Jessie sensed something wrong the moment the clinic came into sight. The big door stood open a few feet. She’d completely closed it when she left. Lights blazed inside, but she knew darned well she’d turned them off.
Protective impulses took over. She slid down from the cab of the truck, slammed its door, and took two storm-trooper steps toward the building when another possibility stopped her cold.
Veterinarians carried a wide variety of narcotics that were in high demand by junkies and dealers.
She looked toward the stable gate and could see the guard on duty outside his shack. Was he close enough to hear if she screamed for help?
Jessie dug her phone from her pocket and punched in the number for security. Her thumb hovered over the send button. Was she positive she’d shut off the lights? She’d been in such a hurry, maybe she’d forgotten. She’d feel like an idiot if she summoned the guard for nothing.
She moved to the back of her truck and dug a heavy pair of hoof testers from one of the compartments in the storage unit. Armed with the false sense of bravado provided by clutching a blacksmithing tool in one hand and her phone keyed up for security in the other, she slipped inside the clinic.
Light streamed from her office. She was sure she’d locked that door too. A glance at the secured drug cabinets in the corner of the exam area revealed no obvious tampering. If the intruder was after meds, he’d either missed them or hadn’t gotten there yet. A noise she recognized as the slamming of one of Doc’s desk drawers echoed from the office.
“Who’s in here?” she called, trying to sound fierce.
Sherry Malone swung the office door open. “About time you showed up.” She turned and disappeared back into the room.
Irritation replaced fear. All day long, Jessie had hoped to cross paths with Sherry and here she was. Jessie pocketed her phone but held onto the hoof testers and crossed to her office.
Sherry sat at the desk, rifling through the drawers.
Jessie’s grip on the steel tightened. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for something.” Sherry slammed one drawer and moved to another.
For the past week, Jessie had felt like an outsider in what she still thought of as Doc’s office, but at the sight of Sherry rummaging around in the desk—Jessie’s desk—her territorial instincts kicked in.
“Excuse me.” She placed a hand on the contents of the drawer Sherry was dismantling. “If you’ll just tell me what you need, I’m sure I could find it.”
Sherry eyed the hoof testers and smirked. “You plan on checking to see if I’m sound?”
Jessie contemplated telling her she’d planned to whack the intruder who broke into her office but kept quiet. She might still want to keep that option open. “What are you looking for?” she repeated.
“The appointment book for the equine pool.”
Jessie caught her wrist and withdrew Sherry’s hand before closing the drawer. “It’s not in there.”
Sherry wrenched free from Jessie’s grasp. “It’s supposed to be on the desk over in the spa.”
“Not anymore. I want to keep a closer watch on it.” Plus she wanted to avoid any and all reasons to enter that side of the building. Keeping an eye on Sherry, Jessie moved to one of the aging black metal filing cabinets along the far wall and set the hoof testers on top. From the bottom drawer, she removed the ledger in which horse owners and grooms signed up for swim times for their animals and handed it to Sherry.
“I prefer to keep it by the pool.”
“You’re not in charge. I am.”
Jessie thought for a moment that Sherry might snarl at her. Instead, she thumped the book onto the desk, opened it, and snatched a pen from the old coffee mug. “Something’s come up. I need to change my pool appointment from tomorrow morning to the afternoon.” After scratching out her name on one line and scrawling it on another, she handed the open ledger back to Jessie. “Does that meet with your approval, Doctor?” She made the title sound like an expletive.
Jessie closed the book. “What horse are you bringing in?”
“Sullivan. He’s coming back from a bowed tendon.”
“He’s from Emerick’s stable, right?” Jessie thought of Sherry blocking her access to the shedrow.
“What difference does it make?”
“Just curious. Is Sullivan one of the horses I saw when I was in Neil’s barn on Saturday?”
Sherry tilted her head slowly to one side. For a moment, Jessie didn’t think she was going to answer, but then in a soft voice she said, “Maybe.” She pointed at the appointment book in Jessie’s hands. “You might as well put that back where it belongs. By the pool.”
“I told you—”
“I heard you. But you’re temporary. Before long, I’ll take over, and I want it where it was.”
“Aren’t you jumping the gun? You’re not even licensed yet.”
“I told you before. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Even if you pass the testing, how do you plan to buy Doc’s practice? It’s not going to come cheap. I know from experience the kind of student loans you must have.”
A smug smile crept across Sherry’s face. “That’s not going to be a problem. Just don’t get too comfortable in this office. And stop changing things around. I happen to like everything where it was.” She moved toward the door.
How could Sherry afford to buy an established practice like Doc’s? Jessie was still wondering if she could swing it, even selling her share of her vet hospital to Meryl.
Sherry was almost to the door when Jessie remembered the ashen man. “Wait.”
“What now?”
“I had an interesting call this morning.”
“Good for you.”
“One of Doc’s clients was surprised when I actually intended to draw blood for a Coggins test.”
Sherry’s smirk dissolved. “Who?”
“Harvey Randolph.”
Sherry nodded thoughtfully. “Harvey’s a little strange. Don’t pay attention to him. He was confused is all.”
“He didn’t seem confused to me.”
“Forget about him. All you need to remember is that you’re only temporary.” Sherry sauntered out.
Jessie bristled. Sherry intended on taking over Doc’s practice as if it was her God-given right. “Maybe,” Jessie said to the empty office.
She caressed the worn surface of the appointment book, carried it back to the file cabinet, and replaced it in the spot she had chosen for it. Only then did she remember why she’d returned to her office in the first place. The file drawer rolled open with a rusty squeal that set Jessie’s teeth on edge. Note to self: invest in a can of WD-40.
She sifted through the folders, cursing Doc’s Luddite ways. It was going to take her years to transfer these to digital files. The thought brought her to a stop. Not her. Someone. It was going to take someone years to transfer Doc’s paper to digital.
Not her.
But Sherry? Not if Jessie had anything to say about it.
She resumed her search and finally located a fat folder labeled “Zelda Peterson Stables” under “Z” instead of “P.” Returning to the desk, she opened the file and flipped through the contents.
Doc had kept detailed charts on each of Zelda’s horses, just like he did with all his clients. After paging through the records twice, Jessie couldn’t find anything on Clown Around Town. Puzzled, she returned to the cabinet. Perhaps Doc had a second folder for Zelda. But there was nothing under “P” or “Z.” Jessie even tried “C” for Clown. Nothing.
Frustrated, she flopped down in the desk chair and buried her face in her hands. A rap at the door roused her.
Milt stood in the doorway, grinning. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“You look beat.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Thanks, pal. Just what a girl likes to hear.”
He chuckled. Gnawing on a well-used toothpick, he pulled a ratty vinyl-upholstered chair away
from the wall and sat down, propping his steel-toed work boots on the desk. “You getting settled into your new digs yet?”
“Don’t start on that again.”
“I know you’re gonna stay, and you know you’re gonna stay. You might as well quit fighting it.”
She gave him her best dirty look.
He held up both hands in surrender. “Suit yourself. What’s got you all riled up this evening? Rough day?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything I can help you with?” he asked around the toothpick.
“Only if you can tell me what Doc did with Clown’s file.”
“Sorry. Can’t help you there. Maybe it got misplaced. You’ll probably come across it sometime when you ain’t looking for it.”
“Probably.” She started thumbing through the records yet again. “But it’s not like Doc to lose something.”
Milt removed the toothpick. “Maybe Sherry lost it.”
Jessie let the folder fall shut. “Now there’s a possibility. She was in here right before you showed up. You weren’t kidding when you said she was rough around the edges.”
“She’s a real piece of work, all right. What’d she do now?”
Jessie considered telling him about Harvey Randolph. And Sherry’s dismissal of what could be a serious situation. But Jessie decided to keep the Coggins test thing under her hat. For now. “She was upset because I moved the appointment book for the pool into the office.”
“She does have her own ways of doing things.”
Jessie leaned forward, resting her arms on Zelda’s folder. “Do you know anything about her?”
“Sherry? Not really.”
“Does she come from a wealthy family?”
Milt gave a short laugh. “Not as I’m aware. Why do you ask?”
Jessie settled back into the desk chair again. “Sherry wants this practice.”
Milt’s boots hit the floor with a thud. He flicked his toothpick into the trash. A huge smile lit his face. “And you don’t want her to have it.” He slapped the desk triumphantly. “Because you want it. Ain’t that right?”
“I didn’t say that.” Jessie hoped her protest didn’t sound as feeble as it felt.
But Milt was laughing too hard to hear her.
Her phone’s notification ping announced a text message. She checked the screen. So much for the lull in the action. “I have to go.”
Milt’s laughter faded to a cough. “So do I. I promised Catherine I’d join her in her box when I was done with work.” He rose, wiping his eyes with a bandana. “And don’t worry about Sherry. You’re the one Doc would want taking over. No way Amelia would sell to her instead of you.”
Jessie followed Milt out of the office. At the door she stopped and looked back at the open file on the desk—her desk—and recalled another of Doc’s quirks.
Not only did he keep paper files. He also kept backup ones.
HOW EARLY WAS TOO EARLY for a social call? Since it wasn’t entirely social, did that make a difference?
Jessie considered putting off a visit to Amelia for another day. Tomorrow—Wednesday—the track would be closed, and Jessie’s workload would be considerably lighter. Not exactly a day off, but as close as she got at Riverview.
Clown’s tox panel and missing records had nagged at her all night. And since Amelia had been the one to request Jessie look into Doc’s death, hopefully she wouldn’t mind taking visitors at the crack of Tuesday’s dawn.
Doc and Amelia Lewis’s sprawling ranch-style house was the closest thing to home Jessie had known. This was where she finally found roots after spending her childhood bumping from town to town with her parents. They and her brother thrived on the vagabond life. But she died a little inside every time they uprooted her from the friends she’d struggled to make. Here, in this cozy unpretentious house, she’d felt more a part of a family than she ever did with her blood relatives.
She parked in the driveway and almost expected to see Doc’s bearded face at the door. She thought of his rowdy greeting. How he’d throw an arm around her and squeeze so hard she half expected to hear a rib pop.
Jessie shook off the memories and climbed down from the truck. At the front door, she hesitated. A light shone through the curtains in the window. She hoped that meant Amelia was up. Jessie knocked.
Long moments passed. As she stood there, chastising herself for calling at such an early hour, the lock scraped, and Amelia, in a worn bathrobe, swung the door open.
“Jessie?” she said, squinting.
Feeling like a jerk, Jessie sputtered. “I’m sorry to come by so early. Did I wake you?”
“No, no. Not at all.”
Jessie didn’t believe her.
Amelia moved to one side. “Come in. Is everything all right?”
Jessie cringed even more. The last person who woke Amelia at an ungodly hour was Daniel coming to tell her Doc was dead. “Everything’s fine. I should’ve waited until later. Or tomorrow.”
“Nonsense. I’m happy to see you anytime.”
Jessie stepped inside and waited as Amelia closed the door behind her.
At first glance, the living room looked the same as always. Framed family photos filled one wall. The Lewis’s kids called it the “Wall of Shame.” There were faded pictures of a younger version of Doc and Amelia with two small children, senior portraits, wedding photos. Included in these last two categories were pictures of Jessie’s high school and college graduations and one of her and Greg on their wedding day. She always felt humbled and honored to be given spots on that wall. She doubted her own parents even carried a picture of her in their wallets.
Copies of the Veterinary Journal and JAVMA: The Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association covered the reading table next to Doc’s favorite recliner. The stale smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, and an ashtray still filled with butts remained next to the magazines.
Then Jessie noticed the couch. A dented bed pillow graced one end. A rumpled quilt lay where it had been dumped.
Amelia must have seen Jessie looking at the makeshift bed. “I can’t bring myself to sleep in our room,” she said apologetically. “Not yet anyway.”
Without thinking, Jessie pulled Amelia into a hug and was startled at how frail she felt. Hardly the spitfire Jessie remembered. “How are you?”
Amelia eased free from Jessie’s embrace and dug into her bathrobe pocket. “I’m taking it one day at a time.” She came up with a tissue and dabbed her nose. “What brings you here so early?”
“I’ve been doing as you asked. Looking into Doc’s death.”
Amelia motioned toward a chair and shuffled back to her nest on the sofa. “Have you found something?”
Jessie lowered onto the offered seat. “There are some oddities I’m checking out.”
“Such as?”
“I still can’t figure out why Doc was there in the first place. Clown—the horse—didn’t have anything wrong with him that we can find. And the phone that placed the call is still missing.”
Tears glistened in Amelia’s eyes. “You haven’t found anything to explain why he died?”
“The tox screen from Ohio State showed the horse had acepromazine in his blood.”
“A tranquilizer.” Amelia nodded. One didn’t live with a vet for as long as she had and not pick up some of the terminology.
“Yes. But the horse’s owner said he—the horse—had a history of bad reactions to it. I wondered if Doc knew.”
“You’d have to check his records.”
“I tried. They’re missing. That is...the ones for that particular horse are missing.”
“Oh?” Amelia looked dazed.
“But I know Doc always kept duplicate files here. Would you mind if I looked through them?”
Amelia was silent, frowning at a spot on the carpet. For a moment, Jessie wasn’t sure she’d heard the request. But she blinked. Met Jessie’s gaze. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered. It’s been doing that ever since...ever sinc
e he died.” Amelia flapped her hand as if chasing away a bothersome fly. “What did you say?”
“I’d like to look through the records Doc kept here if it’s okay with you.”
“Absolutely.” She rose, but her knees buckled, and she flopped back down onto the couch. “You know where they are, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Jessie stood. “Can I get you something while I’m up?”
Amelia’s gaze drifted again. “A glass of water would be lovely. Thank you, dear.”
Jessie crossed the hall to the kitchen and froze in horror. Open containers of lunchmeats, salads, and casseroles—probably offerings from worried neighbors and friends—cluttered the table. The countertop and sink were piled high with dirty dishes. The trashcan overflowed onto the floor. The stench of rancid food choked her. Trying to hold her breath, she found a clean glass in the cupboard and filled it from the tap. Back in the living room, the usual odor of stale cigarette smoke came as a welcome relief in comparison.
“Amelia, where are your kids?”
“They left right after the funeral.” She accepted the glass of water. “Had their lives to get back to, you know.”
Jessie turned toward the disaster in the other room. She was going to be late getting to the track as it was, but she couldn’t very well leave the kitchen in that condition. Bracing against the smell, she plunged in.
She located the roll of trash bags under the sink. Wishing she had brought a pair of Latex gloves with her, she gingerly picked up the scraps that had spilled onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” Amelia called from the living room.
“Just cleaning up in here.” Breathing through her mouth, she shook the full bag to settle the contents. A swarm of gnats rose out of it. She clamped her lips shut and waved them away.
Jessie managed to tie off one bag and lugged it to the back door. When she returned, she found Amelia standing wide-eyed in the middle of the mess, as if she hadn’t noticed it before. “I guess I let things get ahead of me a bit.”
Jessie paused. She didn’t think Amelia was attempting humor.
Amelia gave her a weak smile.
Death by Equine Page 7
