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

the second page to find what she’d been looking for. During an otherwise routine call to have Clown’s teeth floated, Doc had administered acepromazine. Not only were his notations about Clown’s adverse reaction to the tranquilizer quite clear, but Doc had scrawled reminders at the top of each subsequent page, including the top, most recent one: Drug reaction: acepromazine.

“He knew,” Jessie said.

“Knew what?”

“I was sure Doc knew Clown reacted badly to this drug.” Jessie tapped the page. “I thought maybe he’d forgotten and administered it to the horse that night. But he made clear notes.”

“You said OSU had found it in the horse’s blood?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that mean?”

Jessie stared at Doc’s familiar and distinctive handwriting. “It means someone else drugged Clown.”

Amelia touched her fingers lightly to her lips. “Who? And why?”

“That,” Jessie said, “is what I’d like to know.”

Seven

Jessie left Amelia Lewis’s house with the woman’s renewed pleas for help ringing in her ears and Doc’s backup file of Zelda’s stable stashed behind the Chevy’s seat. Already late for her morning rounds, Jessie rolled through the stable gate with the intention of jumping right into them. The sight of Greg’s personal vehicle parked in front of the clinic changed her plans. She’d completely forgotten about her appointment with him and Peanut.

Jessie wheeled into her usual spot and slammed the truck into park. She managed to jump out and muscle the clinic’s rebellious door open before Greg had a chance to come to her aid.

Off duty and dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, Greg stepped from the car. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Good to see you too, Greg.”

He gave her a wry look and folded the front seat forward. A rotund yellow Lab with a graying muzzle bounded out of the backseat.

“Peanut,” Jessie called and dropped to her knees. The dog crashed into her, and she put one hand back to keep from tumbling over. She laughed as the Lab licked her face. His tail wagged so hard his whole body rocked.

“I think he misses you,” Greg said with a trace of a grin.

She directed her reply to the dog. “Did you miss me, sweetie? I missed you too.” She threw both arms around the wriggling mass of fur, buried her nose in his coat and inhaled his doggy smell. Peanut. They’d given him that name the day they’d brought him home as a puppy. It had fit him for all of a week.

“I appreciate you taking the time to see him today. I know you’re busy.”

She looked up at Greg, who wore his unreadable cop face, but she knew he was mocking her. She climbed to her feet and headed into the clinic, slapping her thigh. “Come on, Peanut.” The Lab happily trotted beside her. To Greg, she said, “No problem. After all, he’s my dog too.”

“Was.”

And to think she once believed this guy hung the moon and the stars. “Thanks.” She made no effort to contain her scorn. She led Peanut to the corner set up for animals smaller than the equine variety and coaxed the dog onto the scale. “By the way, I found out something about Doc’s death.”

“Oh?” Greg wandered around the exam area, pausing to study a series of faded winner’s circle photos tacked to the wall.

“The horse’s toxicology report showed traces of the tranquilizer acepromazine.”

“So?”

Jessie made a note of Peanut’s weight. Stroking his head, she inserted a thumb between his teeth and lips, easing his mouth open for a peek at his gums. “Clown has a history of bad reactions to the drug. It makes him even more aggressive.”

Greg ambled to a stainless-steel counter, where he picked up the glass jar of swabs. “That explains it then, doesn’t it? That’s why he attacked Doc.”

“It doesn’t explain anything.” She moved to the dog’s ears. “Doc had notations all over Clown’s records about it.”

Greg set the jar down and leaned one hip against the counter. “Then why would Doc give the stuff to him?”

“He wouldn’t.” She looked up from the exam. “Someone else drugged the horse.”

Greg scowled. Jessie could almost hear the wheels grinding inside his cop brain.

She waited for a response. None came. “Doesn’t that change things?”

“Change things how?”

“You said you weren’t investigating Doc’s death because it was ruled an accident.”

“Yeah?”

She reached for the stethoscope hanging on the wall and contemplated choking Greg with it. “Well, you can’t say that anymore.”

“Why not? If I’m not mistaken, anyone can give that stuff, right?”

“Most horsemen around here keep some on hand to use when needed.”

“There you go. Whoever called Doc probably didn’t know about the horse’s history and thought he was doing Doc a favor.”

Jessie contemplated Greg’s theory as she listened to Peanut’s heart. Content with the dog’s health if not with Greg’s hypothesis, she draped the stethoscope around her neck. “That brings us back to the big question. Who called Doc? Have you located the phone?”

“Jess, there is no investigation.”

“That means you haven’t.”

He fixed her with his best patronizing frown. “That means we aren’t looking anymore.”

Infuriated, Jessie stormed to the drug cabinet and prepared Peanut’s annual shot. “There is another possibility, you know.”

Her back was to Greg, but she could hear his exasperated sigh. “What possibility is that?”

“Someone knew Clown’s history. Knew ace would turn him into a killer. They drugged him and then called Doc.” She turned to face Greg, but his expression remained stony. “I think someone intentionally—” The word stuck in her throat. “I think someone intentionally killed Doc.”

For several long moments, Greg silently held her gaze. When he finally spoke, he said, “You mean murder.”

“I guess I do.” Jessie returned to Peanut, who didn’t appear to notice when Jessie gathered a handful of fur and skin and injected the vaccines into him. His tail never missed a beat.

Greg pushed away from the counter and bent down to scratch Peanut’s ears. “Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? Who on earth would want Doc dead?”

“I don’t know.” She tossed the syringe into the disposal canister she kept separate from the