You Can Lead a Horse to Murder

by Tara Meyers

  “That would have been important for a twenty-thousand-dollar-a-date stud horse,” Ember mumbled.

  Slipping the papers into her leather bag, she then stood and looked down at the chaos she’d created. It was close to seven, and she hadn’t had dinner yet. Turning off the light and calling to Daenerys, Ember made the decision to leave the filing to Mel. She also decided to make two phone calls in the morning. One would be to the previous office worker, Marissa Thomas. She’d left an open invitation to Ember for afternoon tea, and she had a feeling the older woman might be the best way to get some answers. Her other call would be to the lab.

  “I’ve been going about this whole thing the wrong way,” Ember explained to Daenerys as they made their way to the front door, turning off lights as they went. “I think Butterscotch was framed, and I’ll bet you a tox screen will show that there was morphine in his bloodstream.”

  Ember was hoping the lab would be able to add the other test onto the already existing order. She didn’t see why not. The blood she sent should still be there, refrigerated.

  “Dang it!” Stopping at the front counter to get her keys, she pounded a fist on the surface in frustration. Ember was worried that Bonnie may have been right after all. At least to the extent that she didn’t do her job very well. She should have thought to check for drugs before. It was a quick test and may have been done by Friday night.

  “Come on,” she called, leading the way outside.

  The evening air was just starting to cool off, and the shadows were gathering. Ember strode to her truck with a new determination. She was more certain than ever that there was a killer in Sanctuary, and she was going to figure out who it was!

  FIFTEEN

  The historic farmhouse was like a scene ripped from a book. A long gravel driveway was lined with white elm trees and led to a classic two-story, gabled house. Ducks ran across the parking area toward a picturesque pond, complete with a small dock and rowboat. There were several acres of cleared land and grass, which stood in contrast to the surrounding woods and steep mountains.

  A teenage boy was in the distance on a riding lawnmower, likely a neighbor. Ember would have to get his name before she left. She’d need some help maintaining her own property, and it turned out that Marissa lived right down the road from her.

  When she’d called Marissa Thomas that morning, she didn’t think the woman was going to honor her original invitation. Granted, it had been several weeks since they’d spoken and it was perhaps extended as a courtesy, but Ember didn’t care. She honestly wasn’t concerned if she came across as pushy or socially inept. She needed some answers, and Marissa seemed like a good place to start. After an obvious pause, Marissa said Ember would be welcome to swing by after lunch for tea.

  Ember called the lab first thing that morning and confirmed they could add on the toxicology test, then she and Mel finished getting the rest of the furniture unboxed. A twinge of guilt tugged at her as she thought about the state she left the younger woman in a few minutes ago, but she didn’t plan on being gone for long. Anyway, Daenerys would keep her company.

  Her confidence ebbed as she got out of the truck, and Ember gave herself a small pep talk on the way up the broad steps. She’s the only one that might know the truth about that horse.

  After reaching out to bang the ornate brass knocker, she stuck her hands in her pockets. She isn’t going to bite.

  The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a short, rather plump woman in her late sixties. Her grey hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her thin lips drawn into a line that resembled a grimace. She didn’t appear to have fangs, but the rest of Ember’s poise dissipated.

  “I’m, um …” she stumbled over her words. “I’m Doctor Ember Burns.”

  When Marissa failed to extend a welcome, she tried again. “We spoke on the phone this morning. Do I have the wrong house?” They had never actually met in person, and Ember began to wonder if maybe it really was the wrong house.

  “Dr. Burns. It’s nice to finally meet. You’ve got the right place. I’m Marissa Thomas. The tea is ready if you’d like to come inside.”

  Ember was having a hard time reading her. While what she said was pleasant enough, how she said it wasn’t very inviting. But the older woman took a step back and gestured for her to enter.

  Smiling, she stepped past her and discovered the house to be just as conflicted as its owner. While the rough-hewn wooden floors and open beam ceilings were everything country, the décor was in direct juxtaposition. The furniture in the sitting room Marissa led her to was all sharp angles and white, grey, and cream colors, versus the wood, leather, and warmer colors you’d expect. An ornate oriental rug covered most of the floor, and a very modernistic metal chandelier hung in the middle of it all. The one contrast was an antique wood gun cabinet tucked into a corner, filled with expensive-looking hunting rifles.

  “It was my late husband’s,” Marissa explained. “I don’t hunt and never enjoyed shooting, but there are some things that you simply must let be.”

  When Ember turned back, she found Marissa staring intently at her and had the distinct feeling she wasn’t just talking about the cabinet.

  Simply nodding in agreement, Ember sat down on a very Victorian chair in the central sitting area. There was a nice tea set already put out on the coffee table. Marissa must have seen her coming up the driveway.

  “How are you settling in?” Marissa asked, sitting down opposite her. “Are you finding everything okay?”

  “Mel and I have made some progress,” Ember replied. She noticed a nice light lilac scent and then spotted some fresh-cut branches in a vase. Her mother had a giant purple-flowered lilac tree in the backyard. The scent was synonymous to summer, growing up. She’d have to remember to check and see if it was still blooming.

  “Doctor?” Marissa repeated. “I asked when you’re opening.”

  “Oh! Sorry, the official day is next Monday. Though, I’ve already had a couple of clients.”

  “So I’ve heard.” The contempt in her voice was clear. “Do tell me, Dr. Burns, what it is that brings you out here today? Because I doubt it’s to discuss furniture and drink tea.”

  Ember cleared her throat. She realized she hadn’t even poured a cup of the tea. Smooth, Burns, she thought while reaching for the kettle. That’s why I’m a veterinarian and not a cop. “Please, call me Ember.”

  “I’m from a more formal era, Doctor Burns,” Marissa stated. Taking the pot from her, she also poured a steaming cup and then settled into the high-backed chair.

  Ember decided getting straight to the point would be her best move. “I came across some papers that I hoped you might be able to give me some insight on.”

  Eyes narrowing, Marissa took a small, slow sip before answering. “And what papers might those be?”

  Shifting uncomfortably, Ember reached for a cookie set out on a plate alongside the tea. “The necropsy report for Black Shadow.”

  Pausing with the teacup poised just below her lips, Marissa made no attempt to hide her disdain. Eyes widening, her nostrils flared. “What right do you have to be digging around in Dr. Chambers’s records?”

  Trying not to feel overly deflated by the response, Ember struggled to find the right words. “The doctor left everything there for me to help make the transition easier. While I’m not technically taking over his practice, he expects most of his patients will transfer to me.”

  “I know that,” Marissa spat. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re snooping in that file! The man is retired. He paid his penance. He doesn’t need his name dragged around in the mud anymore.”

  Realizing the older woman was reacting out of loyalty to her friend rather than simply being spiteful, Ember relaxed a little. That she could work with. “I have no intention of dragging anyone’s name around,” she said with sincerity. “I was called out to Ellsworth Stables a couple of nights ago, and the encounter led to me wanting to find out some more information about what happened with Bl
ack Shadow.”

  “Unless that was the horse you got called out there for, then you still don’t have a legitimate reason to be looking into it.”

  Ember tried not to squirm under the woman’s judgmental stare. “You know privacy laws don’t extend to animals.”

  “I didn’t say it was illegal. We’re talking about ethics here, Dr. Burns.”

  “Ethics?” Ember exploded with more venom than she intended, causing Marissa to flinch. “A man is dead, Mrs. Thomas. I don’t give a crap if you think it unethical for me to look into the file of a dead horse!”

  “Wait a minute.” Marissa put a hand out in a “stop” gesture. “You’re talking about Tom Clark. What on earth does that man’s death have to do with Black Shadow?”

  With the question laid out, Ember came to the realization that she didn’t know how to answer. That’s why she was there. Maybe simply stating the facts would be the best approach. “Did you know that Tom was working there? At the Ellsworth Stables.”

  “Tom working for Morton? No way. That would never happen.”

  “He was hired as his new lead ranch hand and farrier in January sometime and was paid very well, according to Sandy Ellsworth.”

  Marissa was speechless for a moment. Gathering herself, she took several sips of tea before answering. “Tom never had a good thing to say about Mr. Ellsworth. I hadn’t seen him since the practice closed. And I don’t have any horses anymore, so I’ve had no reason to speak with him. I know people change and he was hard-up for cash, but it’s still hard to believe.”

  “Well, something changed right around the same time Black Shadow died,” Ember urged. “And he was being paid enough to afford a new car and build a garage.”

  “What are you implying?” Marissa demanded, her demeanor solidifying again.

  Ember felt like she was playing a game of cat-and-mouse. And the mouse had just dodged back out of reach again.

  “What was blacked out on the necropsy report?”

  Marissa paled. “You found the original?”

  “Yes.” Ember continued without preamble. “And the fertility section had been filled out. Differently, I’m sure, then what was on the final, official document.”

  “That senile old fool,” Marissa muttered, gathering all of the china back onto the tray. “What it said is of no consequence to you and has nothing to do with what you think Tom got himself involved in.” Turning with the tray toward the front hall, it was a clear dismissal.

  “I would imagine,” Ember pushed, “that if the insurance company found out the prized stallion was … say, infertile, it would be hesitant to pay out the policy.”

  Shoulders sagging, Marissa stopped but didn’t turn back around. “Let this go, Dr. Burns. Bernie was diagnosed with early dementia last year and should have retired long before the accident happened. Certain … agreements were made to keep any potential lawsuits from escalating. The outcome worked out best for all involved. You can see your way out.”

  Watching the woman walk slowly from the room, Ember was left with more questions than when she’d gotten there.

  SIXTEEN

  “The first thing we should do is set up a Facebook page for the clinic,” Mel declared. “I’m working on the logo, and tomorrow I’ll go to the sign shop to see what they can have made up for you. And you do realize that I’m totally going all geek on you with the decorations in this room, right? I’m talking a R2-D2 garbage can and Phaser drawer knobs.”

  Ember and Mel were sitting in the new break room. Mel explained that morning that it used to be Marissa’s office, and she refused to take it over as her own. Bad juju, or something. Instead, she settled for a smaller room that was an old furniture graveyard. After clearing it out, they’d been amazed at how much usable space there was. It even had a window.

  “Ember, are you listening? Hello! Earth to Ember!”

  “Sorry,” Ember laughed. “I’m still mulling over my disastrous encounter with Mrs. Thomas.”

  “Pffft.” Mel pursed her lips. “That old cow doesn’t like anyone. She’s never said more than two words to me at a time. I warned you.”

  “Yeah, but when you said ‘not very friendly,’ I don’t think you did her justice.”

  “At least you learned that Doc Bernie has dementia,” Mel said, her voice softening. “That explains a lot. I knew he wasn’t acting the same, but he never confided in me. For whatever reason, Marissa was good friends with him and his wife.”

  “I’m sure she isn’t all that bad,” Ember countered. “I think she’s trying to protect her old friend. She essentially confirmed the stallion was sterile, without actually saying it.”

  “So, you have no proof,” Mel pointed out. “That blacked-out paper is worthless. Even so,” she continued, crossing her arms, “I might have to agree with Marissa on this one.”

  Ember studied Mel, raising her eyebrows in curiosity.

  “Let’s say Black Shadow was sterile, and Doc Bernie’s mistake ended up saving Ellsworth money in the long run because of the insurance plan.” Mel sat up a little straighter on the loveseat, the only original piece of furniture left in the breakroom. Leaning toward Ember, she ticked off the points on her fingers. “Omitting that finding from the necropsy report prevented the Doc from getting sued. Revealing that now would only get Doctor Bernie in trouble for fraud and open the doorway for Ellsworth to then sue him, and I really don’t see how any of it has to do with Tom’s murder!”

  Before Ember could counter Mel’s very reasonable observations, her cell phone began to ring. Glancing at the caller ID, a small thrill coursed through her. It was the lab.

  “This is Dr. Burns.”

  “Dr. Burns. Gary over at Quick Quality Labs. I’ve just sent you an email, but I wanted to give you a call since it’s nearing the end of the day and I know you’re anxious to get the results.”

  “Thank you, Gary. I appreciate it. What’s the news?”

  “Mixed. The results for bacterial and viral agents is negative. However, the toxicology turned up a hit for opioids. Barely above trace amounts, but it could back up your suspicion for morphine.”

  “Right. Okay … Thanks for the call.”

  Slowly lowering the phone, Ember’s mind was spinning with the implications. As it all tumbled around, a random thought crashed through. Eyes widening, she looked up sharply at Mel. “What if,” she said evenly, “Morton Ellsworth knew his prize stallion was sterile?”

  ***

  “Ember, I sure hope you have some proof behind an accusation like that.” Sheriff Walker stood with his thick arms crossed over his chest. The scowl on his face was so deep that the confidence Ember felt moments earlier, as she walked in the front door of the station, quickly faded.

  “It’s not so much an accusation as a suggestion to a possibility.” Even as she said it, Ember knew it sounded lame.

  Glancing over at Sean, she wished that the doctor wasn’t there. She didn’t know why he was at the sheriff’s office, but she didn’t think to ask him to leave when she found him sitting and talking with Walker. He hadn’t called or texted her since their dinner Saturday night. Whether it was because he wasn’t interested or that he was waiting a customary amount of time, she wasn’t sure. Either way, it added to the awkwardness of the situation.

  For whatever reason, listing out her suspected chain of events to the sheriff didn’t come off sounding as convincing as it did when she said it to Mel. “I can go get you the necropsy report if you want to see it,” she offered.

  “I don’t need to see anything,” Walker quickly answered, waving one large hand in the air as if batting down her suggestion. “Morton Ellsworth is a prominent businessman in Sanctuary, as well as a friend. And he certainly didn’t conspire with Doctor Chambers to kill off his horse!”

  Ember flinched as the sheriff’s voice rose, and she suddenly felt a few inches tall. “But what about Tom?”

  “What about Tom? You think I don’t know he worked for Morton? I’ve already talked with hi
m about his employee, Ember. It’s what law enforcement does during an investigation.”

  “Ben,” Sean interjected. Standing, he made his way toward the office door as he spoke. “You can’t fault Ember for looking for answers. Those opioids got into Butterscotch’s bloodstream somehow, and while it’s likely a coincidence that he possibly suffered the same, although less significant, reaction that Black Shadow had, it might still bear consideration.”

  When Ben Walker turned his steely gaze on him, Sean lifted his hands in defense. “All I’m saying is that I can follow her reasoning. Look,” he continued, addressing Ember, “I’ve built a rapport with Vanessa Clark. If you like, I can ask her about the money. Find out how Tom was really planning on paying for that garage. Maybe there’s a simple explanation.”

  Relieved that someone was finally listening to her, Ember smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks, Sean. I appreciate it.”

  “Should I just go ahead and deputize both of you now?” Sheriff Walker barked. When neither of them responded, he ran a hand over his head and let out a moan. “Fine. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t talk to. But for what it’s worth, Ember, even if Black Shadow was sterile and Tom caught onto it somehow and used the information to get himself a nice-paying job, that’s hardly a motive for murder. But while it’s insufficient to explain his death, it would be enough to critically damage the reputation of Ellsworth Stables, so be careful who you say it to. You of all people should know what a rumor can do.”

  Blushing a deep crimson, Ember was aware of Sean waving a silent goodbye and then found herself alone with the sheriff. “That’s why I’m here, talking to you about it,” she stated. “I don’t plan on sharing it with anyone else, but I wanted you to at least have the information and the test results. But I should have waited for Sean to leave.”