Reining in Murder

by Leigh Hearon

  Poking around, Annie espied a long, fat item wrapped in aluminum foil. Sausages! Fat, yummy sausages, made from parts of animals she didn’t want to know about but wouldn’t stop her from eating them. She pulled out the rock-hard package and reverently placed it on the kitchen counter. Surely it would thaw by dinner. She could already taste the greasy juices.

  Lavender stared in horror.

  “What?” Annie asked, with no little irritation.

  “My God, Sister! Now I understand why your home is filled with bad karma. How can you fill your refrigerator with the sacrificed flesh of our fellow creatures?”

  “Easily, Lavender. One shrink-wrapped package at a time.”

  * * *

  Annie had been up since before dawn and already put in almost a full day’s work. At half past four, she’d tiptoed into the stables where the horses were still sleeping, made their mashes, and prodded them into the pasture a full two hours ahead of schedule. What grass remained in March was still encrusted with crisp frost, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed the time to strip the stalls of straw and take out every offending morsel. Straw, she’d learned the previous evening, was one of the worst allergens the bay had inherited. She’d dumped wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow far behind the stables in the area reserved for horse poop. Jessica had assured her that it would make dandy compost that would be ready in time for next year’s spring garden planting.

  “He’s also allergic to fescue, velvet grass, bayberry, and pine,” Jessica had cheerfully told Annie the night before. “And forget about beet pulp. Flaxseed is also a no-no. Did I mention that alder is borderline?”

  Annie groaned. Most of the items the bay couldn’t tolerate weren’t indigenous to the Northwest. Sure, there was plenty of pine in these here woods, but it was mostly at a higher elevation. But alder? Volunteer alder was everywhere, and sprouted freely on the ten acres that the horses called their playground.

  “What’ll I do?” she’d wailed, after the first euphoria from realizing her horses didn’t have a dreaded, potentially fatal disease had faded. “I can change the bedding. That’s easy. But do I have to cut down every single alder on the damn place? You know they’ll reappear just when I’ve put the chain saw away.”

  Jessica had assured Annie that the alder issue could be controlled with a homeopathic medicine, which she’d order today.

  “It’s primarily the straw, Annie. Just change the bedding to cedar chips, and Trooper will be back to normal in no time. But no pine chips. You’re just asking for the same problem if you do.”

  So Annie had resolutely risen from her bed the following morning to perform the first half of the job. She could order cedar chips from the local Cenex en route to Hilda’s ranch and have them delivered while she was gone. In the meantime, there was the small issue of nicely telling Lavender that meat had to appear on the family table at least five times a week.

  Annie smiled sweetly at her sister. At least, she thought she did.

  “Lavender, I know you’ve got your heart set on going into town today, but I need you here at home.”

  Lavender started to pout, an instant irritant to her older sister. Would the woman ever realize that wiles that had worked in her youth were now simply embarrassingly transparent?

  “But, Sister, I have things to do. I promised Martha I’d help her.”

  Martha? Who was Martha? After forty-three years of living in the same community, Annie assumed she knew everyone in town, not to mention the outlying areas. But apparently Lavender already moved in circles outside her own. Annie was pretty sure those circles were outside her own comfort zone.

  “Sorry, Lavender. But as a nonpaying member of this household for only twenty-one more days, you have to expect to pitch in a little.” Annie tried not to sound as annoyed as she felt.

  A single tear slid down Lavender’s cheek.

  Damn, she’s good, Annie thought. She sighed. “Can’t your new friend Martha come here?”

  “No, she can’t! And I wouldn’t want her to! I wouldn’t want anyone to come here until the house is cleansed!”

  Annie glanced around her kitchen, dishes still piled high in the sink from last night’s dinner. “Cleanse away, dear sister. I’m not stopping you.”

  “Not that kind of cleansing! I mean a spiritual cleansing. Smudging.”

  Annie stifled a giggle. “Smudging? I’ve heard of a lot of folk remedies for hard to remove spots, but I never knew that smudging got rid of red wine stains.”

  “Oh, you think you’re so smart!” Lavender flounced over to the woodstove and knelt by the Belgian pups, who had claimed this spot when they weren’t tearing up the house. The Belgians eagerly began to lick Lavender’s hands. She looked up, and to Annie’s surprise, saw something like real anger flash in her sister’s eyes.

  “You create a place for all these wonderful creatures yet bring in dead animals for us to eat. You’re going against the laws of the natural universe. It’s put your whole karmic cycle out of whack. No wonder you’re finding dead bodies and everyone you associate with disappears. And until I can go out”—here, Lavender gave a half sob and gulped—“and find the sage I need to yes, smudge, your home, the negative cycle will never end.”

  Oh, that smudging. A faint memory filtered through Annie’s brain. She’d read about this ceremony before. And Lavender undoubtedly had read about it in Northwest Native American Spiritualism for Dummies. Honestly, if her sister didn’t sound so ridiculous, she could have been upset. She glanced at her watch: 9:30. It was time to go.

  “Ah, Lavender? Can you use anything besides sage?”

  After a few seconds, the muffled reply came. “Well, cedar is used a lot, too.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. Cedar trees abound throughout my property. You can walk outside and gather as much as you want within twenty feet. But, Lavender, listen to me. I really do need you home today.”

  Lavender merely sniffed. Oh, hell’s bells. Annie decided to give her sister a subtle lesson into how big girls got their way.

  “Frankly, Lavender, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. I’m expecting a big load from Cenex. They’re delivering bedding supplies that are critical to the horses’ health. I need someone to be here to sign for them and make sure the workers put them in the right place.”

  She had Lavender’s attention. She could sense it.

  “Here I have to go out on business, yet it’s vitally important that I get this new bedding for the horses by tonight. Why, if you weren’t here, I’d be lost.”

  Lavender’s face immediately changed. She stood up and wiped her hands on her nightgown, which now showed, Annie noticed, significant evidence of puppy drool.

  “Why, of course, Sister. You just tell me what to do.”

  Like taking candy from a baby, Annie thought. She simply wants to feel needed.

  “Just tell the men to stack the bags of cedar chips by the Timothy in the tack room, Lavender. And make sure they do it right, so one won’t come tumbling down on our heads when we least expect it. I’ll call Cenex and tell them to put your name on the account so you can sign for them.”

  Her half sister was actually preening, Annie realized. And putting her name on the account surely wouldn’t do any harm. She couldn’t imagine Lavender going crazy buying up what Cenex had to offer.

  “Oh, and I won’t have time to shop before coming home. So we’ll have the meat that’s thawing tonight.”

  “Meat, Sister? I told you I was a vegetarian.”

  “Well, I’m not. But you can give a shamanic blessing over it before we tuck in.”

  * * *

  Turning into the lane that took her to Hilda’s ranch, Annie could hear the activity before she saw it. A long, low grumble of machinery permeated the air around her. In her mind, she imagined ancient dinosaurs rising from the earth and voicing their displeasure at what they’d found upon reentry.

  What she saw as she approached the electronic gate bore more than a small resemblance to th
e creatures that had emanated from the primordial ooze. The pelting rain that obscured her windshield made her fantasy more plausible. In the distance, she saw the outlines of a Kubota backhoe, carefully swinging a load of dirt high into the air, then angling it off to the side and unceremoniously dumping it onto a mound already the height of a draft horse. Twenty feet to the south, a bulldozer stolidly made its way through the underbrush, clearing the way for further excavation. Surrounding these machines were a dozen hot, sweaty deputies, covered in rain gear already flecked with mud and grime. Most of them held shovels in their hands. More than a few were leaning on them, clearly exhausted.

  She hadn’t realized she’d been idling the truck for so long until a sharp tap-tap on her window brought her back to reality.

  “Excuse me? Ms. Carson? Is that you?”

  It was the same young deputy who’d helped her and Marcus out of the jail last week, a short passage of time that now seemed a lifetime ago.

  Annie rolled down her window and smiled. “Deputy Lindquist. How nice to see you again. Couldn’t you find a job that kept you out of the rain?”

  Deputy Lindquist’s face took on a very serious look, or, at least, as serious a look as a twenty-year-old rookie could manage under the circumstances. He was drenched. With his clothes sticking to him, he looked as if he weighed ninety-five pounds.

  “No, ma’am. Well, actually, yes, ma’am. I’ve been assigned to watch you. Well, not watch you, exactly. To accompany you to Mrs. Colbert’s office, I mean.”

  Deputy Lindquist’s face turned a bright red as he spoke, and Annie wondered if he’d been given the task because someone had found out about his mission of mercy at the jail. Well, if so, at least he’d have a chance to warm up. Annie intended to keep the thermostat as high as it could go in the tack room office.

  “Fabulous. Want to hop in?” Annie started to move the assorted magazines, coffee cups, and other debris from her front passenger seat.

  Deputy Lindquist looked shocked.

  “Oh, no, ma’am. Let me first get you to sign in here, then I’ll open the gate. Wait for me to get in my vehicle, and I’ll escort you in. I’ve been told to tell you to park right next to me and to lock your vehicle and give me your keys while you’re working inside.”

  He thrust a clipboard inside the window, and Annie complied, fuming at all the unnecessary regulations. Jeez. Just because she was a tad late in handing over a couple of little pieces of paper. But there was no sense in taking it out on this poor guy, who was just trying to do his job.

  “Here you go, Deputy.” Annie spoke with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. She had the feeling this was going to be a very tedious morning.

  * * *

  Annie didn’t anticipate the acute sadness she felt upon entering the office. She quietly took off her coat and sat down in the chair where she’d last seen Marcus. It seemed so unfair, she thought, as she pulled the first stack of papers on the desk in toward her. The man who should have been attending to this business now could be buried within eyesight of her. She quickly got up and pulled down the blinds.

  “Would you like some coffee, Ms. Carson? Sheriff Stetson said to make sure you were comfortable.”

  Annie felt marginally better at Dan’s thoughtfulness. “I’d love some, Deputy. I don’t suppose Dan remembered to bring any doughnuts?”

  “I believe he did, ma’am. I believe he did.”

  “Then I’d like two, please. Three, if they have chocolate on them.”

  Two hours later, Annie’s head hurt. After locking the doors to the office, Deputy Lindquist had unobtrusively situated himself in a corner and was now reading a law-enforcement manual. Probably studying up to become the sheriff when Dan retires, Annie thought. He was so quiet that Annie forgot he was even there most of the time.

  No one else had popped in, either. Apparently the work outside was so all-consuming that no one cared what Annie was finding, or attempting to find, in Hilda’s office. Annie was grateful that Marcus had at least been able to spend a few hours here. The mounds of paper that had littered the desk when they had first walked in were neatly organized in piles. She’d initially thought this would make her job of researching Hilda’s stable fairly straightforward.

  But it hadn’t been that easy. Annie considered herself a highly competent, knowledgeable horsewoman. But apparently her skills and training only went as far as the needs of her own environment on the Olympic Peninsula. Sure, she knew how to gentle horses, get them under saddle, and become willing, agreeable companions for their owners. She even knew how to rope and barrel race, thanks to ten years in the local 4-H while growing up.

  But the equestrian world that Hilda lived in was another country to Annie. She’d found the files on all eighteen horses that were stabled here, and learned, to her surprise, that Hilda owned five other horses who were boarded elsewhere and had been on the cusp of bidding on an “in utero” breed when she died.

  Good Lord, Annie thought. How many horses can one woman ride at once? It had become clear that Hilda was heavily into eventing competitions and participated in every category: dressage, cross-country, and show jumping. That explained, in part, the significant number of horses she kept at the ready. After all, horses who excelled in dressage and also happened to be champion jumpers were rare. But the sheer cost of housing, training, and transporting all these animals staggered Annie’s imagination. Which made Hilda’s reticence to pay her vendors on time either completely understandable or completely nuts, depending on the health of her bank account.

  Glancing up at Deputy Lindquist, who still seemed glued to his manual, Annie spent a furtive ten minutes looking for Hilda’s financial records in the desk drawers. She came up with zip. Either Marcus had transferred them to the briefcase found in his car or, more likely, they’d been tagged by the Sheriff’s Office as soon as Judge Casper signed a search warrant for the premises. Either way, Annie thought, they now were part of the inventory accumulating in Hilda’s murder case.

  Still, what remained made fascinating reading. It was a glimpse into Hilda’s life that Annie had never known about and probably never would have if Hilda hadn’t, as old-timers liked to say, “bought the farm.” Annie wasn’t sure she’d ever want to share in that life. But it didn’t stop her from eagerly poring through Hilda’s files. After all, she’d been given the job of determining where these beautiful, finely tuned equine athletes would go from here. She needed to know all she could about Hilda’s “children.”

  She was so engrossed in the file on “Knight in Armor,” a 17.2-hand Danish Warmblood with “big bold gaits and tremendous suspension” that she didn’t even hear the soft knock on the inside door. Deputy Lindquist leapt to his feet, sprinted to the other side of the room, and slipped outside, closing the door behind him before Annie could barely register the fact that he was gone. She heard the remnants of a low conversation, then the squawk of a radio. A few moments later, Deputy Lindquist stepped back inside the room.

  “Ms. Carson? Adolpho Todos is here and wondered if he could be of any assistance.”

  Annie rolled her eyes, then nodded at the deputy.

  “Might as well. He’s got to know what’s going on, sooner or later.”

  Deputy Lindquist let Todos in, who, to her astonishment, removed his cowboy hat and approached Hilda’s desk with a small smile.

  “Señora Carlson, it is nice of you to come out and help us today.”

  What the hell? Had Todos had a frontal lobotomy? He couldn’t even remember her name. Still, he was being way too polite. She understood his obsequious behavior around Marcus, but to have it extend to her? Well, at least it was easier to talk to someone who didn’t put on the silent, stoic cowhand act all the time.

  “My pleasure. Why don’t you sit down? How’s the search going?” Annie wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but felt she had to ask.

  Todos pulled up a chair and carefully sat down.

  “I am having enough trouble keeping the horses calm. All this noise
does not make for good digestion. If one of them colics, well, it will not be my fault.”

  Annie understood. Horses could colic, she often told new horse owners, if the moon was misaligned or you looked at them the wrong way. But the truth was that an equine’s small intestine ran as long as seventy feet, and it didn’t take much of a minor disturbance to upset its ability to function as required. All the strange activity and noise on the ranch today could easily provoke a colic attack in a sensitive horse.

  “But I don’t think they have found anything,” Todos continued. “Unless you count an old tractor, buried far, far below the ground.”

  “Well, that’s good news.” Annie’s relief was palpable.

  Todos looked up at her quizzically.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps? Don’t you want Señor Colbert to be found alive?”

  “If he is responsible for Señora Colbert’s death, then finding him buried would be a blessing.”

  “We like to think our justice system is capable of dealing with murderers in a more civilized way, Mr. Todos.” The voice came from the back of the room. To her surprise, Deputy Lindquist’s voice had taken on a distinctly law enforcement tone. Well, bully for him.

  Todos turned and gave the deputy an obsequious smile. “As you say.”

  Annie decided it was time to start the conversation over.

  “Señor Todos, you’ve worked here long enough to know these horses quite well.”

  Todos permitted himself a modest smile of assent.

  “How many of them arrived after you came on board?”

  “A few.”

  “A few. Well, do you know if any of the few could possibly be sold back to the original owners?”

  Todos looked at her as if she were a small child who had asked an idiotic question.

  “Is not possible, Señora.”