No Good Deed (21 page)

‘The Horseman's Buddy?'

‘Why do they call him that?'

‘It wouldn't be accurate to call him the horse's buddy, but he will take an animal or its corpse off
your
hands.'

‘I knew it.'

‘Knew what?'

‘That he takes them to the killers.'

‘You use that tone of voice, I'm surprised he talked to you. Those guys are always wary of pretty girls with soft hearts. Animal rights activists are annoying.'

‘McCarty, what exactly do you feed a horse?'

‘Good pasture's best. Hay when they're in their stalls, or the grass is gone. Grain a couple times a day.'

‘Where do you buy it?'

‘Grain? Feed store. Get hay from a farmer.'

She didn't know any farmers.

‘What do you feed those horses at your barn? Where'd they come from, anyway?'

‘Those horses are police officers working under cover. I deputized them myself.'

‘There are four empty stalls in your barn.'

The light turned from red to green and McCarty pulled the truck on to the interstate. Be very difficult for him to turn around now, Sonora decided.

He gave her a look. ‘I think I'd have noticed if our killer put the mare in my barn. You searched it yourself, remember? When I was your prime suspect?'

‘I was wondering if I could borrow a stall for a while.'

He smiled at her. ‘Your kids getting out of hand?'

‘You're not getting this, are you?'

He looked at her. Smile fading. She saw it hit him. Saw his brow go together in a monster of a frown. Saw the look he gave her which she would have to classify as incredulous.

‘Sonora, tell me you didn't do what I'm afraid you're going to tell me you did.'

‘Here's what happened.'

‘Sonora.'

‘Somebody yelled heads up, a horse went by, and I caught it.'

He took a breath. ‘Is that all? You didn't get stepped on or run over?'

‘No. But it wouldn't be still, just holding that leather thing—'

‘Halter.'

‘So I hooked my purse strap to the little ring under his chin, and that's when the guy and I got to talking.'

‘You and the Horseman's Buddy.'

‘That's right.'

‘I wish to God I'd been there.'

‘We were getting along okay till he put a chain across the horse's nose.'

‘Sonora, a horse is a large animal, in case you haven't noticed. You've got to get it under control. I bet this fella gave you an earful.'

‘Well, no, he told me I seemed to know my way around horses.'

McCarty eased back on the accelerator. ‘I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but anyone who knows less about horses would be hard to imagine.'

‘That's not what the Horseman's Buddy said.'

‘It was a sales pitch, darlin'. Appeal to your ego, then unload the horse. He probably bought that horse this morning, and he was hoping to turn it around in a few hours, make a hundred dollars. That'd be a good profit for a guy like him.'

‘It was a full-blooded
Arabian,
McCarty. Aren't they valuable? He said the horse had endurance and never got tired.'

‘When your horse is tearing around the paddock with you on its back and it won't stop, you'll start wishing for a horse that'll wear out.'

Sonora leaned against the door sideways so she could face him. ‘But they're good beginner horses, aren't they?'

‘No. They're too smart and too volatile. If you ever get into horses, Sonora, start with a quarter-horse or a Morgan. And call me. I'll help you find something.' He looked over and smiled and the thought of seeing more of him later down the road had a definite appeal. ‘Sonora?'

‘Yes, McCarty?'

‘You didn't buy that horse, did you?'

Chapter Thirty-Five

McCarty was speaking to her again by the time they pulled into the farm. They'd already been downtown to unload Oklahoma, who had been glad to leave them. McCarty's initial comment about her new horse Poppin was that it would likely be grateful for someone to feed it.

As they turned into the drive that led to his farmhouse, Sonora noticed the CSU van in the gravel lot at Donna Delaney's. She sat up in her seat, saw the Taurus. Sam was here.

McCarty looked sideways, hit a pothole. The trailer swayed, and Sonora heard her horse kicking metal. Her horse. Poppin. Hell-Z-Poppin.

It was just a name.

‘McCarty, let me out, will you? I better see what's going on at Donna's.'

‘Oh no you don't. Didn't you watch John Wayne movies when you were a kid? Got to see to the horse first. You just cowboy up to the barn here, and I'll show you how to bed a stall.'

Even with her mind on the CSU van, and whatever might be happening at End Point Farm, Sonora was surprised at how much she enjoyed the stall work. McCarty brought her three wheelbarrow loads of cedar shavings and dumped them in the center of the dirt floor. While she raked the cedar from corner to corner, he washed out a blue plastic water bucket, filled it with clean water, hooked it with a clip to an eye-ring woodscrew embedded in the wall.

‘What you think?' he asked.

‘It smells like the world's biggest hamster cage.'

A thick gray coating of cobwebs hung from the center of the stall and dangled from the corners. Sonora decided she'd either throw a hell of a Hallowe'en party here, or clean it up.

‘There's grain in a trash can in the feed room, right down by that end stall. Just give him a handful in a feed tub – there's an extra one in there somewhere, black rubber. I'll get him a couple flakes of hay.'

‘A handful of grain isn't going to feed a whole horse,' Sonora said.

‘He can fill up on hay. We don't know what he's been getting – my guess is nothing. We don't want him colicking on us.'

‘Colic?'

‘A horsey tummy ache, Sonora. Painful and sometimes fatal. Death by cramps.'

‘Oh.'

‘Get the feed out of the dark blue can on the far right. That's the Triple Crown Senior. That ought to do him.'

‘He's only ten.'

‘Yeah. Right.'

The horse tripped backing out of the trailer, but caught his balance and deposited two loads of manure for good measure. McCarty led him into the barn. Poppin was wide eyed and cautious, and he paused outside his stall, then rushed inside all at once and would have run right over McCarty except he seemed to be expecting the rush and ran Poppin in circles a few times to get his attention.

‘I don't think much of his manners,' he said. He unclipped the lead rope, gave the horse a pat and got out of the way.

‘Shouldn't we take that leather thing off? It looks pretty grimy.'

‘Dirt on a horse, I can't imagine. No, Sonora, let's leave it on till we know him a little better.'

Sonora thought Poppin would be more comfortable with the halter off, but since she wasn't sure how to get it back on, she let it be.

She pushed hair out of her eyes. ‘Sooner or later I'll figure all this out and do it my own way.'

‘Spoken like a true horsewoman.'

‘I'm learning already?'

‘No, but you're opinionated.'

Chapter Thirty-Six

Sonora left McCarty feeding his own horses – decided that she would head for Delaney's place by way of the backfield so the two of them would be less likely to be seen together.

The barn doors were wide open, but she saw people, not horses – a small knot of little girls in breeches and boots, and several women, talking in a huddle. Delaney's voice was loud in the background, snapping out a command for whoever was in the wash rack to turn that water pump off, pronto.

Sonora stood in the doorway, taking it all in, looking for Sam. He was leaning up against a wall talking to a blue-shirted EMT. He turned, some sixth sense telling him she was there – it always worked like that between them – and raised his hand.

She waited for him to disengage from his conference with the paramedic. Donna Delaney and a distressed-looking woman in hunter-green stretch pants, stood next to Renquist, all in the aisleway of the barn. Every light was blazing.

A CSU man went back into a small room to the left. Sonora had not been into that room. She was getting curious.

‘What's up?' she asked Sam.

He put an arm around her shoulders and led her into a huddle out of earshot of the others.

The office door opened. McCarty did not look her way when he joined the huddle with Delaney and Renquist.

Well, he was undercover, after all. But it was weird to spend all day with him and then pretend not to know him. He'd fed those horses awfully fast.

‘Where've you been all day?' Sam seemed perturbed.

‘At the horse auction. Trying to find the mare.'

Something in his voice. ‘Took all afternoon, did it?'

‘Yes, Mom. And where have you been keeping yourself?'

‘I was trying to palm Chauncey off on one of the uniforms when we had a nine-one-one call from the barn.'

‘Somebody hurt?'

Sam hunkered close. ‘Yes and no. You remember that missing finger?'

‘Yeah?'

‘It turned up.'

Chapter Thirty-Seven

‘You think this is funny, Sonora?' Sam stepped up on to the concrete lip of a small room that held cheap metal shelves and boxes of moldy, aromatic bits and pieces of worn, dirty leather. The room smelled of mildew. Bridles and whips hung from hooks and brackets along the back wall, reins dangling behind an old washer and dryer that overfilled the room and made it hard for two people to fit inside. A wood ladder, built into the wall, led into the hayloft, and bits of hay and cobwebs hung over the opening.

‘I'm sorry, Sam, it just sort of struck me that way. I'm ashamed.'

‘Come be ashamed in here.' Sam squeezed behind the door, motioned Sonora in, and shut it behind them.

‘Crime scene guys done?' Sonora asked.

‘Yeah.'

‘So what happened?'

Sam jerked his thumb toward the second shelf, crammed full of black velvet helmets, some with chinstraps dangling, some without. One of the helmets had split, exposing the white casing. It looked very much like a skull.

‘They keep the riding gloves in here, in the helmets.' He pulled a helmet across the shelf – this one green velvet, sweat-stained and worn, a piece of dirty elastic stretched across for a make-do chinstrap.

‘Okay to pick it up?'

‘Yeah. This isn't the one in question – CSU has that one.'

She looked inside. Sleek black leather gloves, some with Velcro closures, some with elastic wrists, a couple of pairs of white gloves, stained and rolled into wads. All made to fit tiny hands.

Sonora glanced up, saw Sam watching. ‘It was
in
the riding glove?'

Sam picked one up, splayed the worn black leather fingers. ‘Tucked down into the finger, like this. Poor little kid about had a heart attack – she couldn't be more than eleven or twelve. She pulls it on over her hand, and feels something in the glove, so she peels it back … Sonora, if you think this is funny, you've been a cop too long.'

‘Sorry, Sam, I just wish I'd been here. The kid go into shock or something?'

‘No, she's fine. But she takes the glove and finger to her mom and the mother passes out, hits her head and gets concussed.'

‘She okay?'

‘I just told you, she's got a concussion.' He took her arm as she headed back out the door. ‘Stay put. I'm not letting you back out in that barn aisle, Sonora, till you get a better attitude.'

‘Boy, you're cranky. You miss lunch?'

‘Yeah, as a matter of fact. What did you and McCarty come up with?'

‘We hit the auction – held twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday, from three until whenever. Guy came in trying to sell a chestnut mare and a maroon-and-white Sundowner trailer the same afternoon Joelle Chauncey disappeared.'

‘Timing work out?'

‘Looks like. And we know where the horse went.'

‘So great, let's saddle up and go.'

Sonora folded her arms. ‘McCarty wants us to get a warrant to search Bisky Farms, just to cover all bases.'

Sam scratched his cheek. ‘We might actually swing that, considering the age of the victim. But if you think that horse is out there, you're dreaming. McCarty going to help us look?'

‘He can't, he's undercover. Where's Dixon Chauncey?'

‘Home with his little girls.'

‘You want to try and hit Bisky Farms tonight?'

‘You want to look for horses in the dark?'

‘I don't want to look at the horses. They want to hide the horse, they'll hide it. I want to look at the people. But, Sam …'

He looked at her. Waited. ‘You were saying?'

She looked out into the aisleway, closed the door. ‘I did something today … maybe I shouldn't have.'

He narrowed his eyes. Folded his arms. ‘Does this involve McCarty?'

‘Sam, did you ever want a horse of your own?'

He shrugged. ‘I did when I was a kid and watched
Mr Ed.
I wanted a plane when I watched
Sky King.
'

She crooked her finger. ‘Take a minute. I got something to show you.'

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The children were waiting when Sonora walked into the kitchen from the garage. They had set the table, cleaned off the countertops, warmed brown-and-serve rolls.

‘You're late,' Tim said. He set a black ceramic bowl of congealed macaroni and cheese on the table next to the foil-wrapped meat loaf. ‘Everything is cold.'

He frowned at her. She had sinned.

Sonora set down her purse, took off her jacket. ‘You guys should have gone on and eaten.'

‘We wanted to wait.' Tim's tone of voice said it all. We waited for you, and our dinner got cold. An attitude of moral superiority that can only be found in teenagers trying to turn the tables on their parents and militant activists in the right-to-life movement.