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

Meryl crossed her arms on the dining table. “You mean I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Go home. You’ve put in a long enough day. The track’s closed tomorrow, so I can go in late.”

“Don’t expect me to argue with you. I’m outta here.” Meryl rose and made it to the kitchen doorway before turning back. “Are you going to take my advice and tender your resignation?”

Jessie watched as Molly sprung onto the dining table to sniff Meryl’s empty soda can. She thought of Amelia and the mess Doc’s death had created. She’d been able to clean up the kitchen. How could she walk away now and leave everything else in turmoil? “I’ll stay the rest of the week. I promised Doc that much.”

“I guess it’s better than nothing.” Meryl turned and left, her footsteps clomping across the enclosed porch. The back door slammed. Slammed again. Then a third time. Jessie definitely had to get that taken care of.

After she figured out why Doc had been killed.

Even if it took longer than the rest of the week.

Nine

Wednesday mornings were normally Jessie’s one chance to sleep in, but her phone blasted her awake. Groggy, she squinted at the screen. The incoming number wasn’t a familiar one.

A frantic voice on the other end informed her that a horse had gotten loose on the backside, had been caught, and needed a vet. Jessie scribbled the barn number on a notepad she kept next to her bed. “I’ll be right there.”

Molly hadn’t budged from her spot on the bed. Jessie kicked off the sheet and rolled away from the cat, who awoke with an unladylike grunt. “Sorry, baby,” Jessie said, running a hand over the silky fur.

Jessie stared at the clock. It was later than she’d first thought. No sunshine brightened the room. What she’d mistaken for a tractor trailer rumbling along Harden Road turned out to be thunder.

She shuffled to the bathroom. After splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth, she returned to her bedroom to pull on a t-shirt and a pair of Wranglers. She winced as she worked a brush through the knots in her unruly hair before restraining the stuff with a fabric-covered elastic band. Tossing the brush back onto the dresser, she reached for the note next to the phone. The fog finally cleared from her brain, and she stared at the words on the page. Had she written down the message right? She looked again, but the barn number remained the same. Neil Emerick’s.

She headed for the door, leaving the bed unmade around Molly who watched her with bored eyes.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said, knowing full well the cat couldn’t hear her.

But apparently, Molly could read lips. She jumped off the bed with a muffled thump and trotted after her, claws ticking against the hardwood floor.

Jessie set a bowl of canned senior formula cat food in front of Molly and eyed the empty coffee pot. Why hadn’t she paid extra for the one with the automatic timer? She spent a moment watching Molly devour her breakfast before grabbing a ball cap and her oilskin duster and heading out the door.

The track was closed for training and racing, so the place was largely deserted. Unlike every other barn on the backside, Emerick’s buzzed with activity. Jessie considered entering from the “forbidden” end just to see what was down there. But her snooping would have to wait.

Emerick met Jessie at the opening between barns, looking every bit as happy to see her as he had the night she’d confronted him in the paddock. “Dr. McCarrell wasn’t available,” he said by way of a greeting.

Jessie guessed he didn’t want her to mistakenly believe she was his first choice. “What happened?”

He hitched his head toward the stalls. “Sullivan got loose. Busted through the stall webbing.”

She looked in the direction he’d indicated. The same black with the star and stripe she’d seen on her previous visit peered at her from the first stall. Soldier Bob with his stitches gazed at her from the third. Otherwise, no faces greeted her. But at the far end of the shedrow, she spotted Sherry engaged in an animated conversation with a slump-shouldered man Jessie didn’t recognize. Sherry threw up her arms and strode toward Jessie. The man shuffled away.

Sherry broke into a jog. “Dr. Cameron. I’m glad you could make it.”

Jessie stiffened. Before she could respond, Emerick wheeled and stormed toward Sherry. Jessie noticed Sherry’s eyes widen for a split second. Emerick whispered something to her that Jessie couldn’t make out.

Sherry, however, made no attempt to conceal her reply. “I heard you the first time.”

Jessie watched as the pair exchanged what amounted to an entire conversation with their eyes.

In a voice thick with menace, Emerick said, “You better have.” Without looking at Jessie, he stomped down the shedrow.

She considered asking what that was all about but decided she didn’t really want to know.

Sherry grabbed Jessie’s arm and steered her toward the second stall. “I want an ultrasound of his leg. I’m afraid all the running around on the concrete might have damaged that tendon again.”

They stopped outside the stall. Sullivan, appearing much less grand than he had at the spa yesterday, stood tied in the back corner, his head hanging low. The entire left side of his body exhibited a bad case of road rash.

It hurt to look at him.

Jessie lowered her gaze to the stall guard, securely latched across the stall opening. If the horse had broken through this particular webbing, someone had made a quick and thorough repair. “How’d he get loose?”

“Neil brought him out.” Sherry unclipped the guard. “Sullivan’s been feeling pretty good, and being cooped up in his stall all the time has turned him into a handful.” She stepped inside and moved to the horse’s head. “Neil should’ve been more patient with him. But when Sullivan started acting frisky, Neil started yanking on his head and yelling.”

Jessie thought back to the incident in