Death by Equine, Annette Dashofy [cheapest way to read ebooks txt] 📗

question, Dr. Cameron. You can answer this one too, Mr. Dodd.” The trooper’s gaze shifted from one to the other. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted Miss Malone dead?”

Jessie wished she knew. Daniel? She couldn’t bring herself to say his name in this context. Not yet.

Popovich cleared his throat. “Besides yourself, that is.”

There it was. The blatant accusation. She climbed to her feet and glowered at the trooper. “You find out who killed Doc Lewis and you’ll have Sherry’s murderer too.”

JESSIE LEFT HER TRUCK parked at the clinic and struck out on foot for the front side, hoping the walk might calm her nerves.

Popovich might be putting his money on her as Sherry’s killer, but he hadn’t arrested her. Yet. Before he had a chance to reconsider, Jessie had to see a man about a horse.

Although it was still only May, the rising humidity was more akin to July. Jessie peeled off her hoodie before she made it halfway across the backside and tied it by the arms around her waist. Riverview was virtually deserted following the EIA scare, so the unmistakable sound of truck and trailer—grumbling diesel engine and clanking aluminum gooseneck—rolling up behind her seemed out of place. What brave soul dared venture onto contaminated soil when everyone else had beaten a hasty retreat?

Zelda waved from the driver’s side window of her red and silver rig. Jessie stepped aside and waited for Zelda to pull up next to her.

“Hey, Dr. Cameron. How are you holding up? Terrible thing, what happened to Doc’s assistant.”

“It was.” Jessie shielded her eyes from the glaring sun and looked back at the trailer. “Are you hauling in or out?”

“In. I’ve got Clown back there.” Zelda gestured toward the big four-horse slant-ride. “I wanted to thank you for allowing it.”

“I had nothing to do with it.” Doc’s death wasn’t the Thoroughbred’s fault. No reason Zelda or the horse should suffer those consequences.

Zelda gave her a knowing smile. “Sure you did. And I intend to make certain nothing else happens like...” She didn’t finish the sentence but waved and gassed the truck, leaving Jessie in a wake of dust and diesel fumes.

No, none of it was Clown’s fault, so why did Jessie suddenly feel overwhelmed with apprehension?

She slipped through one of the pedestrian gates and jogged toward the track on her way to the grandstand. She stopped at the rail on the far turn to watch two horses in the middle of their morning workout, loping around the oval with exercise boys standing in their stirrups. A hefty man with a rounded back cupped a stopwatch in his hands. Even after the exodus, life went on.

Following the footpath around the outside of the homestretch, she listened to the drumming of hoof beats on the dirt to her left, savored the heat of the sun on her face. For a few brief minutes, all was right with her world.

Inside the grandstand, the squeak of Jessie’s rubber-soled boots echoed, but at this hour, the solitude was normal. She crossed the expansive lobby to the offices, stopped outside Daniel’s, and hesitated. She’d made some foolhardy moves in her life. This was possibly the biggest. She considered beating a hasty retreat. Instead, she stepped inside.

Daniel was on the phone. He looked up and smiled but not his usual, full-blown boyish smile. He held up one finger and spoke into the receiver. “How long have we been doing business? You know I’m good for it. Just give me a couple weeks to let all this blow over...Yeah? Well, thanks a lot.” His smooth voice had turned bitter. He set the receiver down hard in its cradle. Then he leaned back in his chair and ran both hands through his hair.

The distressed look on his rugged face softened Jessie’s resolve. “Rough day?”

“You could say that. Creditors don’t like to hear the barns are mostly empty. And bettors don’t like to hear there are barely enough horses entered to fill a race card.”

She wished she could ease his pain instead of adding to it.

He met her gaze. “I don’t blame you for any of this, you know.”

She licked her dry lips, trying to summon up courage. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He interlaced his fingers behind his head. “Anything.”

She drew a breath. Blew it out. “Did you have anything to do with Doc’s death? Or Sherry’s?”

Minutes felt like long, silent hours as Daniel held her gaze. When he finally moved, it was in slow motion. He came forward in his chair, brought his hands to his desk surface, and broke the silence with a strangled, “What?”

The question didn’t require any elaboration, so she continued to wait.

“Why in heaven’s name would you think such a thing?”

The words stuck, but she forced them out. “You’ve done it before.”

Daniel Shumway, who’d always seemed larger than life, shrank. “You know.” He choked a humorless laugh. With one thumb, he rubbed at a sunspot on the back of his other hand as if trying to wipe away a memory. “That was a long time ago.”

“When you were Daniel Brice?”

“Yes.” He made a few false starts, but finally managed to ask, “Are you going to report me to the racing commission?”

“Did you have anything to do with Doc’s death?” She said it with more force this time.

“Would you believe me if I say no?”

“Convince me.” She considered taking a seat in one of the chairs facing his desk. Instead, she opted to keep the chair between them and rested her hands on its back. “Doc found out about your past. He blackmailed you into keeping quiet about him falsifying Coggins test results.”

Daniel didn’t blink. Nor did he deny her allegations.

“You got a vial of ace from Sherry right before Doc died.”

A sad smile crossed his face. “I wondered what you were doing in my tack room that morning.”

“And Sherry—” Jessie’s fingers tightened on the chair back. “She figured out who murdered her dad and was just about to tell me.” Jessie fought