Death by Equine

by Annette Dashofy

  Sherry studied the label. “No problem. Sullivan won’t be running on that leg anytime soon.”

  Jessie gazed down the shedrow. Emerick had parked a wheelbarrow near the stall where Jessie remembered seeing a gray horse last time she was here. Today, Emerick was mucking out the stall. Most trainers at Riverview jumped in and handled the grunt work alongside their hired help. They couldn’t afford not to. But she hadn’t pictured Emerick doing any kind of menial labor.

  A short, scrawny kid with a sad excuse for a goatee charged into the barn from behind Jessie. He brushed past her without acknowledging her presence and stuck his head into Sullivan’s stall. “Sherry, I did what you said. Everything’s set.”

  Sherry glanced at Jessie and hissed at the kid through her teeth. He stiffened and turned, as if he only now realized someone else was there. “Sorry. Hi, Dr. Cameron.”

  Jessie studied him, certain she’d never seen him before.

  He grinned. “I’m the one who called you this morning.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sherry told me to.”

  “Oh,” Jessie repeated.

  “Thank you, Jimmy.” Sherry spoke the words slowly as if the kid was dimmer than the gray, rainy day.

  He gave Sherry a quick nod before scurrying off toward Emerick.

  Jessie concealed a smile. Grooms were quickly becoming her favorite source of information. “You told him to call me about Sullivan?”

  Sherry’s face reddened. “Yes.” She lowered her head and breezed past Jessie into Emerick’s feed room. She reappeared a moment later with both hands full of Vet Wrap and bandaging materials.

  “You told him.” Unlike at the pool, Jessie had regained the upper hand. “Not Emerick. You.”

  “Neil wouldn’t call you if you were the only vet on the planet.” Sherry dropped to her knees and began working on Sullivan’s leg.

  “He does have you, after all. His own personal vet. Unofficial. But still.” Jessie shrugged. “That seems to be the case, right?”

  When Sherry looked up, her lip was curled back in a snarl. “No. It’s not.”

  “Then what exactly is it you do for him? Why are you always here?”

  Sherry stopped wrapping Sullivan’s leg. “It’s none of your business.”

  “You do work for him. Right?”

  A muscle in Sherry’s jaw danced beneath the skin’s surface. “Since my father died, I have to make money somehow.”

  “Until your inheritance comes through and you take over Doc’s practice.”

  Sherry resumed wrapping Sullivan’s leg. “Exactly.”

  Jessie leaned against the stall doorway. “What would you have done if Doc hadn’t died?”

  The roll of Vet Wrap dropped from Sherry’s hands. “What?”

  Jessie let the question sit there between them. Down the shedrow, Jimmy with the goatee had taken over stall cleaning duties from Emerick.

  Sherry picked up the bandage and started over. “I’d have gone into practice with my father. That was my dream.”

  “Now you won’t have to share. Convenient, huh?”

  Jessie expected an explosion. Instead, Sherry lowered her head. Her shoulders shook. Jessie thought she was sobbing until she heard the laughter.

  Sherry threw her head back, cackling in mirth. “You—” She gasped for breath. “You think I killed my dad?” She burst out in laughter again. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

  Not the reaction Jessie had expected.

  “I didn’t want my dad dead.” Sherry wiped her eyes. “If you’re looking for someone who wanted to kill my old man, you don’t have to look very far.” She held up one finger. “Butch from security? He’s into, shall we say, personal banking.”

  “You mean loan sharking?”

  “You’re not so dumb after all. Yeah. Loan sharking. He and my dad had a few big blow-ups over it. Dad knew and threatened to turn him in if Butch didn’t pay to keep him quiet. You can damned well bet Butch wasn’t too keen about sharing his profits.” She held up a second finger. “Frank Hamilton.”

  “The paddock judge?” Jessie could buy Butch being into illegal activities. But Frank Hamilton? “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Sherry swung her head like a slow pendulum. “I’m serious. Race fixing. I don’t know the particulars, but my father did and was putting the screws to Frankie baby.” She held up three fingers. “And then there’s Daniel Shumway.”

  Now Jessie knew Sherry was lying through her teeth. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me Daniel’s a drug dealer.” Jessie made no effort to mask her sarcasm.

  “Maybe. I just know Shumway and my dad had a serious screaming match a few days before Dad died.” Sherry curled her fingers into a fist. “You do the math.”

  From the far end of the shedrow came a crash. Jessie jumped. Neil Emerick had kicked the wheelbarrow of manure and straw over and was ranting at a cowering Jimmy with the goatee to clean it up. Emerick looked up and homed in on Jessie. Even at that distance, she could see his face redden. He stormed toward her.

  Had Jessie given into her survival instincts, she’d have high-tailed it out of there. The barn across the road showed no signs of human life. For a fleeting moment, it occurred to her that Sherry, who’d threatened to push her into the pool, was the only witness or possible rescuer in sight.

  “What the hell are you still doing here?” Emerick’s face was the same color as Sullivan’s road rash. “Are you done with that horse or not?”

  Jessie straightened. “I’m done. You were lucky. The additional damage to the tendon is minor and shouldn’t significantly delay his healing.”

  “Lucky, huh?” Emerick leaned in, his face only inches from hers. His stale breath ruffled the strands of her hair hanging loose from her ball cap. “If you want your luck to hold, you’d better get the hell outta here.”

  Jessie met his gaze, unblinking. The rage in his eyes made her think perhaps Sherry should have held up one more finger. “I’ll send you my bill.” Without waiting for a retort—or physical violence—she sidestepped him and headed down the shedrow. Toward Jimmy with the goatee and the forbidden part of the barn.

  Behind her, Jessie heard his menacing voice raised at Sherry. “I don’t care what happens. Don’t you ever bring that woman into my barn again.”

  Jessie anticipated either Emerick or Sherry stopping her as she took the scenic route out of his barn, but no one did. She glanced into each stall she passed. Each stood empty. The only sign of recent occupancy was the one Emerick had been mucking out. And it was now vacant as well.

  Ten

  Jessie knocked on Daniel’s office door not really expecting him to be there at nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning. He called out for her to come in. Apparently track CEOs didn’t get days off either.

  “Jessie.” He rose as she entered the room. “How nice to see you.”

  She doubted he’d feel the same once he heard what she had to say.

  He motioned to a chair opposite his desk, which she accepted. “I hope you’re here to tell me you’re taking over Doc’s practice.”

  “No. In fact, it might be out of my hands.”

  Daniel sank into his own chair. “What do you mean?”

  Sherry’s relationship with Doc wasn’t part of Jessie’s agenda. “Never mind. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Oh?” He rested his forearms on the desk. “That tranquilizer. Acepromazine. Did you ever find out why Doc gave it to Clown?”

  “I don’t believe he did.” She told him about the records she’d tracked down at Doc’s house and the notations about the horse’s reaction to the drug.

  “If Doc didn’t administer it, who did?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. According to Zelda, everyone knew about it, but maybe someone new to the track didn’t.” Jessie’s throat tightened. “Otherwise, whoever gave Clown the drug did it intentionally, knowing what would happen.”

  “Sounds like you think someone meant for D
oc to be killed.”

  Jessie held his gaze. And her tongue. She waited for him to tell her she was crazy.

  Instead, he asked, “Any idea who?”

  “What do you know about Butch?”

  “Butch?” Daniel frowned. “From security?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not much. You suspect him? Why?”

  “I heard he’s been doing some loan sharking on the side.” Sherry had made it sound viable. Coming from Jessie’s mouth, it sounded lame.

  “Loan sharking.” The look on Daniel’s face suggested he agreed with Jessie’s latest assessment.

  “That’s what I heard. And that Doc was blackmailing him.”

  Daniel picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desk. “I’ll look into it.”

  “There’s also Frank Hamilton.”

  The pencil fell still. “What about Frank Hamilton?”

  Jessie wondered if this was going to sound insane too. “I understand he’s been involved in fixing some races.”

  “Damn it. I warned him if I ever caught him trying that again...”

  Maybe Sherry wasn’t so far off base after all. Which left Jessie pondering the third name on Sherry’s list.

  The pencil continued drumming. “But why would Hamilton have reason to harm Doc?”

  “Apparently, Doc knew what was going on and was putting some pressure on him.”

  “I’ll look into that too.” Daniel used his drumstick to jot a note. “How’d you find out all this?”

  Jessie wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal her source. Then she thought of the pool. “Sherry Malone.”

  “Ah.” He nodded as if he should have guessed. “She was Doc’s assistant, so she would know.”

  “She’s also his daughter.”

  The pencil slipped from Daniel’s fingers and clattered from the desk to the floor. “You’re kidding.”

  “I don’t have a paternity test to prove it, but according to her, it’s true.”

  Daniel swiveled his chair toward the window overlooking the outdoor paddock.

  Jessie studied his profile. His strong jaw. Dimples that were aging into creases. A flush of warmth rose to her neck. She lowered her eyes and hooked a finger in her collar, giving it a tug. Good thing Meryl wasn’t here.

  “Jessie? Are you all right?”

  She looked up to find Daniel watching her. “Sherry believes Doc left her his practice in his will.”

  “That’s what you meant about it being out of your hands?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  He turned toward the window again, but not before she caught a glimpse of something dark in his eyes.

  Jessie stood. “I should be going.”

  He swung around in his chair, as though he’d forgotten about her. “I’m sorry.” He flashed his charming, boyish smile at her. “I’m not a very good host. You don’t have to go.”

  “Yes, I do. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”

  He rose and stepped around his desk. “I’ll check into Frank and Butch and let you know what I find out. You’ll keep me posted if you learn anything more?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He extended a hand and she took it. His grip was warm and firm. And gentle. She found herself wondering about that argument he’d had with Doc. But now wasn’t the time to ask.

  It must have shown on her face. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  She looked up into Daniel’s concerned eyes. “Absolutely.” She threw in a smile for good measure before slipping her hand from his and beating a hasty retreat.

  JESSIE HAD SKIPPED breakfast, and her rumbling stomach insisted she make a detour on her way to the office. Armed with a second large coffee and a Styrofoam container of toast and scrambled eggs from the rec hall, she wrestled open the clinic door and trudged across the exam area. She set her “brunch” on the desk and popped open the lids, savoring the aromas. No sooner had she taken her first bite than a familiar voice called from outside.

  “Hello? Jessie?” Catherine Dodd stood just inside the big doorway, out of the rain.

  “Come in,” Jessie called around a mouthful of bread. She chewed fast and managed to swallow by the time Catherine reached the office. “What brings you all the way out here?” Catherine rarely strayed into the backside.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I need to talk to someone.” Catherine pointed at the container on the desk. “I’m sorry. I see I’ve interrupted your breakfast.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jessie flipped the lid closed and motioned toward the couch. “Have a seat.”

  Catherine brushed a hand across the vinyl as though that might make it acceptably clean before sitting down.

  Jessie suppressed a smile. “Catherine, how do you always manage to look so put together? Not only do you look like you stepped out of the pages of Vogue, but you stay so...clean.”

  Catherine glanced down at her perfect pale blue skirt and jacket. “What do you mean?”

  “I put on clean jeans and a t-shirt in the morning, and within an hour I’m covered in cat hair, hay, and straw.”

  “Maybe you should stay out of the barn.”

  Jessie studied Catherine’s face for some sign of humor. There wasn’t any. “Maybe I’ll give that a try.” Jessie waited for a laugh or a grin, something—anything—to show Catherine recognized the irony in her words. When none was forthcoming, Jessie cleared her throat. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Catherine let out a shuddering, damp sigh. “Jessie, do you think Milt might be having an affair?”

  Jessie choked. “An affair? Milt?”

  Catherine extracted a tissue from her jacket pocket. She didn’t reply but watched Jessie intently.

  Jessie gazed into her coffee cup, imagining Milt’s face with all its good ol’ boy charm. She thought about how he and Meryl had been making eyes at each other a few days earlier. No doubt about it, Milt was a shameless flirt. But Jessie couldn’t fathom him ever taking it further.

  Catherine touched the tissue to the corner of her eye. “You know I was the one who broke up Milt’s first marriage.”

  Jessie hadn’t. Maybe he was capable of taking it further.

  “I’ve heard the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.” Catherine sniffled. “This spring, I was certain Milt had a girlfriend on the side, so I decided to retaliate.”

  The office suddenly felt too close. Too confined. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “I can’t stand it anymore. I need to talk to someone about it. We’ve known each other forever, and you know everyone involved. Plus, I trust you won’t repeat any of this.” Catherine again dabbed at her eyes, careful not to smudge the mascara. “I slept with Doc.”

  What? While Jessie adored the man and his brilliant mind, she couldn’t picture Catherine, with her perfectly styled hair and matched suits, together with Doc and his dusty blue jeans and shabby hat.

  “Doc was such a wonderful, sweet lover. Incredible really...” Catherine’s face took on an ethereal smile. Jessie sensed she had drifted away to a place Jessie did not want to think about.

  “Does Milt know?”

  Catherine snapped out of her reverie. “Oh, Christ, no.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. Milt would never be able to hide something like that from me. He would be crushed. I’m certain he doesn’t know. And I don’t want him to find out.”

  From experience, Jessie knew exactly how Milt would feel. Betrayed. Devastated. Heartbroken. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy, let alone a friend. “I won’t say a word.”

  “Thank you.” Catherine lowered the hand clutching the tissue to her lap. “Are you positive you don’t know anything about him having an affair?”

  “Not a thing.” Nor did she want to.

  Catherine nodded. “I’m probably projecting my own guilty conscience on him.” She stuffed the tissue back in her pocket. “It’s good to be able to talk to someone about these things.”
She stood and moved to leave, then hesitated. “I almost forgot. Could you take another peek at Blue sometime when you get a chance?”

  Jessie rubbed her eyes, still trying to get the vision of Catherine with Doc out of her brain. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing really. Well, nothing new. I just wanted you to check him and make sure. Maybe the break has healed better than you expected. Do you think you could x-ray him again?”

  “I doubt I’d have anything more to tell you than I did last time.”

  “I know, but I’d still like another set of x-rays.”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I’ll call you and set up an appointment.” Catherine performed a flawless pirouette on four-inch heels before ambling out the door, waving one dainty hand as she went.

  Jessie stared at the container of cold eggs. Even if they’d still been hot, she didn’t think she could choke them down. She picked up the box and dropped it in the trash.

  Jessie had started entering the first of Doc’s old records on her laptop when a knock on the office door jolted her. She looked up to find Milt grinning through the glass. She waved him in.

  “Hey, darlin’.” Milt closed the door behind him. “What’re you doing here on your day off?”

  “Paperwork.”

  He ambled in and flopped down on the old sofa. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a workaholic?”

  Jessie made a face. “Yeah. Greg.” She watched Milt sprawl out, crossing his ankles as they hung off the not-quite-long-enough couch. The Dodd family were certainly making themselves comfortable in her office today. “I’ve got nothing better to do, so I’ve started computerizing Doc’s files,” she said.

  “Why bother if you don’t plan on taking over his practice?”

  Jessie snorted. “I didn’t think you paid attention when I told you I wasn’t staying.” She tried to focus on the information she was typing, but Milt’s question stuck in her head. Why was she bothering with Doc’s records? Why was the idea of Sherry inheriting his practice creating knots of tension in Jessie’s shoulders? And why was Jessie hoping Milt had been right about Doc not leaving his practice to Sherry?