Simpatico's Gift

by Frank Martorana

  “You’re right about that, but I want to talk to Arthur first thing,” he said.

  His tone caused Elaine to turn from the stove and look directly at him. There was concern on her face. “Problems?”

  “Hunches.”

  “About what?”

  Kent glanced down the hall. “Arthur awake yet?”

  “Yes. He’ll be down in a minute.”

  “I’d rather talk to you both together.”

  “Okay.” Elaine went back to her skillet of bacon. A long moment later, Arthur walked in still buttoning his cardigan. “Morning, Kent. Sleep well?”

  “Not really.”

  “Too much good food last night?”

  “Too much coffee and spices for sure, but that’s not all. Actually, I was mulling over Solar Wind’s disappearance and I came up with some ideas I’d like to talk to you about.”

  Arthur sighed wearily. “Let me get a cup of coffee first.”

  Kent didn’t wait. “Did you — or somebody — search the whole farm when you noticed Solar Wind missing?”

  “Yes, of course. We had everyone on the place drop what they were doing and start looking.”

  “Are there any outbuildings that you don’t use, or even an old horse van where he could have been hidden?”

  Arthur took a seat at the table, pulled out his pipe, and began filling it, all the time shaking his head no, no, no. “Kent, believe me, we searched everywhere. I mean everywhere — from pump house, to boat house, to hay mow. There was no horse, or any hoof prints, in any of them.”

  “You walked the perimeter, right?”

  “Personally? Twice. Richard at least twice, the police once, the insurance investigators a couple of times. All gates were as they should be. No indication that anybody or anything had entered through the hedge.”

  “Okay. Was there any lapse in security at the front gate with all the confusion?”

  “No,” Arthur said, with enough force that Elaine turned from the stove. “On the contrary, when the shit hit the fan, security was tightened. Nothing came or went through that gate without a thorough inspection.”

  “Then there is no reasonable possibility that Solar Wind, or his body, could have been transported out?”

  “Not once we knew he was missing. And probably not at any time before.”

  For a long minute Kent stared out through the kitchen window at the lake, still misty from the night air. “How about a struggle. Any signs in his stall? Damage?”

  “None. Not a goddamn thing out of place. Solar Wind’s bedding wasn’t even mussed. No blood or hair either. “

  “How about his stall door?”

  Arthur finished lighting his pipe, and tossed his spent match into a large ashtray on a side table. “It was open when we found it. With the latch unbolted, which you know can only be done from the outside.”

  “Right.”

  “What are you getting at, Kent?”

  “I’m not sure. But I spent a lot of last night trying to come up with a logical scenario for what happened.”

  Elaine refilled their coffee cups. “And?”

  “Now that you’ve answered my questions, I have a theory. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s a theory, and I can’t come up with anything better.”

  Arthur pulled the pipe from his mouth. “Let’s hear it.”

  “In a nutshell, I’m thinking Solar Wind is still in the compound.” He waited for their reaction and got blank faces. “Somebody killed him. I’m sorry to destroy your hopes of getting him back alive, but I honestly believe that. Then they buried him within a few minutes of his death. They probably walked him to the site, then killed him.”

  “What site?” Elaine and Arthur blurted at the same time.

  “Either the pool or the barn addition.”

  Arthur looked up at his wife, then back at Kent.

  Elaine placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, steadying herself. “You’re saying that someone sneaked into the barn, took Solar Wind out of his stall, walked him to the pool or the barn, killed him somehow, and buried him?”

  “That’s right. Could it have happened that way?”

  Arthur and Elaine stared at each other for a long moment.

  Finally, Arthur said, “I suppose so.”

  Elaine slumped into a chair. “It did drizzle a little rain that night. Not enough to obscure tracks on dirt or turf, but enough to wash them off the macadam driveway.”

  “It would explain the open stall door, and the fact that the perimeter was undisturbed,” Arthur said. “But the pool is too close to the house. It would have to be the barn.” He drew on his pipe a time or two, thinking. “How long would it take to do all that, Kent? Could they get it done between watchman rounds?”

  “Well.” Kent sipped his coffee. “Say the bastard sneaks through one of the side gates on foot. That could be done, right?”

  “Yes. A man couldn’t get through the hedge, but I suppose someone could squeeze between the rails of the gates.”

  “Okay,” Kent continued. “So then I figure it’s five minutes tops to the stallion barn. He puts a halter on Solar Wind and they’re out of there in three to five minutes more. Five more down to the barn construction, then ten seconds to kill him with a silencer-equipped gun or three minutes with an injection of euthanasia solution intravenously. Then the hard part; rolling him into the grave and burying him. One man could do it, but it’d be tough. Maybe they walked him into the hole then killed him. I’m not sure. One man with a shovel, working from above in soft dirt, could cover a horse’s body lying flat, at least enough to hide it, in, I’m guessing here, twenty minutes, if he’s got his adrenalin pumping.”

  “Dammit to hell,” Arthur said. “That theory makes me sick to my stomach.”

  “How long is that?” Kent asked Elaine, who had been keeping tally on a note pad.

  “About thirty-five to forty minutes,” she said. The pencil fell from her hand. “It could be done between watches.”

  Arthur jerked his pipe from between his clenched teeth. “It is possible, but is it likely enough to justify tearing up a newly completed half-million dollar barn addition to find out?”

  “I thought about that, too. You may not have to do anything that drastic.” Kent was starting to feel a little more confident in his theory. “You probably have something around that has Solar Wind’s scent on it. A blanket maybe, or his brushes? Something like that?”

  “We have everything,” Arthur said. “His stall and his grooming gear are exactly the way they were the day he disappeared.”

  “Good. We can start after breakfast.”

  Neither Arthur nor Elaine dared ask what it was they would start.

  Elaine walked back to her stove. A few minutes later she served up the kind of country breakfast farmers eat before a big day in the fields. No one tasted a thing.

  It was halfway to noon by the time Kent and Arthur arrived at the barn to test Kent’s theory. By then, the girls had made their first appearance for the day, had breakfast, and joined them. Elaine had decided she would rather wait to hear the results afterward.

  When Arthur opened the tack room door, its odor wafted out. It was a good smell — a wonderful mix of old cedar, oiled leather, and mentholated liniments. Arthur pointed to the closest of a dozen blankets hanging on large wooden dowels cantilevered off the wall. They were all alike — wine red with gold trim. The one Arthur pointed to was monogrammed SW in ornate letters.

  “There’s his blanket. That’s probably your best bet. In that chest underneath are his grooming supplies. Take your pick.”

  Kent stared at the blanket from a few steps away. It felt wrong to disturb anything.

  “Go ahead,” Arthur urged. “Whatever you need.”

  Kent lifted the blanket from its rack and unfolded it reverently. He brought the coarse mate
rial to his nose and inhaled softly, then turned it to examine its underside. “This ought to work,” he said.

  He held it so Arthur could see a filmy mat of horse hair caught in the felt fibers of the blanket. “Lucinda should be able to get Solar Wind’s scent from this.”

  Arthur’s brow creased. “Lucinda?”

  “Yep. She’s got a great nose.”

  Lucinda, alerted by the sound of her name, smiled up from her position against Kent’s knee.

  Arthur gave her a dubious look, then said, “Well, if there’s a body buried around here, it can’t be too deep.”

  “My thought exactly,” Kent said, giving his dog an admiring look. “Redbone Hounds have amazing noses, and Lucinda’s nose is amazing even for a Redbone. Her real thing is coon hunting. I’ve seen her in action many times. But I’m sure she can find Solar Wind, if he’s there.”

  He knelt down in front of Lucinda, draping the horse blanket across his knee. He let the big hound rest her muzzle directly on the haired surface. She sniffed deeply several times.

  “Where is he?” Kent goaded her. “Find Solar Wind! Go on. Go find the horse!” He took a couple of false steps toward the door and stopped abruptly to let Lucinda rush past him. She disappeared out into the main barn.

  “Now we’ll see if I know what I’m talking about,” Kent said.

  The four of them took off after the excited hound.

  Kent scanned the long alleyway through the barn. Lucinda wasn’t in sight. They headed for the daylight streaming in a large door at one end. Still, she was not visible.

  A strange mix of optimism and fear crept over Kent as he followed Lucinda. He could tell by the trudge of the old man’s stride and the crease in his brow that Arthur had the same feeling.

  As they approached the corner of the barn, they heard Lucinda’s high-pitched yelp.

  “I think she’s at the construction site,” Arthur said.

  “Sounds like it.”

  By the time they rounded the corner, Lucinda had excavated a feed tub-size hole along the footing of the new barn.

  For a long moment, the group stood silently watching her dig furiously, using here front feet to throwing wads of earth between her hind legs.

  Arthur sighed, long and dejected. “I know a guy with a backhoe. I’ll give him a call.” He headed for the house without another word.

  Kent called Lucinda away from her hole. He squatted so that he was nose to nose with her. Ruffling up her ears, he said, “Good dog, Lucy! You are my awesome girl. What would we do without you?”

  She received her commendation with sparkling eyes and lolling tongue. Then, still vibrating with excitement, she settled to her haunches against Kent’s leg.

  In less than an hour Arthur’s neighbor arrived in a tired-looking red dump truck with a yellow lowboy trailer and backhoe in tow. Arthur flagged him down in front of the addition, and a few minutes later digging commenced.

  Elaine, who could no longer stand the suspense, had joined Emily and Maria as they treaded nervously at an observation point nearby.

  The man operated the bucket as if it were his hand. With the deftness of an archaeologist brushing away earth from an ancient artifact, he guided the four-inch silver teeth to expose one thin layer of dirt at a time, always watching Arthur and Kent’s signals out of the corner of his eye.

  The women craned their necks to see into the hole, trepidation on every face. The bucket descended deeper and deeper with each pass. Finally, after many slow minutes, it rattled through a pocket of rubble, vibrated the ground, and dislodged a section of earth from the side of the cavity. Simultaneously, all five observers reeled back as nauseous vapors of decomposing flesh mixed with pungent earth and summer mugginess rose up, rendering a stench that coated their throats and teared their eyes.

  Maria gagged hard, hands on knees, then stood and wobbled away to better air. Emily turned instinctively to Elaine and hid her face against the old woman’s chest. Both wept. Arthur removed his pipe, pulled a red bandanna from his pocket, and covered his nose and mouth. He was determined to see the revolting scene played out to its end. Kent, more accustomed to the repugnance of death and fortified by the success of discovery, continued to direct the digger.

  A few more passes of the bucket and a steel-clad hoof, black with decay, draped limply into the hole. The hideous sight was sufficient evidence for Arthur. He turned, coiled Emily and Elaine in his arms, and led them away.

  Kent steeled himself against the overwhelming sadness that enveloped him, and worked with the excavator for another hour. Finally, they delivered Solar Wind’s body from the grave and transported it to a secluded location in a machinery building. Kent rolled back the horse’s spongy upper lip and made the mandatory tattoo identification. He prepared himself for another exhausting post-mortem exam, then glanced at the horse’s blank eyes and sighed deeply. Instead he opted to just confirm what he was sure he would find, a bullet hole in Solar Wind’s forehead. Afterwards, he covered the regal beast with a canvas to await Arthur’s instructions for proper burial.

  Kent found Arthur on the veranda. He could see the old man was in shock, swaying back and forth in a rattan rocker. Kent’s footsteps on the porch roused him from his trance. Without looking Kent’s way or speaking, Arthur gestured toward a bottle of scotch on the table next to him.

  Kent poured himself two fingers and took the next rocker over.

  After a long silent, his eyes still fixed on the waters of Keuka Lake, Arthur said, “Shot, wasn’t he.”

  “Between the eyes.”

  Both men studied the vista for a long time, sipping and thinking.

  Finally, Kent said, “How did you know?”

  “Because you’ve been right all along.”

  Kent poured them each another.

  “Arthur, we’re going to get the bastard who shot your horse. That I promise.”

  With his eyes still fixed on the lake, Arthur tossed back the scotch, then let out a low, sad noise that strengthened Kent’s resolve.

  CHAPTER 18

  Kent let his eyes drift around Mattson Cemetery. “Come on, guys,” he said to Emily and Maria. “You’re going to have to give me something new.” He crumpled an empty potato chip bag and flipped it at the gravestone across from where he sat. “It’s been a week and you keep saying the same old thing.”

  Emily stood and brushed dry leaves off her bottom. “I’m telling you, it makes sense, even if you won’t admit it.”

  “You haven’t convinced me.”

  “No kidding?”

  “I keep an open mind. All we know for sure is that foul play was involved in the death of Solar Wind. We have no evidence that Simpatico’s death or Charter Oak’s illness was anything but natural. Besides, what motive would Charles have?”

  “Money!” the girls said in unison.

  “Are you talking about what the townies said at the driving competition, about Charles’ investment losses? Pure hearsay, totally unsubstantiated. Half those people are so jealous of the St. Pierres, they’d spread any rumor they could get ahold of.”

  During the silence that followed, Kent watched a fat gray squirrel chase away a blue jay that had raided one of its winter caches. Then he said, “And even if he did kill Simpatico for the insurance money, like you say, how would he cause Charter Oak to get EVA? And why would he kill Solar Wind? He has no interest in Solar Wind.”

  “We’re working on that,” Emily said, not wanting to admit she had no idea.

  “Maybe he wants to knock out competition from other top ranked stallions,” Maria said.

  “Right after he kills his own number one stallion? Not likely. And you’re still left with the problem of how he wished Charter Oak to get EVA.”

  The girls fumed, aware they’d need more facts before they could sell Kent their Charles St. Pierre-did-it-for-the-money theory.
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  “Listen,” Kent said more sympathetically. “The Solar Wind thing has got you going. Okay, me too. After all, we know for sure that somebody did kill him. I saw the hole in his head myself, and I’ve seen enough gunshot wounds to know that’s what it was before I removed the slug. We’ll see if the police ballistics guys can tell us anything about the gun it came from. Then we’ll see where that leads us, but in the meantime, don’t let your imagination run away with you. We have no proof that any of the cases are linked.”

  Kent grabbed the gravestone that was his backrest, pulled himself to his feet, and instructed the girls. “Keep an open mind. Stay objective. That’s the way you untangle something like this.”

  “It was Charles,” Emily said.

  Kent turned to Lucinda, and shrugged, his palms up. “They’re hopeless,” he said.

  When Kent, Emily, and Maria arrived back at the CVC, the girls went about restocking the truck while Kent headed to his office to see what chaos the day had wrought. Among the clutter on his desk there were several notes with names and numbers to call for one reason or another, but it was the one from Ed Holmes that caught his eye.

  He strummed his fingers impatiently as the phone rang in his ear. Finally, Dr. Holmes’s voice came on the other end. “Ed, Kent here. Sorry I missed you when you called.”

  “No big deal, I figured you’d want to know what we came up with on the Stanford horse.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “This is going to sound really strange.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Yeah, no kidding. So we repeated all the tests. I would stake my worthless reputation on this.”

  “On what?”

  “First, we did the serology and, not surprisingly, we got the same results as from your initial samples positive for EVA. A definite positive.”

  “Right.”

  “So then I asked the lab to isolate the virus.”

  “Any luck?”