Hot Blooded Murder (11 page)

Bean stepped back. “I feel bad that you haven’t bled a little, Mr. Pritchard.”

Cade raised an arm. “No. No. That ain’t necessary, Bean. Friday. Three o’clock. I’ll deliver it.”

“Sir, I will look for you in Pirate’s Alley. Better be there with the cash. I wouldn’t mind making you bleed, you know. Maybe still should.”

“No! No! I’ll be there.”

Bean inhaled through his fleshy nostrils, met Cade’s eyes, then turned and strode from the room, his huge muscled legs chafing in the elegant gabardine slacks he wore.

Chapter Twelve

My concussion hadn’t subsided, but I’d managed to complete my reconnoiter of Marcie’s house. I got halfway down the verandah steps and saw a vehicle approaching.
Oh damn! Caught!
Sheriff’s car. No–deputy. The car stopped and Tuan got out. I felt relief it wasn’t MacWain. Still. Tuan was nothing like Teddy. He was The Law. Over-cheery, I hailed him.

Tuan swung from the car and flashed a big smile. “Contaminating a murder scene, Bryn?” he called. I flushed with guilt.

But we laughed, me thinking,
if you only knew.

Tuan approached and stopped at the base of the stairs. Standing on the second from the bottom step, I was eye-to-eye with him.

“You’ve got a pink forehead,” he said.

“Does it clash with my hair?”

“Yep. Looks like blood. How’d you get that, Bryn?”

“I stopped by last night to check a few things out, worried about the mares.” I paused to see if he’d whip out handcuffs and slap them on me, but he just held my eyes. “Someone knocked me out.” I touched the crown of my head. “Got a bump on my noggin. Teddy got here this morning and made me a coffee and I’m still a bit rocky but mending.”

Tuan stared at me, quite serious. “You don’t look so good. You are dead-white and pink and red. Maybe we better get you over to emergency.”

“Teddy already offered. It’s just a mild concussion. Had one before. No problem. In a minute, I’ll go home and get under some ice. But now that you’re here–”

“I dropped by to see how Teddy’s making out.”

“He’s in the barn right now, feeding.”

Tuan stepped aside to let me pass and we strolled, me lurching a bit, into the barn. The horses neighed as one.

“Smells like someone needs to clean these stalls,” he said. No one was volunteering. The air was fetid. “Let’s at least turn on these fans.” Tuan looked around and found a switch. He threw it and eight ceiling fans roared into action, churning up the thick humid air as if it were heavy cream, but regurgitating the odors of rotted straw, manure, and urine.

“Phew. Almost makes it worse,” I said. “Is Teddy going to clean the stalls?” I was holding onto a wall to stay upright.

“Doubt it,” shrugged Tuan, “it’s plenty he feeds.”

“Why not turn the horses outside then? It’s clean out there. The pastures have water to them. The mares need to graze.”

“We can do that?”

“Of course! Unless there’s some legal reason not to.”

“Not now. Simon’s been all over the place. Maybe when Teddy gets finished….”

“Why wait?” I plucked a halter from a stall front, unlatched a door, and slid it open. “You open the big gate for me, I’ll bring a horse.”

“You sure?”

“If I fall over you’re big enough to pick me up.”

The stalled horse eagerly stuck its head into the halter. I used the mare for support and followed Tuan down the barn aisle. She strolled alongside me, shoulder at my shoulder. I draped my arm over her withers. Her foal capered behind. I wavered over the gravel drive and turned left down a grass alley that led to a big main pasture at the rear. I had to pause and hang onto a fence rail for a moment. I stood there, breathed and let the world re-tilt to its correct axis. The mare waited patiently and the foal moved jauntily before me. Tuan was just ahead. Past the barn, the air smelled of sweet grasses. The alley had small turnout paddocks on each side, which jutted to the width of the property borderlines. The turnouts to my right were foreshortened to allow for the bite of land the Word of God Church cemetery took. One of them had been my pathway last night. At the end of the alley was a twenty-some acre pasture and this was the obvious place for Marcie to turn out her broodmares. I admired the planning that had gone into the design. These small turnouts would be great for yearlings and weanlings. I let go of the fence, leaned on the mare and resumed my blurry-eyed walk down the aisle.

Tuan held the end-gate wide open. I undid the halter and let the mare loose. She took off into the field and the foal raced after her whinnying. We smiled to see the baby caper.

“Tell you what,” I said. “Bet you all these mares will herd down here by themselves. We just have to keep this gate open and one of us stand by the entrance to shoo them around the corner,” I said.

Tuan looked skeptical.

“I know something about horses, Tuan.”

“Okay. If you say–” He was looking at my pink forehead. Probably thought I’d also suffered some brain damage.
More
brain damage.

“Leave the big gate open. That mare isn’t going anywhere. You get the stall doors. I’ll shoo them around the corner.”

I could stand with my arms outstretched for a few moments, I thought, before I got my head iced. Those poor horses in those awful stalls.

Back at the barn, as instructed, Tuan moved down the aisle, sliding doors open. Teddy was in the loft getting more hay.

I stationed myself outside the barn door. The mares stepped from their stalls, hesitant at first, but when a lead mare saw daylight and green grass, she broke into a trot and by the time the group exited, they were a thundering herd. I yelled things like Yee-haw and waved my arms. I was careful to keep my legs planted wide apart to prevent myself from falling over. Tuan watched me in alarm. The horses galloped past. One kick by an excited foal and my head could split like a honeydew melon. My flailing arms prevented that.

I yelled to Tuan. “Hurry! Get after them. Close that gate! And check their water trough. See if it’s full.” He jogged after the herd to the gate.

All the horses made it to the pasture. After a few frisky bucks, heads dropped, they settled into the serious business of eating.

Tuan’s sharply pressed khaki shirt was sweated through in a bib shape, but he was grinning as he trudged back to me. “Never realized horses could be so stimulating. And such good exercise.”

“Yep. When I had my breeding farm, I was rock-hard, and no health clubs either.” I turned into the hot dimness of the barn. Teddy was dragging the hose around filling water buckets. Couldn’t hurt. The horses would have to come back in sometime.

“I may have found the murder weapon last night, Tuan. I was only over here to check if the horses were okay. You know some of these mares are pregnant and they need watching?” I didn’t mention it was at two a.m.

Tuan nodded. He let out a little sigh over my behavior.

We went into the tack room, me informing him as we moved along, “It was so damn hot I came in here to turn on the air conditioning. While I was here, I thought I’d just
look
at Once’s championship horseshoes. I knew Marcie kept all of the shoes Once wore when he won his big championships. I opened this chest-type coffee table.” Now we stood in the room, beside the sofa. I flopped back down into it. I was developing a real fondness for its leathery embrace. Now its coolness was welcome. I lifted the lid to show Tuan inside. There lay two blue-ribboned incomplete sets of the champion horseshoes, three shoes in each and each still labeled: 1998 and 1999. The tag for 2000 lay crumpled on the floor of the chest.

“As you see, these sets have only three shoes. When I first opened this chest, the year-2000 set had a shoe missing. Now the entire 2000 set is gone. Tuan! They stole the shoes from me!”

Both Tuan and I were careful not to touch any of the shoe sets. He sat down beside me and leaned forward to stare into the chest. I was getting a little nervous. I’d been responsible for the disappearance of perhaps vital evidence. Worse, that evidence might have cleared the horse. With it gone, had I put Once in greater jeopardy?

I began to babble: “I compared the sets of shoes and deduced the missing shoe from the year-2000 set was a hind shoe. There was an anomaly on one of the hind shoes–a wear pattern different from the matching hind shoe. I took the two oddly worn shoes and stuck them in my back pocket. I wanted to show them to Arthur, get his opinion. Also to compare them with what the stallion currently has on his feet. No worries! I used latex gloves while handling all of the shoes. Of course I was going to come straight to you–you and Sheriff MacWain, and with Arthur’s help prove the horse is innocent.”

“I see.” Tuan was emotionless. The kindly, flirty thing we always did was missing now: I could be in serious trouble. Shamelessly I tried to get some sympathy.

“Then, wham, Tuan. Someone belted me on the head. Knocked me out. I came to with dawn’s early light. Freezing. Throbbing…” I raised an eyebrow; well two actually, never have been able to raise just one eyebrow. Waited. Tuan’s expression didn’t change. My stomach did a flip-flop and Second Brain said,
Oh-oh. Be very careful now, Brynny.

“Tuan. I just lay there and hurt for a bit then I felt my back pocket and it was ripped away–” I half stood and stuck out my fanny and showed him the ripped pocket. I did this completely un-flirtatiously. No little extra Pamela Anderson twist and bump to it. “Of course, the shoes were gone.” I failed to bring up I’d found a videotape and it was not missing but still gouging my abdomen.

“Well, Bryn, damn!”

I nodded, quiet with worry. But my eye caught the bronze statue of a trotting horse lying on the floor. Had it been used to whack me upside the head? Might have hair, my blood on it. I decided to go for more sympathy.

“See that statue on the floor there?”

Tuan nodded.

“Wonder if that was what they bludgeoned me with?”

Tuan nodded.
Bludgeon.
Good word, I thought. Sounds brutal. Tuan spoke. “Let’s not touch it, Bryn, okay? I’ll tell Simon Asprey about it. Let him check it out.” He gave me a hard look. Meek, I dropped my head.

Tuan put his hands on his knees and pushed himself upright. His shirtfront sweat-bib had dried out. “Sounds to me like you’ve discovered something, Bryn. We need to get this information back to the sheriff right now. The proof you found something important is yourself: that bloody bump on your head, your torn pocket. You’ll have to make a statement and describe what those missing shoes look like. As soon as you feel able, I’d also like you to get to the pound with Arthur and check the horse’s hind feet, see if the wear you mention is on him right now.”

I nodded, mute with relief. Tuan stared at me sternly. Then I said, “Maybe Arthur can pull the hind shoes on the stallion right now and the coroner can see if either of the shoes matches the impressions on Marcie’s body.”

“Good idea. I’ll have Teddy witness Arthur’s removal of the hind shoes. You better go get some rest. You won’t really be needed at the pound.”

I breathed in relief.

Dom came into the room. He had a satisfied, happy dog look. He wagged his tail at me.

I studied him. “Can we get a lead on that pooch? I have an idea.”

Tuan found a leather horse lead hanging on a wall of bridles. He went to Domino and petted him. Ran the lead around his neck and snapped it to itself.

“Skinny. But a very nice dog,” he said.

“This dog has been hiding out somewhere,” I said.

Tuan petted him. “Bryn. Problem. He’s got a lump on his head.”

“I’m not surprised. Our killer is certainly fond of striking creatures on the head, isn’t he?”

“So you seriously believe the stallion didn’t do it?”

“Yes! And now, aren’t you, too? I was always pretty sure it wasn’t him, now the shoes prove he didn’t do it.”
Gleep
. “Uh. The
missing
shoes. And Tuan–I think this dog was knocked out. Before last night. The killer did it to get him out of his way so he could harm Marcie. Maybe he thought the dog was dead. I wondered yesterday where the dog was. Then the dog woke up somewhere and came home. Finds disaster and nothing to eat. What I don’t get is, if the killer took the horseshoes from me, why not finish off the dog? Dom was barking. The killer had to have clobbered him again, right after he got me.”

“Maybe the killer just wanted the evidence and to get away,” said Tuan.

I studied the dog. “Tuan. Here’s my idea. If it doesn’t yield fruit, don’t tell MacWain, please. He’ll laugh himself silly and accuse me of being a weirdo psychic woo-woo. But, real quick before I pass out here again, can you take him for a walk? On a loose lead. Just amble along behind him, see where he goes?”

Tuan started out of the room. He paused on the threshold. “Just the fact that someone knocked you out probably means the murderer is a human, Bryn.”

I felt a little jolt. He was right. Sometimes it’s good to include officialdom in these proceedings. They could surprise you with their clever deductions.

“Of course that human could have somehow incited the horse to do the actual killing, I dunno. By whipping him or something.”
Oh no. Once is still not safe!
Tuan breezed on, “He must have been trying to find or to hide some sort of evidence and inconveniently there you were, possibly looking at the very evidence he wanted to remove.”

“Brilliant deduction, my good man.”

“Sure thing, Sherlock.”

We laughed. My damn head hurt. Little needles of pain now. Ice was needed. Lying down in a cool room wouldn’t hurt either.

Tuan lifted his hat, ran a hand through thick black hair, re-settled his hat on his head. “Could be prints.”

“Could be.” My head pounded. “When you get back could you run me over to my car? I parked by the Word of God Church.”