Death by Equine by Annette Dashofy (booksvooks txt) 📕

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