Hot Blooded Murder (28 page)

I fumbled in my fanny pack, got my cell phone and speed dialed MacWain’s office. Doubted he’d be there himself this time of night. But someone would be on duty. I shone my light over Theo’s face. He had a bruise with broken skin on his jaw, one eye was swollen shut and blood trickled down his forehead. His eyes were shut.

“MacWain,” came the droll voice.

“Sheriff! You’re there! Thank heavens. Send an ambulance. Theo’s been beat up.”

“Where!”

“Right behind his barn. But on the neighbor-lady’s property. She’s here with me now. She found him. Can you get the ambulance here fast, he’s alive but unconscious.”

I heard him call, “Tuan! Get an ambulance over to the Goodall place, now!”

“You safe?” he asked me.

“Yes. I saw the assailant run away.”

“See you in a few minutes.”

I stowed the phone. Gently laid my hand on his arm. “Theo. Theo. It’s Bryn. Can you hear me?” He made no response. The tractor rumbled. Moths flew drunkenly into its headlights. The lady was speaking.

“I came out to check on my cows. Had two calves born today, and I heard that damn dog barking out here so I got on my tractor, drove out. Dog was going crazy.”

“Then what?” I looked at her. Rubber boots, old shirt, lined face.

“Headlights picked up what looked like a fight. All I could see was silhouettes in the light beams. Theo yelled once, t’other one silent. He whacked Theo with a big stick of some kind. Then he musta heard the tractor; anyway Theo was down by then, and t’other fella took off running.” The figure I had seen vaulting fences. “My bull was excited. He came trotting up to me snorting. I got over here fast, didn’t want him getting too close to Theo.”

“How’d you know it was Theo?”

“Oh, I know Theo. Marcie too. I’d know Theo’s voice anywheres.”

I heard a snort behind me. I jumped. The woman chuckled then went around behind me. Twigs snapped as she walked. I looked over my shoulder and was startled to see the woman with her arm around the bull’s neck. She scratched his face. The bull got quiet.

We stood amongst the curious, polite cows, waiting. The woman continued to pet her bull. Theo lay still. The minutes dragged on.
Would they ever get here? Was he dying too, like Marcie?
I couldn’t bear it. A breeze rustled tall weedy grasses and riffled the leaves of scraggly bushes all around us. I could smell grass, damp, cow flop and blood. The pasture was mostly scrubland in contrast to Marcie’s neat fields.

“He’s my buddy,” said the woman, half to the bull half to me. Then, thank God, there was the wail of an ambulance. Headlights splashed the night sky like Hollywood searchlights. Theo moaned.

I bent over him. “Theo?”

“Mmm.”

“Theo. Thank God you’re alive. Be still. The ambulance is here for you.”

His bulgy eyes opened, one a slit. Blood caked on his forehead. “Bryn?”

“Yep, it’s me.”

“Mare. “

“The mare? She foal?”

“Don’t know–can you–”

“Help her? No worries, Theo. I’ll check her soon’s we get you going to the hospital.”

“Dom?”

“He’s here, he’s fine.”

“Good.”

There was a rustling and the sheriff arrived carrying a huge flashlight. He was followed by the paramedics. They stabilized Theo’s neck and head, then swiftly carried him off.

I called after him, “I’ll come see you soon as I take care of the mare.” Things were quietening. I could hear the cows around me, dark shapes in the night, eating grass.

I thanked the neighbor lady.

She said, “Ever pet a bull?”

“No.”

“Want to?”

“Why not.” It might be the safest thing I’d done all week.

“Come here then,” and I got up and went over to her. She took my hand and guided it to the bull’s face. I stroked the hide. The bull’s big eyes looked up, met mine. Something about them reminded me of Lightning Strikes Once’s.

“Hey bull,” I said. I thanked the lady. Felt a little thrill. Olé. One more thing for my resume.

Then I slipped back under the fence, toward the barn, going to the mare. Sheriff MacWain trailed behind. I heard the neighbor lady say to him, “Ever pet a bull?”

I smiled, took another step and tripped. Caught myself, shone my flashlight down. The light showed a smooth stick. Too straight to be a branch. I moved the beam. A baseball bat. I crouched, followed the light to the bat’s wide end. Saw the metal glint before I recognized what I was seeing.

“
Sheriff!
“

“What?”

“I found the murder weapon.”

Chapter Thirty

The next morning I felt well enough to catch up on some of my work. Then as soon as the vet opened I ran over and got poor Lu. She had a row of stitches like a black zipper on her shoulder. She vibrated in joy to see me and I vibrated right back. The vet gave me antibiotics and pain pills. He suggested I give her a pain pill when I got her home and let her sleep as much as possible.

Now she was on her doggy bed in my bedroom, almost snoring from the pill. She’d be safe to leave for a while.

I petted the woozed-out pooch then I took off for Morgan Oaks. On the way I ran to Lila’s and bought a six-inch catfish po-boy, dressed. I wolfed it down as I drove. Concussions make me hungry, apparently. The loss of ten pounds could wait. Actually, now it was eight pounds. I’d checked myself on the scale first thing this morning. I was a loser! I ate as I drove. French bread crumbs flew everywhere. The catfish was tender, sweet, the tomatoes in mayo tasted fresh-picked. I swallowed the last bite. Then I licked my fingers as I drove.

I turned onto Word of God Church Road, and then left into Marcie’s drive. Ahead was a giant Hertz U-haul truck, backed up to the front of the house. I slammed on my brakes.
Whoa! What’s this?
The old Rolls was parked on the lawn next to it, and Theo stood there, a bandage on his head, neck stretched up to its utmost in order to be nose to nose with Filmore. They were engaged in a vigorous screaming match. Beyond them, acting oblivious, Tammi marched to and fro unloading boxes from the truck.

I stared. The damn Takeur’s moving in? How dare they! I dug out my cell. Speed-dialed MacWain. He answered in half a ring. “MacWain.” Again I was surprised to get him. Had he given up sleeping these days?

“Sheriff. Bryn. Did you know the Takeur’s are moving into Marcie Goodall’s farm?”

“Yes.” He sounded exhausted. “I’m on my way. Theo called me ten minutes ago. Where are you?”

“Here. Just drove up. I see Theo and that Filmore guy are yelling at each other. There’s a U-haul truck at the front door. The wife is carrying boxes into the house.”

“Well, dangit. That shouldn’t be.”

“Sheriff. Didn’t Simon tell you the Takeur’s bought the place one hour after Marcie gave it to Cade Prichard’s sister?”

“He said something about them moving ahead with their purchase. But I understood they couldn’t move in for thirty days, or until the estate can be settled.”

“That is not what’s going down.”

“Ah am on my way. Don’t you do a thing, hear?”

“Of course I won’t, Sheriff.”

I pressed Off, cutting short his derisive snort, and got out of my car. I didn’t ask about the forensics examination of the bat I’d found last night. Too soon. I strode along the fenceline. Dewed grass wet the hem of my jeans. Heat weighed me down. That and perhaps the lingering effects of the concussion. The vastly pregnant mare, sweating over her neck and shoulders, wandered over and walked alongside me. I’d checked her last night and while she was much closer to foaling, it wasn’t yet imminent.

“Hey girl, we’re getting to be friends, aren’t we?” I found another sliver of carrot in my fanny pack. I reached over the fence and the mare took it with her big soft lips.

The men’s yelling grew louder as I approached. Still, the former horse breeder in me couldn’t resist checking the mare again. Hollows had formed on each side of her spine, right above her tail. Her bag was distended and her teats had amber-colored waxy beads on their tips. Dropped and waxed up, a horseman would say. Big change from last night. Things speeding up, in every respect.

“Mare, you could foal anytime, eh?” The mare nodded. But it was probably just a request for more carrots, rather than understanding my comment. I smiled. Gave the mare a stroke.

With some reluctance, I approached the shouting men. “Good morning, gentlemen.” They stopped and turned to me. Both began talking at once. I interrupted by holding out my hand. “You must be Filmore Takeur. How do you do. Bryn Wiley.”

He stopped mid-word, mouth open, and took my hand. His grip was flaccid. I removed my hand and nodded at Theo.

“Theo. You okay?”

“Am not! These people have no right to be movin in here!”

“We bought this place. It’s ours and we are taking possession, right now!” shouted Takeur. Tammi, on the verandah, said not a word as she moved into the house carrying yet another box. I could read a scrawl on the side in felt marker: BOOKS–HORSE.

I walked over and called up. “Mrs. Takeur? Bryn Wiley.”

The woman nodded but continued with her box. She was sweating, her headband soaked, long-sleeved red t-shirt wet over her chest and back. I wasn’t sure what to say next. Sullen, the men stood stabbing their toes into the grass. Behind me, the mare waited expectantly in all senses of that word at the fence. She gazed at me, her carrot-giving friend, with liquid Morgan eyes. I decided to stall as much as possible until MacWain could get here. I felt weary of confrontation. I wanted the whole thing over, but it would probably get worse before it got better. Expand before it could contract. I sighed.

“So,” I said, swinging my arms, “that mare is about ready to foal out. Anyone scheduled to take care of her?”

“Oh!” said Theo, “What should we do?”

“I would think it might be a good idea to move her into the foaling stall, no matter who’s living here. It would be inhumane to try and move her anywhere now, she’s so close. Of course it has to be clean…” Theo saluted me and with determination, walked to the barn. “I’m on it!’

“Hey!” yelled Filmore. “You can’t go in there! It’s our barn.”

Theo turned. “It is not your barn, and for sure it is not your horse. My wife’s horse needs help. I am going to help her and you can’t stop me.” Domino, at his heels, growled at the bulky Takeur.

I was relieved to see MacWain drive up. He and Tuan got out of the car. Both hitched up their gun belts and strode up to us. Tammi never ceased her robotic movement from the truck to the house.

“Hey there,” said MacWain.

“Howdy, y’all,” said Tuan. I thought, MacWain doesn’t need sunblock, he keeps Tuan around. Tuan’s so tall he makes shade for the sheriff.

“This movin’ in seems mighty precipitous to me, Mr. Takeur,” said the sheriff.

“We bought the place. Call our lawyers. Gaspachio and Ligitoni. You’ll see.”

“I did. In fact, I had the DA call your lawyers, Mr. Takeur.” Tammi had finally stopped hustling boxes and she came down the steps from behind the truck. She was tiny, even next to the short sheriff.

“Mz Takeur,” MacWain tipped his hat to her.

Tuan nodded. “Ma’am.”

Filmore folded his arms. His soft belly bulged out beneath them. “What does the DA have to do with us?”

“A murder was committed here.”

“Thought her horse stomped her.”

“The horse is completely exonerated.” At that I sagged in relief. Bet the discovery of the bat with the worn horseshoe nailed onto it did it. MacWain was still speaking…“We are tracking down the human who killed her. So, for the time being, while the murder investigation is in progress, nothing happens with this property. It is frozen, in fact all deals roll back to the time of Marcie’s death.”

“But we owned it before she died.”

“I am afraid the DA considers those circumstances suspicious. In fact, I am goin’ to invite you and Mz Takeur down to my office right now. We are plannin’ to take a statement from y’all. We need to know your exact whereabouts from 6 p.m. May 20, 2005, until 3 a.m. May 21.”

Takeur backed a step. He gestured placatingly. “Sheriff. That’s crazy. We ain’t murd’rers–you talk to this here husband of hers?”

“It ain’t no problem, Sheriff,” Tammi spoke in a high, nasal voice. She went to her husband and took one of his waving arms, held it. “We got nothin’ to hide.”
Hahd.

“Thank you, ma’am. Best you move this truck outa here, till we get this all settled, figure out who killed Miss Marcie, then y’all can go on from there. For now I have authorized Theodore Goodall to stay on the farm and take care of the horses until we have answers.”

Filmore sputtered, “Why ain’t you questionin’ him!”

“We did, thank you, sir. And he has an alibi for the time in question. We just need to learn yours.”

In twenty minutes, the truck was reloaded. Theo and I pitched in to speed things up. I was beginning to like the idea of Theo on the farm, maybe running things, keeping the horses. But it was a huge responsibility and probably one he wouldn’t want. Of course, selfishly I was also thinking of my article for the Morgan horse magazine, him continuing Marcie’s legacy made for good copy. I also gathered the negotiations with the Texas lady had fallen through, although I hadn’t heard anything. The Takeurs drove off, Sheriff following.

“C’mon in,” said Theo.

“No. I feel restless. So much is happening.” I told him of my recent encounter, Lulu shot. I asked how he felt after getting clobbered last night.

“I’m okay. Head pings a mite, that’s all. Sure glad the neighbor lady and you came along. And that you found the murder weapon.”

“Guess Simon’s going over it as we speak.” I didn’t mention the sinking feeling saying Simon’s name brought. I still had the date with him, tonight. Yikes. We strolled toward the barn. “I have some energy, Theo. Let’s get that stall ready for the mare.”