Death by Equine by Annette Dashofy (booksvooks txt) 📕

regular trash. “But the only thing that sounds crazy to me is you cops not investigating a murder.”

“Give it up, Jess. You’re looking for monsters in the closet.”

“Do you mean to tell me you don’t wonder what happened to that missing phone?”

Greg towered over her. She stubbornly refused to look up, knowing he’d give her a grin intent on making her forget how mad she was. “Would I be happier if all the loose ends were tied up nice and neat?” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Of course. But in the real world, that doesn’t always happen.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Now, are we done here?”

“With Peanut? Yeah. He’s healthy. A little overweight, but that’s nothing new.”

Greg released her. “I know. He’s been getting some table scraps.”

“Greg, you know better than that. You never used to let him eat from the table.”

He gave a guilty shrug and clipped the leash to the dog’s collar. “By the way, in case you haven’t heard, Miguel Diaz is back in town.”

“Zelda’s groom? The one the phone belongs to?”

“Yep.” Greg stroked the dog’s head. “Thanks for taking the time to see us. And do me a favor. Give up these wild notions. I’m the only cop in this family. You don’t play detective, and I won’t operate on any animals. Deal?”

“No deal. If you aren’t going to investigate, someone has to. Besides, we aren’t family anymore, remember?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. “Just be careful. All right?” He called to Peanut and they headed out of the clinic.

As Jessie watched them go, two things Greg had said stuck in her mind. First, if he had no interest in investigating the case, why had he bothered to find out Miguel Diaz was back in town? And second, why would he caution her to be careful if he truly believed no crime had been committed?

JESSIE THOUGHT OF A poster she’d seen once that stated: The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get. As the morning nudged toward noon, she began to believe her picture should have appeared on that poster. Only when the track closed following morning exercise, and trainers headed home for lunch, did she finally catch a breather.

It seemed the only trainer who hadn’t needed Jessie’s services was the one she wanted to talk to. Zelda should’ve left an hour ago, but Jessie gambled and swung by Barn E just in case.

Apparently, Jessie wasn’t the only one running behind. Zelda was still there, raking the area in front of her stalls.

The trainer spotted her and stopped to lean on the rake. “Dr. Cameron. I’ve been hoping to see you. Did you hear anything about Clown?”

“His results came in yesterday afternoon. They didn’t find anything wrong with him.”

“I guess I should be pleased.” Zelda’s expression, however, was not one of pleasure.

“There was something else, though.” Jessie told her about the tranquilizer in his blood.

As Zelda absorbed the news, her tan faded. “Are you sure?”

“Who else knew about Clown’s reaction to the drug?”

“Everyone. You know how the grapevine is. Something like that happens, and word gets around.”

“What exactly happened the first time he was tranquilized?”

Zelda gazed into the distance. “I’d asked Doc to come by and check Clown’s teeth. They’d never been done before, and Clown wasn’t too keen on letting anyone mess with his mouth. Doc was always good with him. Knew his quirks and how to calm him down. Except none of the usual tricks worked this time, so Doc injected him with ace.” Zelda shuddered. “Clown went nuts. He attacked Sherry.”

“Sherry?” This was news to Jessie. There hadn’t been any notes about Doc’s assistant in the horse’s records.

Zelda gave a nod. “Clown had her down in the stall. Took three of us to drag him away from her.”

Jessie flashed on Doc’s body. There hadn’t been anyone there that night to pull the raging stallion off him.

“We had the ambulance here. You can imagine the crowd that drew.”

“Ambulance? How bad was she hurt?”

“She only needed stitches.” Zelda traced a finger along her own cheek, and Jessie thought of the scar on Sherry’s face. “As I recall, she refused transport. But there was so much blood. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

A young man with black hair appeared from Zelda’s feed room. He had a cell phone pressed to his ear. Intent on his conversation, he seemed oblivious to the two women.

“Is someone new working for you?” Jessie asked Zelda. “Someone who wasn’t here back then? Someone who might give Clown ace without knowing any better?”

Zelda kept glaring at the guy on the phone. Whoever he was, Jessie gathered he wasn’t currently in Zelda’s good graces. “Anyone who works in my stable knows about Clown’s reaction to the stuff. I make a point of telling them. And I have a note in my feed room stating he isn’t to be tranqued.”

With similar warnings scrawled all over Doc’s records, Jessie was having a harder and harder time believing the drugging was an accident.

The guy on the phone jabbed at its screen and flung it onto a bale of hay. It bounced and tumbled off the other side. Muttering in Spanish, he stomped across the shedrow and shoved the bale aside, searching for the phone.

“That’s probably how you lost the last one,” Zelda said to him.

“Sí.” He came up with the phone and wiped it on his shirt. “Perhaps.”

To Jessie, Zelda said, “This is Miguel Diaz. He decided to honor us with his presence.”

The missing groom. Jessie fought to control a flare of excitement as she introduced herself.

“Mucho gusto, Doctor.”

Jessie fought to keep her voice light. Something in the kid’s eyes led her to believe he might spook like a skittish colt. “We were searching high and low for you.”

“I did not know at the time.” He shot an embarrassed glance at his boss.

Jessie pointed to the phone in his hand. “That’s a new one?”

“No. I borrow from mi amigo.”

“You didn’t find the old one?”

“I did not. I think