by Lauren Carr
“There’s a nice young man named Noah who works up in the orchard barn,” Suellen said. “But he doesn’t—”
“He was cleaning out the stalls in the barn when I got here the last two mornings,” Joshua said. “I assumed he was working to make extra money—”
“He’s a brownnoser,” Clyde said. “Yeah, he’s here every morning.”
“Are you paying him for the work he’s doing?” Suellen asked.
“No, because I never asked him to do it,” Clyde said. “He’s sucking up to me and hoping for my job—that’s why.”
“Comanche likes him,” Izzy said. “He gives her apples, and she lets him pet her.”
“That’s all I need to hear. Animals have very good instincts when it comes to people. You’ll want to keep this Noah.” With a grin, Poppy perched her hat on top of her head. “Well, it was great meeting you folks, but I do need to be on my way.”
Assuming that Poppy had shown up to apply for the trainer job, J.J. started to object. “But—”
“We’re looking for a trainer and breeder to restore my mother’s quarter-horse farm,” Suellen said. “The job is yours if you want it.”
Pausing, Poppy turned back to them. With a pleasant grin, she slowly shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, ma’am, but I’m not really looking for a job. No offense, but Gulliver and I aren’t ones to stay in any one place for too long. I was just passing through on my way to the Mountaineer to see a Thoroughbred having problems with a trainer.”
“The Mountaineer isn’t that far from here,” Suellen said. “After you take care of that Thoroughbred, you can work here for us.”
“But you don’t know anything about me. You haven’t asked for my references, where I was trained—”
“We have a bunkhouse down by the stream—it’s a beautiful spot,” Suellen said. “Free room and board, full benefits—”
“Suellen, maybe—” Picking up a sense of desperation in her tone, J.J. took her by the arm.
“We need her,” Suellen said in a low voice. “She’s the one.”
Poppy stepped in closer to them. Her face searched Suellen’s. Suellen’s eyes were pleading with her to help. Poppy then turned her attention to J.J., who regarded her with suspicion.
Joshua looked at Cameron, who shared his concern. The redhead had a valid point. They knew nothing about her, and Suellen was begging her to move onto the farm and to take care of their valuable horses.
“Tell you what,” Poppy finally said. “Give us a bit to talk about it.” She turned around and crossed the barnyard in the direction of the pasture where the horses were grazing.
“Good idea.” J.J. fell in behind her. “First, can you tell me where you—”
“I’ll talk to you after I talk to them,” she replied over her shoulder.
Stunned, J.J. stopped.
Opening the gate, she said, “I work with horses, not people. Before I give you my answer, I need to talk to them about it.”
Cameron, who was in the living room, could hear Joshua chewing Donny out for eating the entire breakfast casserole that his sister Tracy had prepared for J.J. and Suellen. “You ate the whole thing! That was big enough to feed eight people. How could you have eaten the whole thing?”
“I was hungry.”
With a shake of her head, Cameron turned her attention to Suellen, who was staring out the bay window at the horse pasture. Leaning against the fence, J.J. was watching Poppy, who was sitting on a rock down by the pond, watching the horses. Occasionally, one would stroll up and allow her to pet it—but mostly she was watching them while J.J. watched her.
Captivated by the young woman, Izzy was sitting on top of the fence with Charley by her side.
Several feet away, Clyde leaned against the fence to watch J.J. watching her while she watched the horses.
“She reminds you of your mother, doesn’t she?” Cameron asked.
“That camper—it is the same kind, color, and brand that my parents drove and died in.”
“And your mother had red hair and freckles,” Cameron said.
“Unbelievable.”
“‘Creepy’ is the word I’d use.” After taking her tablet out of her valise, Cameron brought up the composite drawing of Monica Brady’s killer. “Yesterday, Clyde told me that he’s seen this man around here—as a matter of fact, he said he saw him in the pool house.” She handed the tablet to Suellen. “He’s the man who killed his wife. Do you recognize him?”
Peering at the drawing, Suellen slowly started to shake her head and then shrugged her shoulders. “He does kind of look familiar.”
“Then you have seen him around?”
Staring at the drawing, Suellen eased down into a chair. Squinting, she said, “But it’s not possible.”
“What isn’t possible?”
“Clyde and Monica had a nephew—years ago,” Suellen said. “I mean, like, when I was in high school—that long ago. He had spent some time in prison for drugs and stealing.” She paused. “I don’t even remember his name. That’s how long ago it was. He ended up getting in trouble—stealing, I think. They had to kick him out. I don’t think he took it very well.”
“But that was a long time ago,” Cameron said. “Could this nephew have come back hoping to inherit the farm if his aunt and uncle died?”
“The farm legally belongs to me,” Suellen said. “My parents meant to leave it to them, but they neglected to put that in their wills. Clyde will inherit it when I pass.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve already seen to that.”
“But right now,” Cameron said, “if Clyde died, too, the farm would not be considered part of his estate.”
Suellen shook her head.
“But most people, like this nephew, would assume that the Bradys own their farm.”
“Vinnie,” Suellen said. “His name was Vinnie Brady. He was Clyde’s brother’s son.” Looking at the picture once again, she nodded her head. “That’s him. I’m almost sure of it.”
“Vinnie Brady. I’ll look him up and see what he’s been up to.” Cameron took the tablet from her. After opening the case file that she’d brought from her office, Cameron removed the picture of the artist’s drawing of the murder victim whose body had been discovered at Dixmont State Hospital. “This is the picture that your band members saw on television. Is it Dylan Matthews?”
Suellen studied the drawing of the young man with blond hair. “Yes, that’s him. That’s Dylan.”
Pleased, Cameron allowed a grin to come to her lips. This is progress. Until now we didn’t even have an ID.
“I found Wendy Matthews,” Cameron said. “She disappeared after leaving the stage at a concert in Baltimore on July 4, 1998.”
“Ten years to the day after our last concert.” Suellen covered her mouth with her hand.
“I found an article about it on the Internet. Wendy had changed her name to Vendetta and had quite a cult following. She was a goth singer.”
“Figures,” Suellen said. “Wendy always struck me as very dark.”
“She ended the concert by declaring her independence—kind of like Dylan had done. Some people think her husband killed her because he found out she was going to leave him. Others think she was kidnapped for ransom and murdered.” Cameron paused to allow Suellen to gasp. “Her husband told the police that her older brother, we assume Dylan, had abandoned her. Apparently, that had contributed to her depression. That’s why some suspect that she ran away to kill herself.”
Slowly, Suellen shook her head. “I can’t imagine Dylan abandoning Wendy. He was so protective of her. Sure, he dumped us for the big time, but Wendy…He insisted that I hire her to be the drummer for the band. They were a pair. If I hadn’t hired her—”
“Well, I’ll plan on getting in touch with her husband-manager, Silas Starling,” Cameron said. “That was the name of her boy
friend at the time of Dylan’s disappearance, wasn’t it?”
With a nod of her head, Suellen said, “I guess he’d know if Dylan abandoned Wendy.”
“Maybe Dylan didn’t abandon Wendy. Maybe Wendy only thought that because he got killed. When she couldn’t find him, she assumed he had abandoned her.”
“Cat would know the status of Dylan and Wendy’s relationship,” Suellen said. “She was Dylan’s girlfriend, and she was staying with them. She would know for certain whether he was planning to walk out on his little sister.”
“I guess it’s time for the Reading Railroad Band to have an old-fashioned reunion.”
“Little girl, you need to stay on that fence,” Clyde said to Izzy when she leaned out into the pasture in an effort to touch Comanche, who had inched up toward the fence. Nervous, the mare hung back just out of her reach.
Poppy was sitting on a rock by the pond and rubbing the neck of one of the colts lying next to her.
Suddenly, Comanche bolted and ran across the pasture. Gulliver, the speckled horse in the green jacket, joined in. With their heads and tails held high, they raced side by side to the other side of the pasture.
“Do you want to pet Comanche?” Poppy yelled across the pasture to Izzy.
Izzy practically jumped with excitement.
“Go get a halter and a lead from the barn.”
“Now wait a minute—” J.J. tried to object, but Izzy was already running as fast as her feet could carry her into the barn. Clucking, Charley, along with several of the dogs, followed her.
“That horse is gonna kill that little girl.” Clyde shook his head. “I told Suellen she shouldn’t have brought that crazy nutcase here.”
Before J.J. could comment, Poppy uttered a loud high-pitched whistle that made every living thing in and around the pasture stop. “Come ’ere, handsome!”
Gulliver spun on his heels and galloped across the pasture to Poppy, who greeted him with a carrot and a tender caress.
Comanche hesitated a moment before following the spotted horse. Upon reaching Gulliver and his master, the palomino stopped. Poppy reached out to her, but she backed away. Then, after turning her back to the mare, Poppy walked up the hill to Izzy, who was clutching a halter and a lead as she scrambled over the fence.
“I think this is a bad idea,” J.J. said.
“I’ll have her leading Comanche out of this pasture on a lead within fifteen minutes.” Taking the halter and the lead, Poppy told Izzy, “I know you’re excited, but you need to take a deep breath and remain calm. Animals can sense your emotions. You’ve heard the saying that they can smell fear?”
Izzy nodded her head.
“Well, it’s true. They pick up on your emotions. If you’re nervous, they’ll feel it and think there’s something to be nervous about. It makes them nervous. If you’re calm, they’ll feel calm.” Poppy sucked in a deep breath.
Copying her, Izzy sucked in a deep breath and puffed out her chest.
Poppy let out her breath and shook her arms and legs. Izzy did the same.
“Everybody calm?” Poppy asked J.J.
Feeling himself getting in trouble with his father and stepmother, J.J. nodded his head.
Scoffing, Clyde said, “Damn horse whisperer.”
Izzy followed Poppy across the field to where the filthy palomino mare was eating grass next to Gulliver. Seeing Poppy coming her way, Comanche raised her head and eyed her. Then motionless, she watched her. Several feet away from the mare, Poppy stopped and motioned for Izzy to stop behind her.
The three of them stood eying one another. Finally, Gulliver stopped eating and stepped over to Poppy, and he appeared to nibble her shoulder until Poppy reached down into her bra and extracted a carrot from it. After breaking it in half, she gave one half to Gulliver and then held the other half out to Comanche.
The mare stepped forward to take the carrot. While she chomped on it, Poppy rubbed her head and spoke softly to her. She gently wrapped the halter around her head, attached the lead to the halter and then let the rope drop to the ground instead of holding it.
“What’s going on?”
J.J. jumped when he heard his father ask a question behind him.
“It was the crazy horse whisperer’s idea,” Clyde said.
Feeling Joshua’s glare boring into the side of his head, J.J. cringed and pointed a finger in Poppy’s direction.
Finished with the carrot, Comanche looked over at Izzy as Poppy whispered in the horse’s ear. With a grin, Poppy motioned for Izzy to step forward.
“Don’t run,” Poppy whispered. “Move slowly, and keep your voice low.”
As soon as Izzy was in reach, Poppy handed her half of a carrot, and Izzy held it out to Comanche in the way Poppy had shown her—with her hand flat.
She was so excited when the mare took it that she literally bounced with joy. After Poppy nodded her head at her, she reached up to stroke the mare’s face. At her touch, Comanche jumped back, but Poppy grabbed the lead and uttered a calming shushing noise. Seeing that it was all right, Comanche took a timid step forward and allowed Izzy to stroke her a second time.
Overwhelmed with love for the animal, Izzy caressed her head and pressed her cheek against the mare’s forehead.
“Talk to her, Izzy,” Poppy said in a low voice. “You’ve been itching to meet her. You must have something you want to say to her.”
Trying to keep her squeal as soft as possible, Izzy gushed. “I love you, Comanche!” She threw her arms around the horse’s neck.
Instead of bolting or running away, Comanche rubbed her head against Izzy’s shoulder.
“I think you just got a horse,” J.J. said to Joshua.
“If she gets a horse, I get a car,” Donny said.
With a groan, Joshua rubbed his forehead.
As she led Comanche up to the gate, Poppy turned to J.J. and Clyde. “Seven minutes to spare.”
“What?” Joshua asked.
“She said she’d have Izzy petting Comanche in fifteen minutes,” J.J. said.
“Eight minutes.” Poppy handed the lead over to Izzy. “With seven minutes to spare. I can have Comanche wearing her first saddle and Izzy riding her by the Fourth of July.”
“Where are you taking that horse?” Joshua asked when he saw Izzy leading the mare who had jumped a fence less than an hour before.
“That horse has a name,” Poppy said. “Her name is Comanche. Izzy’s going to take her into the barn and brush her down and comb out her tail and mane. You’ll be amazed by how much better she feels after she’s cleaned up. She’ll be a whole different horse. I’m going to the Mountaineer to kick a trainer in the butt. After that, I’ll be back to clean up the rest of your horses.”
Refusing to leave Izzy alone with an animal that was several times bigger than she was, Joshua ran after them into the barn.
Without waiting for a response, Poppy trotted over to her truck. With a wicked grin, Donny cocked his head and admired her backside.
Once again jabbing Donny in the ribs, J.J. called after her. “Does that mean you’re taking the job?”
“As long as your horses will have me.”
“Don’t you want to know how much—”
“Whatever you think is fair.” At her truck door, she stopped and turned around. “Oh, you might want to keep an eye on Gulliver. He likes to open gates and set the other critters free.”
J.J.’s eyes grew wide. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Gulliver draping his head over the top of the gate. The horse was attempting to open the latch with his mouth.
“No!”
Chapter Ten
“Vinnie Brady?” Tom Perkins, the foreman of the orchards, said as he turned his attention away from the paper work on his clipboard and took the drawing from Cameron.
The foreman, who was exceedingly tall, projected an i
ntimidating presence. Cameron surmised that that was what made him such a good boss.
Even while his eyes were on the drawing, he was able to notice that two of the orchard workers were goofing off and cackling as one of them showed the other one something on his cell phone.“Get back to work, you knuckleheads!”
Practically dropping the phone, they ran out of the warehouse and into the peach orchard. They were in such a hurry that they collided with a skinny young man carrying a crate of peaches, causing him to drop the load, which sent the fruit everywhere.
“Watch where you’re going!” Tom yelled, but the two workers were long gone. Tucking the drawing under his arm, he knelt down to help the kid gather the peaches. “Some guys make you wonder.”
The worker was embarrassed about the spillage, and his face was beet red. He was wearing his long dark hair in a ponytail that fell to the middle of his back.
Feeling sorry for him, Cameron joined in helping to pick up the peaches.
“I’m afraid some of them are going to be bruised, Mr. Tom.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll do what we can, Noah.” Tom went on to introduce the young man to Cameron. Lowering his voice, he added, “Watch yourself around her. She’s a real bona fide homicide detective.”
“Noah,” Cameron said. “You must be the one everyone is raving about down at the horse farm. You’ve been helping out down there in the mornings before coming up here.”
“Noah is a real go-getter.” Tom slapped him on the back. “Give him time, and he’ll be managing this place before long.”
Noah’s eyes grew huge. Picking up his pace, he finished reloading the crate and hurried away while Tom chuckled.
“Kind of young, isn’t he?” Cameron asked the warehouse manager. “Is he a summer employee going back to school in the fall?”
“Driver’s license says he’s nineteen,” Tom said. “Been working here since last summer. One of my best workers. First one here in the morning and last one here at night.”
“And before he’s the first one here in the morning, he cleans out the stalls down at the horse farm?” Cameron cocked her head at him. “He must not have a girlfriend.”