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

Milt’s foot slipped from the bumper. “I’ll be damned. Are you sure?”

“Sherry confirmed it for me. According to her, she expects to inherit Doc’s practice once the will has been read.”

The look of astonishment on Milt’s face faded to one of despair.

“Sorry. I know you wanted me to take over.”

“Hell, yes, I did. And don’t you go lying to me or to yourself. You wanted it too.”

She gazed across the lot to the eager Thoroughbreds being ponied from the barns to the paddock. “It doesn’t matter now. If Sherry’s right—”

“I don’t think she is.” Milt removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You said she expects to inherit the practice.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe it. No way would Doc leave his practice to her, daughter or not. Hell, I doubt she even passes her licensing exam.”

“But—”

Milt waved a hand to shut her up. “Listen to me. Those two argued like cats and dogs all the time. I overheard Doc giving her a verbal thrashing once about her work ethic. Or lack of it. He said she doesn’t have what it takes to do this kind of work. Now you tell me. Does that sound like someone he’s gonna trust his life’s work to?”

Jessie mulled over his words. Work ethic. It was something Doc had always stressed. And had praised her for. Others—Greg for example—had called her a workaholic. Doc had called it devotion. Passion. A good work ethic.

“And another thing.” Milt slapped the hat back on his head. “Why would Sherry threaten you if she was so sure of herself?”

“That wasn’t the reason. We were talking about OSU finding acepromazine in Clown’s blood. I asked her about the time he’d attacked her and if she knew who might have administered the drug to him the night Doc was killed.” Jessie paused to quell the pounding in her temples. “She told me to stay out of it. Or else.”

The creases were back in Milt’s forehead. “The horse had been tranquilized?”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“And you think someone did it intentionally?”

“I got my hands on Doc’s records. There were notations everywhere about Clown’s sensitivity to the stuff. There’s no way Doc gave him ace.”

“Guess not.” Milt squinted across the Monongahela River at what was left of the setting sun.

Jessie’s phone burst into song. A quick check revealed a second horse needing attention. “I have to go. Do you want a ride to your truck? Where are you parked?”

“That would be great. I’m over in the employees’ lot by the rec hall.”

Jessie pressed the button to unlock the other door.

Milt circled to the passenger side and climbed in. “There’s something else I bet you didn’t consider,” he said as Jessie shifted into drive.

“About what?”

“Sherry. She wants Doc’s practice, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe she’s right about inheriting it. Doc was a good man. A good father. He might just leave his practice to his daughter, hoping by the time he passed, she’d be worthy of it.”

“That’s true. I’m sure he didn’t plan on dying for quite a few years yet.”

“Right.” Milt turned toward Jessie, a glint in his eyes. “But Sherry doesn’t strike me as the patient type. If she wanted to take over sooner rather than later...and if inheriting was the only way she could get her hands on it...”

The spring evening air suddenly took on a chill. “That would be motive.” Jessie shivered. For murder.

It was after midnight by the time Jessie made the right turn off Harden Road into her farm lane. One of the lights illuminating the Cameron Veterinary Hospital sign had burned out. She made a mental note to replace it.

Burned out light bulbs. She savored the sweetness of such mundane problems.

The lane climbed the hill beside her 1850 vintage farmhouse and looped around behind it to the hospital. Jessie recognized the two vehicles in the lot. Their presence, combined with the light streaming from the newer building’s windows at this hour, couldn’t be good.

She parked next to the red Ford pickup and headed for the hospital’s front door.

Unlike the massive two-story farmhouse, the veterinary hospital was long and all one level. Jessie maintained the farm flavor by matching the white siding and red tin roof of the house.

She entered to find the reception area was empty.

Doors to the trio of exam rooms stood open, the rooms dark. Same for the hallway to the side entrance. Loud and unhappy voices drifted from the other hallway leading to the office. Jessie followed them.

A bead of light traced the bottom edge of the closed office door. She reached for the knob and pushed through.

Meryl wheeled toward her.

Vanessa, their petite blonde receptionist, jumped to attention, her eyes so wide that white showed all the way around, like a scared colt.

Meryl’s eyes were considerably narrower. “It’s about time you got home.”

Jessie briefly considered retreating. “What are you doing here so late?”

Meryl massaged one temple. “Philip Lombardo’s Australian Shepherd broke his chain and tried to herd the traffic on Route 8. Got hit by a car.”

Surrendering to exhaustion, Jessie sank into her chair. “How bad?”

“Bad enough. Fractured pelvis and femur. I called in a team, and we did surgery. Pinned and plated the old boy back together. I just wanted to stick around until he came out of the anesthesia.” Meryl folded her arms. “You’re going to have to add some overtime into this week’s payroll.”

“No problem.” Jessie looked up at Vanessa, who continued to impersonate a statue. “At ease.”

She swallowed hard. “Can I go now?” Her voice sounded like it belonged to a ten-year-old instead of a twenty-something.

Meryl flapped a hand at her. “Hell, yes. Shoo.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze darted between Meryl and Jessie before she bolted.

Meryl gave a soft growl. “I’m telling you, that girl’s getting flakier by the minute. If you don’t get back here soon, I really am going to have to kill her.”

“What’d she do now?” Jessie raised a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Come on down to the house. I’ll make us some coffee.”

“No coffee for me. Got