William Bankier: Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 103, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 625 & 626, March 1994

“Of course, of course.” Glimm marshaled his thoughts. “I’m just trying to impress upon you the importance of reaching a decisive conclusion. ‘Not proved’ or one of those other vague and unhelpful verdicts simply won’t do. People have to know who killed Longstride, they have to be sure in their own minds that the killer didn’t get away with it. It must be settled.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Hartley said blandly.

Glimm looked at each of them in turn. “If you can’t decide which is guilty...” He hesitated.

“If we can’t?” Duncan prompted.

The veterinarian patted his forehead with the green kerchief again. “Then flip a coin. But come up with a name. Settle this.”

Without another word he pushed away from the table and lumbered out of the room, watched by Copely as well as by the three arbiters. “The man must be torn,” Britt said sympathetically. “He lives his life inside the Kordan camp. Yet anything that hurts Verdoris, hurts his daughter. And still he comes here and tells us to chance condemning an innocent person rather than reach no decision.”

“How tough can it be?” Hartley wanted to know. “Reaching a decision. We can demand further investigations if we spot something they overlooked.”

“We may have to do that,” Duncan agreed. “We’ll need to go over Security’s evidence very carefully.”

“Then you’d better get cracking,” said Mother.

In so horse-conscious an environment, Pirmachan law was, quite naturally, severe on those who brought harm to another person’s stock in any way whatsoever. The penalty for the destruction or even incapacitating of a horse was extreme: permanent exile from Pirmacha, with all the goods and property of the offender reverting to the owner of the horse in question. So if Verdoris was guilty of killing Longstride, then Kordan would end up with a virtual monopoly and thus become the most powerful figure on Pirmacha. And vice versa.

“No wonder everybody’s up in arms,” Britt said. “For them, it’s a matter of which one of the two accused is going to end up running the planet. Hell of a way to hold an election.”

Duncan turned to Copely, sitting quietly in her corner of the judgment chamber. “Has this penalty ever been invoked before?”

“In the early years of colonization, frequently,” Copely said. “But in my lifetime, only once. Verdoris was the injured party in that case. A rival breeder hamstrung a promising colt Verdoris had just entered in his maiden race. Verdoris collected enough from that judgment to let her challenge Kordan for dominance of the business.”

“So Verdoris is familiar with the procedure,” Hartley remarked. “That’s interesting.”

“Is it.” Not a question. Copely was a Verdoris-supporter?

They began hearing testimony via remote, the holographic images of the witnesses appearing in the judgment chamber. They heard the stablehand testify how he’d found Longstride bleeding to death. They heard from one of Kordan’s trainers, whom the stablehand had gone running to for help. They listened to various security officers explain how a dropped electronic lock pick had led them to take Verdoris into custody: her fingerprints were all over the gadget.

Then they heard the witness who at last made it clear why Kordan had also been taken into custody, a suspect in the slaughter of his own prize money-making stallion. The witness who explained it all was none other than Thorin Glimm, Kordan’s Chief of Veterinary Services.

Glimm was a reluctant witness, testifying only after being informed by Pirmachan Security that they’d get permission to use a hypnotic drug on him if necessary. The veterinarian’s hologram showed a troubled face and the body language of discouragement. “Longstride was finished,” he said unhappily. “He suffered a viral infection last winter, and ever since then his sperm count has been way down. We tried every treatment known, but Longstride responded to none of them. We even had the Research Institute working on his DNA, until that fool working for Verdoris cut off the power and destroyed the cultures. Those experiments were our only hope.”

Duncan asked, “Couldn’t new experiments have been conducted?”

“Yes, Kordan was scheduled to take new blood and tissue samples to the institute the very day Longstride was murdered. Now, of course, it no longer matters.”

Mother spoke. “Ask who was conducting the experiments.”

Duncan cut off the sound to Glimm. “Mother, I’ve told you before — don’t meddle. We’ll call you when we need you.”

“But you ought to know who—”

“And we’ll get to it. Now butt out.”

Mother sniffed.

“Jeez,” said Hartley, shaking his head.

“Forget Mother,” Britt said curtly. “Now we have a motive for Kordan. Longstride was no longer a valuable animal. If Kordan could kill him and shift the blame to Verdoris, he’d put her out of business.”

“Only if Verdoris didn’t know about Longstride.” Duncan turned the sound back on. “Dr. Glimm, who else knew Longstride’s sperm count was down?”

“Kordan and I were the only ones. I did the lab work myself. Kordan ordered me not to say anything.” Glimm was looking more and more unhappy.

So Verdoris did not know Longstride’s earning capacity was no longer a threat to her own stables. The three arbiters mulled that over, and then Hartley said, “I think it’s time we heard from the two suspects.”

They called Verdoris first. She was a big woman, large-boned and strong-looking. She held her head high as her hologram stared straight at them. “I wish to make a statement,” she announced in a tight voice.

Not an unusual request. “Proceed,” said Duncan.

“I did not kill Longstride,” the big woman said. “I do not know who did. I did not order, hire, or even hint to those around me that I wanted Longstride dead. The electronic lock pick must be mine, since my fingerprints are on it. But I have no idea how it got into Kordan’s stable. I did not leave it there.”

“What were you doing with a lock pick in the first place?” Britt asked.

“We all use them,” Verdoris said. “Everyone who breeds horses keeps a set of picks. They’re handy when you need a quick bypass of your internal security system.”

“But this pick was keyed to Kordan’s security system.”

Verdoris spread her hands. “That, I have no explanation for. It would seem to indicate that one of my employees simply picked it up and used it. But for it to work on Kordan’s system, someone inside Kordan’s organization had to have provided him with the key codes.”

“Conspiracy?”

“It’s the only explanation I can think of.”

“To what benefit? How would one of your employees and one of Kordan’s profit from the death of Longstride?”

“I don’t know, Arbiter. I sincerely hope you will find out.”

They questioned her further but learned nothing germane. Verdoris said she was with her husband at the time Longstride was killed, but she could easily have hired someone to do the deed in spite of her protestations to the contrary. Finally Duncan dismissed her and called Roj Kordan to testify.

Kordan was a dark, bearded man whose image blinked into existence breathing fire. “What have you found out about who killed my horse?” he demanded. When Duncan reminded him that he was one of the suspects, Kordan snorted. “I hadn’t given up on Longstride yet. There were lab tests yet to be run, DNA tests. You don’t understand about Longstride. Even if I were convinced his stud days were over — which I wasn’t — I wouldn’t have had him killed. Never. Not Longstride.”

Hartley asked, “Why did you order Dr. Glimm not to tell anyone about the horse’s low sperm count?”