arching, he cried out Josh's name loudly.
Best bath ever! He thought to himself as he got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his body. And, maybe sometime soon, it would get even better because his imaginings would become a reality. Something to look forward to, that was for sure.
He padded into his bedroom and sat down on his bed to dry off. As he was running the towel over his body, the phone rang. He leaned over to pick it up from the bedside table where he'd laid it down earlier. Putting it to his ear, he said: "Yeah?"
"Hey, Matty. How was your day?" he heard Josh's voice ask.
He smiled. "Well, they cancelled the last two races, which was good by me. The mud was up to my chin by the time I left the track. How about you?"
"The usual. Dead bodies and paperwork. Fun stuff."
"Speaking of which, I was talking to one of our stable girls earlier, and she told me casually that she saw Julie speaking to one of our owners a couple of times. She said she didn't tell you guys because it didn't seem particularly important. They were always talking out in public, and she thinks they were discussing the horses she took care of."
"Which owner? Doesn't sound like much, but something is better than nothing."
"Seymour Rochet. You talked to him and his wife Camille the day Julie was killed."
"Oh, him," Joshua replied, distaste in his voice.
"He's not a bad guy," Matthias said defensively.
"Yeah, but that wife of his...Yikes. Maybe I'll talk Gabe into talking to him," he added wickedly.
"You're terrible," the jockey told him mock-severely.
"I know. But what else are partners for?"
He snorted. "Bad man. I'd defend Camille, but she is such a horrible bitch that simply can't. It's hell, having to ride for her."
"Every job has its drawbacks," Joshua mused. "I'd say she's a pretty big one, though."
He ran the towel over his damp curls. "Yeah. And unfortunately, she has old family money so she doesn't have to work. Which means that she can hang around whenever she wants..."
"Ouch. Poor baby. Sounds like somebody needs a hug."
He grinned. "Are you offering?"
"I might be," the detective's voice was warm and full of insinuation over the phone.
"Ooo, I like the sound of that," he told Joshua. "I'll take you up on that offer soon."
They spent a few hours just chatting together over the phone, with Matthias draped over his bed like a teenage girl from the 50s talking to her boyfriend. When he finally hung up, he felt great. He fetched a pair of flannel pajama bottoms from his drawer and pulled them on, then snuggled up in his warm bed. he had a date with Joshua tomorrow night to look forward to, and hopefully the track would have dried out too.
Gabe put his foot down, and told Joshua in no uncertain terms that he wasn't talking to Seymour Rochet alone. Either Joshua could go by himself, or Gabe would go along with him. End of story. So the two of them walked along between the rows of stalls, headed for the track itself. A stable boy had told them that Camille and Seymour Rochet were there with their trainer, watching one of their horses.
Emerging from between the buildings, they walked along the path beside the rails. They saw three people standing together, all watching a horse run out on the track. The trainer, Doug, was smoking furiously and looking grim. They could hear why as they got closer: "I'm telling you, Doug, that he needs to be entered into the meet tomorrow. He looks perfectly fine. There's no need to baby him."
"And I'm telling you, Camille, that he's got heat in his right front leg. He needs to rest for a few more days - unless you want to cripple him and take him out of running for the rest of the season," the trainer replied tightly.
"We should listen to Doug, Camille," Seymour Rochet said. "He knows what's best."
The two detectives saw the woman turn a cold look on her husband that made him visibly cringe. "If I want your opinion, Seymour, I'll ask for it," she said coldly.
The two cops exchanged glances, then started forward to break up the tableau. "Good morning," Joshua said crisply.
Three sets of eyes turned to them. "Oh, it's you," Camille drawled, sounding as though she were speaking about a particularly low form of insect life. "The two detectives. What do you want?"
Her rudeness didn't deter them, though Joshua thought longingly of his gun. "We've come to have a word with your husband, Mrs. Rochet," he said as politely as he could manage.
"Seymour?" her eyes cut to he husband, who paled. "Why do you want to talk to him?"
"I'm afraid that I can't tell you that, Ma'am," Joshua replied, taking a certain amount of pleasure in keeping her in the dark. What a horrible woman! Poor Matty, having to work for this harpy.
"Now see here, Detective..." Camille Rochet began, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"It's all right, Camille. I'll speak to them," Seymour fluttered his hands at his wife, trying to divert her growing ire. "Let's go over there, Detectives," he gestured toward a spot not far away, hurrying off with them in tow. His fuming wife glared after them all, and Joshua felt sorry for the guy. How did he stand being married to that woman?
Seymour led the way to the spot he'd indicated, then turned to look at them.
“What did you need to talk to me about?" he asked politely.
Josh shook his head. "It's nothing really important, Mr. Rochet," he began. "It's just that one of the stable girls mentioned that you'd been seen talking to the murdered stable girl, Julie Conyers, a few times in the past."
His face stiffened a little, but he only said: "Oh, I see. Yes, I spoke to her occasionally. She was a nice girl .We talked about horses, mainly. She looked after several of our horses for us. She obviously loved them."
"And that's all it was?" Joshua asked keenly, studying his face.
His lids dropped over his eyes. "For the most part. I'll admit that she was a pretty girl, and that it was nice to have a conversation with a pretty young girl. It was very pleasant. I'll admit that I may have extended those conversations a bit, but can you honestly blame me, Detectives?" he half-turned his head toward the track as he said this, to where his wife stood glaring at the three of them.
Joshua definitely couldn't. "Is that all, Detectives?" Seymour added. "I should get back."
"Yeah, that's all," Joshua told him. "For now. Thank you, Mr. Rochet."
"You're welcome," he walked away, back to his wife, and the two cops stood and watched him go with almost identical expressions of pity on their faces.
Chapter 6
The last two races were canceled, much to Matthias' relief. Wearily he went to change his clothes in the locker room, and trailed off to give his mounts a last pat before departing for home. They'd done their best; it wasn't Jump's(short for JumpNShout)fault that she hated mud and couldn't run effectively in it. He hated mud, too. He tugged at her ears, then scratched between her eyes where she liked it. "Time for me to go home, milady," he commented to her.
The horse snorted and bobbed her head as though nodding in agreement to his statement. Matthias turned away from her stall, and saw one of the stable girls coming out of King's stall not far away. "Hey, Matty," she greeted him.
"Hi, Donna," he replied.
"On your way home?" she asked, looking at his street clothes.
"Yeah. The last two races got canceled. I can't say that I'm unhappy about that; the mud's up to my eyebrows out on the track."
"Ouch. Best to go home and snuggle up in front of the fire, instead," she said with a smile as she picked up a bucket. "Wish I could do that, too. I hate the rain."
He paused, looking at her. After a moment he spoke up: "Donna? What did the cops talk to you about yesterday?"
She stopped in her tracks, still holding the bucket. "They asked me a lot of questions about Julie," she remarked, her face sad. "I couldn't tell them much. She didn't talk about her personal life, at least not to me."
"Who did she hang out with here at the track?" Matthias asked her.
"Anybody?"
She shrugged. "Not really. Of course, we all hung out together sometimes after work, but none of us were really good friends with her. A couple of times I saw her talking to..." she trailed off, her shoulders lifting.
"Who? Who did you see her talking to?" Matthias asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
"Well, I saw her talking to one of the owners a couple of times, just casually. Nothing important."
"Which owner? And did you tell the cops?"
"Oh, Seymour Rochet. And no, I didn't tell them. It didn't seem important. They were always out in public when they talked, and it's not like they were doing anything wrong. Just chatting about the horses, I think. Julie really loved them, even more so than most."
"I see," Matthias replied. This didn't sound like something really useful, though he'd mention it to Josh just the same. They had so few leads in this case that anything at all would help, even if it came to nothing. 'Thanks for telling me. I'm gonna go home and take a long, hot bath."
"Have fun," she said with a smile, walking away with her bucket.
Matthias drove home and happily immersed himself in a hot bubble bath, soaking away the aches and pains in his muscles. He sighed in pleasure as he set his chin on the bubbles, his eyes half-closed. The only way that this could get any better was if he was sharing the tub with a certain decidedly hot homicide detective...Mmm, what a nice thought. It would be a lovely way to end a day, being pressed back against a firm, muscular naked body while hands soaped him up from behind.
This image made his breath catch, and he fumbled under the water for his cock. He moaned lowly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers moving on his own penis, while images of sharing a bath with Josh drove him on. When he came, his back arching, he cried out Josh's name loudly.
Best bath ever! He thought to himself as he got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his body. And, maybe sometime soon, it would get even better because his imaginings would become a reality. Something to look forward to, that was for sure.
He padded into his bedroom and sat down on his bed to dry off. As he was running the towel over his body, the phone rang. He leaned over to pick it up from the bedside table where he'd laid it down earlier. Putting it to his ear, he said: "Yeah?"
"Hey, Matty. How was your day?" he heard Josh's voice ask.
He smiled. "Well, they cancelled the last two races, which was good by me. The mud was up to my chin by the time I left the track. How about you?"
"The usual. Dead bodies and paperwork. Fun stuff."
"Speaking of which, I was talking to one of our stable girls earlier, and she told me casually that she saw Julie speaking to one of our owners a couple of times. She said she didn't tell you guys because it didn't seem particularly important. They were always talking out in public, and she thinks they were discussing the horses she took care of."
"Which owner? Doesn't sound like much, but something is better than nothing."
"Seymour Rochet. You talked to him and his wife Camille the day Julie was killed."
"Oh, him," Joshua replied, distaste in his voice.
"He's not a bad guy," Matthias said defensively.
"Yeah, but that wife of his...Yikes. Maybe I'll talk Gabe into talking to him," he added wickedly.
"You're terrible," the jockey told him mock-severely.
"I know. But what else are partners for?"
He snorted. "Bad man. I'd defend Camille, but she is such a horrible bitch that simply can't. It's hell, having to ride for her."
"Every job has its drawbacks," Joshua mused. "I'd say she's a pretty big one, though."
He ran the towel over his damp curls. "Yeah. And unfortunately, she has old family money so she doesn't have to work. Which means that she can hang around whenever she wants..."
"Ouch. Poor baby. Sounds like somebody needs a hug."
He grinned. "Are you offering?"
"I might be," the detective's voice was warm and full of insinuation over the phone.
"Ooo, I like the sound of that," he told Joshua. "I'll take you up on that offer soon."
They spent a few hours just chatting together over the phone, with Matthias draped over his bed like a teenage girl from the 50s talking to her boyfriend. When he finally hung up, he felt great. He fetched a pair of flannel pajama bottoms from his drawer and pulled them on, then snuggled up in his warm bed. he had a date with Joshua tomorrow night to look forward to, and hopefully the track would have dried out too.
Gabe put his foot down, and told Joshua in no uncertain terms that he wasn't talking to Seymour Rochet alone. Either Joshua could go by himself, or Gabe would go along with him. End of story. So the two of them walked along between the rows of stalls, headed for the track itself. A stable boy had told them that Camille and Seymour Rochet were there with their trainer, watching one of their horses.
Emerging from between the buildings, they walked along the path beside the rails. They saw three people standing together, all watching a horse run out on the track. The trainer, Doug, was smoking furiously and looking grim. They could hear why as they got closer: "I'm telling you, Doug, that he needs to be entered into the meet tomorrow. He looks perfectly fine. There's no need to baby him."
"And I'm telling you, Camille, that he's got heat in his right front leg. He needs to rest for a few more days - unless you want to cripple him and take him out of running for the rest of the season," the trainer replied tightly.
"We should listen to Doug, Camille," Seymour Rochet said. "He knows what's best."
The two detectives saw the woman turn a cold look on her husband that made him visibly cringe. "If I want your opinion, Seymour, I'll ask for it," she said coldly.
The two cops exchanged glances, then started forward to break up the tableau. "Good morning," Joshua said crisply.
Three sets of eyes turned to them. "Oh, it's you," Camille drawled, sounding as though she were speaking about a particularly low form of insect life. "The two detectives. What do you want?"
Her rudeness didn't deter them, though Joshua thought longingly of his gun. "We've come to have a word with your husband, Mrs. Rochet," he said as politely as he could manage.
"Seymour?" her eyes cut to he husband, who paled. "Why do you want to talk to him?"
"I'm afraid that I can't tell you that, Ma'am," Joshua replied, taking a certain amount of pleasure in keeping her in the dark. What a horrible woman! Poor Matty, having to work for this harpy.
"Now see here, Detective..." Camille Rochet began, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"It's all right, Camille. I'll speak to them," Seymour fluttered his hands at his wife, trying to divert her growing ire. "Let's go over there, Detectives," he gestured toward a spot not far away, hurrying off with them in tow. His fuming wife glared after them all, and Joshua felt sorry for the guy. How did he stand being married to that woman?
Seymour led the way to the spot he'd indicated, then turned to look at them.
“What did you need to talk to me about?" he asked politely.
Josh shook his head. "It's nothing really important, Mr. Rochet," he began. "It's just that one of the stable girls mentioned that you'd been seen talking to the murdered stable girl, Julie Conyers, a few times in the past."
His face stiffened a little, but he only said: "Oh, I see. Yes, I spoke to her occasionally. She was a nice girl .We talked about horses, mainly. She looked after several of our horses for us. She obviously loved them."
"And that's all it was?" Joshua asked keenly, studying his face.
His lids dropped over his eyes. "For the most part. I'll admit that she was a pretty girl, and that it was nice to have a conversation with a pretty young girl. It was very pleasant. I'll admit that I may have extended those conversations a bit, but can you honestly blame me, Detectives?" he half-turned his head toward the track as he said this, to where his wife stood glaring at the three of them.
Joshua definitely couldn't. "Is that all, Detectives?" Seymour added. "I should get back."
"Yeah, that's all," Joshua told him. "For now. Thank you, Mr. Rochet."
"You're welcome," he walked away, back to his wife, and the two cops stood and watched him go with almost identical expressions of pity on their faces.