Lead a Horse to Murder

by Cynthia Baxter

  Nick blinked. “Wow. I knew you felt strongly about this, but this is even more than I expected!”

  “I’m sorry.” I suddenly felt like one of the balloons Nick had brought over—right after all its air had been let out. “Of course I feel strongly about people’s senseless treatment of animals. But you also happen to have caught me at a very bad time. I’m not exactly in the best of moods right now.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, settling onto the couch beside me.

  I took a deep breath, looking down at the darling kitten in my lap and hoping her cuteness would help improve my mood. But even the miniature tiger gazing up at me with golden eyes the size of planets couldn’t manage that. “I just found Betty in bed with Winston Farnsworth.”

  Nick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Whoa! The distinguished guy in the bow tie who came to opening night? With the English accent?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Way to go, Betty!” he crowed.

  “Wrong!” I countered crossly. “This is not a good thing, Nick. In fact, it’s terrible!”

  “Explain,” he said, shaking his head in confusion.

  “You should see the way he’s treating her!” I cried. “Sneaking over to her house in the middle of the day for a clandestine rendezvous, bringing her big, showy bouquets of flowers, buying her expensive presents . . .”

  “I can see why you’re so freaked out,” Nick observed dryly. “Such horrible mistreatment would upset anyone.”

  “You’re missing the point!”

  “Which is?”

  “I don’t trust him, Nick! I know for a fact that he’s not who he says he is—”

  “ ‘For a fact?’ ” he repeated. “I don’t remember you saying anything about doing a background check on the guy. Or did I miss that while I was up to my ears in torts?”

  “I have a sixth sense about these things,” I replied archly.

  “No offense, but your track record isn’t exactly all that impressive,” Nick replied. “I could name a few people you were convinced were good guys who turned out to be bad guys. I could also name a few you thought were bad guys who were actually good guys.”

  “Winston Farnsworth is just plain shady,” I insisted. “That’s all there is to it.”

  “Do you know what I think?” Nick asked.

  I was glad he was finally going to make a comment of the constructive variety. “No. What?”

  “That you’re guilty of ageism.”

  “Me?” I sputtered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nick! I’m simply looking after Betty’s best interests. She’s one of my dearest friends—”

  “And she happens to have gone a bit beyond the sweet blush of youth,” Nick finished calmly. “Look, Jess, the fact is you can’t imagine a man—any man— being interested in Betty for who she is, can you? You see her as someone . . . someone old, instead of someone who’s exceptionally kind, sweet, and loving, not to mention a person who has a lifetime of experiences to share with someone who’s capable of appreciating her.”

  “That’s not true!” I protested. “It’s also completely unfair!”

  “Then there’s Winston,” Nick continued. “A perfectly lovely fellow, if you ask me. I couldn’t imagine anyone more gentlemanly. Yet you assume that because both he and Betty have a few years on you—okay, a few decades—that the only possible explanation for his interest in her has got to be something sinister.”

  “Nick, you’re missing the whole—”

  “Did it ever occur to you that Winston and Betty might simply like each other? That the two of them probably have a million things in common? They grew up at the same time, they lived through the same historic events, they probably enjoy listening to the same music . . . I bet there’s a long list of other interests and experiences they share that would instantly bond them together.”

  I opened my mouth to protest. Almost immediately, I snapped it shut, figuring there was no point in trying to explain. Of course I recognized what a gem Betty was! Of course I wasn’t surprised that a man who was her age would find it rewarding to be in her company!

  But we weren’t talking about just anybody. We were talking about Winston Farnsworth, who happened to have close ties to a dashing polo player who had recently been murdered. He also had a motive and, from what I’d heard, a bit of a past.

  My concerns are completely legitimate, I told myself firmly.

  Aren’t they?

  “Besides, we have much more relevant things to discuss,” Nick insisted. He gestured toward the kitten lying on her back in my lap, swatting at the button on my shirt with her tiny paws. “Like this little girl’s future.”

  That was an easy one. At least, in my opinion.

  But there were others I needed to consider. I glanced over at Cat, who was my first concern. I wondered how she would feel about adding another feline to the household. She’d wandered into the room as Nick and I discussed Betty’s questionable love life, leaving her favorite spot in the kitchen to check out what all the commotion was about. She hovered nearby, watching the kitten. She seemed more curious than anything else—a good sign, I figured.

  As for Max and Lou, they seemed to be taking the situation in stride, just as I would have expected. As my two sidekicks, regularly accompanying me on calls, they were both in the habit of encountering new animals all the time. They never seemed to feel threatened, and this situation was no exception. They were both too secure in the knowledge that the three of us were all part of the same pack, which created a bond that would never be broken.

  “So what about it, Jess?” Nick urged. “Can you find room for one more in your menagerie?”

  I nestled the darling little kitten against my cheek, marveling over how soft she was. I’d already picked out a name: Tinkerbell. “I think we can squeeze in someone this cute.”

  “In that case, how about two more?”

  I frowned, confused. I half expected Nick to pull another kitten out of his pocket.

  Instead, he said lightly, “You know, she’s not the only one who’s homeless.”

  It was then that I realized that Nick wasn’t referring to a four-legged creature. He was referring to himself.

  “Oh,” I said, the single syllable coming out sounding more like a squeak that an actual word. “You mean you.”

  “The dogs already like me,” he said, talking quickly. “Cat does, too. And Prometheus . . . well, ever since I taught him the pirate song, the two of us have been as thick as thieves, if you’ll pardon the expression. Besides, I’m self-cleaning, like a cat. I’m capable of refilling my own water bowl. I’ve never met anybody who’s allergic to me. I don’t bite or shed. And did I mention that I’m completely housebroken?

  “But I’m rambling, aren’t I? I do that when I’m nervous. I guess a lot of people do. But it’s because I really want us to live together, Jess. I love you, and I can’t help thinking that being forced to move out of my apartment is a sign. Especially since we’re both even busier than ever, with me back in school and all, and so living together is the perfect solution to the problem of finding time for each other as well as all the stuff we both have to do every day. So . . . what do you think?”

  As he looked at me expectantly, I could feel a wave of terror rising up inside me. My hands got clammy, my skin felt warm, and I could feel a strange vibration near my hip.

  It took me a few seconds to realize that the vibration wasn’t physiological. It was my cell phone.

  “Excuse me,” I told Nick. “I’d better get this.”

  This was one of the few times in my life I was actually glad I’d been interrupted by a cell phone. Placing Tinkerbell on the cushion beside me, I pressed the green button. “Dr. Popper.”

  “It’s me, Dr. Popper. Callie.”

  I hadn’t recognized the high-pitched, frightened-sounding voice as hers.

  “What’s wrong, Callie?”

  “You’ve got to come to Heatherfield,” she insisted. “I can’t�
�” Her voice broke off, and she made a terrible choking sound.

  “What is it?” I demanded. “What’s going on?”

  “Just come!” she insisted. “I’m here all alone . . . and whoever poisoned Eduardo has struck again!”

  Chapter 15

  “There is no secret closer than what passes between a man and his horse.”

  —R. S. Surtees

  Callie, quick,” I instructed the terrified girl at the other end of the line. “Tell me your symptoms.” “It’s not me,” she replied in the same panicked voice. “It’s Inez.”

  “Inez?” The idea that someone had targeted the MacKinnons’ housekeeper was horrifying. “Callie, call nine-one-one!”

  “She won’t let me! She refuses to go to a hospital because she doesn’t have any health insurance. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to be any trouble. In fact, you’re the only person she’d let me call. I’m here all alone, Dr. Popper. Please, you’ve got to come!”

  I had already leaped off the couch and was dashing around the cottage madly, trying to locate my car keys.

  “I’ll be there as fast as I can,” I told her. “Just stay calm!”

  “Another emergency?” Nick asked as I hung up. His expression was grave.

  “An emergency of the people variety,” I replied. “Callie thinks Inez, the MacKinnons’ housekeeper, has been poisoned! I hate to do this, but do you think you could hold down the fort while I—?”

  “Of course. Just go, Jess.” Scooping up the tiny kitten who was mewing in confusion, he added, “I’ll take care of the dogs and everybody else.”

  “It’s probably a good idea to keep Tinkerbell—that’s what I’m calling her—away from the other animals. If you could put her in the bedroom—”

  “We’ll be fine,” he assured me. “I promise.”

  “Thanks, Nick.” I paused long enough to cast him a look of gratitude. Even in the heat of the moment, I realized that simply knowing that he was there to support me, as solid as a rock, went a long way in keeping me from going over the edge. “I don’t think I could manage without you.”

  Flashing me a funny half-smile, he said, “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

  I took the VW to Heatherfield, figuring it would get me there faster than my van. I struggled to follow the advice I’d given Callie and remain calm. Still, I had to make a point of reminding myself that clenching my jaw so hard that my teeth hurt wasn’t going to help.

  I had to admit that I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. First, Eduardo Garcia had been poisoned, a tragedy that had preoccupied me for the past two weeks. Then, that very morning, I had rushed to Heatherfield to treat a horse that had ingested poison.

  Now, here I was only a few hours later, rushing to the aid of someone else at Heatherfield who looked like the victim of poisoning.

  Of course, there was one major difference—one that made my stomach tighten. In a way, I was responsible for this one.

  The third anonymous note. It had warned that there would be another victim. Of course, at the time, I’d assumed it referred to me.

  It had never occurred to me that my actions might be putting someone else in danger.

  Even if I’d considered that possibility, I thought as I careened along a particularly treacherous curve on Turkey Hollow Road, I never would have imagined that poor Inez would have been chosen as the next victim.

  And then suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the connection became ridiculously obvious.

  Of course! I thought. Someone must have overheard Inez telling me about the argument between Diana Chase and Eduardo right before his murder! Or perhaps that person already knew that the MacKinnons’ housekeeper had found out how angry Diana was . . . and figured that it was only a question of time before she broke her silence about the incriminating conversation that had occurred only days before he was poisoned.

  She was only trying to be helpful, I thought mournfully, lurching to a stop and hurrying up the path connecting the MacKinnons’ mansion with Inez’s cottage. And look what happened.

  As I hurried toward the tiny building nestled behind the MacKinnons’ grand mansion, I saw that the front door was ajar. I paused in the doorway, softly calling, “Callie? Inez? It’s me, Jessie Popper.”

  Then I saw Inez in the small living room, lying on her side on the sagging couch. Her head was nestled against a pillow and a blanket was draped over her. Callie sat perched on the edge of the chair next to her, her expression tense. She jumped up as soon as I came in.

  “Thanks so much for coming, Dr. Popper,” she said breathlessly. “Like I said on the phone, you seemed to be the only person Inez trusted enough to let me call. She doesn’t look too good. I brought in the pillow and blanket from her bedroom. I figured at the very least, I should do everything I could to help her get more comfortable.”

  “That was very smart, Callie,” I assured her. I only wished I felt as confident as I sounded. I was supposed to be in charge here. But as I surveyed the scene, I felt overwhelmed. Lying before me was a possible poisoning victim who refused to get medical treatment. And because I had no idea what she had ingested, it was impossible for me to know how to treat her myself.

  I crouched down next to the couch, my face close to Inez’s. “Inez, can you hear me? Are you able to talk?”

  “Dr. Popper,” she said weakly. “I theenk I will be fine. I just feel dizzy. Eet was probably nothing. Just something I ate, maybe.”

  “That’s what we’re afraid of,” I told her. “Callie thinks you were poisoned.”

  “No!” she protested. “Ees not possible!”

  “I’m afraid it’s very possible. Sooner or later, we’ll figure out what was used to poison Eduardo. Once that’s done, I’m hoping it will become much easier to identify his killer.” I hesitated. “Inez, I’m afraid that person might be trying to poison you with the same substance.”

  “I’m sure eet was nothing. A bad piece of fish, maybe. I’ll be fine. I just—” Her voice broke off, as if she were no longer capable of speaking.

  “Inez!” I cried, afraid I was losing her. If nothing else, I wanted her to remain conscious. “Tell me exactly what happened. What you ate, when you started feeling strange . . .”

  “Eet was earlier tonight, right after I ate dinner here in my cottage.” She spoke haltingly. “I—I started to feel dizzy. Then, the room started spinning around and I blacked out, just for a moment. I managed to get to the phone, and I called the house. Callie answered. She said she was all alone, but I asked if she would come.”

  “She looked really bad,” Callie interjected.

  “Bad, how?” I was still hoping that, somehow, I’d be able to figure out what Inez had ingested.

  “She was just lying on the couch, moaning. The first thing I thought of was calling for help, but she wouldn’t let me.” Callie studied Inez. “Shouldn’t we make her throw up or something? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when someone’s poisoned?”

  “It depends on what they ingested,” I told her. “In some cases, vomiting can make it worse.” I focused on Inez once again. “Inez, do you have any idea what you might have eaten? Was there anything unusual about what you had for dinner tonight? You mentioned that you had fish. Did it look strange or taste unusual?”

  “I don’t theenk so . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “It would have been so easy for somebody to sneak into her cottage and stick something bad in her food,” Callie volunteered. “They could have just walked in and put whatever they wanted into something that was already in the refrigerator. This place is hardly ever locked. Besides, it’s been warm and there’s no air-conditioning, so Inez has been keeping the windows open. It would be really easy to get in without Inez or anyone else knowing.”

  “It’s possible that it’s just food poisoning or the flu,” I said. But even I didn’t believe it. Not in the face of all the horrifying events of the past few weeks. “Inez, it’s really important that you get medical attention. Pleas
e, let me take you to the emergency room so you can see a doctor!”

  “But you are a doctor!” she insisted.

  “I’m an animal doctor,” I reminded her. “I’m not qualified to treat people!”

  “Please, eef I can just sleep . . .” All of a sudden, a look of alarm crossed her face. “I theenk I am going to be sick!” She threw off the blanket, jumped up, and dashed toward the bathroom.

  “Dr. Popper?” Callie asked nervously. “Is she okay?”

  “It might be the best thing,” I assured her. “At least this will help get the poison out of her system.”

  Still, I went over to the bathroom, hesitating outside the closed door. From inside, I could hear violent retching sounds, followed by coughing. I waited until I heard the toilet flush before knocking softly.

  “Inez? It’s Dr. Popper. Can I come in?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied in a weak voice.

  I opened the door slowly and found her kneeling on the floor, in front of the toilet. Her face, half hidden behind a towel, was red. Her dark eyes burned with fear.

  “Dr. Popper, please, do not call anyone,” she begged. “I am feeling better already. I just ate something bad, but I theenk now I will be okay.”

  “Please reconsider,” I pleaded. “We’re talking about your health. We could even be talking about your life!”

  “But ees so expensive at the hospital! Eef I can just rest—”

  “All right, Inez.” As frustrated as I was, I had to face the fact that I was never going to convince her that she should seek medical help. Besides, I was relieved to see that she really was starting to look better. The color was coming back into her face, and her eyes were beginning to lose their dull look.

  “You and Callie, you can both go now,” she continued. She stood up, holding onto the sink to steady herself. “I theenk I would like to sleep. I feel so much better now.”

  “I don’t feel right, leaving you alone,” I insisted.