X's and O's (Will Kilpatrick, DVM Mystery Series Book 1)

by A. Carlock Maxwell DVM

  "They never found the body. He marched off one morning, never came back. Law thought I did it. Our place was a regular stop on their rounds, we fought so much." She stopped to give him an admonishing glare. "And don't be judging me for sinning different than you. I had to be mean to protect Barbara. And myself. Beat him with a ball bat couple times. Mainly after he passed out after thumping on us. Made him smarter for a day or two. Then he was back at it. Just like that calf. Had to have his drink." She cocked her head and peered at him through squinted eyes. "What about you? You think I did it?"

  Wow. "No, ma'am."

  "You're just being polite." She rolled her lips inward. "You'd have no way of knowing."

  His head tilted while various theories ran through his mind. "If he's dead, why do you say he's coming home?"

  "The dead have their way." She pointed a finger at him. "Have faith."

  Her openness enticed him to continue, even if was fantasy. He squinted against the brightness of the sun. Yellow swallowtails danced by. "Did he say where he was going when he left?"

  "No. Never did. He drank almost anywhere. But no one claimed to see him that night. And it wasn't hard to know if he was around." She squared her shoulders and wagged a finger. "But he'll be back. It'll surprise everybody."

  Will's confusion grew deeper. He feared it would be mockery to continue asking questions. One more, then he would stop. "What about my uncle? That's where we started."

  Her chin jutted forward. Strict eyebrows squished close. "He's dead. Drove like a idjit. Hit a deer. Wouldn't count on him coming back." She hugged herself with thin arms. "Is Molly going to make it?"

  "We'll soon see." The last of the dark solution raced down the tube. Will removed the needle, released Molly's restraint. She shook her head, emitted a low moo and scrambled to her feet within two minutes. He grabbed her tail to steady her. She allowed the calf to nurse for several minutes before taking a few wobbly steps. "I'd like you to keep a close watch on her the next three days. Keep them-"

  "Separated. Let the calf nurse two or three times a day. For three days. So Molly doesn't relapse." She smiled and turned her head as if looking for approval. "I know the drill. Remember, Dr. Bill treated her in the late fifties. On his way to grade school. I remember exactly what he told me." She shooed him with her hands. "You go on if you need to. I can ease her up to the barn. Until you're better paid, thanks. Have Effie send me a bill."

  Asking more questions seemed useless in light of her intergalactic memory jumps. Maybe he could discuss it with PJ tonight. It wouldn't be the easiest conversation to initiate.

  After cleansing the tube, he got in the truck. While backing up, a flash at PJ's house caught his eye. Had it been the sun on the glass door? Or had somebody been watching him? Once turned around, he looked again.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 14

  The signage for the Spivey farm would impress the Pharaohs. A statue of his champion bull stood slightly larger than the picture of a smiling Otis holding a handful of blue ribbons from the National Livestock Exposition.

  Guilt turned the steering wheel and Will drove down a long, maple-lined entrance. Seeing a workman, he introduced himself and asked where Mr. Spivey could be found. He parked, then began walking towards a barn some distance away. He started to yell, but Otis's behavior stopped him. Otis squatted as if a quarterback behind center, using a box of vanilla wafers for the football. After a fake handoff, he began running toward the barn, twisting, darting, feinting, stiff-arming, mimicking the legendary run winning the high school championship game and now being used as an ad in his gubernatorial primary campaign.

  Upon reaching the barn, Otis leaned against it and popped several wafers into his mouth. Then he took off his shirt, felt his biceps, and entered the barn. As Will drew near, the roar of a John Deere tractor rattled the air. He saw Otis light a cigar the size of a hatchet handle, turn his cap backwards, pop the clutch, and began singing Rocky Top.

  The tractor lunged forward, eager to gallop. Within seconds, the front tires lifted and the rear tires began spinning, throwing dirt upward as it struggled to maintain momentum.

  The roll bar took most of the weight, sparing Otis all but a piece of tin and rafter conking him on the head before pitching him to the ground. The length of cigar not shoved into his mouth bent sideways, fractured. Breath burst from him.

  Belching a dying gasp, the engine stalled. Dust began layering in the shafts of ominously quiet light.

  He raced in. "Are you all right, Mr. Spivey?"

  Otis rubbed his left eye. If the size of the knot proved an indicator, he would have a shiner resembling an 8-ball. His arms and shoulders displayed scrapes and abrasions. A heavy rash covered his upper back."Feels like the whole Auburn defense hit me. How does a barn fall in like that?" Otis limped to the back of the tractor and pointed. A log chain ran from the trailer hitch to one of the wooden uprights. "Who would do something like that?" He faced Will. "Maybe those animal rights folks. They left a sign here last week saying the barn wasn't fit for animal habitation."

  Will grunted. "They claim they killed my uncle too."

  "Very well could be. Though I always thought yogurt and tofu eaters were peaceful. Lack of animal protein tends to exert a calming influence on people." He inspected the upright. "Look at this. Looks like it's been cut part way with a chainsaw."

  Will pointed. "That looks like a note taped to the pole."

  Otis snatched it and read the words cut and pasted from a magazine.

  THIS IS ONLY CHILD'S PLAY.

  ADULT GAMES LATER!!

  EPIPHANY

  Face drawn into a perplexed frown, Otis looked at Will. "Epiphany. Who would name their kid Epiphany? Has to be liberals from Memphis." He kicked the post.

  "You think your political enemies would do that?" A flash of movement caught Will's peripheral vision. A wasp was about to land on Otis's neck. Will took a few steps back, checking the vicinity for others. "There's a wasp on your neck. I hear more. You need to move."

  Otis brushed at it and continued staring at the note. The lackadaisical response was an immediate reminder of the wages of distraction.

  His hand came back with a wren-sized red wasp affixed. Its body and legs pulsated as it jackhammered its stinger an inch into the soft flesh, genetically programmed to leave its dose of toxin close to the bone. He stared at the belligerent insect, the extremity of the situation not registering immediately. Twenty of its relatives simultaneously attacked the buffet of Otis's bare upper torso. In his belated haste to back up, he tripped over the chain, sprawled onto his back.

  Will had the perfect vantage point to witness the astonishing teamwork hard-wired into wasps. With the eerie precision of a squadron of Messerschmitt's, they converged in a warlike cloud above his head. Their decibel level was amazing, their throb like an electric transformer about to detonate.

  Like a live edition of The Discovery Channel, they circled. They aimed. They dived toward his wide belly.

  Their reflexes proved nimbler than Otis's. Highly maneuverable and without a rigid flight plan, they easily bypassed his rudimentary defense system consisting of hollering and waving his arms and scooting on his bottom like a turbo charged crawdad.

  He swatted his face in an effort to dislodge them. He couldn't sit up. Will raced in and lent him a hand. Once up, Otis ran and stumbled, stumbled and ran while swatting at the trailing alpha wasps. All the way to the house, where he dove into the pool.

  He climbed out fifteen minutes later. "That was like acupuncture with lawn darts. Thanks for helping me up in there. Hope you didn't get bit."

  "Just two. Not like you."

  "If you don't mind waiting a few minutes, I may need a witness. I'm calling Leddy to come out."

  "I can wait."

  Otis returned with a handful of Benadryl capsules which he swallowed with a Coors, alternately taking a swallow and holding the can to the swollen, red splotches highlighting his torso. He opened and slammed cabinet doors
on the porch. Armed with four cans of wasp and hornet killer, they tromped to the barn. He stopped by the Mercedes, reached in and grabbed a fresh shirt. "What brought you here?"

  "Just wanted to apologize for yesterday. It wasn't intentional. And I'll be glad to pay for your laundry."

  A meager smile slithered across Spivey's thin lips. He winced as he spoke. "An honest mistake, is that it?"

  "I said it wasn't intentional." Will remained alert to Spivey's menacing body language. "I did need to get to my call. You either believe it or you don't."

  "I was still talking to you when you spun out, sport."

  Will chewed the inside of his lower lip while holding Spivey's gaze. "I'm for clear communication, so how about this? Next time I tell you I haven't got time to talk, take that to mean...I haven't got time to talk."

  Spivey stared at Will, eyes flat when he finally laughed, a rough cackle. Will smiled back. Would Spivey would hit him or talk? Or both? In what order? "Heard you met with Kincaid. Have you decided when you're going to sell me the property?"

  "I can't sell it." How did Spivey know his movements? The man's piercing eyes caused his to wander and he found himself inventorying the contents of the Mercedes' back seat. The Sporting News, syringes, large animal antibiotics, Baby Ruth wrappers, golfing paraphernalia, and a handheld spotlight. "In fact, it won't be mine unless I stay here three years. So I guess it's off the market."

  "Things change." The words had a gritty texture. Copperhead eyes locked on Will. "What happens if you don't stay? Or something happens to you? Does Miss Effie get it? Or maybe his fiancée? Can't figure what he saw in her. In high school, she was everybody's ex."

  Will shrugged, keeping his offense to the comment contained. Though he didn't know Barbara, she had to be special for Uncle Bill to give up bachelorhood. "I don't see that it's your business. But while we're talking, what can you tell me about the accident? I hear you were one of the first to arrive."

  "Not much to say." Otis opened his hands. "I was behind him a ways. Saw him swerve to miss a deer. Skidded in a full circle. Hit the deer. Then he was over the edge. I stopped, saw it looked bad. Went up the road to get phone reception. Called for an ambulance and the sheriff."

  "That's it?"

  Spivey's head tilted. Eyes narrowed beneath heavy brows. "You were expecting more?"

  "Why didn't you go down to check on him?"

  "That's a tough hill to get down. Figured I could get real help quicker than I could go down and back up." He tapped his leg. "Especially with my knee like it is. Didn't matter in the end. Dr. Dudley's nurse came along and scrambled down. He was already gone." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Wouldn't mind getting CPR from her."

  Hard to believe Spivey was a leading gubernatorial candidate. "You didn't see any strange light? Somebody mentioned that."

  "Probably when he did the 360." Otis gently rubbed his jaw. "You buying into all the rumors? I saw him hit the deer. Blood and guts all over the car."

  "Just curious." Will decided not to mention the argument with Uncle Bill again. No use alerting him of his personal investigation. "Heard that one of your cousins died Monday evening. Ted Hensley. Sorry to hear about it."

  Spivey's eyes flickered. His appraising glance appeared to be prompting him to say something, but he only nodded his thanks. The sound of gravel pinging off a car turned their heads.

  "Here's Wild Bill Hickok. If you have questions about Dr. Bill, ask him about it."

  It took Sheriff Ledbetter two attempts to rock out of the seat of the Crown Victoria. Otis introduced them. Dark eyes squeezed into potpie sockets squinted at Otis's appearance. His low whistle sounded like a kazoo with a defective reed.

  "What happened to your face, O? Have a reaction to that TV makeup?"

  "Don't start with the comments."

  "Sounds like you're suffocating." Ledbetter's porcine jowls wobbled when he shook his head. He shared a smile with Will. "Are you okay?"

  "I am not okay. Genetically engineered wasps invaded my barn. Let's go."

  Leddy raised his hands in defense and took a step back. "Did you spray them?"

  "Look, Kojak. I sprayed them. I stomped them. I set several on fire." His voice leveled off to a shout as he leaned forward. "Now get in here and look around. Dr. Kilpatrick witnessed the whole thing if you need to take his statement."

  Leddy's stubby fingers slinked through his thin comb-over. "I think I'll take a look around." After squatting for a brief inspection, he rose, tugged up his pants, and nodded. "Yep, I'd say it was intentional."

  "Nothing gets by you, Leddy. Are you going to dust it for prints?"

  "Good idea." Leddy reached to unloose it from the hitch.

  Otis slapped his arm. "Durn it, Leddy, put on gloves. This is a crime scene. Somebody booby-trapped my barn. I could have been killed."

  "Right." Leddy walked to the cruiser, returned with a plastic sack and rubber gloves. After collecting the chain, he examined the post again before taking several pictures.

  "Looks like it was cut by a Stihl 2300, 1980 model."

  Otis cut his eyes at Leddy. Will was surprised by his knowledge of power tools. "Really?"

  Leddy pointed his thumb and index finger at Otis like a gun, pretended to fire, then blow smoke from the barrel. "Kaboom. Gotcha back. There's no way of telling what kind of chain saw was used. Might have been yours. I'll have it checked for prints."

  "What if you don't find any?"

  "Yours should be on it. If somebody else used it, they probably wiped it clean. Even yours won't be on it then."

  "Meaning."

  "Someone smart enough to wipe it clean is involved."

  "Unless they wore gloves. Then mine would be on it."

  Leddy hitched his pants up. "Then maybe I'll arrest you for trying to scam your insurance company."

  Otis looked at Will, shaking his head. "Get serious. Who could do something like this?"

  "Politics is my guess."

  Squawking over the patrol car's intercom interrupted their conversation. It sounded like an excited Skeets.

  "Sheriff Ledbetter, get to your house right away. Your shed is on fire."

  His thick shoulders sagged. "On the way. Call the fire guys."

  "They headed out, but somehow they ended up with three flats."

  Leddy looked at Will. "Stop by the office. Someone there can take your statement."

  "Will do. Quick question. Is my uncle's case still closed?"

  The sheriff's eyes connected with Spivey's for a beat. "That's right. No evidence that points anywheres else. Hit a deer. I know it's hard, but at least that's better than that PETTA group doing what all they claim to have done. Sorry, but I've got to roll."

  Blue lights flashing, gravel flying, he sped down the drive.

  Spivey glanced at Will. "Makes you feel very secure, doesn't it?"

  Will laughed. How could Mrs. Johnson have known about this? She had spoken in past tense. Had she heard real voices? Probably, but whether they were real was debatable. Had she done it? It didn't seem probable. Or was she psychic?

  "Since you're here, why don't you take a look at Nugget. Best bull in the south."

  Will checked his watch. Why not?

  "I'll get the four-wheeler."

  Otis started the engine, stood, and fully opened the throttle. It shot ahead but the steering seemed frozen. A support post stopped the machine. Momentum launched him over the handlebars, but his forward motion ended in less than two feet when he head-butted the rear of a hay baler. He worked his tongue around, spit blood, brought a hand to his mouth, withdrew a chunk of tooth. He cursed. "Supposed to be campaigning soon. Looking like a chipmunk will be a big help."

  Will extended a hand and helped him up. He could feel the power in Otis's body. "Why don't we look at the bull another day, Mr. Spivey?"

  "Good idea. Way things are going, I could get killed in front of you. I need to call Leddy back out here. When I catch who did this, I'll ruin her."

  Wil
l stiffened. "Her? You think a woman did this?"

  "Did I say her?" He shook his head as if evicting confusion. "I meant whomever. Well, I better run by the dentist's. On the way to the doctor."

  "I have things to tend to myself."

  "And being the clear communicator you are, I'm taking that to mean...you have things to tend to." Spivey drew erect, allowed Will a glance of his ripped stature straining against tanned skin. He had more bulges than a cellulite commercial. "So do I. So do I. I have a feeling we'll talk again."

  Spivey walked towards the house slower than someone going to the chiropractor.

  Chapter 15

  From the way Miss Effie bounced on the balls of her feet, she might have mainlined a kilo of caffeine. "Did you listen to the news while you were out?"

  He yawned, rubbing gritty eyes as he moved past her, stretching his neck and shoulders. Sleep hadn't completely displaced yesterday's tension. Entering her jittery presence revived it. "Don't need to. I've got you."

  Her acetylene glare could etch metal. "Remember PJ? I'll bring her in every day if I need to. You're so gentle with her." She fanned her face and pretended she might swoon.

  He strived to sound mature, professional. "Gretchen's owner?"

  "Somebody shot into her house last night." Crossed arms formed a bony knot on her chest, demanding an explanation.

  "Is she all right?"

  "I think so." She hesitated before continuing. "I wonder if somebody's wife got mad?"

  Miss Effie collected information like miser's collected currency. The difficulty was distinguishing the authentic from the bogus. "That's not very nice."

  She jerked her head toward the exam room, handed him a record file. "You've got one waiting already." She launched a knowing look toward him. "And surely your momma taught you that pretty doesn't always mean nice."

  "Let me know if you hear anything else." He opened the door to his office, wondering if he would hear from PJ, not knowing why he should. He called her, got her answering machine. He left a brief message, asking if they were still meeting for supper.