Reining in Murder (3 page)

“So what's the verdict?” Annie said. “Why'd the rig crash?”

Dan laughed. “Right down to business, as usual. Why, you haven't even offered me a cup of coffee yet.”

“I haven't even made it yet, you big lug,” Annie replied.

“As you may recall, I had a rather full night last night, helping your sorry butt.”

“And don't scrimp on telling us how you feel, either.”

Annie relented. It wasn't Dan's fault that the driver had stopped for a deer and got himself killed, leaving a horse behind.

“Come on in, and I'll fix you some breakfast,” Annie said. Watching Dan's eyes light up, she added, “Don't think it's special or anything. I was going to make it for myself, anyway.”

“Perish the thought,” Dan said as he stepped out of his car.

“First things first,” Annie explained to Dan as she got a pot of coffee going. In the five minutes it took for the coffee to perk, Annie managed to assemble scrambled eggs, a thick slab of bacon, and fresh bagels on the table.

“You never cease to amaze me, Annie,” Dan said. “With cooking skills like yours, it's a wonder some man hasn't capitalized on them by now.”

Annie snorted. She'd tried marriage once, but her then-husband couldn't stand the competition, and Annie had offered him no real alternative. He'd hit the highway soon after he learned Annie would rather be straddling a horse than him.

Dan, on the other hand, had recently celebrated his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary to Dolores, who ran the Cut 'N Curl beauty salon in town, and just seen his first grandson born. He didn't always seem particularly happy, but, on the whole, appeared content.

Annie was kind enough to let Dan eat most of his eggs before bringing up the subject again.

“Did Mitch find anything?” she asked, in what she hoped was a polite and delicate manner. Mitch, she knew, was the only guy in the WA State Patrol within a hundred-mile radius who actually knew how to operate the Total Station, which electronically calculated data from crash sites to reconstruct how motor vehicle accidents occurred.

Now it was Dan's time to snort.

“He did and didn't,” he said enigmatically. “What I mean is, we know what didn't cause the accident but still don't know what did.”

“How fascinating.”

“Go ahead, be sarcastic, but this case is turning out to be just a tad harder than what you might think. Mitch spent the rest of the night going over the accident scene and has it stored in the Total Station six ways from Sunday. But what he found still doesn't add up.”

Annie got up and refilled Dan's cup to encourage him to continue.

“Deceased is Wayne Johnston. Like I said, he's from Wyoming. Has an excellent reputation for hauling. Doesn't drink, and from what everyone says, doesn't overcharge, even when he's hauling a high-priced stallion. In fact, his honesty is what made him one of the most-sought-after haulers in the West.”

“And his driving skills?”

“Obviously he's got a clean record, or he wouldn't have had his job. We still don't know why he swerved—there were no deer grazing in the vicinity, and we've had no sightings of cougars and coyotes in that area for over a year now.”

Annie knew that. Most cougars and coyotes had retreated to what little wilderness was left to them. Only occasionally, such as during a particularly bad winter, did they try to find prey as close as the farming community.

“But what we did find was interesting,” Dan continued. “A set of tire tracks from probably a midsized SUV stretching from the road to about two hundred feet from the crash site.”

“Where'd they stop?” Annie leaned forward.

“On the Truebloods' property. They started from the east gate, which Cal says is seldom used. They're fresh, all right. Neither Cal nor Mary have the slightest idea how they got there.

“Then there's two freshly dug post holes on the other side of the Truebloods' fence line. No one knows how they got there, either, or for what purpose.”

Annie thought for a moment. “I don't recall seeing any cars or trucks on the road getting to you. But then, I could barely see in front of my face, what with the fog.”

Dan nodded sadly. “We're poking around, but chances are no one's going to remember seeing a truck with mud-lined tires cruising the highway in the dead of night.”

Annie silently agreed before she asked, “When was Wayne last seen alive?”

“According to his VISA receipts, about an hour before at the steak house in Garver's Corner. Wayne had himself a hefty T-bone, a diet Coke, paid his bill, then filled up his rig with gas at the local Shell. He got a bottled water to go and a candy bar. We found the empty wrapper on the floor of the cab.”

“How about the rig? Everything in working order?”

“Yup. Lights, brakes, steering system, oil levels—everything checked out.”

There was a companionable silence while Annie assimilated the information.

She looked up to see Dan staring at her. Slightly embarrassed, she blurted out, “You haven't even asked me about the horse yet.”

“How's the horse?”

“Don't ask. He's got some kind of tooth problem—barely touched his hay last night and
completely
ignored my famous mash. At least he's drinking.” Annie was still unreasonably upset that the bay hadn't eaten her trademark feed that nearly provoked a stampede when Baby, Bess, Sam, and Rover so much as smelled it.

“Tough luck. Is Jessica coming over?”

“Should be arriving anytime.”

Dan cleared his throat.

“Have you called Hilda yet?”

Annie wheeled around from the kitchen sink, where she'd taken the breakfast dishes.

“No, I haven't, and I don't intend to until I know the state of her horse. I'm not having that woman tell me I caused her poor horse's toothache until I get a professional opinion.”

The crunch of tires on the road outside distracted Annie from further diatribe.

“That must be Jessica,” Annie said in surprise. “She's right on time.”

“Well, will wonders never cease,” Dan said. “Thanks for breakfast, Annie. I still say your skills are going to waste.”

“They most certainly are not,” Annie retorted. “
I
enjoy my cooking very much.”

Dan laughed. “Autopsy's being done as we speak. I'll let you know when anything new turns up. In the meantime, don't let Hilda get to you.”

“I'll try,” Annie grumped. “But she just has a way about her.”

“I know, I know. But the fact is she couldn't be luckier having you take care of a horse that's lucky to be alive at all. And you can tell her I said that.”

For once, Annie was at a loss for words.

M
ONDAY
A
FTERNOON
, F
EBRUARY
22
^ND

Annie would later reflect that her breakfast with Dan was the most enjoyable part of her day.

Now, however, she was chagrined to see the bay standing at the paddock gate and bellowing to the empty field. The vet followed with her portable kit.

Jessica whistled. “What a gorgeous guy. Who has the honor of riding him?”

“Hilda Colbert.”

Annie heard a muffled groan.

“Why does that woman get all the best horses?”

“Money,” Annie said flatly. “Pure and simple. Although I resent your suggestion that Rover is in any way inferior to that thoroughbred in front of you. He keeps the pasture mowed, and his bedside manner is impeccable.”

Jessica laughed. “You are so right. Okay, let's have a look at the guy.”

The bay's nervous whinnies echoed along the walkway as Annie led him to the tacking-up area in the barn. While Jessica set up her equipment, Annie put the bay in cross ties. She decided to keep his halter on, so she'd have access to the lead rope.

“All right, sweetie, let's take a look at your mouth.” Jessica rubbed the horse's forehead, moving gently down the sides of his face and around his mouth. She was rewarded with a sideswipe lick.

“He is a licker,” Annie said. “I personally don't have to wash my hands for a week.”

Jessica laughed softly. “Good boy.” She went back to her truck and returned with a headstand, which she let the bay sniff before setting it in front of him. She then took out a large steel speculum and placed the halter section over the bay's head, while she continued to let him lick her open hand.

“So far, so good.” Donning blue nitrate gloves, Jessica opened the tooth cups with one hand and gingerly placed her free thumb at the back of the bay's mouth, where lips met jaw. “Open up, that's a good boy.”

The bay jerked his head up, half rearing before the cross ties brought his legs down with a resounding thud. A strangled whinny emanated within his chest.

“I should tell you, he's a tad sensitive about the inside of his mouth,” said Annie.

“No kidding.”

Jessica strapped a head lamp onto her head while critically examining the horse's jawline.

Annie was looking elsewhere. The bay was shaking, its eyes wide and wild. Annie had seen that look just a few hours before. She stroked the bay's neck as the vet again pressed her thumb on the same pressure point to encourage the bay to open its mouth.

“That's it, just open up. There's a good boy,” Jessica crooned.

She was rewarded with a solid kick to her nether regions.

Jessica fell backward, her scream intermingling with a high-pitched squeal from the horse that reflected more rage than fear. The lead rope Annie had been clutching swished on the floor like a snake. She snatched it up again. The bay's head swiveled wildly around, snapping the cross ties back and forth. The barn roof was too high for the horse to hit its poll, but Annie was concerned that the strength of the bay's fury might take out the cross ties. She knew she couldn't hold him without that support.

Annie glanced at Jessica, sprawled on the stable floor, clutching her crotch as she wheezed out a string of curses.

“Don't worry about me,” Jessica panted. “I'm past childbearing age, anyway.”

Annie couldn't answer. Nor could she stop the manic dance the bay was performing in its restricted space. She could barely hang on to the lead rope and try to avoid the bay's striking hooves.

And then it stopped. In the silence that followed, only the sound of Jessica and the bay's labored breathing filled the air.

Annie heard a small click. She knew that sound. Someone or something had opened her paddock gate. A familiar clip-clop clattered on the concrete floor.

“Trotter!”

The donkey poked his head around the corner and ambled down the aisleway, pausing to nibble at a bit of stray hay on the floor.

“What are
you
doing here?”

The bay gave a low-throated call. Trotter responded with an inquisitive hee-haw. Annie and Jessica stood still as Trotter walked up to the bay, where the two sniffed noses. Trotter nuzzled the bay's lower neck—the highest point he could reach—until the bay lowered its head and gently exhaled. Then Trotter turned and continued his pursuit of stray hay on the floor.

Jessica scrambled up from the floor and gave Annie a hard look.

“Drugs,” they said simultaneously.

* * *

Annie never liked to see a horse sedated although she knew the horse hated it even more than she did, deprived of its natural senses and therefore, in its mind, more vulnerable to unknown prey. And there was the fear that the twelve-hundred-pound swaying animal would actually fall while under the influence and not be able to get up.

Jessica knew all about Annie's fears and pooh-poohed the latter, insisting that if Annie would simply stop resting her butt on the bay's—which was heavily leaning into Annie's thigh at this point—all would be fine.

Annie politely thanked her for her opinion but didn't believe her.

Now, with the bay's eyelids dropping and its head lowered halfway to the ground, Jessica was able to delicately probe inside its mouth to her heart's content. She whistled an old Travis tune as she peered and poked.

“Oh, oh, oh.”

“What do you mean,
oh, oh, oh'?”

“Some yahoo took a power saw to his mouth and cut off his premolars to the bone.”

Annie's mouth tingled. More silence.

“Yup—three-zero-six is cut right to the gum line. I'll bet my Tucker saddle we've got a tooth root abscess. And voilà”—Jessica fiddled a bit more inside the droopy bay's mouth—“an already fragile tooth has splintered into a jillion glittering little pieces.” She stood up from her squatting position and stretched her back.

“One more time for the medically-challenged?” asked Annie.

Jessica sighed. “In recent years, motorized floating, rather than using the traditional rasp, has become all the rage. It's fine, and, in fact, quite efficient, as long as the user knows what he's doing. This vet obviously didn't. Young horses' teeth are changing all the time. They don't need much outside help.”

“Jessica. The point—please.”

“Judging by his mouth, I'd say this guy is only about three years old. You don't need to do much to a horse's mouth at that age—just make sure that any emerging points are taken off, and the mouth is developing nicely. There's nothing wrong with this fellow's mouth except an overindustrious vet who whittled away his surfacing teeth so much that bone infection may very well have set in.

“My guess is that when the trailer overturned, the horse clamped down and broke an already fragile tooth. It would have occurred anyway, sooner or later, although perhaps not this severely.”

“What can you do?”

“Take some X-rays, find out the extent of the damage, and go from there.”

An hour later, Annie was peering over shadowy images Jessica had produced from her portable digital X-ray machine.

“See that first check tooth?” Jessica pointed to an image on the screen. “Thanks to our saw-happy vet, the lamina dura is almost completely eroded.”

Glancing at Annie's pleading look, Jessica smiled. “Annie, the bottom line is that the traumatized tooth lost its ligamentous attachment, which caused significant paradental disease. The infection has gone straight down to the root, and the broken tooth is wallowing in the pus.”

Annie felt dizzy. Visits to the dentist were never high on her list, and when she did, she begged for massive doses of nitrous oxide.

“This is one of the teeth horses use most often to chew,” Jessica continued. “Eating is a side to side motion. Trouble is, every time our guy takes a bite on the wrong side, he's in real pain.”

“Jessica, what can you do?”

“Well, that's the good news. There's really only one alternative. Extract the tooth. We can't put it back together again.”

The jovial chorus came from the tack room. Annie jumped. The bay did not, still lost in its own haze of equine dreams.

“My ringtone,” Annie explained to Jessica, who looked askance. “It seemed a good idea at the time.” She walked over to the tack room and picked up her cell phone.

“Annie speaking.”

“Hilda Colbert.”

Annie was silent.

“Ms. Carson? Are you there?”

“Yes, I'm here. And yes, your thoroughbred is currently stabled at my farm. You've heard about the accident, I presume?”

Annie seldom spoke so primly, but that's the kind of effect Hilda had on people. Proper English was a poor defense against Hilda's antagonistic nature, but it was the only one available to Annie right now.

“Yes, I have, and I wonder why I haven't heard from you before now. Do you realize it's two o'clock in the afternoon?”

Annie did not, but a quick glance at her watch proved it to be true.

“I apologize, Mrs. Colbert, but rescuing your horse took most of the night, and I'm just now attending to your horse's care.”

“Well, I don't care what time you got in. The question is, when are you going to transport my property to
my
care? I expected
my
thoroughbred to arrive by nine o'clock this morning.”

A fine, pure rage surged through Annie.

“Mrs. Colbert, are you aware that your horse barely escaped sudden death—a fate your transporter did not avoid—after a horrendous accident on the way to your property last night? Your thoroughbred was lucky enough to escape with hardly a scratch, and it took most of the Sheriff's Office and me to ensure that he made it to my farm in one piece and without additional trauma.”

There was a sputter on the other line. Annie ignored it and kept talking.

“I spent most of the night ensuring he was safe and healthy, and am now spending most of my
day
tending to a medical emergency concerning his teeth. I had every intention of calling you this morning, except that the matter of a broken tooth got in the way.”

“What have you done to my horse?” Hilda shouted through the phone lines. “He was in perfect health when he left Tennessee three days ago!”

“That is not true,” Annie shouted back, then lowered her voice. “Your horse has a significant problem with”—she glanced at Jessica, who mouthed the answer to her—“tooth three-zero-six, which was so diseased that it shattered on impact. We're about to remove the problem.”

“Did I hear you right? Did you just say that you're going to remove one of my thoroughbred's teeth?”

“You did.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Just one moment, Mrs. Colbert. I'm sure you'd like to hear from the
professional.
”

Jessica glared at Annie as she picked up the phone. Annie retreated to the bay, where she felt infinitely more loved.

Jessica clearly had more experience with irate horse owners because she kept her words to a minimum and her tone of voice neutral. Annie was impressed, and not a little ashamed at her own reaction. Oh, well.

“Yes, Mrs. Colbert. Your feelings are quite understandable.” Jessica went silent as she listened, then said, “Texas A&M, with graduate studies at WSU in Pullman.”

A pause.

“Yes, I'm sure University of Pennsylvania is a good school as well.”

A longer pause.

“I'm not a qualified dressage instructor, but I'm sure your horse will learn to handle the bit without the tooth.” More silence.

“Of course, that's up to you. But the horse is in no condition to be moved at present. He's still under sedation. He really should have time to rest and recover before he's transported again.”

Annie stroked the bay, for whom she felt increasingly sorry. “Poor baby,” she whispered. “We promise you'll have enough teeth left to bite her.”

Jessica was speaking again.

“I'm sure Annie will be more than happy to accommodate your feed requirements, but please be aware that your horse will be on a restricted diet for the next few days, in any case, as he recovers from surgery.”

Annie was humming “Camptown Races” and combing the bay's mane when Jessica gestured furiously at her.

“Let's address that issue after your horse's health is restored, Mrs. Colbert. And now I'm going to give you back to Annie.”