Candace Carrabus - Dreamhorse 01 - On the Buckle (27 page)

“Fine,” I said. “Just don’t shoot yourself in the foot.”

“Miss Parker, I will have you know—”

I held up my hand. “Save it. Let’s get the horses tacked up.”

After the blessedly uneventful ride, Dex said he’d clean stalls while I took care of the injury list. He grabbed the wheelbarrow and the tools he needed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said before he went very far.

He turned and leaned on the pitchfork. “My pleasure, Miss Parker.”

“You can call me Vi, you know.”

He chuckled at what appeared to be a private joke. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with Miss Parker.”

“Then if it’s all the same to you, Mr. Hamill, let’s get to work.”

He laughed and started to push the wheelbarrow to the first stall, stopped and turned. “By the way. I have news about Norman.”

I don’t know why I went cold. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the details.

“He suffocated.”

I tried to let that sink in, but my brain refused to process it. “So, he wasn’t dead when he was put in the manure pile?”

Dex shook his head slowly. “Very likely unconscious. He had enough cat valium in his blood to drop a horse.”

“Cat valium?”

“Ketamine hydrochloride.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Veterinary anesthetic.”

“Still never heard of it, and I’ve been around vets and drugs plenty.”

“They don’t dispense it, so there’s no reason you’d know what it was. It’s used for surgery. People take it, sometimes.”

“Norman was taking an animal anesthetic?”

“It’s also a psychedelic. You’ve heard of date-rape drugs?”

“I’m not that out of touch.”

“This is one of them.”

I had no idea what to make of this information or how to fit it in with the rest of my half-baked ideas. “So, he might have been taking it for recreational purposes, or he might have been given it?”

“Right.”

“Wouldn’t there be a needle mark?”

“Not necessarily. When a guy gives it to a girl in a club, he dumps it in her drink.”

I sank down onto the tack-room steps thinking that sounded like JJ’s style. Then again, he probably liked having an excuse to hit his victims. “But—”

“Think
motive
, Miss Parker.”

“They teach that in Detective Work 101? Why do you think someone would want to murder Norman?”

“And hide his body at Winterlight. That’s the question.”

Hadn’t he just said motive was the question? I had my theories about Norman’s murderer, but I wasn’t ready to share. Without knowing more about Malcolm’s father, that one didn’t hold much water. JJ was a more likely culprit, if I could determine his motive. I’d have to do some digging for that, and I didn’t want to soil my hands with that dirt.

Clearly, Dex wasn’t interested in sharing his theories, either.
 

“Where do people get this cat valium?”

“Steal it, usually, from veterinarians. Or buy it from someone who has.”

“Have any of the local vets reported a robbery?”

He shrugged. “No way of knowing where it came from.”

I couldn’t remember anything from my dreams that pointed to a drug overdose. Maybe if I got off the farm for a while, that would help me think. And a good, long ride by myself would be great.

“I need to run an errand,” I said. “I think I’ll go do that.”

“Heard your truck was out of commission.”

“Malcolm lent me his SUV. Come on. We’ll get lunch in town.” I ran upstairs for my purse. Back in the barn, I asked Dex, “Does town even have a place where you can get lunch?”

“Town has a place, but I need to stay here. And you can’t go alone.”

Oh, for cripe’s sake. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I have some discretion. What’s the nature of your errand? Do you have a cell phone?”

“You’ll be happy to know I’m opening a checking account at the local bank. If you’re like most men, you’re also happy to know I’m without undergarments and need to buy some. And, yes, I have a cell phone.”

His glance scanned my chest and continued on down. Men. Sheesh.
 

“Since you brought it up, I prefer my women to wear underwear…so I can have the pleasure of taking it off of them. But I’m not sure you’ll find anything you like nearby.”

I’m sure what he meant was he didn’t think I’d find anything he’d like nearby. He made me program his cell number into my phone, said he’d call an order in for lunch, insisted I stop only at the bank and to pick up our sandwiches, and wanted me back in half an hour. And, I had to call and check-in every five minutes.

“Sure you don’t have one of those nifty little electronic ankle bracelets I could borrow?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

I walked to the house where Malcolm’s SUV was parked in a garage around back, hopped in, adjusted the seat and mirrors, and took off. Evidently, town had a general store that made sandwiches. I would have given anything for a pepper-and-egg hero from a New-York deli, but I’d have to settle for ham and cheese on potato bread, the same as Dex ordered.
 

I settled into the SUV’s leather seat and turned onto the blacktop. It felt good to be out and about on my own, even if only for a short time. Not to mention being out and about in style. The SUV had bells and whistles I didn’t know existed. My truck was over ten years old, and if I hadn’t dated a mechanic off and on over the past three, it would have gone to the junkyard long ago. The torn bench seat was convenient for naps at horse shows, but that was about it. Comfort wasn’t on its list of attributes. Except for getting me from point A to point B—most of the time—it didn’t have any attributes.

I cranked up the stereo and enjoyed the scenery. Malcolm—Robert—had radio stations pre-programmed for classic rock, jazz, classical, oldies, and NPR. The six-CD player contained Jethro Tull, Sting, Handel, Patsy Cline, Tony Bennett, and,
good lord,
bagpipes. Except for that, I couldn’t argue with his taste.
 

I allowed myself a warm memory from the night before, and felt my body softening at the thought of him against me. Robert. For a split second, my thoughts wandered to a place I never allowed—the future. I reined them in sharply.

For music, I chose the tried and true—Jethro Tull. It was one of my favorites,
Heavy Horses
. Listening to the news didn’t interest me; I’d had quite enough from Dex already. I jabbed at the stereo’s buttons, glanced at the road, negotiated a sharp turn with one hand, and continued trying to get to the right CD.

To either side, the sun shown on grazing cows, casting their shadows over impossibly green grass. Almost every cow had a calf nearby, either sleeping or nursing. In the congestion of my former life, I’d forgotten there must still be places like this in the world. Like the quiet I’d begun to enjoy, I liked the open vistas, the unhampered view to the horizon.
 

A little farther along, I plunged into the shade of woods. I’d been this way when I went grocery shopping, but didn’t know the road well. Still, there was no other traffic to worry about. I topped a small rise and headed downhill toward a rickety-looking, narrow bridge over the rushing creek, light glinting off its swiftly changing surface.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and let off the gas. A doe and two fawns hopped onto the road from the ditch. Shit. I jammed my foot on the brakes. They caught and the SUV skidded sideways. I steered into it, fishtailed, and overcorrected. Suddenly, the pedal met the floor, and the brakes went out. I lost sight of the doe. The wheels caught the opposite shoulder. The SUV tipped, landed on the roof, slid backwards toward the creek, and came to a scraping halt.

I hung upside down in the seat belt and caught my breath for a few moments, then ran down my body checklist out of long habit. This was a piece of cake compared with getting dumped by a galloping horse. All those falls had taught me not to panic, but to get up quickly, and secure the horse. I wasn’t hurt, but a touch disoriented—I didn’t usually land head down, feet up. In the rearview mirror, I could see water lapping along the back windows.
 

First, I hoped I hadn’t squished any deer. Second, I was glad I hadn’t opened the sunroof, which I’d been about to do. Third, I figured I’d better get the hell out of there because the SUV was slowly shifting farther into the creek.
 

Ian Anderson still blared from the speakers. The engine had stalled. I turned the key and removed it, pushed against the ceiling to lessen the pressure on the belt, unbuckled, and maneuvered myself upright. The driver’s door wouldn’t budge. It was against the embankment. I crab-walked to the passenger side, released the handle with my foot, kicked the door open, and climbed out.

I shook myself and noticed that each blade of grass appeared individually illuminated. The thousand ripples and purls of the creek mixed with bird song and the sigh of leaves moved by a breeze. The stench of oil and gas rose from the engine. It pinged, and fluid dripped somewhere.
 

The hyper-vigilance of adrenaline had me in its grip again. Looking at the dirty bottom of the truck with its wheels in the air made me dizzy. I pushed the strap of my purse onto my shoulder and walked away from it, fishing my phone out of my purse at the same time.
 

No signal down here in the little river valley.

A blue Beetle came from the direction of town. Renee. I scrambled up to the road and waved. She stopped, leaned across the seat, and rolled down the passenger window.

“Vi?”

“Renee, am I glad to see you. Can you give me a lift?”

She looked from me to the SUV. “What happened? Are you all right?” She flicked on her car’s emergency flashers, got out, and came over.

“You think he’ll be upset?” I asked, gesturing lamely toward the overturned vehicle.

“Honey, you’re looking a might peaked. You better sit down. Here.” She opened her car door. “Get in.”

I got in. She put a bottle of water in my hand.

“I’ll be right back.” She went down to look at the wreck.

I couldn’t believe Malcolm had lent me his truck when it had faulty brakes. He was the type to keep everything in good working order.
 

Renee returned and sat behind the steering wheel. “Let’s get you home.”

“You didn’t see any dead deer underneath it, did you?”
 

“Girl, did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so.” But the temptation to bang my head against the wall had come over me all too often of late.

“Let me look at you.” She took my face in her hands. They were cool. She had long fingers that she used to gently probe my scalp, then hold my jaw and move my head. “Neck feel okay? Dizzy? Vision blurred?”

I resisted the urge to slap her hands away. “Too many questions. What about the deer?”

“What deer?” She pulled my lower lids down and peered into my eyes. “Have you been drinking or something?”

“No, I haven’t been drinking.” I removed her hands from my face. “I was going to the bank. A freaking deer family jumped in front of me. I slammed on the brakes, but…” They’d caught at first, then went out completely. Malcolm would keep his truck serviced. Could someone have…

“But what?”

“They didn’t work.”

- 30 -

“Peaked?” I asked as we drove to Winterlight. “Is that a reference to my aura?”
 

“You better stop that,” she said, but with a smile. “No, ‘peaked’ would be a reference to you looking whiter than even white people are supposed to look. And you’re not usually so white to begin with.”

“Um…thank you?”

“Welcome.”

“And I’m sorry I was so unpleasant about your smudging.”

“I guess it is kinda weird if you’ve never seen it before.”

“That doesn’t make it okay to be like that.”

“Forget it,” she said with a wave of her hand. “That was Malcolm’s SUV, wasn’t it?”

“He lent it to me. My truck has a dead battery.”

She shook her head and said nothing other than, “Um, um, um,” until we pulled in. “I see Dex One is here.”

I mimicked her tone. “Um-hm.”

“He’s pretty fine for a white boy, isn’t he? But then, so’s Malcolm.”

I hesitated, unsure of my footing with her. “They both seem like good guys…”

She flashed a grin full of perfect, white teeth. “I’m just messing with you. My husband was white.”

Before what, she dyed him black? “Was?”

“He passed on last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why, you didn’t make him dead, did you?” She looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if she suspected I might have had something to do with it.

“Eh…no.”

“I didn’t think so. Let’s give Mr. Goody-Gum-Shoe the news. Is Malcolm here?”

“No, he went to a client’s in the city,” I said. “Do you know what he does?”