Death by Equine

by Annette Dashofy

  “Isn’t that why you called Doc?”

  With a trembling hand, the woman held out her phone. “I didn’t call him.”

  “What do you mean, you didn’t call him? Who did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jessie tamped down her frustration. “Then what are you doing here?”

  “The police contacted me at home. Told me my horse had been involved in an accident. I thought Clown was hurt, but when I got here, it was Doc.” Zelda turned the device over and over in her hand. “I’ve called all my employees. So far none of them say they were here tonight. I can’t get hold of one of my grooms, but I can’t imagine why he’d have been here either.”

  Jessie massaged her temples. “What about Clown? Is he colicky?”

  “No. He’s acting spooked, but no colic.”

  “Spooked?”

  “I mean, he does colic. Doc’s here all the time treating him for it. But right now, Clown’s fine.”

  Except he’d just killed a man. Jessie glanced down the shedrow toward the crowd gathered around the stall and forced her attention back to her work. “Can I see him?”

  “Clown? Sure.” Zelda hoisted a thumb. “He’s in the first one.”

  Jessie drew a breath, hoping it would alleviate the dull ache in her chest, and edged toward the stall. A metal grate barricaded the door. Inside, a tall, muscular chestnut leaned into the back corner. He flipped his head at her, ears pinned flat to his neck.

  Jessie reached for the clip securing the grate.

  “What are you doing?” A note of panic rang in Zelda’s voice.

  “We may not know who, but someone called Doc about this horse. I need to examine him to make sure he’s okay.” Greg’s words about not needing another body echoed in her brain.

  “Dr. Cameron, I appreciate this, but he’s really high-strung tonight. All this excitement. I’m afraid you might get hurt.”

  “How about if I sedate him?”

  Zelda’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. You don’t want to do that. Clown becomes completely uncontrollable when you tranquilize him. Especially when he’s already aggravated. We found out the hard way a couple of years ago.”

  Greg stormed down the shedrow toward them. “Jess!” In the poor lighting, she couldn’t tell if the urgency in his voice was from anger or fear. “I told you to stay away from that horse.”

  “Fine,” she snapped at him and turned to Zelda. “This horse needs to be looked at. I want him shipped to Ohio State University for a complete workup.”

  Zelda cast her eyes downward. “Okay.”

  “They’ll draw blood and do a urinalysis for every medication they can think of. He’s going to be tested from stem to stern, and if he has a hair out of place, they’ll find it, and I’ll hear about it.” Jessie knew the prospect of that kind of scrutiny would throw a great many trainers into panic.

  But Zelda gave a resigned nod. “I’ll arrange transportation first thing in the morning.”

  “No. Tonight. I’ll contact them so they’ll be expecting him.”

  The woman’s shoulders sagged. “I’ll go home and get my trailer.”

  “Before you go,” Greg said to Zelda, “we have a few more questions.” As he escorted her toward the other cops, he shot a look at Jessie.

  She raised both hands in exhausted surrender. Let him think she was obeying his orders. In truth, the horse looked fit and healthy. His coat was shiny and his eyes bright. She saw no reason to risk her life treating a horse that wasn’t in distress.

  Instead of trailing behind Greg and Zelda, Jessie slipped out of the barn and walked the road back to her pickup. She noticed Doc’s truck and changed course, heading for the dented Dodge Ram. Doc kept the tools of his trade immaculate. Except for his vehicle.

  The driver’s window was down. She rested her arms on the edge of the door and inhaled the smell of stale cigarette smoke. Not her favorite aroma, but closing her eyes and drinking it in, she could almost pretend Doc was sitting behind the wheel, cracking off-color jokes and making her blush.

  Doc always said he’d seen something in Jessie all those years ago when she’d hung around the old farm, mucking stalls in exchange for riding privileges. He’d taken her under his wing—and into his home—given her veterinary books to read, helped her earn her scholarship to Ohio State. She wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be a vet, if not for Doc.

  A burst of tinny music interrupted her memories. She opened her eyes and spotted Doc’s phone on the passenger seat, the screen lit up with an incoming call. She glanced around, but the cops were all gathered in the barn, and the paramedics were inside their ambulance, paying no attention to her.

  Jessie climbed into the truck and picked up the phone. Caller ID showed the incoming call was from Amelia. Doc’s wife. Doc’s widow. Jessie swore under her breath. Her thumb hovered over the answer button. What should she say? What words could she use to soften the blow?

  While Jessie deliberated, the music stopped, and the call went to voicemail. A thought struck her. She had a million questions about what had happened here tonight. Doc’s phone might provide the answer to one of them.

  She pressed the button to wake the device, grateful he’d never bothered to set up a lock screen. She pulled up the list of recent incoming calls. There was Amelia’s unanswered one. The last call that had been picked up revealed only a number. No name. Disappointed, Jessie looked around for Greg and spotted him with Zelda, the other trooper, and two of the township cops not far from the stall where the coroner was now at work.

  Jessie crooked a finger at Greg. They exchanged a few hand signals, his saying “in a minute” and hers saying “now.” He gave her his evil eye and excused himself.

  “What?” he demanded.

  She held up the phone. “I have the number of whoever called Doc about the horse.”

  “That’s Doc’s phone? Where did you get it?”

  “In his truck.”

  Greg let out a growl. “Have I taught you nothing about evidence?”

  “You mean like don’t touch it?” At the moment, she didn’t care about proper procedure. “By the way, Amelia is trying to reach him. Shouldn’t Daniel be there by now? Maybe you should call him again.”

  Greg retrieved a nitrile glove from his pants pocket and wiggled his fingers into it. “Just give me the phone.”

  She handed it over, realizing with a pang that Doc would never call her from it again.

  Greg read the number on the screen aloud as he scribbled in his notebook.

  “Wait.” Zelda Peterson approached them. “How’d you get that number?”

  Jessie looked up at her. “You know it?”

  “It’s the one I’ve been calling since I got here. That’s the number for my groom. The one who isn’t answering my calls.”

  Greg pulled out his own phone. “Maybe he’ll answer for me.”

  Zelda gave him a puzzled look.

  “Ever consider he might be trying to dodge his employer?” he said as he waited for the call to connect.

  “Oh.”

  Greg swore and put the phone away. “It went straight to voicemail. What’s his name?”

  “Miguel Diaz. He’s just a kid. And not very ambitious. I can’t imagine he checked on the horses without being ordered to.”

  Jessie looked around. Patches of light spilled on roof and pavement from halogen bulbs overhead, but the shedrows lay in deep shadow. She shivered at the thought of someone lurking there.

  “You can go make those transportation arrangements,” Greg told Zelda. “Thanks for your help.”

  As the trainer walked away, Jessie frowned at Doc’s phone, still nestled in Greg’s palm. “Who called it in?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Who dialed 911? Doc wasn’t in any shape to call for help. Besides, he left his phone in the truck.”

  A sad smile crept across Greg’s face. “I guess ten years as a state trooper’s wife did teach you something.”

  She winced, still trying t
o accept ten years as Greg Cameron’s wife would never become eleven years.

  “Let me make a call.” He pulled out his phone again. “And you’re forgiven for the lapse of judgment where handling evidence is concerned.”

  The grumble of an engine snatched her attention back from her momentary wallow in self-pity. She recognized the track CEO’s white Ford Expedition as it rolled toward them. She left her soon-to-be ex-husband to his detective work and headed for the car.

  Jessie hadn’t seen Daniel Shumway in ages, even though their farms backed up to one another. One of the reasons she’d been looking forward to these two weeks at the track was the opportunity it offered to possibly bump into him. But not this way.

  Both the driver’s and passenger’s doors flew open. A tiny woman with curly flame-red hair bolted from the passenger seat, making a run for the barn. Daniel Shumway, blond, rugged, and slightly disheveled, charged after Amelia Lewis, catching her around the waist before she could reach the barn. She flailed and screamed, but he turned her toward him, and she collapsed against his chest.

  Jessie jogged to them. Daniel met her gaze over Amelia’s head. He wore the helpless expression most men exhibit when faced with a sobbing female.

  Jessie touched Amelia’s shoulder and tried to say her name, but words refused to come.

  Amelia wheeled from Daniel, crumpling into Jessie’s arms, babbling something unintelligible against Jessie’s shoulder.

  Amelia’s anguish fed Jessie’s. “I’m so sorry,” Jessie whispered against her hair, fighting back her own tears. Not now. Amelia needed her to be strong.

  Jessie glared at Daniel.

  He obviously caught the meaning of Jessie’s scowl. “I didn’t want to bring her here, but she said she’d drive herself if I didn’t.”

  Jessie knew she would have too. Doc had always called Amelia his little spitfire. The red hair came with a temper. Amelia took no guff from anyone. Not Doc. Not their two kids. And not Jessie during the years she’d lived with them.

  If Amelia Lewis set her mind to something, heaven help the person who got in her way.

  Amelia sniffled and pushed away from Jessie. “I need to see him.”

  “No, you don’t.” Jessie lowered her head to look Amelia square in the eyes. “I thought I did too. Now I wish I hadn’t.”

  “He’s my husband.” Amelia tried to wrest free of Jessie’s hold. “I need to be with him.”

  Jessie held firm. “He’s gone, Amelia. There’s nothing any of us can do for him now.”

  Amelia’s face contorted. “You’ve seen him?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s—it’s really him? You’re sure?”

  “There’s no doubt. But you don’t want that picture of him frozen in your mind. Believe me.”

  “But what happened?” Amelia wailed. “How did he—die?”

  “He—” Jessie choked on the words. “He was trampled. By a horse he was treating.”

  A commotion in the shedrow drew their attention. Two guys wearing jackets emblazoned with Monongahela County Coroner carted a stretcher into the barn and disappeared into the stall.

  Greg, the other trooper, and several uniformed officers huddled and compared notes. Trooper Popovich broke away from the group, climbed into his SUV, and drove away.

  Jessie watched his taillights disappear at the end of the shedrow while wondering how much Daniel knew about what had happened. She didn’t want to catch him up on the details with Amelia standing there.

  The coroner guys wheeled the stretcher, now carrying a blue body bag, out of the stall. When they draped a black shroud over it, Amelia let out a cry that sounded like a wounded animal. Jessie held her tight. Daniel wrapped his arms around both of them, as if they might keep the widow from breaking into little pieces.

  By the time Doc’s body had been loaded into the Medical Examiner’s van, Amelia’s weeping had subsided. “I need—” She hiccupped. “—to sit down.”

  Jessie looked at Daniel. “Let’s get her back in your car.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Amelia said as Jessie assisted her into the passenger seat. “None of it feels real. We’re supposed to leave for Hawaii in the morning.”

  Jessie held Amelia’s hand. What could she say? I know. I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do...

  None of it sounded adequate.

  “Doc just couldn’t stop working,” Amelia went on. “Even when he’s supposed to be on vacation. He was out on calls all night.”

  “But—” Jessie stopped, puzzled. On the phone, Doc had told Jessie he didn’t want to get out of bed to drive to the track in the middle of the night. Or had she misunderstood?

  Jessie ran the conversation through her head. Tried to remember each word. Each detail.

  It had been a little after one a.m. when he’d called her and said he was on vacation as of midnight. Doc’s words rang in her memory. “I’m dumping this one on you so I can get some sleep before catching my flight.” She’d told him of the emergency she was dealing with and said she’d get there as soon as she could.

  “His last words to me,” Amelia said, “were, ‘I’ll be home as soon as I finish a couple of emergency calls.’ That was right after we had dinner.”

  Daniel climbed behind the wheel of his Expedition and touched Amelia’s arm. “There’s nothing we can do here. Let me take you home. We’ll call your kids and ask them to come stay with you.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “Yes. I suppose that’s best. I have to cancel our flight...”

  “I’ll come over in the morning in case you need anything.” Jessie gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Wait.” Amelia suddenly clutched Jessie’s arm. “There is something you can do for me.”

  “Anything.”

  Amelia gazed hard into Jessie’s eyes. “Find out what took place here tonight. You and I both know how careful Doc always was. I can’t believe he’d put himself in a position to let something like this happen.” She touched Jessie’s cheek. “He loved you like you were one of our own. I do too. Find out why he died. For me. Will you do that?”

  Jessie’s vision blurred. Doc had always taught her to be alert around these beautiful, graceful, but high-strung animals. She placed her hand over Amelia’s. “I promise.”

  Amelia gave her a tearful smile and leaned back into the seat.

  Jessie watched the Expedition drive away until its taillights disappeared. A spring breeze carried a fishy whiff of the nearby river. She closed her eyes. Maybe when she opened them again, she’d be in her bed, and it would have all been nothing more than a bad dream.

  Instead, when she opened them, the emergency lights from the police vehicles continued to sweep and flicker, painting the shedrows in splashes of red and blue.

  Jessie found Greg standing next to the coroner’s van.

  “I’ll do the autopsy in the morning,” the coroner was saying. “Toxicology will take a week or so, but it looks to be fairly cut and dried. We get one or two of these a year. People getting careless around large animals.” He climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll get my report to you fellows ASAP.”

  Once the coroner had driven away, Greg eyed Jessie. “How’s Amelia?”

  “Distraught.” Jessie rolled her shoulders until a knot of tension popped. “Did you find out who called 911?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Dispatch said the caller didn’t give a name. But would you like to guess the phone number?”

  Greg’s grim expression gave her a pretty good idea. “Zelda Peterson’s missing groom?”

  “You got it. Larry Popovich is headed over to the kid’s house right now. Maybe he got scared and beat it out of here after seeing what that horse did to Doc. At least he called for help first.”

  “A little too late.” But Jessie couldn’t completely blame him for running away. Not after what she’d seen in that stall.

  Greg’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “That’s Larry now.”

  She wa
ited and listened, learning nothing from the one-sided conversation. After several uh-huhs and okays, Greg hung up.

  “Well?”

  Greg waved the county officers over to include them in the update. “Popovich just called. No sign of Diaz at his apartment. We’ll let you guys know once we catch up to him.”

  The taller cop glanced around. “I guess we’re done here for now.”

  Jessie choked. “Done? That’s all you’re going to do?”

  One of the other officers spread his arms wide. “Look around. There’s no one to question tonight. And if the coroner declares the death accidental, there won’t be anything to investigate.” He extended a hand to Greg. “Thanks for your help tonight, Trooper.”

  The county cops pulled out, leaving Jessie’s and Doc’s trucks and Greg’s SUV. And a long silence.

  Until Greg broke it. “Are you finished for the night?”

  “Almost. I’ll wait until Zelda gets back with her trailer. In case she needs help loading Clown.”

  “I’ll wait with you.”

  “You don’t have to.” Jessie would prefer he leave. This business of moving on from their marriage was a strain on a good day. Tonight, after losing yet another man in her life, she felt too overwhelmed for the whole “just friends” routine.

  “Actually, I do,” he said. “I called for a tow truck for Doc’s pickup. I’ll stay until they get here.”

  “Don’t you think you ought to wait for him by the stable gate, so you can direct him back here?”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Greg gave her shoulder an awkward pat. “Good night.”

  Jessie watched him stroll away. She pried her eyes away from his ass—old habits die hard—and took another long look at the shedrow from which Doc’s body had been removed.

  She checked her watch. Doc should’ve been on his way to the airport by now. Amelia’s words echoed in Jessie’s mind. Doc had loved her like one of his own.

  He’d never asked her for anything. Just this one small favor. Fill in for him so he could take Amelia to Hawaii. The very first time he passed along an emergency call to her, she’d failed him. Now he was dead.

  The agony Jessie had been stuffing down all night finally tore from her throat in a strangled moan.