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

“The two of them got into a pissing contest, and Sullivan won. He broke free and took off before anyone could get a hand on him.”

Jessie had no problem believing her and eased into the stall. Sullivan might have been frisky earlier, but not now. She knelt to get a better view. The front legs had been wrapped. The bandages on the left side were shredded, same as his hide. “How’d all this happen?”

Sherry stroked the horse’s nose. “The guy that finally caught him said he ran into a car and went down on the pavement. He doesn’t appear to be lame, but...” She swept a hand at the resulting injuries.

Jessie circled to look at his right side. “Even if he’s not lame today, he’s gonna be one sore pony tomorrow.” She placed a hand on his hip. “Watch out,” she said to Sherry. “I need to move him over so I can see.”

“I’m fine.”

Jessie pressed on the hip. “Over, son.”

The horse took one slow step to the side.

“He looks good over here.”

“I could have told you that.”

Jessie resisted an urge to laugh. For a moment, she’d thought someone had pulled a body snatch on Sherry, but here was the old familiar venom she’d become accustomed to. “By the way, was that the guy who caught him?”

“Who?”

Jessie circled back to Sherry’s side and nudged Sullivan over to his original spot. “I saw you talking to someone at the end of the shedrow when I got here. Was that the guy who caught Sullivan?”

Sherry’s eyes shifted. “No.”

“Who was he?”

Sherry dropped to her knees and began to remove the tattered leg wrap. “Just an owner. Now about that ultrasound?”

Jessie studied the silver and turquoise barrette on the top of Sherry’s head. “I’ll go get the equipment.” Jessie fingered the stall guard. Neil Emerick had lied about Sullivan breaking through it. She also didn’t believe the man Sherry had been talking to was just an owner.

The ultrasound revealed some new, small tears in the tendon, but Jessie and Sherry agreed the new damage wouldn’t delay his healing time by more than a couple of weeks.

To help with the pain and swelling, Jessie mixed bute and Banamine in a syringe and injected it, topped with a shot of dexamethasone in the muscle.  She also dispensed some Tri Hist granules to help reduce any generalized swelling. “Make sure you tell Neil the horse will definitely get a bad drug test for the next thirty days on these.”

Sherry studied the label. “No problem. Sullivan won’t be running on that leg anytime soon.”

Jessie gazed down the shedrow. Emerick had parked a wheelbarrow near the stall where Jessie remembered seeing a gray horse last time she was here. Today, Emerick was mucking out the stall. Most trainers at Riverview jumped in and handled the grunt work alongside their hired help. They couldn’t afford not to. But she hadn’t pictured Emerick doing any kind of menial labor.

A short, scrawny kid with a sad excuse for a goatee charged into the barn from behind Jessie. He brushed past her without acknowledging her presence and stuck his head into Sullivan’s stall. “Sherry, I did what you said. Everything’s set.”

Sherry glanced at Jessie and hissed at the kid through her teeth. He stiffened and turned, as if he only now realized someone else was there. “Sorry. Hi, Dr. Cameron.”

Jessie studied him, certain she’d never seen him before.

He grinned. “I’m the one who called you this morning.”

“Oh.”

“Sherry told me to.”

“Oh,” Jessie repeated.

“Thank you, Jimmy.” Sherry spoke the words slowly as if the kid was dimmer than the gray, rainy day.

He gave Sherry a quick nod before scurrying off toward Emerick.

Jessie concealed a smile. Grooms were quickly becoming her favorite source of information. “You told him to call me about Sullivan?”

Sherry’s face reddened. “Yes.” She lowered her head and breezed past Jessie into Emerick’s feed room. She reappeared a moment later with both hands full of Vet Wrap and bandaging materials.

“You told him.” Unlike at the pool, Jessie had regained the upper hand. “Not Emerick. You.”

“Neil wouldn’t call you if you were the only vet on the planet.” Sherry dropped to her knees and began working on Sullivan’s leg.

“He does have you, after all. His own personal vet. Unofficial. But still.” Jessie shrugged. “That seems to be the case, right?”

When Sherry looked up, her lip was curled back in a snarl. “No. It’s not.”

“Then what exactly is it you do for him? Why are you always here?”

Sherry stopped wrapping Sullivan’s leg. “It’s none of your business.”

“You do work for him. Right?”

A muscle in Sherry’s jaw danced beneath the skin’s surface. “Since my father died, I have to make money somehow.”

“Until your inheritance comes through and you take over Doc’s practice.”

Sherry resumed wrapping Sullivan’s leg. “Exactly.”

Jessie leaned against the stall doorway. “What would you have done if Doc hadn’t died?”

The roll of Vet Wrap dropped from Sherry’s hands. “What?”

Jessie let the question sit there between them. Down the shedrow, Jimmy with the goatee had taken over stall cleaning duties from Emerick.

Sherry picked up the bandage and started over. “I’d have gone into practice with my father. That was my dream.”

“Now you won’t have to share. Convenient, huh?”

Jessie expected an explosion. Instead, Sherry lowered her head. Her shoulders shook. Jessie thought she was sobbing until she heard the laughter.

Sherry threw her head back, cackling in mirth. “You—” She gasped for breath. “You think I killed my dad?” She burst out in laughter again. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

Not the reaction Jessie had expected.

“I didn’t want my dad dead.” Sherry wiped her eyes. “If you’re looking for someone who wanted to kill my old man, you don’t have to look very far.” She held up one finger. “Butch from security? He’s into, shall we say, personal banking.”

“You mean loan sharking?”

“You’re not so dumb after all. Yeah. Loan sharking. He and my dad had a few big blow-ups over it. Dad knew and threatened to turn him in if Butch didn’t pay to keep him quiet. You can damned well bet Butch