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

“Of course.”

“Let me check on my patient. I’ll be right there.”

Jessie retraced her steps to the parking lot. Vanessa’s pastel green VW Beetle was gone. Jessie wondered what she’d done to get on Meryl’s shit list. With Meryl’s sour mood, it wouldn’t have taken much.

A well-worn path trailed down the hill from the parking lot to the back entrance of the farmhouse. The door had been crafted to look old even though she’d had it and a new jamb installed only a few months ago. While she adored the original doors and rippled-glass windows that graced the house, last winter’s heating bills had nudged her to reluctantly start modernizing.

Once inside, she pushed the door shut and tested it. The door came open without turning the knob. She slammed it and tried again. It still hadn’t caught. On a third attempt, she slammed the thing so hard the windows rattled, but this time it stayed closed. New wasn’t always better. She made a mental note to look up the number for the contractor who had done the job and demand he fix the problem.

Her footsteps filled the silence as she crossed the enclosed porch. She sat on a long rustic bench, a find during a Sunday afternoon yard sale treasure hunt, unlaced her work boots, tugged them off, and dumped them on the floor with a pair of thuds. Resisting the temptation to lean back and close her eyes, she climbed to her feet, opened the door into the dark kitchen, and smacked the light switch.

A plump, longhaired, black-and-white tuxedo feline sat next to the stove.

“Hello, Molly.” Jessie knelt to pet the cat who purred and skimmed under her hand. She scooped up the mass of fur, and the cat nuzzled against Jessie’s chin and meowed. Loudly. At seventeen, Molly was deaf and meowed loud enough to hear herself.

Jessie carried the cat into the dining room, turning on lights as she went. After months of aching from the quiet that shrouded the house since Greg and Peanut had moved out, Jessie was finally embracing the solitude. Where she’d once seen only empty chairs and heard echoes of missing voices, she now saw freedom. Autonomy. No one to answer to but herself.

And the cat.

Jessie lowered Molly to the floor and grabbed a bag of dry food, senior formula, from the antique sideboard. She topped off the bowl that hadn’t been empty. The cat dived into the fresh food as if she’d been starving.

The sound of the backdoor banging shut reminded Jessie that company was coming.

“Hey,” Meryl shouted. “Anybody home?”

“In here.”

“THIS SHERRY MALONE sounds like a real piece of work.” Meryl scowled at her can of soda as if it had offended her in some way.

Jessie sat cattycorner from her friend at a dining room table big enough to feed a farm family plus their hired hands and cradled her umpteenth cup of coffee for the day. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“She threatened to throw you in the pool?”

“More like she implied it could happen.”

Meryl turned her scowl from the can to Jessie. “Get picky, why don’t you. What exactly is it she doesn’t want you digging up?”

“I wish I knew.” Jessie stared across the table to the darkened living room. “Have you ever heard of anyone doing Coggins tests without drawing blood?”

Meryl choked. “Are you kidding me?”

Jessie looked at Meryl and waited.

“I remember something about counterfeit papers.” Meryl grabbed a napkin from the table and pressed it to her chin. “But the department of health cracked down on it. Can’t be done anymore.”

“Can’t?” Somehow Jessie suspected where there was a will, there was a way.

“Why on earth are you asking about this?”

Jessie told her about Harvey Randolph.

“Are you sure you understood him?”

“I understood. And he said Sherry took care of that stuff for Doc.”

“What stuff? Fudging test results?”

“That’d be my guess.” Jessie glanced down at Molly, who was head-butting her leg. “There’s more.”

Meryl gave a short laugh. “Terrific. What?”

Jessie scooped up the cat and settled her on her lap. “Sherry is Doc’s daughter.”

Meryl slammed a hand on the table and let loose one of her famous strings of expletives.

“Not only that, she says Doc left his practice to her in his will.” Jessie expected Meryl to jump up and dance around the table.

Instead, she stared at Jessie. “Shit.”

“I thought that would make you happy.”

“It would if it was anyone else but her.” Meryl leaned back in her chair. Picked up the can. Took a long draw on it. “How does Amelia feel about it?”

Jessie rubbed Molly’s ears. The deep rumble of her purr vibrated through Jessie’s fingers but did little to soothe. “As far as I know, Amelia is unaware of the situation.”

“She doesn’t know her husband has another child?”

“I don’t believe so.”

Meryl grunted. “She’s gonna find out.”

“I know. I saw her this morning. She’s a mess. I need to call her kids and let them know the shape she’s in. I’m afraid hearing about Sherry will push her over the edge.” Jessie thought of the stench in that kitchen. “Further over the edge.”

Meryl swirled the soda in the can. “You want to know what I think?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I think you need to tell Shumway about the Coggins test business. And then I think you need to get the hell out of that place. Now. This Malone chick wants it so bad? Let her have it.”

“But she isn’t licensed yet.”

“I don’t care. Doc died there. You’ve been threatened. There’s stuff going on that you have no business getting involved in. Come back to the hospital where you belong.” Meryl drained the can and plunked it down. “We need you. Preferably alive.”

The house phone rang. At that hour it could only mean an emergency. Jessie deposited Molly onto the floor and crossed to the table next to the window to answer it. She was right. One of her clients had returned home to find her cat unresponsive. “I’ll be there as soon as I