Death by Equine

by Annette Dashofy

  Which reminded Jessie of what she’d wanted to talk to Milt about. “I saw Catherine earlier.”

  He looked up from the program. “Oh?”

  Jessie told him about the results of the new x-rays on Blue.

  “No surprise there,” he said when she finished.

  “There seems to be some question about a pre-purchase vet check, though.”

  “What question?”

  “I told Catherine I wished you’d had one performed on him, and she thought you had.”

  Milt lifted his gaze to the track. Jessie followed it. The horses were loading into the gate. “I like that number two filly. She’s been in the money every dang time she runs but drops off in the stretch in those longer races. Six furlongs might be the distance for her.”

  Jessie looked at him. Was he intentionally avoiding the subject of Blue?

  He caught her watching him and sighed. “You wish I’d had him checked? Well, so do I. Damn it all to hell. Sure would’ve saved me a shitload of greenbacks. I could kick myself now. But just look at him. I’ve seen lameness in horses. God knows I have. See it every day. But there was no sign of it in that old boy. He was sound as they come.” Milt shook his head. “It wasn’t until later, when Zelda started putting him through some serious workouts, that it showed up. We rested him. He got sound. We ran him. He got gimpy. That’s when I called you.”

  “That’s typical of this kind of injury. I told Catherine he’d be fine for some light riding.”

  “Light riding ain’t what we bought him for.” Milt picked up the race program and gave it a shake. “Hell, without any kind of past performance record, we can’t even get decent money for stud fees.”

  “He is pretty, though.”

  “Oh, you bet. He’s a damn fine-looking animal.”

  Over the crackling PA, the announcer proclaimed the horses were in the gate. A moment later, all seven horses broke clean and jostled for position down the backstretch. Jessie used a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Which filly was your pick?”

  “Number two. Did you decide on one?”

  “Let’s see.” She retrieved the crumpled program from Milt. “Numbers two, three, five, seven, and eight.”

  He snorted without taking his eyes from the horses approaching the far turn. “I said one. Not five of them.”

  “And show favoritism among my patients? No way.” At least not this time. She strained to pick out the order from the announcer’s call, since she couldn’t make out a thing from where they sat. No wonder Catherine preferred her box seats with the closed-circuit TV.

  Milt reached around and backhanded Jessie’s arm. “Here she comes.”

  As the horses charged down the stretch, Jessie made out the number two filly making a big move up the outside. But the numbers one and six horses battled for the lead closer to the wire. Not her patients. “Come on, baby!” she shouted, adding to the din of the crowd around them.

  The horses thundered in front of them and under the wire, the number two filly closing the gap as the number one horse faded slightly. The announcer called a photo finish and ordered, “Hold all tickets.”

  The roar of the crowd died down to await the official results.

  Jessie tapped the program. “Do you have any money on her?”

  “No, dang it.” Milt gave her a sheepish grin. “Yet another case of 20/20 hindsight.”

  She thought of the stallion in the Dodds’ barn. “Maybe you should try breeding Blue. With his conformation, if he produces some nice babies that grow up to win, it won’t matter what he did or didn’t do on the track.”

  Milt removed his cap and wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. “That’s a big gamble. Expensive too. I’d rather sell him. Get my money back. Let somebody else feed him for four or five years until his babies prove themselves.” A far away twinkle lit his blue eyes. “Maybe some other fool would buy him without having a vet check first. What they don’t know, won’t hurt me.” As soon as he said it, guilt flashed across his face.

  “Milt,” she said disapprovingly.

  “Just kidding, darlin’. Just kidding. You know me better’n that.” He winked at her. Then pointed at the tote board. “Look.”

  The OFFICIAL sign flashed with the order of finish. Two, six, and one.

  “I picked a winner.” Milt replaced his cap and swung his leg over the bench to stand. “Goes to show you. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while.” He patted her shoulder. “Later.”

  “Wait.” She caught his arm. “There was one other thing I wondered about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Who’d you buy Blue from?”

  Milt winced as if he’d been stung by a horsefly. He looked toward the backside, and his reply was so soft, she wasn’t sure she heard it right. “Neil Emerick.” Without another word, Milt walked away.

  Jessie watched as he merged with the crowd of bettors heading inside to cash their winning tickets. Or place more bets. Or check out the horses in the paddock.

  Neil Emerick. She should’ve guessed.

  A LARGE, THICK ENVELOPE arrived by FedEx Wednesday morning while Jessie sat at her new computer, entering reports from the last few days. She stared at the package, turning it over in her hands. Drawing a deep breath, she slit the envelope open with her penknife. The contents, a stack of Coggins test papers, spilled out onto her desk. One by one, she checked the results. With each negative, the tension in her shoulders released a notch. By the time she came to the last sheet without a positive finding in the bunch, she’d almost melted onto the floor with relief.

  She fumbled with her phone, hastily punching in the number from the business card she’d kept tucked in her jeans’ pocket. After conferring with Dr. Baker, Jessie crammed the Coggins papers back into the envelope, tucked it under her arm, and jogged out of the clinic.

  Only a few early bird gamblers at the slot machines occupied the grandstand. Jessie hoped Daniel would be in his office. At his doorway, she considered Greg’s demand that she avoid being alone with Daniel. She took a deep breath, dismissed the advice, then breezed through.

  “Jessie.” Daniel sounded pleased to see her, but when he noticed the papers in her hands, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

  “I thought you’d want to take a look at these.” She deposited the envelope on his desk.

  “Have you gone through them yet?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “And?” He hadn’t reached for the envelope as if the mere touch of it might jinx the results.

  “They’re all negative.” She smiled her first genuine smile in days.

  Daniel looked apprehensive. “All of them?”

  “Every last one.”

  His lips parted, showing perfect white teeth. The creases that had once been dimples deepened in his face. Both hands curled into fists and he drummed on his desktop. “Yes.” He jumped to his feet and came around the desk toward Jessie.

  Before she had time to react, he grabbed her and pressed a kiss, hot and hard, to her lips. Blindsided, both her mind and her knees lost their resolve. As she moved to slip her arms around his waist, he released her. She staggered and caught the edge of his desk, clinging to it the way she’d momentarily wanted to cling to him.

  “Does this mean what I hope it means?” he asked. “The quarantine will be limited to the two barns?”

  “Uh. Yeah.” Breathless, she fought to regain her composure. “I spoke with Dr. Baker from Veterinary Services, and she agrees. There’ll still be follow-up tests, though.”

  “Fine. Whatever you say.” Daniel snatched her into his arms, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he swung her around in what she supposed was a waltz. “We have to celebrate.”

  She pushed away from him before she tripped over her own feet. “Celebrate?”

  “Absolutely. Dinner. Anyplace you want. After we give everyone the good news, that is.”

  “Dinner?” The kiss still lingered
on her mind along with its promise of much more.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “I...don’t know.”

  “That’s all right. You can tell me when and where later.” He turned toward his phone. “Right now, I want to call Zelda. She’s been waiting for word of when she could bring Clown back.”

  The fantasy melted away like the last snow of spring dropping into the Monongahela River. Jessie stared at Daniel’s back as he placed the call. Could this be the man who drugged Clown, turning the Thoroughbred into a murder weapon?

  Was she falling in love with a killer?

  BARN BY BARN, JESSIE delivered the owners’ copies of the negative Coggins tests. For days, she’d felt like Typhoid Mary. Today, she was greeted with smiles and handshakes and a round of thank-yous.

  As she crossed the road between barns, footsteps padded up behind her. She turned to find Sherry jogging toward her. Jessie kept walking, and she fell into step at her side. “I hear the news is good.”

  “Better than the news I had to deliver to Doug Whitman.”

  “I bet.”

  “By the way, I wanted to thank you for helping out on Monday. I really appreciate it.”

  “How much?”

  Jessie stopped short. “What do you mean?”

  “How much do you appreciate my help? Enough to take me into partnership with you here at the track?”

  Jessie studied her face, searching for some sign she was kidding. But Sherry’s eyes were bright and steady. “You can’t be serious,” Jessie said.

  “Why not? I figured you’d buy my dad’s practice since he didn’t leave it to me. Old Dr. McCarrell wants to retire, so there’ll be more clients here than you can handle alone.”

  “You admitted you hate me and now you want to work with me?”

  “Hated. Past tense.” Sherry walked a few paces ahead of Jessie, then turned to face her again. “Besides, we wouldn’t actually be working together most of the time. The horsemen could pick which one of us they preferred.”

  From Sherry’s grin, Jessie surmised she expected to gain the larger numbers.

  It wasn’t a bad idea. From what Jessie had seen, Sherry was more than competent. And she knew her way around the racing world. There were, however, a couple of problems with the plan. One being Jessie didn’t trust her. The other was the simple fact that Meryl had turned down her request to buy the hospital. Jessie chose to keep both to herself. “I’ll think about it.” She continued across the road and into the next shedrow.

  Sherry kept pace. “Good. I need to start making some money.”

  “What about your inheritance?”

  “I haven’t received the check yet. Besides, it’s already earmarked to pay off my loan.”

  “To Butch.”

  Sherry rammed her hands into her jeans’ pockets and lowered her head. “Yeah.”

  While Jessie had Sherry in a talkative mood, she decided to do some digging. “By the way, do you happen to know anything about a horse named Mexicali Blue?”

  Sherry tripped but caught herself. “Like what exactly?”

  “Milt Dodd bought him from your friend Neil Emerick but didn’t have a pre-purchase exam done. It turns out Blue has a broken coffin bone.”

  Sherry let out a raspy whistle. “That’s rough. Bad injury for a racehorse. Milt didn’t have him checked?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s pretty stupid, don’t you think?”

  Jessie took the question as rhetorical. “Do you know anything?”

  Sherry glanced over her shoulder. Then back to the ground in front of her feet. “Nope. Don’t know a thing. Look, I gotta go. You have fun on your mail route.” She wheeled and strode off in the direction from which they’d come.

  Sherry was lying. She may not want to admit it, but she knew about Blue. Jessie was sure of it. Doc’s daughter seemed well versed in the practice of deception. And there was still the issue of the silver and turquoise barrette stashed in Jessie’s desk drawer.

  What else was the new Dr. Malone lying about?

  Twenty-Two

  The celebratory atmosphere that had enveloped Riverview’s backside was short-lived. Jessie hadn’t completed delivering the test papers before owners and trainers, negative Coggins tests in hand, loaded their animals into trailers and headed for the exit.

  By the time Jessie returned to the clinic, a line of horse trailers jammed the road from the gate toward the river. The rumble of gasoline and diesel engines and the choking stench of exhaust filled the air. She spoke to several of the men and women behind the wheels of the rigs, imploring them to stay, but the general consensus was to beat it before the powers-that-be changed their minds.

  Dinner might not be the festive occasion Daniel had anticipated.

  She stood in the shade of the clinic with her arms crossed, watching the exodus. This wasn’t what she’d wanted.

  Her phone rang. She slipped inside and pressed a finger into her other ear to block the growl of idling engines.

  Sherry’s voice greeted her. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Well, you’ve got me. If you’re calling about partnering up with me, take a look around. There aren’t going to be enough horses left on the grounds for even one of us to treat.”

  “Shut up and listen. I know something about my dad’s death.”

  Had Jessie heard right? “Wait a minute.” With her finger still rammed in her ear, she hurried into the office and kicked the door closed behind her. “What did you say?”

  “I have a pretty good idea who killed him and why.”

  The air in the office suddenly felt unbreathable. And not because of the diesel fumes. Jessie dropped onto the futon next to the tabby. She waited for Sherry to continue, but there was only silence on the other end of the receiver. “Hello?” Jessie wondered if they’d been cut off.

  “I’m here.”

  “So tell me.”

  “Not over the phone. I want to meet someplace where we won’t be interrupted. If he finds out we’re on to him...”

  “Him? Who’s ‘him’?”

  “I told you. Not on the phone. I had an appointment to swim Sullivan this afternoon before the EIA thing came up and never bothered to cancel. Check the book. Did anyone else change it?”

  Jessie pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder, yanked open the file cabinet drawer, and fumbled through the contents. She retrieved the book and opened it on her lap. The pool was severely underutilized. The only name on the page was Sherry Malone.

  “You’re still on for two o’clock.”

  “Good. No one else will be around the spa. I’ll meet you then.”

  The spa. The pool. Someone might just give you a little shove, and you might end up taking a swim like old Sullivan here. “Isn’t there someplace else we could meet? How about my office?”

  “Not private enough.”

  “I could lock the door.”

  An exasperated hiss of air crossed the phone line. “The spa at two o’clock. Be there.”

  The line went dead. Jessie looked at the time on the phone’s screen. One thirty.

  If he finds out we’re on to him...

  Who? Jessie tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat felt as dry as a roll of sterile gauze. She already knew the answer.

  Daniel had served time for murder. He had everything to lose if Doc had revealed his secret past. Daniel possessed a bottle of the drug that turned a high-strung, but tractable, stallion into a raging killer.

  Molly strolled out of the bathroom, stretched, and sauntered toward Jessie, springing lightly into her lap. Jessie stroked the old cat’s velvety head, letting her hand trail down her neck and back, all the way to the tip of her black tail.

  There was another possibility. Jessie set Molly down on the floor and moved to the chair behind the desk. She slid open the top drawer and removed the barrette. Evidence that Sherry had been in her house and destroyed Doc’s records. What had she been trying to cover up? She was in debt to
the local loan shark and needed money that Doc refused to give her while he was still alive. She’d been trying to throw suspicion onto everyone else all along. Butch. Frank Hamilton. Even Daniel.

  If Sherry wanted to play this hand, fine. Jessie would go along with it and meet her at the spa. However, Jessie intended to stay far away from that awful green water. She would listen to what Sherry had to say. And then Jessie would throw down the card she’d been holding for the last week. She turned the barrette over and over in her hand feeling the smooth metal and stone against her fingers. It was time to call Sherry’s bluff.

  At ten minutes before two, Jessie’s phone signaled a new text message. She looked at the screen. Emergency. Barn E.

  With an exasperated growl, she grabbed a pen and jotted an explanatory note to Sherry, ending with, I’ll be back as soon as I can. After tearing a strip of tape from the dispenser, she jogged through the hallway to the spa and taped the note to the light switch, which she left turned off. Unless Sherry wanted to wait in the dark, there would be no way she could miss the message.

  Unlike many of the stables, Barn E was not deserted. When Jessie entered the shedrow, several horses’ heads hung over their stall doors. A rail-thin boy sat on an overturned bucket cleaning a bridle. Farther down, Jessie spotted Zelda’s groom, Miguel Diaz, dragging a water hose from stall to stall. Neither seemed particularly upset. The boy looked up at her with no expression.

  “Did you call for a vet?”

  He went back to his work. “Not me, man.”

  About halfway down the shedrow, Zelda stepped out of a stall, latching the webbing behind her.

  Jessie called to her.

  Zelda looked in her direction. “Dr. Cameron. How nice to see you. I missed you when you were here earlier distributing the test results. Great news, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I guess it wasn’t you who texted me.”

  Zelda frowned at the boy on the bucket. He shook his head at her. She turned toward the other end of the barn. “Miguel, did you call for the vet?”