Death by Equine

by Annette Dashofy

  Jessie shifted in the truck seat. “I’m surprised. I honestly didn’t think you’d ever want to talk to me again.”

  “Why would you think that? I’m the one who messed things up.”

  “You?”

  “I just wanted to show you a nice time. An evening out to enjoy yourself.” He gave her a sad smile. “Major fail.”

  Before Jessie could argue, a skinny young fellow wearing a dirty plaid shirt and jeans with holes in the knees stepped in front of the truck and started toward it. When he spotted Daniel, the young man froze in midstride. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn.

  Daniel eyed the guy for a moment then turned back to Jessie. “Have you come up with anything new about Doc’s death?”

  “I guess the ground rules from last night have expired.”

  “At the stroke of midnight.”

  Jessie thought about the Coggins tests. She started to tell him about them, but the words stuck in her throat. Doc’s shortcuts were a result of laziness, not criminal intent. The horses involved had already tested negative and likely hadn’t come in contact with the disease to change that. As long as Jessie didn’t perpetuate the scam, once the bogus certificates expired, those horses would have to be properly re-tested. Provided Sherry didn’t continue the practice.

  “Hello?”

  Jessie blinked. “Huh? Oh. Sorry.”

  “Where’d you go just now?”

  “Thinking about Doc.” It wasn’t a lie.

  “And? Anything new?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.” Daniel shot another glance at the guy in plaid, who had done a one-eighty and now faced the other way.

  Jessie set her notes from her last patient on the seat beside her. Obviously, this young man had another patient ready for her as soon as Daniel left. “I’m not sure about anything anymore. First there was this illegitimate daughter. Then there were the accusations of extortion and who knows what else. Am I crazy? I thought he was a good man. He was more of a dad to me than my own father. I thought he had a good marriage and only two kids.” Heat rose behind her eyes. “Did that man ever exist? Or was he a figment of my imagination?”

  Daniel reached into the cab and touched her arm. “You loved him.”

  She swiped a hand across her face to keep the rush of tears at bay.

  “Did the man you thought you knew ever exist? He did for you. You looked up to him, cared for him, and admired him. Sometimes love clouds our judgment, and we only see the parts of a person we want to see. You saw the man you wanted Doc to be. Others saw him in a different light. Does that make you wrong?” Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it makes Doc damned lucky.”

  She smiled sadly. “Thanks.”

  Daniel inclined his head toward the young man who was now tapping one foot. “Someone’s waiting to talk to you, but I have to ask you something while I’ve got you here.”

  She fumbled for a tissue in her jeans’ pocket. “What is it?”

  “Zelda Peterson contacted me. She wants the track stewards to lift the ban on Clown. What do you think?”

  “It’s not up to me.”

  “No, but if you don’t want it to happen, I’ll put a stop to it.”

  “Let her go to them. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Clown was just the murder weapon. Not the murderer.”

  “Zelda will be happy to hear that.” Daniel pushed away from the window. “And I really am sorry you didn’t enjoy Lorenzo’s last night.”

  Ill at ease, she shifted in her seat. “Last night was nice. It really was. I just felt—I don’t know—out of place, I guess.”

  “Why? You looked great.”

  “I didn’t feel like I looked great.”

  He didn’t respond but waited for her to go on.

  Jessie glanced at the guy now facing them again, arms folded in front of his chest, legs spread wide. “The thing is, I don’t often have the opportunity to get all dressed up, so I wasn’t prepared.” She kept her voice low and raced through the confession. “I didn’t have a nice new dress or shoes. I had to make do with what was in my closet, which wasn’t much. I felt like a charity case.”

  “A charity case?” He snorted. “I thought you were beautiful. Still do.”

  The heat warming her eyes moved to her cheeks.

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” He fixed her with a hard stare, but there was still a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. “The reason you were so uncomfortable last night was because you don’t have any fancy clothes?”

  She gave him a sheepish nod.

  “Other than that, did you have a good time?”

  “My dinner companion was nice.”

  “So if I were to ask you out again...”

  The guy in the plaid shirt had taken a couple steps closer. Jessie opened the truck door and slid down from the seat. “If you were going to ask me out to someplace like Lorenzo’s again, you’d better give me advance warning so I could go shopping.”

  “But if I did that, would you accept?”

  She turned away from Daniel so he wouldn’t see her grinning like a schoolgirl. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe, huh?” He caught her arm and drew her close to whisper in her ear. “Go shopping.”

  A PAINTING OF A LITTER of puppies stared down at Jessie as she propped her feet on her desk at the Cameron Veterinary Hospital. Meryl sat on the floor, her back against the wall, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Scowling, she removed a slice of onion from the hoagie she was eating. “Next time you come bearing gifts of food, tell them to hold the onions, okay?”

  “Picky, picky, picky,” Jessie said around a mouthful of sandwich. “At least I made sure they didn’t put any hot pepper rings on it.”

  Meryl grunted. “Are you gonna go out with him again?”

  “I don’t know.” Jessie set her hoagie down on the waxed paper wrapping in her lap. “The worst part about getting a divorce is this dating business.”

  “What d’ya mean? Daniel Shumway is hot. He drives a fast car and takes you nice places. What’s not to like?”

  Jessie eyed her friend. “He wants me to stay on at the track permanently.”

  Meryl grunted. “There is that.”

  “And according to Sherry, he and Doc had a big argument right before Doc was killed.”

  “What about?”

  Jessie opened the sandwich to rearrange the slices of tomato and pickles. “She didn’t say, and I’m not about to ask Daniel.”

  “Why not? I would.”

  Jessie choked a laugh. “I know you would.” She reassembled her hoagie and took a bite.

  For several moments, the only sound in the office was soft munching and the crinkle of waxed paper. Meryl broke the silence. “What time are you supposed to meet Greg?”

  Jessie glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 1:48. “Two o’clock.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Jessie stopped mid-chew. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I want to have a chat with Mr. Bad-Ass State Trooper.”

  “That’s what worries me.” Jessie swallowed. “Assaulting a police officer is frowned upon in legal circles.”

  “Screw him if he can’t take a joke.”

  Jessie covered her mouth, glad she’d already swallowed. Otherwise, Meryl might be doing the Heimlich maneuver on her. “That’s Vanessa’s department these days.”

  Jessie had a feeling Meryl was gauging her sense of humor. Until recently, Jessie would spiral into a fit of despair and uncontrolled weeping at the mention of Greg’s extracurricular activities. But she shot her friend a grin.

  Meryl smiled back. “Better her than you.”

  “Amen.” Maybe Jessie really had attained acceptance.

  Someone knocked at the door. “Come in,” Meryl called.

  One of their receptionists, who was now pulling double duty since Vanessa’s recent firing,
poked her head in. “Dr. Cameron? Your—uh—Trooper Cameron is here.”

  Before Jessie could respond, Meryl flipped a dismissive hand at the bearer of bad news. “Tell him we’re busy and we’ll be there when we’re good and ready.”

  The receptionist’s gaze darted between the two of them. “Okay.” She ducked out again.

  Meryl insisted they weren’t “good and ready” until five after two.

  “Aren’t your clients going to be mad that you’re running late?” Jessie asked as they walked down the path to the backdoor of the farmhouse.

  “I don’t have anything scheduled until two thirty. I took a longer lunch break today since I’ve been working all these un-godly hours.” Meryl tipped her head toward Jessie. “Which reminds me. When did you say you’re coming back?”

  “I wondered when you’d bring that up.”

  “Well?”

  They’d reached the door. Jessie paused, her hand on the knob. “Meryl, I really like it there.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.”

  “Look, if what Sherry says is true, she’s going to inherit the practice anyhow, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “And if she doesn’t inherit it?”

  Jessie gave her an apologetic grin.

  Meryl swore.

  The doorknob was yanked from Jessie’s hand. She looked up into the unhappy face of her estranged husband. “Glad you decided to make it.”

  Meryl pushed past Jessie and managed to ram a shoulder into Greg’s chest as she entered.

  He winced. “Good to see you again, Meryl.”

  She scoffed. “I bet.”

  Jessie stepped into the enclosed back porch and slammed the door behind her. It bounced open. Greg raised an eyebrow. She didn’t respond to his silent question but turned and gave the door a solid shove. It closed and stayed that way.

  Silence hung on the air. No cooling system hissing in the background. No loud meows from the absent housecat.

  The living room was darker than usual with one of the windows covered in plywood. Fingerprinting powder coated many surfaces, but otherwise, nothing had been touched since Jessie left last night. The dining room floor remained littered with the contents of the buffet and sideboard. The living room floor glittered with glass shards, wood chips, and fragments of electronic equipment.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “You could have cleaned it up a little.”

  “I’ll help later, if you want,” Greg said. “Right now, I’m more interested in what’s missing.”

  Jessie looked around, the immensity of the destruction pressing down on her. “Where do I start?”

  He motioned to the mess on the dining room floor. “Right here’s as good a place as any.”

  She ran through a mental inventory of Grandma’s linens and Great Aunt Rose’s china, all gifts from her grandparents before they died. The closest thing she had to a family history. Dropping to her knees, she sorted through the mounds of tablecloths and napkins and scattered table service for twelve. A few smashed plates suggested it might now be a service for eight. Maybe six.

  An intruder had been in her house. A stranger’s hands had touched her things. Or maybe not a stranger. Which was worse?

  “Nothing seems to be missing here.” She climbed to her feet. “Broken, yes. Missing, no.”

  Greg turned to his notebook lying open on the table and jotted something down. “The living room’s next. Watch your step. There’s glass everywhere.”

  He wasn’t kidding. Jessie preferred to wander the house barefoot but was glad she had kept her work boots on today. She doubted she’d ever get all the shards vacuumed out of the Oriental rug.

  “All my CDs and DVDs are gone.”

  “Do you know how many and what titles?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Whatever ones you left behind.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’ll need a list of them whenever you get around to it.”

  “You two are so cute together.” Meryl crunched past Greg, but not before giving him a good shot in the arm with her fist, using too much oomph for it to be mistaken as a friendly gesture.

  Greg turned his head toward her. “Is there a reason why you’re here?”

  “To annoy the hell out of you.” Meryl’s laugh sounded decidedly evil. “Is it working?”

  His sigh was more of a growl.

  Jessie pointed out fragmented remains of the television, DVD player, and stereo. “Nothing else is missing here. But nothing’s intact either.”

  Greg made more notes and then led them through the rest of the downstairs rooms, all untouched. “This doesn’t make sense.” He started up the stairs. Jessie and Meryl followed. “Someone went to a lot of trouble for a few CDs and DVDs. Why smash all the electronic stuff? Why not take it too?”

  Jessie was about to offer Milt’s theory about portability when Meryl spoke up. “Have you asked Vanessa?”

  Greg stopped three steps shy of the landing, turned, and looked down. Not at Meryl, but at Jessie. “You just had to share your suspicions with everyone, didn’t you?”

  “Not everyone.” She wanted to tell him she no longer believed Vanessa was the culprit, but he didn’t give her a chance.

  “Why would Vanessa smash all your stuff?”

  Meryl stepped between them. “Maybe the fact it was Jessie’s was reason enough.”

  This time Meryl was the recipient of Greg’s angry-cop face.

  “Vanessa’s already got her husband. Now she wants her house.” Undaunted, Meryl climbed one more step, leaving Jessie only a view of her back. But she could well imagine what her face looked like. “This seems like an effective method for getting it. I wouldn’t put anything past that twit.”

  “Vanessa’s not like that. You don’t know her. She wouldn’t stoop to this level.”

  Jessie wondered why he bothered debating the issue. Unless he was trying to convince himself. “Then who?” she asked.

  Greg didn’t reply. Instead he turned and continued up the stairs.

  Three of the second-floor rooms were easy to assess. The guest room contained a few pieces of antique furniture, and the dresser and bureau drawers were all empty except for an extra set of sheets and a blanket. Greg’s old office, likewise, was sparsely furnished and, since he’d cleared his things out, held little to interest a burglar. The bathroom remained undisturbed.

  Greg and Meryl waited at the door while Jessie wandered through her bedroom. She opened drawers one at a time and noted the contents. Nothing seemed to have been displaced, but she still imagined the interloper going through her clothes.

  Meryl touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. No.” Jessie shook her head. “I will be.” From the top of the dresser, she scooped up the cosmetics Meryl had loaned her and held them out to her. “Thanks.”

  Meryl accepted them with a silent smile.

  Jessie slammed the drawer and turned to the black lacquered jewelry box with Japanese scenes painted into the glossy finish. She lifted the lid and the music box inside began to play a tune. The contents of the box, a few pieces of costume jewelry, were just as she had left them.

  “Well?” Greg asked.

  “It’s all here.”

  “That leaves your office.” He stepped back, allowing her to pass.

  Light shone through the large six-over-six paned windows, casting pools of sunshine on the littered remains. The room didn’t look any better in the daylight than it had last night.

  “My laptop’s gone.” She gave the desk a closer inspection. “And my external hard drive.”

  “What was on them?”

  “Patient records.” As she said it, something whispered in the back of her brain, too low to make out.

  Fifteen

  Greg stepped into the room, his shoes crunching against the debris, sending the whispers scurrying into the darkness. He jotted in his notebook. “Anything else?”

  “My printer and router are trash.” Jessie crossed to the hearth and
gazed at the blackened remains of Doc’s files.

  “I think this had to be done by kids,” Greg said. “They could unload the CDs, DVDs, and hard drive without drawing too much attention. Unlike the bigger stuff, which they probably had a grand old time smashing.”

  Jessie’s breath slowed. Her eyes remained on the char in the fireplace. She didn’t think it was kids who broke into her house. While she’d prefer to think it was Vanessa being a bitch, she didn’t believe that either.

  “It wasn’t kids.”

  “Look, Jess, I’m getting tired of hearing your accusations against Vanessa.”

  “I’m not talking about Vanessa.”

  “Oh?” Greg struck his standard in-command stance.

  Jessie pointed to the hearth. “Somebody started a fire in here.”

  “Still could have been kids. Did you check the kitchen? Maybe they made themselves a snack.”

  “Really? Teenage hoodlums are going to lug a package of my tofu dogs all the way up here to grill?”

  The expression on his face told her he guessed not.

  “Besides, there are plenty of papers on my desk they could have used. There are books. Hell, they could have torn down the curtains and torched them. No. They chose the stack of files I brought home from the track. Doc’s files.”

  “That means what exactly?”

  First, Doc turned up dead. Then his files on the horse that killed him had turned up missing. Now this. Jessie didn’t like the implications. “I’m not sure,” she said. “But doesn’t it strike you as odd?”

  Meryl crossed to stand next to Jessie and surveyed the fireplace. “It definitely does.” She met Jessie’s gaze, a perplexed look in her eyes. It was a look Jessie rarely saw in Meryl.

  Greg’s gaze shifted between the two of them. Jessie could almost hear the grinding of gears inside his head. His gaze lowered and he scribbled something in his notebook. “Anything else missing?”

  Jessie did a slow three-sixty, surveying the room. “I don’t think so.”

  “You know the drill. If you discover anything’s missing later—”

  “I’ll be sure to let you know.”