Maxwell Masters and the Case of the Missing Model Horses

By M. E. Farruggia

Someone is stealing Morgan Moress fancy model horses, and her last hope is Maxwell Masters, newbie detective. He made a name for himself when he discovered who defaced Destiny Romans locker at school. Now, Maxwell and Destiny are partnersbut are they good enough to solve a mystery that has even the professionals stumped?

Not only have Morgans expensive, model horses been stolen, but she also received a threatening letter, warning her not to attend the Syracuse International Horse Show in June. Maxwell doesnt really approve of the unsavory character she has chosen to protect her, but he takes her caseand is quickly in way over his head!

A couple ends up murdered; another woman is injured. The stakes are high, and Maxwell starts to doubt his own sleuthing abilities. Can he catch the culprit before someone else gets hurt? Time is running outand only Maxwell Masters can find Morgans model horses and save the day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Jun 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781458216496

M. E. Farruggia

M. E. Farruggia earned a master’s degree in communications and works as a tutor. She published a story in Hapless Halloween and A Handful of Halloween: Twenty-Seven Tales of Terror and Suspense, two anthologies of Halloween stories. She currently lives in Rochester, New York.

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Copyright © 2014 . M. E. Farruggia.

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ISBN: 978-1-4582-1648-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1649-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014910010

Abbott Press rev. date: 6/16/2014

Contents

Morgan Mores

The Mansion

The Horse Room

Aftermath

The Big Question

Spine

The South Jersey Classic

Jimmy

More Than the Eyes Can See

Revelations

Damage Control

Unknown Prowler

Following Afternoon

Early Evening

Late Evening

After Midnight

Wednesday Morning

Disclosures

Out of Control

Dad

Early Friday Morning

The Storage Room

Back to the Greenhouse

The Banquet

The Horseshow

Back to the Mores

The Finish Line

June

This book is dedicated to Nan Pheatt.

A special thank you to:

Beth Freeling Gusenoff,

Elle A. Rose,

Patricia Vottero Weber,

And

Kristina Webster

Chapter One

Morgan Mores

O n a cold, snowy, Saturday morning, Morgan Mores’s chauffeur drove her over to Pinnacle Lane, and I escorted her into my office. The room contained a desk along with a few chairs in a space located by the laundry room. My desk, a small card table rescued from the side of the road and given new life with the help of gray duck tape, provided adequate surface area for carrying on official business. Two folding screens blocked the washer, dryer, and soiled clothing from view. A red cloth door, made from a stained bed sheet, hung suspended on a clothesline attached to the basement’s ceiling and covered the entrance into the enclosure. This splendid space housed The Maxwell Masters’s Laundry Room Detective Ag ency.

I am Max, the founder, and Destiny Roman is my assistant. She teamed up with me last year after I helped her nab the person who wrote trash on her locker at school. This marks our first case together as partners.

Morgan sat in one of the director’s chairs, and I took a seat on the bar stool that I swiped from the attic for this meeting. Boy, I bet I looked scummy to her, dressed in my holey faded jeans and stained tee shirt. Man, I was probably a mess! Didn’t even comb my shaggy, curly, brown mop. She didn’t seem to notice, not that I really cared.

The girl appeared ready for a modeling contract and looked mighty pretty with her satiny, straight, shoulder-length, blond hair and her slightly tanned skin. She had painted her lips with sparkling pink lip gloss and accented her emerald-green eyes with a dab of light-brown eye shadow and brown mascara. She moved like a model on a runway, pasting a blank expression on her face and looking eager to meet her audience.

I couldn’t sit still. Didn’t understand why I felt so uncomfortable having her here in my personal quarters. I found myself staring at her. She looked hot, as baked as any girl could look. I felt heat rising in my cheeks and hoped she didn’t notice. I gazed away from her as quickly as I could and prepared for what would be a long meeting.

Sitting straight up on the stool, I began speaking.

Aye, uh, Morgan. What brings you here?

Wiggling in her chair, she adjusted her pink cashmere sweater and pulled up her knee-high, black-leather boots over her suede, black, pant legs. She cleared her throat, looked down at her diamond wrist bracelet, and then slowly raised her eyes to meet mine.

Help, her voiced quivered. I need your help.

I heard her, repeated what she said in my head, but didn’t understand what a seventeen-year-old girl expected an unsophisticated fifteen almost sixteen-year-old boy like me to do for her. I didn’t belong in her league nor would I ever want to be.

Uh, really, you think I can help?

Listen, boy, because I ain’t going say it again. You’re my last hope.

Morgan put a lot of emphasis on last. She must have meant it.

But me, I managed to say, feeling totally incompetent.

She didn’t seem to enjoy my response and copped an attitude big time. She stuck her head up, threw her hair back, and snorted. She sounded like a wild animal had come alive within her.

Look, kid, you might be right, but I’m desperate. Will you help me or not? she asked as she jumped up, walked swiftly over to me, and screamed in my face. Then she returned to her seat, plopped down, crossed her arms over her chest, and awaited my decision.

As I intently glared at her, I remembered what I hated most about the girl. She acted like a capital S N O B. My friends called her snob-face Morgan behind her back, even though each one of them secretly carried a huge crush on the richest girl in high school. Any time she glanced their way and flirted with them, they giggled like sissy girls and acted just plain sickening most of the day. Their behavior made me want to lose it on them, especially since they carried on so over such a witch.

Well, okay. Shoot. Tell me about it.

My horses—find my horses?

Your, what?

My model horse statues. Someone stole them. Not all—just some.

But your dad can’t he . . .

My dad hired a detective. No luck. He fired all our servants. My horses are gone and others keep disappearing.

Oh, I replied, not able to think of anything worth saying.

I saw rings of droplets streaming down her cheeks. I swiveled my stool from side to side, waiting to see what she’d do next. I finally grabbed a box of tissues and handed it to her, glancing away and shuffling my feet as I returned to my seat.

As soon as Morgan finished blowing her nose, Destiny entered the office. I met her at the door, and we stepped out into a private space in the cellar. I filled her in on the girl’s problem. We then returned inside, and I introduced the two of them to each other. Destiny dropped in the other chair.

Yeah, I’ve seen you around, Morgan whimpered. You’re the girl with the locker . . .

Destiny interrupted. Yep, that’s me. What’s your story?

Morgan stiffened, raised her chest, and shot piercing looks from Destiny to me.

It’s my model horses, Ms. Locker. I’ve already told him.

Okay, chill, Morgan. And remember, I’m Destiny. We need the story. Like, when did this start?

I was getting hot under the collar, or should I say, around my tee’s neckline. I had enough of her snootiness. I didn’t have to put up with her attitude. I started to lose it on her just as she began speaking again.

It’s been going on for at least six months now. My black stallion went missing. I thought I misplaced it or didn’t unpack it from the last horseshow.

Horseshow? Destiny asked.

Girl, are you deaf? Horseshow. Anyway, I finally gave up searching. The horse later appeared on the shelf. About a week later, I discovered the horses in my horse collection display cases moved around, and the stallion had disappeared once again. Every one of my horses has a special place in the cases, all of them sorted by breed and size. Someone mixed them up, and five horses vanished besides the stallion. I ran down to Pops and gave him an earful.

What happened next? I said.

He told me to look again. Hell, no. I wasn’t wasting my time and waiting for more of my horses to walk. I hollered for over an hour until he got his butt off his leather recliner and called the police.

And did he? I asked.

You bet your light-brown fuzzy hair he did.

What happened next? Destiny asked, her voice rising up a notch.

Morgan turned to her and just shook her head.

You’re one dumb redhead. Nothing happened, moron. Why do you think I’m here? In a basement, no less.

What did the police say? Destiny asked through clench teeth.

They asked stupid questions like you guys. Didn’t believe a word I said. Let them know if any more go missing. Blah. Blah. Blah. . .

And did more? I asked.

Yep. I swear you are a match of dumb and dumber. Of course, they did. That’s when Pops hired the private detective.

And what…? Destiny asked.

And no more what’s. I told you. The detective found out nothing. I’m not sure you two will do any better, but still, I got no other choice.

Why didn’t you just replace them? Destiny said.

‘I’ve spent my year’s allowance already. The insurance company gave Pops a hassle about the thefts. Could be months or never before we see some cash. Besides, the company designs unique and irreplaceable horses especially for me."

Oh, Destiny sighed.

Oh, right. See my problem?

Sure do, I said.

Will you guys help?

Yeah, Destiny said.

‘Sure thing," I said a lot more reluctantly.

Morgan stood up. Jason will pick you two up around four tomorrow. Be sure you’re ready. He doesn’t have time to mess around.

Works for me, Destiny said.

Ditto, I said.

Morgan took out her phone and called for her ride. Destiny and I walked her up the stairs and to the door, remaining with her until the limousine drove up the driveway. As we watched the vehicle pull away, Destiny and I stared at each other for quite awhile, and then turned and went back to the office to discuss the case. I couldn’t explain why I felt this mystery would enter us in a race with a challenger scarier than either of us could imagine, and we’d have a good chance of not emerging unscathed at the finish line.

Chapter Two

The Mansion

P ete, my twenty-year-old brother, let Destiny in. She immediately descended and stumbled down the basement’s stairs. She spent the night with her friend, Amber Lily, and as usual, she hadn’t gotten much sleep. I paced from one end of the basement to the other, until she finally appeared back here, arriving later than I anticipated. Upon seeing her face, I walked straight into my office and chilled. She followed behin d me.

When will your parents be back from Florida? I know they told me, but I can’t remember.

In a week, I said. Dad called last evening while you were gone. Pete spoke with him. He told Dad about us going over to the Mores’ complex. Dad knows Judge Mores and hopes Morgan becomes one of our good friends.

If only he knew the truth, Destiny giggled. I wouldn’t say she’s my BFF. But I better fix myself up for our visit.

She headed upstairs while I remained in headquarters pondering the day’s schedule. Morgan hadn’t said how long she wanted us to stay at her residence. I couldn’t imagine remaining late into the evening, but I just didn’t know what she planned.

When the limousine appeared in the driveway promptly at four in the afternoon, Destiny and I boarded the vehicle and looked around in amazement at all the special toys inside. The sight of a massive flat screen television mounted behind the wall of the driver’s seat completely blew me away. Plush black leather seats surrounded the perimeter. I had never ridden in such luxury before. Luckily, I had taken a shower, but still I squirmed in my seat, feeling uneasy and not quite prepared for our ride over to Morgan’s home.

On the other hand, Destiny, who acted more like a kid my age instead of a seventeen year old, became giddy—overjoyed to be surrounded by the comforts she often told me she would have when she married a rich man and had a career of her own. And she made a point of letting me know that the person wouldn’t be me, of course. She’d find the man who would provide her the wealth and luxury she desired. And riding in the limo only encouraged her more to acquire the lifestyle she felt she deserved.

My dream consisted primarily of having a constructed room with a wooden door for my detective agency. I didn’t desire anything more. I barely could imagine fulfilling that wish. Married? A girlfriend? Not on my agenda.

Destiny lived with Josh and Josh’s mom. His mom often worked two jobs, and he spent most of his time with his grandparents. Destiny hung out with me. She hated staying alone in their dilapidated four-room apartment in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the area. Her grandparents died years ago, and Josh’s grandparents only wanted to care for the boy. When I visited her pad, I understood why she dreamed of a different life. Her home was a dump.

My home didn’t rate much better, but at least it sat in a quiet neighborhood. My parents owned a gaudy green ranch with three tiny bedrooms and one makeshift bedroom in the basement—mine, of course, next to headquarters. I didn’t have a bed—more like a sofa bed—that I pulled out every evening before I went to sleep. I had hoped that when Lacey went away to college, I could claim her room as my own. And at the time, I begged and pleaded, bargained and bribed.

No! Your sister is coming back home for vacations and during the summer, and she’ll want her room for herself, Mom said.

As much as I hated her response, there was nothing I could do other than to be content with my surroundings. The basement would have to do at least until big sister or big brother moved. And the sooner they did, the happier I’d be.

Destiny lived more at my house than at her own. Madeline didn’t care where she stayed and never looked for her. She wasn’t her biological daughter. Destiny belonged to Roger. When Madeline married him, she became Destiny’s stepmom and got stuck with her when her husband died suddenly three years ago.

Josh, Madeline’s two year old son, had a different dad, and Josh’s dad despised Destiny. When he started coming into her room at night, she began blockading her door with a big arm chair piled to the top with anything heavy she could find. Sam would get mad and pound on her door until he collapsed on the floor in an alcoholic stupor. And Destiny would leave the apartment before he even woke the following morning to avoid enduring the consequences of his wrath.

When she told me about the incidences, I told my dad, Mr. Lieutenant Important in the police department of Rockwell Center, and he spoke to Sam. Dad also told Mom that Destiny could spend the night whenever she wanted, and Mom reluctantly agreed to let her sleep in Lacey’s room when Lacey lived at college. Mom told Dad she really didn’t want the girl here. But Dad insisted, and he always got his way no matter how Mom felt.

I hadn’t even noticed that the shiny silver limousine had stopped. Jason opened the vehicle’s door, and Destiny jumped out and stood tall, tongue hanging slightly out of her mouth, with a stare glazing her eyeballs. She remained motionless on the pavement, her feet cemented to the ground. I had never seen her so rigid before. I heard her whisper, Oh my goodness, as she pointed directly ahead.

When I looked in the distance, I saw the Mores’ house—uh, mansion, uh, maybe castle, more like a compound, an enormous estate. The gigantic structure towered three stories high and had four identical rectangular sections all connected to make a massive building. Once we finally began moving, the closer we got to the front door, the greater my desire to explore the surroundings became. I didn’t know if anything existed behind each building, but I wanted to find out.

It took us several minutes to travel up the path beyond the different bare flower beds. We then climbed at least thirty stairs to the marble pavement leading to the front, solid, golden door.

Amazed by the enormity and splendor of the surroundings, Destiny scanned the area, responding like a child observing something new and wonderful for the very first time. She took out her phone, snapping pictures as she traveled. She nearly lost her balance three times on our walk, and I had to reach for her one time to prevent her from tumbling into me.

Gee, whiz, Destiny, I said when I broke her fall the last time. Will you watch where you walk?

We finally made it to the entrance of the brick building, faced each other, and then turned to glare at the door. I didn’t want to ring the bell, and by the look on her face, I could tell that neither did she. Jason saw us standing, fixed in our spots, with no intentions of making a move to gain entrance to the inside. He raced up the path and rang the buzzer.

A rather round, short, grandfatherly-looking man, dressed in the kind of suit men wear when they get married, flung open the door and introduced himself. Conrad lowered his head into a sort of bow and spoke with a very strange accent, which Destiny later told me, sounded British.

Good day, he said. Miss Morgan is expecting you in the courtyard. Please follow me.

I should have answered. I couldn’t get the words out, but then, I’m not good when it comes to words.

Thank you, Destiny said and smiled. At that moment I was glad she came with me.

I glanced at Conrad’s back as we journeyed to the courtyard, not wanting to be distracted by all the things I might see as we hurried along. He insisted we take off our jackets and boots before we began the excursion, and handed us slippers to place on our feet. With the temperature slightly above the freezing point, I worried about dealing with the cold once we were outside again.

My concerns vanished when we reached the back door of the front section of the house and saw Morgan sitting at a table wearing a sundress. Enclosed with a clear skyline roof, the area remained heated, and the room felt nice and toasty. The lighting created an illusion of sunlight, which brightened the atmosphere, and the heat warmed every cell in my body. I wanted to remain in the enclosure forever.

Once we were seated at the table, Morgan waved for Conrad to leave us.

Well, it’s about time you got here. Sit down, she turned to us and said.

I immediately sank into the chair, feeling like a fish out of water—more like a kid out of the basement—from a totally different universe, immersed into a supernatural world. On the other hand, Destiny seemed right at home, pasting on that annoying smirk, as she gathered her skirt and sat down slowly and gracefully. I wanted to throw something at her. I rested on my flapping hands, trying to stop their movement. I didn’t want to appear like an idiotic nerd.

My nerves were so out of control that I couldn’t even keep my body still. The more I sat the more out-of-control my movements became. Destiny would have some choice comments to make when we returned home. And I knew I wouldn’t like the remarks she’d offer.

A young woman brought out trays and trays of cookies and other pastries and placed them down in the center of the table. I could feel my eyes bulged clear from their sockets when I glanced at all those goodies. My mouth watered,