Hot Blooded Murder

by Jacqueline D'Acre

  I had successfully made my way all around the back of the broodmares’ big paddock. Not a single mare whinnied. I was near the neighbor lady’s cow pasture. Which fortunately, was hardly pasture, it was so overgrown. I came to a fence. Barbwire. Definitely the neighbor’s. All of Marcie’s fences were post and rail. There was no gate in view.

  “Once, you ever learn to jump?” I whispered. “Hope so. You’re a Morgan and you’re supposed to be versatile. But it’s been a long time since I ever jumped anything, so it’s up to you.”

  Tammi was still firing shots toward the drive and the cemetery. I could see them snapping bark off pine trees. Apparently, she had no idea I was now perpendicular to her, at a three o’clock position. I needed to work my way around to twelve o’clock, behind her. Filmore’s pain must be increasing. He wasn’t yelling any more commands for his wife.

  I rode down the fenceline till I found a clearing in the trees. Stopped near the fence, kneed Once up to it until his nose touched it.

  “See boy? That’s a fence, and we’re gonna jump it.” This section, luckily, was covered in red trumpet vine so it made a more solid obstacle, easier for him to see. Then I took a deep breath, felt the terror that was in my belly, and trotted him away from the fence. I turned him and then, hanging on, heeled him, and simultaneously pressed my butt hard into his back. He exploded into a gallop. I gasped. My arms jerked from their sockets. My legs rocked forward. Then abruptly back. I was re-seated. A good thing, because in three strides he reached the fence and I saw his front hooves fold under and felt them rise to his body. I felt the mighty thrust from his buttocks as he achieved liftoff. Me, my arms pasted now on his thickly-maned neck, looked down and saw he was soaring over the tangled greenery with space to clear. Then I felt my bum leave his back, my arms and legs rise, me holding mane fiercely, and when he landed behind a thicket, I came down thump! on his back. My crotch skidded forward onto this withers. Now that hurt! I blinked back tears of pain. The horse, legs scissoring, recovered from my bad riding, then settled to a walk, but he tossed his head to inform me he was not pleased with my landing. “Whoa,” I whispered, and he stopped. “Good man!” I scooched my bottom around until it was a seat once more. Filmore began yelling again, but now I was too far away to understand him. Maybe Tammi had put another shot into him. Some non-speaking body part.

  I picked my way around the stunted piney growth and young weedy tulip trees then encountered the cows. Mr. Petting Bull saw me, lowered his head and snorted. Damn! He had horns, too. Little ones, but still, horns. In the far distance I thought I heard sirens, but now I saw Theo walking down the driveway toward Tammi and Filmore. No! Theo! Don’t be a hero! Tammi pointed the rifle directly at him. He waved his enormous hands at her. I thought he looked exactly like a gargoyle come to life. Knobby knees, huge hands, skinny body, big head, the goldfish eyes. Was he a good gargoyle or an evil one? In cahoots with Tammi? My mind churned with all these new ideas, yet I rode forward, hoping I could out-bull the bull. I saw Tammi take aim and shoot, nicking a fence post only feet from where Theo stood. Maybe not in cahoots. The shot distracted the bull and I heeled Once forward around the cows. Then I saw a gate. I rode over to it, and side-passed the stallion up to it. I leaned over, unhooking a chain latch. Sirens were closer. Another shot. Was Tammi intending to kill Theo?

  I was a lunatic. They were not in cahoots! Of course she’d kill Theo!

  I moved Once sideways and pushed the gate open as I did. Then I trotted around behind the docile little bunch of cows and yelled, “Hiyah!” They stood there; one or two looked over a shoulder at me.

  “Hiyah! Git! Git now!” They stood, contemplatively. Cud was chewed. Even Mr. Petting Bull looked benign and bored.

  “Yee-haw!” One cow took a half step. Why weren’t they stampeding away from me and my stallion? In the movies…! I reined Once to a thicket, ripped off a willow switch. I brandished it over my head, swatted the rump of the nearest cow.

  “Yee-haw! Hi-yah!” I yelled louder at them. Damn! Tammi might hear…

  Shots snicked through the air again. Loud. Which way was she shooting? Suddenly a cow in front took off running and galloped though the gate, swerved, and was followed by all of the cows and the bull. I grabbed mane and the stallion and took off after the cattle. No encouragement necessary. I felt his eagerness and my new ease at riding him. I heeled him with my right foot, he side-passed, still galloping, to the left. Wa-hoo! He’s a good horse! We raced to get to the left of the cows. I wanted to drive them around the barn and the house, up behind Tammi. Distract her. Maybe even run her down. Certainly, hopefully, save brave little gargoyle Theo.

  The sirens were screaming now. But the cows thundered along into and down the dark barn aisle, exactly where I did not want them. The cattle’s hooves made sparks on the concrete. I followed, and Once pounded down the aisle behind them. He slipped briefly but recovered quickly. I was right with him. It felt good. They galloped out the other side, and I saw the cows approaching the pool. And, so far from Tammi, it caused her no peril whatsoever. I charged after the cattle as they rumbled through Marcie’s herb garden. I had to madly rein the horse around the giant oak with the Spanish moss, to avoid being knocked off. The whole herd skidded around the pool–thank God none fell in–then onto the drive that led around to the front of the house. The bull, twice the size of the cows, had moved up and was near the lead when they hit the driveway. He bellowed impressively. Tammi had to hear that!

  I was thrilled. You go, bull! I brandished my willow whip like a sabre as we galloped, closing in on the house. I saw, between Once’s pricked ears, three sheriff cars bounce into the main entrance driveway, behind Theo, who was still standing, unshot. Sirens squealed, hooted, honked, warbled and muted the thundering-herd sound of the cattle. Men poured from the vehicles, all with rifles and pistols bristling upright from their hands and each vehicle was suddenly transformed into a giant porcupine. Soon Tuan was out. I saw him rush forward, snatch up Theo as though he was a child, and carry him behind an opened car door. Tammi fired off more shots. The cows stampeded past the house. I was screaming now, flailing my branch, moving so fast my eyes were tearing. I drove the cows hard to my right. I had to get them turned or they would stampede uselessly down the drive and block the sheriff’s men. MacWain would never forgive–Once snaked his neck out and bit a red cow on the butt. I turned him hard right, smushing into the cows. I maneuvered him fast at an angle. My leg touched seething cow bodies. Cows swerved away from us.

  Way to go, Once!

  The herd wheeled around the house and mowed into the front yard. Led by Petting Bull, they ran straight at Tammi who was crouched in firing position behind the big sofa. Fil was sprawled, a leg bent, head against the sofa. He saw them, shrieked, and raised his arms defensively. I saw him shout, and then saw Tammi whirl, rifle snugged to her shoulder, ready. But the herd was so close, they were about to trample her. She fired one panicky shot wildly into the air, and then scrambled madly backwards as the cows charged up to her. They powered around her and some leaped over the sofa. For moments, all I could see was a writhing mass of cow backs and tails. Tammi and Fil disappeared into or under the mass. I galloped up–a part of me exulting, a little girl who had watched endless cowboy movies–yes!–and reined in Once, too hard. His head flung high, he bounced hard to a stop and ignominiously, I fell off onto the grass. The sheriff was yelling though a megaphone, the cows and the bull were bellowing, and Tammi’s rifle lay at her feet. Once had stopped beside me. His nostrils gusted near my shoulder. Tammi was belly-down. Blood trickled from her back; a cow’s hoof must have sliced her as it jumped. I heard her moaning and cursing. Couldn’t be serious. No sound from Filmore, who stared at me with a white face, blank eyes, hands up and trembling.

  Shakily I got to my feet and picked up the rifle. The stock was hot from all the firing. A wet, broken box of ammunition was on the ground. Bullets spilled onto the grass. Several boxes. Tammi had planned a long siege. I raised the rifle over my h
ead and shook it. Through his megaphone, the sheriff called out, “Hey, Bryn. Hold what you got. We’re coming in.”

  I picked up Once’s reins. Then saw a gray streak approach, leaping and bounding. Gris-Gris arrived purring and did figure-eights around Once’s front legs. The stallion stood, steam lifting from him into the broiling atmosphere. He was sweating hard from the heat and exertion, but mostly I thought, from the excitement. He’d loved the action. I’d felt it in him.

  The cows and the bull settled down and helped themselves to Marcie’s well-fertilized front lawn. What about the horse that had been shot? Leading Once, I limped out from behind the sofa. Must have twisted my ankle when I fell. Tuan was already handcuffing Tammi, who stood, left shoulder slumped. Her nose was bleeding. She stared with hot, mad eyes at me. Another deputy stood over Fil waiting for the ambulance.

  Tuan saluted me. “Hey Bryn. Some ride!”

  “Was I too much of a drama queen?” I asked as I swiped at grass stuck to my butt with my free hand. My other hand still held the rifle.

  He laughed. “Naw. It worked and you saved some horses. Hate to say it, but she killed one of them, over in that pasture by the cemetery.”

  “Oh no!” And I shot Tammi an angry glare. Tammi spat some blood, averted her eyes.

  “Yep. Teddy checked it out. Said it was a young horse–”

  “Not a tiny foal, was it?”

  “Not real young, he said it was a yearling gelding. Does that make sense?”

  “A yearling gelding. Not good, but. Could have been worse.”

  “Hope you’re proud of yourself, Bryn.” He was grinning. His huge hand rested on Tammi’s miniature, but muscled, shoulder. She was trying to shrug it off.

  I walked around front of her. “Tammi. Why did you do this? You had the farm–Marcie was selling it to you at a good price.”

  “That bitch wouldn’t sell me the horses I wanted. Flirted with my husband! How dare she! She really thought she was sumthin’. Snotty stuck up–”

  Tuan interrupted. “Tammi! Come on now. You can tell your whole story to Sheriff MacWain. I promise you he’s seriously interested.”

  As Tuan led Tammi away, I heard yelling from behind.

  “Bryn!” Arthur said, jogging down the driveway. Theo was hustling alongside of him, trying to keep pace with Arthur’s greyhound strides. A deputy came up to me and I handed over the rifle. I waved at Arthur and Theo, then patted Once’s sweaty shoulder. “Way to go, guy,” I whispered to him. He tossed his head.

  Panting, they arrived at my side. Theo hugged me, and when he let me go, Arthur patted my back enthusiastically.

  “Thank you, Bryn,” cried Theo. “Thank you. You saved the horses and you saved the farm for me!” He was running on, both eyes leaping out at me. “I promise you and I promise Marcie’s soul I will take good care a all these animals. I owe you a lot, Bryn, a lot! Anythin I kin do for you–”

  “Quit now, Theo, you’ll swell my head. And I will finish that article tomorrow and it will have the best possible ending now. But you know? I am whipped, guys, absolutely wrung out. I need a break. Maybe I’ll head north.”

  “You deserve it, Bryn. Anythin I kin do, let me know,” said Theo.

  “Thanks, Theo.” I gave him and then Arthur, a hug. “What a ride guys,” I said.

  “You’re not kidding about that,” said Arthur. “So now you’re abandoning us for the far north?”

  “Not abandon. Just a visit. I’ll be back in the fall. You-all just watch out for the hurricanes, now.”

  And I turned and led Once back to his huge custom stall and spent the next soothing hour bathing him, wiping him down, and polishing up his brilliant champion’s coat.

  Epilogue

  June 1, 11 AM

  I walked the hot streets of the French Quarter looking. Looking. The Lexus dealership had told me I might find him here somewhere. I moved down tourist-thick Decatur Street opposite Jackson Square and climbed the steps up the concrete levee, to the top, and gazed at the Mississippi River below. Four steps down I saw my target. Back in St. Tremaine Parish I had already delivered Amethyst to Morgan Oaks Farm and Theo had provided me with some juice for this little errand I was embarked upon. Also, my Tempo was packed for my journey north. Once I finished here, I’d be on my way.

  Long gray hair, greasy from street living, crowned the head of the man I stared at. He wore layers of filthy clothing. He held up a Krewe of Rex plastic throw-cup; it contained a wrinkled dollar bill and a few coins. I eased down beside him and hid my desire to flinch away from his stench. He raised bloodshot eyes to me. Now I saw he had a skinny mutt on a string. The dog made a small woof, and Hank Petrie said, “Hush,” to the dog and “What you want,” to me.

  I held out a crisp one hundred dollar bill. He reached for it but I snatched it back.

  “Mr. Petrie?” I asked.

  “Yeah. So?”

  “You used to work for the Lexus dealership downtown?”

  “Long time ago. So? Ain’t bin there for years.”

  His grimy hand was still outstretched toward the money. I kept it away from him, but fanned it up and down, hoping to fan his desire for the money.

  “You look like you could use a drink.”

  He growled and lunged for the money. I scooted away, but I was still within smelling range. People were moving up and down the steps all around us. I felt safe and strangely calm.

  “You checked out a wrecked Lexus that was registered to a Mr. Cade Pritchard, right?”

  He stared at me, fear growing in his eyes. The fear was telling me what I suspected.

  “I am not the law,” I continued. “I am not even a private detective. I’m just an ordinary citizen and I care about Mrs. Aimée Pritchard. All you have to do is nod yes or no to a very few questions and I’ll give you this money. Then you’ll never hear from me again.” I wasn’t going to mention he might hear from say, Sheriff MacWain, Deputy Tuan Scott or Detective Juarez.

  “So?” He licked his lips. Stared at the money.

  “I know you found something wrong with the Lexus that Aimée died in. Yes?”

  After a long moment, he nodded, just once. His hand shot out toward the bill, I jerked it away.

  “Were the brakes fiddled with?”

  For a long time he held my gaze, then his eyes dropped and to my surprise, a tear ran down his dirty cheek. This was a man pummeled by guilt, I suddenly saw. Then he nodded again, just the once, in the affirmative.

  I suppressed the great exhalation I wanted to make. “Last question. Did you repair those brakes so the police wouldn’t find anything wrong?”

  He didn’t hesitate. His head was down and tears dripped onto his soiled khaki pants. He nodded again. Yes.

  I handed him the hundred dollars. Slowly he took it, and shoved it into the depths of his layered clothing. I rose, walked up a few steps. The paddlewheeler, Delta Queen, was docked just down from us. Its calliope suddenly started to play “When the Saints Go Marching In.” I saw Hank Petrie’s face sink into his hands, his shoulders shake and he continued weeping hard. I made my way up the stairs, paused once more at the summit to gaze down at Hank’s guilt-ridden back, then let my eyes be soothed by the brown and blue swirl of Old Man River, roiling along.