Death by Equine

by Annette Dashofy

  The prospect of no more awkward dinners at Lorenzo’s suited her just fine. But the memory of the kiss at her door flashed through her mind followed by the thought of Daniel the next day, touching her arm, whispering in her ear.

  “Jess?”

  “You have my word,” she said reluctantly. “No private meetings with Daniel.”

  “Good.” Greg sounded satisfied, maybe even relieved.

  “I need to get back.”

  He faced forward and reached for the key. “If you need me for anything, call. And let me know when you decide how you want to deal with this.”

  How to deal with this? She had no idea. Right now, she almost felt grateful for the overwhelming task waiting for her back at Riverview.

  Almost.

  Twenty

  The area in front of Barn A looked like the parking lot for a veterinarians’ convention. Three pickups beside her own, all sporting Bowie storage units, jammed the road. The only human visible in the shedrow was a skinny girl sitting on a rickety folding chair, cleaning a bridle. Jessie cut between stables and glanced at the new padlock on Daniel’s tack room door.

  The upper side of Barn B appeared to be the venue for the convention. Dr. McCarrell, Sherry, Meryl, half a dozen assorted helpers, and one unfamiliar woman wearing dark-rimmed glasses and a stern expression were spread out down the shedrow.

  Meryl spotted Jessie. “About time you got here.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t around to greet you all.”

  The woman, whom Jessie didn’t recognize, handed a tube of blood to Sherry and stripped off her Latex gloves. She approached with an extended hand. “You must be Dr. Cameron. I’m Dr. Leslie Baker from Veterinary Services.”

  Jessie took her hand. “Dr. Baker. I apologize for my absence.”

  “Now that you’re here, I suggest we get to work. This is a serious matter, and we have a lot of animals to check.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  Dr. Baker pointed out which horses still needed attention. Jessie suggested they break up into teams. Dr. Baker agreed and patted Sherry on the shoulder. “I understand Dr. Malone here just received her license. She seems very capable. I’d like to continue working with her if that’s all right with you?”

  Sherry beamed.

  Dr. McCarrell expressed a preference to work with his regular assistant.

  Meryl considered Jessie with mock distaste. “I guess that leaves me with you.”

  “So it would seem.”

  They enlisted a pair of young men to help and headed to the next barn.

  Meryl tossed a tablet of Veterinary Service EIA lab test forms to Jessie. “What did Greg want?”

  Jessie sent a groom into the first stall to halter its occupant and handed the forms to her assistant to fill out. “He wanted to talk to me about the break-in.” She could imagine Meryl’s reaction to Daniel’s criminal record. If Jessie intended to keep his secret, Meryl wasn’t the person to confide in.

  “Oh? He find out who did it?”

  Their second assistant entered the next stall to jot down the second horse’s tattoo and markings. Jessie kept her eyes on the Vacutainer she was preparing. “Not yet.”

  “Greg needed you to go with him to tell you there’s no news?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Whatever you say.” Meryl gave a skeptical grunt. “I hear Sherry Malone is now a full-fledged vet.”

  “That’s what she tells me.”

  “What did she say when you showed her the hair clip you found in your house?”

  Jessie swabbed the first horse’s neck with an alcohol prep before sticking it and watching the blood flow into the vacuum tube. “She denies breaking in. But I didn’t mention finding her barrette.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I’m saving it.”

  “For what?”

  “For when I need the element of surprise.” Jessie removed the tube, then the needle. She held pressure with a thumb to make sure the bleeding stopped. Speaking of the element of surprise. “Turns out Sherry didn’t inherit Doc’s practice like she expected.”

  “Oh?” Meryl looked up from signing one of the forms, her dark eyes even darker than usual. “Don’t tell me he left it to you.”

  “No. I suppose it went to Amelia as part of his estate.” Jessie labeled the tube while the groom moved to the next stall to hold Meryl’s patient.

  But Meryl just stood there holding the empty Vacutainer and watched Jessie, as if she knew there was more.

  Jessie knelt to place the tube of blood into the plastic carrier. “How would you feel about buying my half of our practice?” she asked and waited for the explosion.

  But it never came. Instead, Meryl’s expression grew sad. “No.” She stepped into the stall.

  Not the reaction Jessie expected. Ranting, raving, swearing? Yes. But a flat-out denial? Never. “Excuse me?”

  Meryl finished with her horse before replying. “I said no. I can’t afford to buy out your practice any more than you can afford to buy this one.” She gathered her equipment and brushed past Jessie to the next stall.

  Jessie stood in stunned silence. Every argument she had planned, every reason she intended to offer, evaporated like so much morning mist under a hot sun. She noticed the groom, a boy with a bad case of acne, watching her with the same trepidation as someone waiting for a green horse to spook. Realizing her mouth hung open, she closed it and bent to gather the plastic bin containing the Vacutainers. When she straightened, the sight of Daniel leaning against the wall startled her.

  The groom turned to see what had surprised her and snapped to attention.

  “How’s it going?” Daniel asked.

  “Slow.” She noticed the boy, still rigid as he clenched the lead shank. “At ease, son.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered, and with the reverence one might reserve for a movie star, added, “It’s just, you know, Mr. Shumway.”

  She lowered her head to hide her amused smile.

  Daniel pushed away from the wall and approached her. “I see you have help. That’s good.”

  Jessie spotted Meryl peering over the top of the test forms tablet.

  “Any idea how long this is going to take? When will we know?”

  “There are two other vets working on it besides us.” Jessie remembered Sherry’s new license. “Make that three. Once we’ve drawn blood from every horse, it’ll be at least twenty-four hours to get the lab work done. Maybe longer with this volume. Dr. Baker from Veterinary Services might be able to light a fire under the lab guys, but I wouldn’t count on it.” Jessie motioned for her assistant to follow her past the stall where Meryl was working. And eavesdropping.

  Daniel trailed along. “I just got off the phone with Zelda Peterson. She wants to bring Clown back to the track to get him ready for his next race, but for obvious reasons isn’t too anxious to do it until we know for certain.”

  “I don’t blame her.” An image of Daniel injecting Clown with ace flashed through her mind. She shook her head to chase it away.

  Daniel scowled. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Flies.” She waved a hand and shook her head again for good measure.

  He put a hand on the back of her neck, and she jumped.

  “That wasn’t a fly.” He let his hand drop. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange for a couple of days.”

  She pretended to be intent on watching her assistant as he went into the next stall. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  He gave a short laugh. “I know what you mean. This quarantine business is eating me alive. I don’t think I’ve had more than eight hours sleep total since it all started. And I know you’re doing everything you can.”

  His hand settled on the small of her back, and she willed her muscles to relax under his touch. She thought back to their dinner at Lorenzo’s. Even knowing about his criminal record, that he had killed in the past and might be responsible for Doc’s death, a big part of her fel
t drawn to him.

  “You know what I think?” Daniel’s mouth was close enough to her ear that she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. “I think, when this is all over and settled, you and I should take a vacation. Where would you like to go?”

  She closed her eyes against reality and let her imagination take flight. Thanks to her vagabond parents, she’d seen more than her share of the country, but few of the places tourists would frequent. A pristine beach perhaps, with the color of the sky reflected in the water, the sun warm on her bare shoulders. And Daniel at her side.

  A horse snorted nearby bringing her back to Riverview Park. She opened her eyes to see the kid with the acne watching them from the stall, clearly afraid of interrupting a private moment. She held up one finger to him.

  “That sounds great, but I have to keep moving or we’ll never get done.”

  Daniel stepped back, slipping his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “I’ll get out of your way. But think about it, okay?”

  She met his gaze. God, she wished she didn’t know anything about Daniel Brice or that damned bottle of acepromazine. “I already am.” She didn’t add that thinking was as far as it could go.

  He turned away. “Keep me posted,” he called over his shoulder.

  A vacation with Daniel after this was all settled. Jessie sighed, knowing all too well that by the time this was settled, she’d be the last person Daniel would want to spend time with.

  BY MIDAFTERNOON, JESSIE and Dr. McCarrell had to leave to make their Lasix rounds. Jessie caught up to Meryl, Dr. Baker, and Sherry after the races and found them still at work. It was well past midnight before they completed the task of drawing blood from every horse stabled at Riverview.

  Dr. Baker wasted no time getting back on the road, turning down an offer to grab something to eat. Meryl drove out behind her, and Sherry grunted goodnight before shoving her hands in her pockets and ambling off in the direction of the rec hall.

  At the clinic, Jessie discovered several large boxes sitting next to the locked door. She hauled them inside and spent a large portion of the remainder of the night unpacking and setting up her new laptops. The last box contained the futon, some assembly required. After dragging the old sofa out of the office, she slit open the box with her pocketknife, dumped the contents on the exam area floor, and lugged the seat portion of the dismantled futon into the office. She collapsed onto it fully clothed and fell into a deep sleep.

  She awoke, groggy and disoriented, to the ringing of her cell phone. Molly had made a nest between her legs and the tabby had draped himself over her belly. She disengaged from her bedmates and grabbed the phone from the desk.

  “Jessie, it’s me. Catherine.” The voice at the other end was irritatingly perky. “Have you had a chance to look at Blue’s x-rays?”

  Rubbing her eyes with her free hand, Jessie struggled to focus. X-rays? What day was this? She squinted at the clock above the futon seat. Nine fifteen? Crap. She was running a mere two hours late and she felt like she had a mouthful of surgical sponges. “Sorry, Catherine. I put in a late night.” Sometime during her short slumber, she’d managed to kick off her boots. She reached out to snag the first one, then the other. “Why don’t I call you back in an hour or so?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there to see you around noon. Okay?”

  The phone went dead before Jessie could reply. She ran her tongue over fuzzy teeth. “Noon,” she said to Molly. “Great.”

  Rounds were light that morning, probably because Jessie was running late and anyone with emergencies would have already given up and called Dr. McCarrell.

  By the time Catherine’s white sedan rolled to a stop outside the clinic doors precisely at twelve, Jessie had grabbed a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and changed into a fresh t-shirt and jeans. She’d figured out how to upload the radiographs onto the new computer but hadn’t had a chance to look at them.

  Catherine sashayed into the office in white strappy sandals and a pale blue skirt and jacket. She thumped a purse big enough to hold a small pony onto the desk. “Well? What did you find out?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to view these yet.” Jessie slid into her chair and pulled the file up on the laptop. She scrutinized each picture. She hadn’t liked the previews, and the full-sized versions didn’t look any better. She motioned for Catherine to come around to her side of the desk and placed one finger on the screen. “You see this?”

  Catherine nodded, but from her pursed lips and creased brow, Jessie knew she didn’t.

  “The fracture is on the articular surface, high on the coffin bone. The prognosis isn’t what we’d like, I’m afraid.”

  Catherine deflated. “I don’t understand. I broke my ankle when I was a kid, and it healed up just fine.”

  “The coffin bone doesn’t correspond to the ankle. It’s more like breaking your big toe if you were a ballerina. Besides, it’s porous, and when it mends, a fibrous union is produced instead of a bony one. That’s why the prognosis is so poor on these types of injuries. I’m sorry. I wish I had better news.”

  Catherine deflated even more. “I do too.”

  “I have to think Blue was injured before you bought him.” Jessie swiveled the chair to face Catherine and leaned back. “I wish you’d had a pre-purchase vet check on him. It would’ve saved you a lot of money, not to mention heartache.”

  “But we did,” Catherine insisted. “At least I thought Milt did.” She sounded less certain. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.” Catherine picked up her purse. “Thanks just the same. I appreciate you taking the time to look at him.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t offer you more hope. He’ll likely be fine for light riding, but no way will he hold up to the stress of training or racing.”

  Catherine headed for the door, her fashion runway gait a little slower than usual. She paused to cast a weary smile at Jessie. “If only Milt and I had kids, we could use him for pony rides.” Lowering her head, she turned and walked out.

  Jessie stared at the image on the computer screen. Frustration at not being able to do anything for Blue gave way to anger. Odds were someone had pushed the horse too hard. But who?

  She jumped up and charged from the office, racing across the exam area. “Catherine!”

  But the sedan was pulling away, and Jessie didn’t feel like chasing it. From what she’d seen of Catherine and Milt’s working relationship, Catherine probably wasn’t the one to ask.

  Twenty-One

  Tuesday morning passed at a snail’s pace. The only chatter was low-key conversation about anything except the elephant that had taken up residence in Riverview’s backside. No one mentioned EIA or the word “quarantine” or even the health of anyone’s animals regardless of how minor a problem might be. Consequently, Jessie received few requests for her services.

  One thing hadn’t been affected yet, and that was the racing schedule. Lasix rounds came as a relief, giving Jessie something to do other than play the what-if game. Once she finished with the injections, she headed for the front side. If the evening’s emergencies mirrored the morning ones, she might actually catch a race or two.

  She stopped at the concession stand, collected an order of nachos with extra cheese, and found an empty picnic table on the deck outside.

  Jessie removed her ball cap to let the early spring sun bathe her face. Across the track, the tote board displayed the fluctuating odds for the first race. A tractor dragged a massive rake around the dirt surface. The normality of it appeased her. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend life was equally normal behind the scenes.

  From over her shoulder a hand tossed a racing program onto the table next to her nachos. “Hey there, darlin’.” Milt swung a leg over the bench as if mounting a horse. He tapped the program. “You need one of these if you plan to hang out over here.”

  “Thanks.” She tried to manage a smile of appreciation, which she was certain didn’t make it through the layers of worry. “Is
Catherine around?”

  “Nope. No Derby prospects running tonight.” He gave her shoulder a nudge. “What brings you to the front side?”

  Jessie dipped a nacho into the artificially yellow cheese sauce and popped the dripping mess into her mouth. Chewing gave her time to contemplate an answer. As she savored the salt, the crunch, and the tang, the glass doors to the grandstand swung open. A couple dozen racing enthusiasts poured out. From the tunnel, the horses for the first race stepped onto the track.

  Jessie swallowed and pointed at them. “That’s what brings me here. Same as everyone else. The horses.”

  Milt shifted to watch the post parade. “It’s addictive, ain’t it?”

  She mulled over the word. “It is.” She felt his gaze on her. “Sherry didn’t inherit Doc’s practice.”

  Jessie didn’t have to look at Milt to know he was smiling. “You’ll be staying on then,” he said.

  She sighed. “I wish.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She thumbed the program open to the first race. “Meryl isn’t interested in buying my half of the Cameron Veterinary Hospital. Without that money, I can’t afford it.”

  Milt fell silent.

  The horses on the track made their way around the far turn to the starting gate positioned in the chute at the head of the backstretch. According to the program, the race would be a maiden special weight for three-year-old fillies. Six furlongs. And Jessie had treated five of the eight entries for one thing or another. One of the other three had Neil Emerick listed as trainer. A check of the tote board revealed that entry as a scratch.

  Milt reached over to reposition the program so he could read it too. “Do you have a favorite?”

  “Five of them.”

  He met her gaze. A slow smile spread across his face. “You get attached. You work on them, and suddenly, you got a dog in the hunt.”

  She hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but he was right.

  “Darlin’, where there’s a will, there’s a way. You want Doc’s practice, you’ll figure out how to make it happen. Hell, I’d loan you the money if I had it.”