Death by Equine by Annette Dashofy (read this if txt) 📗

clean,” Greg continued in his flat, all-business voice.

She could have told them that much Sunday night. “Any word on the missing groom? Miguel Diaz?”

“He turned up in Akron. Says he had a fight with his girlfriend Sunday evening and took off. He’s been staying with friends and didn’t know anyone was looking for him. He didn’t seem very concerned about leaving Zelda Peterson in the lurch.”

A fight. Sunday evening. Sunday. Evening.

Jessie didn’t give a damn about Miguel Diaz’s love life. But the timing? That was another matter. “What about the call to Doc?”

“He says he didn’t make it.”

“How does he explain his number on Doc’s phone?”

“Says he lost his phone last week. Figured he’d left it in the barn. He didn’t want to pay to replace it until he was sure it wasn’t gonna turn up.”

“How convenient. You don’t believe him, do you?”

Greg worked the brim of his hat, still hanging from his fingers. His gaze dropped away from hers.

There was more. Something he wasn’t telling her. “Greg?”

“I do believe him. His story checks out. His buddies confirm he’s been there since eight o’clock Sunday evening.”

“Of course, they do. They’re his friends. Giving your pal an alibi is part of the friends’ oath, don’t you know that?”

Greg gave her a tired smile. “Friends help you move. Good friends help you move bodies.”

“Exactly.”

“Except these same friends took Mr. Diaz out to drown his sorrows Sunday night. Bartender and several patrons remember him.”

“Are they sure it was Sunday?”

“Very. Apparently, he was trying his hand at a new romance since the old one didn’t work.” Greg cleared his throat, and Jessie wondered if he was recalling having done the same thing. “But the girl he tried to pick up had a jealous boyfriend with her. The resulting altercation made enough of an impression that the witnesses were quite certain of the day and time. Miguel Diaz has been cleared of any connection to Doc’s death.”

Jessie slumped into a worn chair. “Where’s his phone?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do next?”

“Nothing.”

Jessie couldn’t have heard him right. “What do you mean?”

“That’s the other part of the Medical Examiner’s report. Manner of death was determined to be accidental.”

“So? What’s that got to do with tracking down the missing cell phone?”

“Accidental,” Greg repeated, biting off each syllable. “We don’t investigate accidental deaths.”

“I don’t understand.”

Greg knelt next to her, bringing his face close enough to hers that she couldn’t avoid his stern gaze. “Doc’s death was an accident. We know he was killed by a horse, but we haven’t started arresting horses for homicide.”

Jessie brushed aside his feeble attempt at humor. “How can he rule it an accident if we don’t know why Doc was there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She cringed at the shrillness of her own voice. “I was supposed to be there, Greg. It should have been me.”

“But it wasn’t you. Look, Jess, you’re dealing with survivor’s guilt. You think because Doc’s dead and you’re not that you have some obligation to prove it could have been avoided. Sometimes accidents are just accidents.” He patted her leg awkwardly and rose.

“It’s not survivor’s guilt. I promised Amelia I’d find out why Doc died.”

“I can answer that. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You think it’s that simple?”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “It’s not simple. It’s the way it is, Jess. Move on.”

She stood. “You’re not going to do anything else about it?”

“Nope.”

“The case is officially closed?”

Greg slapped his hat back on his head. “Officially there is no case.”

Fuming, she turned away from him.

His voice softened. “There’s another reason I’m here. It’s about Peanut.”

Jessie spun back. “Peanut?” Their yellow Lab. The one Greg had claimed custody of when he left. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong. He’s due for his shots. I was going to call for an appointment with Meryl, but I figured you’d want to see him. When will you be back at the vet hospital?”

Good question. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you just bring him here one day next week?”

“I’ll do that.” He hesitated. “One other thing.”

Jessie couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re turning into Columbo.”

Greg didn’t smile. “I was wondering if you’d found a divorce attorney yet.”

Her own smile died as she hurdled back a few steps in those stages of grief. “Not yet. I’ll get on it as soon as I finish up here.”

He raised a doubtful eyebrow at her.

“I will. I promise.” She thought of all the promises he’d made—and broken—to her. Like that big one. Until death do us part.

He eyed her for a moment but didn’t say anything else before he ambled out into the rain.

Jessie rubbed the hint of a headache lurking at her temple. Okay, yes. It was time to accept the end of her marriage. But she was not ready to let go of her questions about the night Doc died. No matter what the coroner or the police said.

MONDAY MORNING, THE rain gave way to fog. OSU had promised to send Clown’s tox results today. Jessie checked her email before leaving her house and before starting her rounds. Nothing.

She parked next to Barn M where she had a request for a Coggins test. Before getting out of her truck, she again scanned the email on her phone.

A gruff voice outside her window startled her. “Hello. You the new vet?”

She looked up to see a tall, bony man with gray hair and skin. “Yes, I am.”

He grunted and pulled a ragged sheet of paper from his pocket. He handed it and a twenty-dollar bill to her through the window. “This should handle it.”

Jessie looked over the tattered and expired Coggins test paper and noted the information listed. “Are you Harvey Randolph?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She picked up a pad of the Veterinary Service Equine Infectious Anemia lab test forms—more commonly referred to in horse circles as Coggins tests—from the seat next to her and reached for the door handle.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, a puzzled look on his grizzled face.

“I’m going to draw blood from...”