The Case of the Roasted Onion

by Bishop, Claudia

  Joe rasped away, and I observed that he was just fine at it, although he, as I had, worked up a fine sweat in about two seconds flat. I stepped aside and joined Nora Longworth from her observation post by the feed bin. “Gunny should do quite well at Earlsdown,” I said after a moment. “You’ve gotten him in fine shape.”

  “Yeah, well. We’ll do our best.” She sighed. “Money can buy so much, Dr. McKenzie. Sometimes I get so tired, struggling the way we do.”

  Any response would be either condescending or untruthful. So I maintained an encouraging silence.

  “She doesn’t actually own that horse, you know,” Nora said over the noise of teeth being grated to a smooth round edge. “Stephanie, I mean. I heard they paid half a million dollars for it.”

  I stared at her. “Half a million? For an event horse? I find that hard to believe. Now, if he were headed to the Olympics, perhaps that wouldn’t be an outrageous sum.”

  “Well, he’s syndicated, isn’t he?” Nora said stubbornly. “Just like Faraway was.”

  “Were they both syndicated, indeed?” I said slowly. “Would you happen to know who other than McClellan is a member?”

  “Dr. Grazley is what I heard. And some lawyer, I think.”

  Now, who else could that be, but Sullivan!

  She brightened. “I don’t suppose you’d want a share of Gunny, here.”

  “If Madeline and I could afford it, we would indeed,” I said, as gallantly as I could. “Perhaps Beecher’s other shareholders would be interested in Gunny.”

  “If I knew who they were, I’d ask ’em,” she said with the air of one who is hard put to find grain money every month. “As it is, I’ve got to be realistic. Steph and Beecher will walk all over poor Gunny. Some people think they can buy their way into the ribbons. The hell of it is that they can.”

  “Talent, hard work, the love of the animal . . . all those count, too, Nora.”

  Nora gave this bromide the dismissive snort it deserved; as good as he was, Gunny’s basic conformation meant he didn’t have much of a shot at the blue. “I’ll tell you what, though. It doesn’t matter where Gunny places next week—at least he’s going to come home as healthy as when he left.”

  Again, a politic silence seemed to be called for.

  “It never crossed your mind that poor old Faraway was losing his classes when that vet killed him?”

  I hadn’t known that. The value of a syndicated stallion lay in the mares that were brought to breed with him. There was little value in a loser. “Officially, the injection was an accident, Nora.”

  “Everybody says so,” she said stubbornly. “And of course, you vets stick up for your own.” Her look softened. “But everybody knows you can’t be bought. So what does everybody know, anyway?”

  Joe and I completed the barn call without any further revelations about Beecher, McClellan, or Faraway. We were back on the road by eight o’clock.

  I mulled over my conversation with Nora; feeling about Faraway’s death and the McClellans was evidently running high a year later. Joe swilled down half a bottle of spring water and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Okay,” he said. “I heard that about half a million. Now I’m willing to buy the motive. I don’t know anyone who couldn’t use that amount of cash in the old bank account.”

  “McClellan told me eighty thousand.”

  “And you think he’s an honest murderer?”

  I smiled at that. “Data,” I said. “We will never convict him without data. If nothing else, we need it to reconcile the anomalies. But we now know there’s a syndicate. We shall have to discover who else belongs. You heard that Grazley was a member. I wonder if Schumacher was, as well.”

  “We’ll have to find out.” Joe rolled his shoulders. “We have more dental work this morning? That’s some workout. Don’t they have motorized rasps?”

  “They do,” I said. “Perhaps next year, after the practice picks up, we will purchase one.”

  “Expensive, huh?”

  “Quite.”

  “And we’re going to float more teeth again today, aren’t we? I appreciate the chance to do some real hands-on work, Dr. McKenzie. Thanks for letting me take over in there.”

  The boy was tactful, I’ll give him that. My hand had slipped, my shoulder muscles had given out, and Gunny’s gums had suffered as a result. “I’m afraid my arm isn’t yet up to the rigors of that particular job. I’ve been thinking of joining a gym.”

  Joe nodded.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s not necessary to mention this to Mrs. McKenzie. That I wasn’t up to . . . that is, that my hand slipped.”

  Joe nodded again.

  “She would only worry.”

  A silence elapsed. I didn’t care for the quality of the silence at all.

  “Young man,” I said, finally, “I am getting too old for this business.” The Bronco slid a little in the greasy road. I corrected the skid. “I apologize to you. I should apologize to Nora Longworth, who is no fool. There is nothing more important than the well-being of the patient. That has been compromised. By vanity.”

  “You’re past some of the physical stuff, sure,” Joe said, with the devastating candor of the young, “but I’ll tell you something, doc. It’s good to see that you’ve got one weak point, at least. I was beginning to think that this whole job was some kind of charity gig, courtesy of Dr. Bergland, and that you didn’t need me at all.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” He stared out the window at the snow-covered fields. “I was on full scholarship last year, until the school lost some grant funding. If I’d been into research, Bergland could have come up with something for me, but I don’t want to stare into molecular microscopes eight hours a day. I want to be outside. In the air. Not . . . locked up.” He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, angrily, “I can’t stand to be locked up. So my tuition’s paid for, but I’m on my own as far as room and board. And, god, but everything’s expensive. I wasn’t getting real far with minimum wage. But I was handling it.” He grinned, dispelling the hostility. “I was eating, at least. And buying my books.”

  Madeline and I had surmised that Joe had appeared to be carrying the sum of his worldly goods in his car; it appeared we were right.

  “Then we have an excellent chance at accommodation, you and I. You are now in charge of dental work. And I am in charge of you.”

  He rubbed his forearm thoughtfully. “We have a lot more floating on the ticket today?”

  “Just two,” I said. “And we’re drawing one wolf tooth. You’ll enjoy that.” I smiled. “And, with luck, we’ll also draw our little bit more about Beecher and the repellant McClellan.”

  “You really think this stuff ’s connected?”

  “You’re dubious?”

  “Well, it all could be, sure. But how’s picking up gossip from people like Mrs. Longworth going to get us anywhere? Shouldn’t we be getting hold of police reports? Tracking down eyewitnesses? You know.” He socked one fist into the other palm. “A little action.”

  “I am reserving that sort of action for lunch,” I said. “In the meantime, please pull the records for the next barn call. The client is named Pulcini. The patients are a pair of Belgian draft horses, Pat and Mike.”

  The next two farm calls gave us nothing more than an interesting anecdote involving a well-known dressage trainer, an electric horse clipper, and a newly bald Palm Beach socialite, and a diatribe against the fees charged by the late Benny Grazley. By the time we’d finished the last call, it was close to ten, and time to return to the farm and watch Allegra school Hugo. Lila Gernsback was a nexus of gossip in the horse world. With luck, we would gather more solid information. My first day as an investigator was proceeding in a most satisfactory way.

  Eleven

  WE pulled into our drive just before ten o’clock. Allegra and Madeline were waiting outside in anticipation of Lila’s arrival. I parked the Bronco well to the side of the drive, giving Lila and her rig p
lenty of room to maneuver. Joe disappeared into the barn to see to chores. I walked over to our small outdoor arena. Madeline and I hadn’t used it much, of late, but I keep the sand surface level and free of debris. The sun was well up and the snow already melting.

  Allegra had braided her hair this morning, and the chocolate-colored pigtail hung down her back like a shiny exclamation point. Her breeches were well worn, but clean. She looked like a rider, and there is nothing neater, tidier, or more pulled together on this green earth. I stood next to the two of them at the fence and nodded at her with proud approval. “You look well, my dear.”

  “Like a pro,” Madeline said with a smile.

  Allegra shifted nervously on her feet. “What’s Mrs. Gernsback like, Maddy?”

  Several emotions chased themselves across Madeline’s expressive face. “Well,” she said, “to tell you the truth, if I had my pick of who to get stuck in an elevator with, it wouldn’t be Lila Gernsback. The train that used to whip by my old house in Memphis every night at two o’clock in the morning had a whistle that shrieked a little louder than Lila does when she gets excited. But not by much. And she’s one of the bossiest people you’ll ever meet, excepting maybe my great-aunt Liddy. Not to mention the fact that she makes googly eyes at Austin every chance she gets . . . but I’ve already mentioned that, I think. So I wouldn’t want Austin stuck in an elevator with her, either. But I’ll tell you something about Lila Gernsback. She’s a real horsewoman. Lila has the eye and the brains and she’s honest as they come.”

  “Well, that’s good.” Allegra picked at her thumbnail. Then she grabbed the end of her pigtail and chewed it.

  “She’s loud, when she gets on a roll, and she’s always on a roll. I know that’s not going to bother you. In fact, I don’t think much anything about Lila or the horse is going to bother you. You’ll be just fine, Ally. And Hugo’s a peach.”

  Allegra’s shoulders relaxed a little. “You’ve seen Hugo show?”

  Madeline shook her head in admiration. “Have I! He’s not a lot to look at, at first, is he, Austin?”

  “His looks are quite deceptive,” I admitted.

  “He’s just under eighteen hands, built like a Hummer, and kind of cloddy, the way that sort of horse can be.”

  Allegra grinned. “I think I know what you mean. They sort of mog along until there’s a reason to get going. And then . . .”

  “Ka-chang! Katie bar the door,” Madeline agreed. “You understand. So a luggy rider or a nervous one isn’t going to get much out of him. He’s just going to stand there and go ‘duh’ if you let him get away with it. Hasn’t got much of a mouth on him, either.”

  Ally looked at her hands, which were long, strong, and slender. The nails were unpolished, but neatly trimmed.

  “From what I’ve seen of him, he’s fairly strong on the bit,” Madeline offered. “Lila doesn’t like to use anything but a Pelham on him, though, with a straight snaffle.”

  “Too many horses are bitted up,” Allegra said firmly, for all the world as if she were a forty-five-year-old veteran on the circuit. “Does she have a large place?”

  “About twenty acres, several miles from here,” Madeline said, “and here she is.”

  Lila’s red pickup bumped up the gravel drive, her stock trailer clattering along behind. A high, loud whinny came from the depths of the trailer; Hugo, saying hello as he scented Andrew and Pony. Both our horses galloped excitedly to the fence of their paddock, then whirled away again, kicking snow and mud high in the air. Lincoln dashed to the rig, plumey tail waving.

  Lila backed the rig expertly to our arena fence and disembarked.

  Her dark curly head was bare to the skies, and, as I had noticed at last night’s party, she was no longer on crutches, but used a cane. Her expression, however, reminded me of a scowly poodle.

  “Hey, Lila.” Madeline splashed through the melting snow to give Lila a hug. “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk with you last night. How’s the leg?”

  Lila swung the cane around in a peppy circle. “Pretty good. I won’t be needing this sucker in another month. Maybe less.” She eyed Allegra. “You’re the Fulbright girl?”

  “You’re looking just great.” Madeline took her arm, and linked it companionably with her own. “I swear you’ve lost five pounds since I saw you at Christmas.”

  Lila had a figure, I must admit. A large bosom, small waist, and curving hips. It was not at all difficult to surmise what men saw in her.

  Lila looked down at herself, startled out of her sharpish glare at poor Allegra. She was wearing a puffy barn jacket, a bright red sweater, and jeans. She was also made up like the runner-up in the Miss Caloosa County contest, but then she always was. Madeline thinks Lila sleeps in the stuff. “You think so?” she said. “I don’t know how you can tell with these jeans on.”

  “Waistband’s loose,” Madeline pointed out.

  “I’ve been working at it,” she admitted. But, like an ICBM, she was not to be diverted from the job at hand. She looked at Allegra and her voice got testy. “So here you are.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Allegra said, firmly. “Here I am.” She stood with her saddle canted over one hip, her field boots dangling from one hand. “I’d like to thank you for the chance to meet Hugo.” Lila opened her mouth, but Allegra forged bravely ahead. “And I’d like to get your questions about the accident at Earlsdown last year out of the way right up front.”

  Then Allegra did a very wise thing. She stopped talking altogether.

  “I’m glad to hear that, young lady,” Lila said sternly. “I care a lot about this horse.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “From what I’ve heard about you, if Dr. McKenzie himself hadn’t called on your behalf, I wouldn’t even consider it.”

  Ally blinked.

  “He knows his horses. None better.” Lila cast a dimpled smile at me. “If Maddy and I weren’t such good friends, I’d have him vet mine.”

  Madeline drew in her breath with a “hah!”

  “Ma’am?” Ally asked in a bewildered way.

  Lila gave me a knowing smirk. “Let’s just say that Dr. McKenzie and I have more than respect for each other.” Madeline calls Lila’s style sneak and shoot, and at this juncture, I began to see her point. Lila abandoned her flirtatious mien before Madeline could intervene and got down to the business at hand. “I called Les Whyte this morning. You know who he is, Allegra?”

  “Um. The chair of the Earlsdown committee?”

  Lila nodded once. “Right. He swore on his grandmother’s grave that the blood and urine tests they did after the train wreck you had were negative for alcohol.”

  “I don’t drink,” Ally said. I watched her, waiting for her chin to go up, the way it did when she lost her temper. But she held it together.

  “Not at all?” Lila’s glance was skeptical. “I don’t know any college kids that don’t drink at all.”

  Ally admitted that she didn’t mind a beer with her friends once in a while. “But never around horses,” she said. “It’s, like, just too stupid.”

  Lila nodded again. “Okay. So tell me how the train wreck happened.”

  Ally shifted the saddle on her hip. Then she looked down at her feet. Last night, we’d all discussed the possibility that a competitor had slipped something into her water bottle. The date-rape drug, or perhaps chloral hydrate, the notorious Mickey Finn. But this was supposition. Ally merely said, “I hadn’t eaten for a couple of days, Mrs. Gernsback. There was some family stuff going down, and I just kind of forgot about it.”

  Lila looked envious. “Forgot about eating? God. Don’t I wish I could.” She ran her eyes over Madeline’s size-sixteen jeans. “I bet you do too, Maddy.”

  “Never once,” she said in mild surprise. “Eating’s an essential part of a happy life.”

  Lila’s eyes narrowed. “So, what happened? You were riding on an empty stomach . . .”

  “Dr. McKenzie thinks I had a precipitate drop in blood pressure,”
Allegra said, with just the smallest air of reciting a memorized script. “He thinks it’s an anomaly that shouldn’t occur again if I just keep a granola bar handy.”

  “That’s correct,” I offered.

  Lila’s razor glance turned to me. “So you’re treating people now, Austin?”

  I shrugged.

  “Anyhow,” Allegra continued, with a practical air, “I got dizzy. I think I blacked out for a second. Plus,” she added, with a strike of inspiration, “I had my period. I get pretty bad periods.”

  I am afraid I blushed. I also quelled a cowardly desire to remove to the clinic. Allegra’s embarrassing remark, however, proved to be a brilliant tactic. Lila’s face softened in sympathy.

  “Oh, you poor kid. Mine are just awful. Awful. My gyn says he’s never seen periods as bad as mine.”

  I decided I didn’t want to hear anything more about Lila Gernsback’s physical condition, even though she was behaving less like a prosecuting attorney every second, which was all to Allegra’s advantage. So I changed the subject to the only thing she’d pay more attention to than sex. “How is Hugo doing these days, Lila? Those students Victor sent over to help out while you were laid up keep him pretty fit?”

  Lila swung the cane in another peppy circle. “Worked out so well I’m thinking about breaking the other leg, now that this one’s on the mend.” She turned around and stumped to the barn. “I’ll bring him out and you can see for yourself.”

  We followed Lila across the way to the trailer. “Hey,” Lila said as we approached, and the horse rumbled back at her. She let the back gate down with a crash and backed Hugo out onto the drive.

  Trucking affects horses in many different ways. Some are tense and anxious, others take it in stride. Hugo was of the latter type. He stood half asleep on his big feet. He flicked one ear forward, then nosed Lila’s vest, with a “hey, you have food for me?” look.

  Hugo was squarely built, with a big chest, hindquarters like a semi tractor trailer, and thick bone. His neck sloped at the correct angle into his withers. When he craned his head around to rub at an itchy spot on his barrel, you could see how supple he was.