Deadly Heritage: a horse mystery: a horse mystery

by Toni Leland

  “Mutual trade.”

  Confusion darkened the man's eyes, and Frank snorted. “Hand over the address at the same time, dumb shit.”

  A deep red flush spread over the man's neck, illuminating a jagged white scar that ran from beneath his collar to below his left jaw.

  Frank wished he'd picked up the gun.

  The man reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a small folded piece of paper, and held it out, never breaking eye contact. Frank released the money and stepped back. Without another word, the man climbed into his truck. dirt spewed behind the tailgate as he wheeled around and roared off. Frank willed his heart to stop thumping. Breaking the connection with the Columbians was beginning to look better and better. Once he'd located this Mack asshole and put him out of his misery, he and Celeste could disappear and live quite well on his stash.

  ~ ~

  Sara's blue ribbon had restored her youthful charm, but Kellie only half listened to the excited chatter.

  “That girl from Stillwater really thought she was hot stuff! She kept looking at Juicy and me like we were hicks! I guess I showed her!”

  “Yes, you did, but there's always a next time. She's local and you'll compete with her many times, so don't do anything you'll regret.”

  And what have I done to bring on all my trouble? The heated conversation with Cliff had only strengthened her suspicion that they'd have their way about the land, whatever it took. Her thoughts snapped back to the conversation with Pete. Had the sheriff's office even questioned the obnoxious horse show exhibitor? Even though she supposedly was out of town, she could have paid someone to take them. Or maybe they weren't even related to the attacks.

  “Mama, is Uncle Clarke coming to the barbecue tonight?”

  “I think so.”

  “He doesn't look like he used to. Is he sick?”

  “Yes, he is, honey, but I think he's getting better.”

  Sara's voice took on a dreamy tone. “I hope so. He's so handsome.”

  Kellie didn't respond. Once upon a time, Clarke Sutton's good looks bordering on beautiful had been the focus of every girl in town. By graduation, it was common knowledge that the boys liked him too. Rural Guthrie hadn't taken to the modern ideas of alternative lifestyles, and Clarke took off for the big city, where he'd made a small fortune as a cover model. He was clearly losing his battle with the consequences of his lifestyle choices. And because of it, what could have been a large happy family had splintered into a loosely held together group of related individuals with no common loyalty for the group, or each other. Cliff's hard determination to press the land issue proved that.

  “Oh, goody! Daddy's here!” Sara jumped out of the truck and started toward the barn.

  “Hey, get back here and put your horse up!”

  Sara's happy expression changed to a sullen scowl and she stomped back toward the trailer.

  Frank was in the office, looking at the mail when Kellie walked in. She removed her hat and hung it on the coat rack, her arm brushing against Frank's jacket. The scent of expensive perfume wafted from the garment, and anger snapped to attention.

  “You missed your daughter's big win today.”

  He didn't look up. “I had business in Oklahoma City.”

  “I'll just bet you did.” She brushed past him and headed toward her desk. “Are you planning to join us tonight? Or are you otherwise involved?”

  “What, exactly, is your problem?”

  She whirled to face him, seeing only a stranger who didn't know her at all.

  “I've done both ranch tours by myself, my brothers showed up to start pressing me again about selling out, and our daughter needs your support as much as mine. Does that answer your question?”

  Sara's hysterical cries ricocheted into the moment. “Mommy, Mommy! Juicy's hurt!” Her frightened face appeared in the doorway. “Come quick! He's limping really bad!”

  A sickening jolt surged through Kellie's chest and she turned to Frank, but he was already hurrying out the door.

  Sara started to cry again. “What if he has the same thing as Dancer?”

  Kellie grabbed her and hugged tight, stroking her hair. “Honey, calm down. Let's go have a look.”

  Heart thumping, she took Sara's hand and hurried down the aisle.

  In Juice's stall, Frank kneeled beside the horse's front feet and squinted. “I don't see a wound. Maybe he knocked his ankle against the trailer door, or he might just be sore from competing.”

  Kellie stepped in. “Let me look-I've seen what the injection site looks like in the beginning stages.”

  Running her hand down the horse's leg, she grasped the ankle and he lifted his foot. The white hair on the fetlock had been clipped for the event, and the pink skin showed through. She rubbed a thumb over the same area where the other horses had been injected. He jerked his foot away and Kellie closed her eyes. This couldn't be happening again. She picked up the foot and held it firmly while she examined the area. One small spot was reddened, but she could see no obvious puncture site. She released the foot and straightened up, a flood of perspiration prickling over her neck and chest.

  “I don't see anything obvious, but I'll ask Roy to keep an eye on him this evening while we're out. If he gets worse, we'll call Doc Browning.”

  ~ ~

  The digital photographs came up on Ed's computer screen and he squinted at the images-a little blurry, but still discernible. The first four frames clearly showed money in Frank's hand, but Ed couldn't tell how much. He moved through the series to the shot showing what the man held. Zooming in, Ed swore under his breath-unrecognizable, whatever it was. He downloaded the images to a folder and forwarded them to the communications room, then pressed the intercom.

  “I just sent you some photos. See if you can blow them up enough to see what's being handed off. I need it ASAP.”

  He sat back and pursed his lips. Wouldn't it be something if Frank were dealing drugs. Or buying them, for that matter. Again, the foremost question became what Frank's possible involvement could be in the horse attacks. Ed considered what he knew about the Suttons. Not much.

  A quick glance at the clock told him it was quitting time all over town, but he reached for the phone anyway. Commissioner McBee picked up on the first ring.

  “Ed Campbell here. I need some information, but I don't want anyone to know about it.”

  “I'll help if I can.”

  “Land records on the Sutton estate, including any restrictions on its disposition.”

  A long silence made Ed nervous.

  McBee cleared his throat, doubt coloring his voice. “Does this have anything to do with your, uh, mission here?”

  “Unfortunately, it might. I don't want to discuss it on the phone, but when I have more information, I'll bring you up to speed.”

  “I'll see what I can find in the morning. I'll do it myself, otherwise, it'll be all over town in an hour.”

  Ed narrowed his eyes. Small town ways might work in his favor.

  “I don't suppose I could find out what was in Joshua Sutton's will.”

  McBee laughed. “Nothing's private in this town. Ol' Josh didn't take kindly to Clarke's life choices, and I know for sure that the boy was cut out of the will. And Kellie's been right up front about her father's deathbed demand that the land never be split up or sold to anyone outside the family. You haven't been here long enough to see her in action, but she's a holy terror when it comes to heritage and historic preservation. Far as I know, those are the only two things in the will that were ever a topic of gossip.”

  Ed nodded, his brain piecing together the puzzle pieces. “That's a big help, Commissioner. I appreciate it.”

  He hung up the phone as the communications technician stepped into the office.

  “Sheriff, I blew up those photos and enhanced the resolution...Did you know that one of the subjects is Frank Frazier?”

  Ed stared hard at the young man, causing him to take a step back from the desk.

  “Uh,
anyway, Sir-the bills in Frazier's hand are hundreds, the stack is thick-I'd guess it's a couple grand. The item in the other guy's hand is a piece of paper, but I can't make out what it says.”

  Ed opened the Rocking R case file and jotted a note inside the file folder. “Make me a set of prints, delete the digital file from your computer, and don't discuss this with anyone.”

  “Understood, Sir.”

  The technician disappeared down the hall and the phone rang.

  “Chief, that guy you had me follow dragged me all the way down to the track in Oklahoma City. What do you want me to do now?”

  “You see him with anybody?”

  “Nope, just a bunch of Mexicans. Smokin' and laughin'.”

  A deep feeling of satisfaction grew like a mushroom. Things were beginning to click into place.

  “Okay, you can head on back, relieve Unit 5 at the Sutton place.”

  The phone rang again and Ed's disappointment grew as he listened to the crime lab technician. “The three snapshots were clean for fingerprints, except for one smudge. Couldn't get enough to run it through AFIS. Sorry.”

  Ed hung up, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. “God, what I'd give for a beer right now.”

  The white cell phone vibrated and that idea evaporated.

  “Frazier's clean. Not even a DUI. I'm afraid you're on your own with this one.”

  “It was a long shot anyway, but I'm uploading a file as we speak. I photographed him trading a lot of money for a piece of paper. Might be racing information, or something to do with Hermano or Rodriguez. Maybe you can identify the other guy in the photographs. The hell of it is, I'm too high profile to tail Frank myself-this town is like a sieve when it comes to rumors.”

  “So I understand.”

  His boss's tone sent caution spiraling through Ed's head, but he forged on. “Any more thoughts on the money laundering angle?”

  “The Conklin-Anderson Development Group appears to be a shell company for a group of California investors. At least one of those principals has some questionable history. We have a couple of agents undercover with CAD Group down around Edmond.”

  “They're up here too. Just broke ground west of town for a multimillion dollar gated community. Town's in an uproar.” Ed snorted. “And Frazier has a girlfriend in Edmond. How coincidental is that?”

  “I'll get an agent from Oklahoma City to come up and take over surveillance on Frazier. You concentrate on Hermano. We're running out of time real fast-those good ol' boys in the county commission aren't likely to take kindly to keeping you on for another four years.”

  Ed nodded, pondering the feasibility of staying in Guthrie. Never happen.

  “Ed, do you have anything else you'd like to share?”

  A wiggle of concern moved through his head. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

  “How about your long time relationship with Kellie Sutton? Is that the reason you were so eager to take this assignment?”

  “Ancient history, boss. You can never go home.”

  Chapter 13

  Kellie shifted in the hard wooden chair on the raised platform, scanning the sea of faces in front of the courthouse and blocking out the mayor's drone about Guthrie's long history. His delivery made the subject about as interesting as watching manure decompose. She stifled a sigh. At least she could stop worrying about Sara's horse. Hyde had called from the ranch to report that Juice wasn't even limping. A simple bruise, nothing sinister. Kellie threw a glance at the deputy contingent at the rear of the crowd, disappointed that Ed wasn't there. She'd like to think they were on the same thought wavelength, but he'd given no indication that he'd ever forgiven her. On the other hand, if he'd loved her enough, wouldn't he have returned home after his overseas tour, wanting to sort things out? She looked down at her hands, touching the finger where the tiny diamond ring had been for such a short time. If she could do it over again, would she be willing to walk away from the ranch?

  She suddenly became aware of an expectant silence around her. The mayor was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

  “Kellie? Don't you have something to say?”

  Leaping to her feet, she laughed nervously as she stepped behind the podium. Composing her expression, she launched into her speech.

  “Land hunger...An obsession that conquered the West and changed the face of America's civilization. For those hopeful souls who braved the unknown for the chance at a piece of the promised land, these rolling grassy uplands and wooded river bottoms seemed to give close reality to the distant charm of green and purple forest growth rising to meet the brighter hues in the sky. Imagine their joy at seeing the swelling redbud trees silhouetted against the April new growth, the promise of fertile meadows and apple orchards.”

  Warming to her subject, Kellie let her gaze sweep over the audience. At the front of the crowd, the Kansas State professor smiled. One row back, Pete's ruddy face beamed and he touched the brim of his hat. Kellie's confidence grew, fed by the conviction that history should be protected at any price. Toward the rear of the crowd, the unsettling cowboy from the horse show stared back at her with bottomless black eyes, and a twitch of distraction blipped through her pulse.

  She looked down at her notes and cleared her throat. “The Indians named Oklahoma the 'beautiful land,' and the landless and home-hungry men and women who arrived at the Kansas-Oklahoma border on April 22, 1889 saw only the prospect of a bright future. Very soon, they learned the exact character of the land-dry red sand, worthless for farming. Hundreds of these people soon returned to their home states, carrying with them all they had left: disappointment.”

  Kellie stepped from behind the podium. “If you think land hunger is only a thing of history, you are wrong. Today, every smidgeon of land that can support building is being gobbled up at an incredible rate. Land developers are scooping up the outlying farmlands where elderly farmers and ranchers can no longer make a living in today's import-oriented markets. Developers are virtually stealing this land, and banking on the future population explosion and outward spread of urban areas.” She put her hands on her hips and nodded to a man in the front row. “You think you're out in the sticks? Well, think again.”

  Then she looked directly at the professor. “Some folks believe that this is no different than what the Indians experienced, so long ago. In some ways, yes-we are walking in their moccasins.” She paused for effect. “But if our children and grandchildren are to have anything other than steel and concrete as a heritage, we must fight for the land.

  “As president of the Historic Ranches Association of Oklahoma, I'm actively working to protect this pivotal part of America. When you return to your homes, think about the impact your own area has made on history, then get involved to ensure that it's not buried under urban expansion. Thank you.”

  The crowd applauded with enthusiasm, and Kellie stepped back. The mayor ended the ceremony by inviting everyone to the Chuck Wagon Barbeque at the fairgrounds.

  He turned and grinned. “Haven't seen you this fired up in a long time.”

  ~ ~

  Travis smoothed a hand over his shiny skull, then adjusted the aging straw cowboy hat and grinned at his reflection. Hell, me and Toby been wearin' these hats long before they got to be high fashion! Pulling the brim down in front, he scowled. Damn but you're a mean lookin' fucker! His tan skin broke a sharp contrast against the crisp white shirt tucked neatly into the new jeans. His fingers moved slowly over the four-inch-wide belt buckle, caressing the deeply engraved design. He knew every curve and depression, had memorized the words on the sterling silver face. Light glinted off the edges of the raised cowboy and horse in hot pursuit of a calf, and pain moved through Travis's chest. He turned away from the specter of the past and stepped up to a urinal.

  A stout man pushed through the door and nodded, then shuffled across the floor. Travis eyed the man's gimpy leg, wondering briefly how he'd injured it. The man stopped at the next urinal, then glanced over.


  “That's a mighty fancy buckle you're wearing. Must have done some real good riding to earn it.”

  Travis stared at the man for a minute, then grinned. “Hell, no. You can buy these things at any western outfitter.”

  The man turned back to his business, and Travis left the restroom. The high raftered grange building echoed with laugher and talk, kids squealing, and folks milling around with plates of food. He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, then checked the far corner of the room where Kellie Sutton sat at a table talking to a dark haired man.

  ~ ~

  After a quick stop at the apartment to change out of his uniform, Ed drove back toward town. His thoughts raged, blurring from one idea to the next-almost the same sensation as being in combat. Too many things going on at once, and no cover. Right now, he needed to figure out what information could be worth thousands of dollars to Frank.

  On impulse, he turned south on Pine and headed for home-a place he hadn't seen since his father's funeral.

  The old neighborhood had deteriorated and Ed's brain started sending signals to turn back. Better to leave the memories the way they'd been. But human nature won out and he slowed in front of the old house. His heart fell. Two scruffy dogs were chained in the front yard and had long ago killed the grass with their digging and running. A bicycle with one wheel missing leaned against the old pine tree, weeds growing up to the handlebars. Cheap plastic toys littered the driveway. One of the living room windows had plywood over it, and towers of cardboard boxes and plastic bins filled the front porch.

  He punched the gas and drove to the next corner, bile rising in his throat. He and his dad had kept their home neat and tidy, the grass mowed, the paint fresh. How could people live like that?

  He turned on Grant, then pulled over. If he continued this direction, he'd pass by his dad's old hardware store. Did he really want to do that? Surely, the new owners would have kept the place up. When the estate had finally closed, Ed thought the offer from a big chain would preserve some of Guthrie's history. Did he want to find out?

  He pulled away from the curb and continued down the street, wondering why he'd ever thought he could come home. At the corner of Division, he stopped and a smile filled his heart. The hardware store had been expanded, was nicely kept up, had a new big window in the front, and the parking lot was filled with cars.