An anthology of murder mysteries that focus on the Kentucky Derby. A Silver Dagger anthology
2:36pm, April 1:
I lounged in comfort when it all began. My wife was out shopping and I had sunk into the soft leather of my big couch. As I napped peacefully, the doorbell rang. I fought off the sound, finally yielding to the intrusion.
Honestly, I speak the truth. A jockey stood at my door, wearing brown boots, with green and gold silks. At the curb stood a liveried groom holding the reins of a genuine thoroughbred racehorse,
“Mr. Winthorpe?”
“Uh, yes, may I help you?
He bowed , presenting an envelope. “This is for you.”
A crooked grin crossed my face. “Well, yeah—right!” The envelope bore one word, Winthorpe.
“Please enjoy,” he said.
I stood dumbfounded as the jockey mounted and rode away, groom following.
I wished my dear wife Kitty had seen that. Kitty is one hot number—Italian. She came to me with the maiden name of Servideo.
4:08pm, April 1:
I placed the envelope on my desk. I wanted to tell Kitty the whole story before opening it.
Soon she was home.
“Kitty!” I shouted. “You’ve got to see this!”
She gave me a funny look.
“What?”
“Look at this.”
She took the envelope. “Do I open it?”
“Give it a go.”
She ripped the seam, removing a card. She read for a moment without expression. She giggled and said, “You figure it out.” She handed the card to me.
Felicitations
Jasper and Mavis Crowe cordially invite you to
The Rookery
For the Fourth Annual Old Louisville
Derby Shebang
6:00pm, April 23rd, to Midnight, April 25th
The year of our Lord nineteen hundred and ninety nine
Dress for the game.
Eight-thousand to play
Regrets only
“What’s this all about?” Kitty asked.
I told her the story of the jockey.
She flopped onto the couch, “Incredible! We’re going, of course.”
“Eight thousand what?” I said.
“Well, dollars, I’m sure!”
I exclaimed, “For what?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“Well, yeah! Doesn’t it?”
“Davis, it’s an adventure. It’s a party. That’s the weekend before the Derby. It’s a Derby Party, no big deal. Who knows what the money’s for?”
“Would it be too tacky to call and ask?”
“Davis, tacky has never stopped you before. Make the call. I’m getting ready for dinner.”
I wish now I had thrown the thing away. I wish I had never shown the stupid envelope to Kitty. I should have known this involved insanity when the horse left a pile of manure in front of my house. Like a fool I got the phone book.
Is Justice Finally Overcoming the Ford Valley Corruption?
Judge Sherman Ford, the patriarch of the Ford family is continuing to control and corrupt Ford County. The newly elected sheriff, Todd Mercer, and friends are slowly taking control
