Lawrence Wainsworth III latched the half door on King Tut's stall and turned to me with an impatient shake of his head.

"I can't believe you'd fall for such a cock-and-bull story. I'll agree Jack was annoyed when Monty called him a skinflint in front of everyone at the ball. But Jack is a skinflint. People have been saying that to his face for years, and he knows it's true. Why would he fly off the handle and kill his neighbor on the greatest night of his life? My God, man. He'd just won the Hunt Club Trophy!"

I shrugged and muttered something inane about a camel and a straw. Fortunately, Larry chose to misunderstand me.

"We're talking horses, Ben, not camels," he snapped, his bushy white eyebrows beetled into a frown clearly meant to put me in my place. "Jack was on top of the world last night. As I said before, he was obviously aggravated with Monty for bringing up that business of the wood shavings. Still, he kept his temper in check."

Knowing Jack Fielding, I found that a little hard to believe. But who was I to doubt Larry's story? He'd been a ringside witness to the main event, while I, Dr. Ben Benjamin, youthful veterinarian to some of the most pampered horses in the state of Maryland, hadn't even been invited to the Hunt Club Ball. I tagged along behind the older man as he strode out of the barn still expounding on Jack's innocence.

"Monty was behaving badly because for the first time in years he hadn't won the trophy. He baited Jack, but Fielding had the good grace to treat the entire matter as a joke. He looked that obnoxious old coot right in the eye and told him that Squire Dan had the ability to overcome any obstacle, including the mistakes of his owner. I'll tell you something, Ben. Jack came out on top in that exchange and everyone at the party noticed it. Yessiree, Bob. Everyone noticed it."

Larry tends to forget his breeding and revert to colloquialisms like 'yessiree, Bob' whenever he gets worked up. I decided to take my leave before the plight of his dearest friend raised Larry's blood pressure another dangerous notch.

"I have to get over to the Blakely place, Larry. Pat's mare is wheezing again."

Wainsworth nodded distractedly.

"Keep your ears open, will you, Ben? As local veterinarian, you're privy to more of the neighborhood gossip than I am. Let me know if you hear anything that'll help Jack beat this rap."

I hesitated only a second. Much as I disliked Fielding, Lawrence Wainsworth III was a good guy. He was also a very wealthy man. Visions of unpaid student loans danced in my head as I screwed on a smile and replied, "Sure, Larry. If you're that convinced of his innocence..."

"I am, Ben. Jack Fielding and I went to school together at Mansfield Prep. I can guarantee you no graduate of that institution would ever stoop to something as plebeian as stabbing a man with a steak knife."