No Good Deed (29 page)

The horse trotted forward. The woman took the left rein and turned the horse's head, circling until the mare stood still.

‘You wouldn't be Barbara Adair, would you?'

She shook her head. ‘I'm just a boarder. Barbara's in the back in the foaling stalls with the vet, looking at Songbird.'

Sam smiled. ‘Could you point us in the right direction?'

The woman smiled back, and Sonora chalked up another conquest for Sam.

‘Just go on in the barn, and through the feed room back out the other side.'

The mare danced sideways, the woman raised a hand at Sam and picked up the reins. Sam said thanks and Sonora followed him into the barn. Behind them, the mare was still circling.

This barn had dirt floors, churned and spotted with droppings, and rows of tiny stalls, thinly bedded with straw. Sonora looked into the stalls as she went by. It was dark inside, dust thick in the air along with the pungency of ammonia. Some of the horses were tacked up – saddled and chained to the wall, waiting with a hind leg cocked for afternoon duties.

‘Anyone here?' Sam called.

A horse nickered.

Two stalls in the center had their doors open wide. In one, Sonora saw saddles and bridles mounted on the wall, and fiberglass and Tupperware trunks tucked back along the sides. The next room held feed bags and trash cans, a small refrigerator and a microwave oven that looked like one of the first Amanas off the assembly line.

‘She said through the feed room,' Sonora said.

‘Let's check the stalls first. See if we see the mare.' Sam took the right side, Sonora the left.

‘Sam, I'm not sure I'd recognize her if I saw her.'

‘Look for a brown horse with a big belly and a mane that lies to the left. Man.' She heard him rustling. ‘From the looks of these horses that feed room is a myth. My God, you poor thing, look at you. Don't they serve dinner around here?' He reached a hand through a stall window, petted a soft nose.

Sonora moved up the hallway, slower than Sam, thinking that for some horses there might be fates worse than slaughter. She would not want Poppin to wind up in a place like this. She would have to be careful, if she sold him.

‘Anything?' Sam said.

‘Come look at this one.' She pointed and he doubled back, studied the horse a long moment. Gave her the smile where his eyes crinkled up.

‘That's a gelding, Sonora.'

‘Oh.'

‘Sonora—'

‘Not another word, Sam.' She headed for the feed room, tripped over the cracked wooden arm of a wheelbarrow that was resting, for no obvious reason, beside the microwave oven. The wheelbarrow went sideways, tipping into a can full of feed.

Which set the horses off. She heard a whinny, some snorts and a hopeful nicker.

‘Can't take you anywhere.' Sam pushed on a door that led to the outside. It stuck, and Sam kicked it, leaving a black smudge along the bottom, one of many other smudges. The hinges creaked and they were back outside, blinking in the sunlight.

They exited into a small grassy area. Along the right-hand side was a neat row of horse trailers – a white one, rusty, a blue stock trailer, and a white Sundowner goose-neck with maroon trim.

Sonora headed straight for it, looked at the license plate on the back. ‘Bought out at Richard's, Sam – that's a Cincinnati dealer.' She climbed on the wheel well, looked inside.

Dried horse droppings, spilled swatches of hay, kernels of feed. Along the top ledge, a dirty white lead rope. ‘This looks like the one, Sam.'

‘I help you folks?'

Sonora jumped down off the wheel well, heard Sam ask the voice if she was Barbara Adair, heard the voice agree that she was.

‘I'm Detective Delarosa, this is my partner, Detective Blair. We're from Cincinnati PD.'

The woman took a quick backwards look at the trailer, studied Sam's ID.

‘I knew it was too good to be true. My trailer was stolen, wasn't it?' She was a petite woman, small-boned, wavy blond hair and wire-rim glasses. She wore black breeches and a sweatshirt that said Four Wishes Farm, with the pink logo of a cartoon horse blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.

‘Where'd you pick the trailer up?' Sonora asked. ‘Do you have the bill of sale?'

The woman shifted her weight to her left foot, absently patted the gray mare she held at the end of a lead rope. The mare stomped her foot, shook her head.

‘It's been going like this all day, you know. Mare didn't take, one of the kids falls off her horse and breaks a collar bone. My dad always said things come in threes, and by golly, there you be.'

A man walked out of a stall. He wore jeans, rubber boots, a blue work shirt. ‘Sorry, Barbara.'

‘She had
me
fooled.'

Sonora moved next to Sam, kept her voice low. ‘What does she mean, the mare didn't take?'

He bent close, his voice soft. ‘It means she got knocked, she just didn't get knocked up.'

‘Catch her on the next one.' The man looked at Sam and Sonora, but Barbara did not introduce them.

‘You got time for one more?' she asked. ‘I've got a gelding I think is developing navicular.'

The man hesitated. ‘Let me look at him next week. I was supposed to be on Ten Acre Farm an hour ago.'

Adair nodded. ‘Okay. I'll send you a check toward the balance.'

The man thanked her, lips tight, and headed around the side of the barn.

Did anybody in the horse business pay their bills? Sonora wondered.

‘Ms Adair—' Sam was pulling out the tape recorder.

‘Let me put this mare away.' Adair turned the horse expertly, unclipped the lead rope and let the mare trot into a dark outdoor stall, locking her in behind a red metal-mesh sliding door.

She leaned up against the side of the barn, bent her knee, and propped herself up with a foot. ‘I'd invite you into my office, but if I do, we'll be interrupted every three seconds.'

‘Here is fine,' Sonora said.

Adair looked at her. A speculative look. ‘So, what's the deal with the horse trailer?'

Sonora handed Sam a fresh tape out of her purse. ‘That's what we're asking you. Where'd you get it?'

‘Aquitane stockyards. Outside Cincinnati.'

‘When?'

‘Oh, let's see, two, three days ago. Tuesday.'

‘You remember what time?'

Adair smiled and shrugged. ‘Late afternoon some time.'

‘You get a bill of sale?' This from Sam.

Adair shrugged. ‘Nope.'

Sam nodded. ‘Can you get more specific about the time?'

‘Lessee.' The woman touched her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. ‘Before five and after two.'

‘What were you doing there?' Sonora asked.

‘Selling girl scout cookies, what do you think?'

‘I think you were receiving stolen merchandise. I'm wondering if you make it a habit.'

‘I wasn't receiving, I paid for it.'

‘How much?'

Adair could no more have foregone the smirk than she could stop breathing. ‘Fifty dollars.'

‘Fifty dollars. For a goose-neck four-horse trailer in prime condition.' Sonora looked at the trailer over her shoulder to make sure it was actually in such good shape. It was. ‘Ma'am? This didn't seem unusual to you?'

‘It was a package deal. I had to buy the horse.'

‘What horse?'

‘Guy who sold me the trailer had a horse that went with it. Saddlebred mare in foal. Chestnut.'

‘How much did you pay for the horse?'

The smirk again. ‘Fifty dollars.'

‘Where is the horse?'

Adair waved a hand. ‘Sold her.'

‘Already?'

‘I don't want her here eating her head off. I've got fifteen acres and twenty-seven horses. Last thing I need is another paddock pet, taking up space.'

Sam got in ahead of Sonora, asking Adair to describe the mare.

‘Chestnut, about fifteen three hands, probably fourteen, fifteen years old. She had a frieze brand. On the left.'

‘Did her mane lie to the left?'

Adair frowned. ‘Could have. Can't say I noticed.'

Sonora was frowning. Adair had paid one hundred dollars to her six hundred twenty-five and gotten a horse
and
a van.

Sam leaned up against a black fence. ‘A package deal? The guy insisted?'

‘Oh, yeah.'

‘He say why?'

‘Didn't want the mare sold to slaughter. I think the van was thrown in to sweeten the deal. He said he'd lost his job, and was selling the mare and the trailer because he couldn't afford the horse any more. You know, a hard-luck thing. He said that the horse was a family pet, and he didn't want to sell her to the killers. I mean, the guy was pathetic. I can't believe he stole them. I wouldn't have thought he'd have the nerve. A shy type. You know.'

‘Squishy,' Sonora said, trying not to look at Sam.

‘But he was picky about who he sold to – the dealer would have given him more money than I did. You sure this is the right guy?'

‘Can you describe him?'

She rolled her eyes. ‘God, I don't know. Average. Not particularly attractive, but not gross.'

‘Hair color?'

‘Dark, I think. I'm not sure.'

‘Fat? Thin?'

‘In the middle.'

‘If you saw him again, do you think you'd recognize him?'

She scratched her cheek. ‘Yeah, sure, maybe. See, he had on one of those dorky hats with the flappers on the ears. You know the kind?'

Sonora knew the kind. ‘Who'd you sell the mare to?'

She shifted her weight. ‘A barn up in Wisconsin. They show saddlebreds and train and do lessons. She's long gone, but she's in good hands.'

‘Got the bill of sale on that one?'

‘Ah, no, I gave her to the guy in trade. Owed him on some stud fees, so I gave him the mare as partial payment.'

‘Okay, Ms Adair. We need you to get in our car and take us to whoever you sold her to. We're investigating the homicide of a fifteen-year-old victim, and
we know
you're going to do everything you can to help.'

She looked at them. ‘I don't have time to go with you.'

‘You'll have to make time,' Sonora said.

Adair shifted her weight back and forth. ‘Actually, I guess the horse is still here.'

‘You guess that, do you?' Sonora said.

‘Guy hasn't had a chance to pick her up.'

‘Do you understand what obstruction of justice is?'

‘Look, I didn't lie, I did sell her. Buyer just hasn't had time to pick her up yet, and I forgot she was still here.' Adair waved a hand to the outdoor stalls. ‘That one, over there. I mean it, I forgot the guy hadn't been by. This is a big barn. I can't remember every little detail.'

‘Of course not.' Sam gave her an encouraging smile.

Sonora turned her back on them and headed for the stall. The woman had sold the horse to slaughter, or was planning to, maybe after the birth of the foal. If she waited. Somebody like the Horseman's Buddy was slated for this mare's future.

Sonora looked through the rusty grilled mesh of the stall door, saw the vague shape of a horse standing nose to the back wall. The stall was very dark. The smell of horse and urine was loud enough to make her eyes water.

She opened the door carefully, stood just inside.

She did not know whether to laugh or cry. The mare's stomach was swollen with pregnancy, and her coat was coarse-looking, mud-streaked, mane windblown and snarled with mats. Hard to believe this one animal had set off a series of crimes including fraud, murder, grand theft auto and various violations of traffic laws. She looked hungry, cranky and very much in need of a friend.

‘Talk to me, baby,' Sonora murmured. ‘We'll put alfalfa in the witness box, if you'll testify.' The mare took a sidestep toward her, then changed her mind and backed away.

This too would come in time.

Adair came into the stall in a flurry that sent the mare further back into the dark, urine-soaked corner. ‘Are you really doing it? You're taking my trailer?'

‘We could arrest you first,' Sonora said.

‘What for?'

Sonora looked at the mounds of worm-infested manure, the scum-filled water bucket, no more than one-third full, the lack of bedding over the uneven dirt, the absence of light and ventilation, the complete lack of food.

‘We're not just taking the trailer, Ms Adair. We're also taking the horse.'

‘You can't do that!' Adair's wail sounded like a temper tantrum winding up.

Sonora looked at her over one shoulder. ‘You want to come along?'

‘
Hell,
no.'

‘Then get this horse some feed and hay while I arrange transportation. And rinse out that water bucket.'

‘I'll do that,' Sam said.

Adair gave him a sour look. ‘Much obliged.'

Chapter Forty-Eight

Sonora went to the barn, alone, at dusk. Poppin was in his stall, finishing his dinner. She felt a twinge of disappointment. She'd hoped to give him his dinner herself.

He put his head out the open Dutch window, dribbling grain over the wooden ledge and on to the ground. His ears were forward. He looked curious and friendly. Sonora rubbed him on the forehead, stroked the rub mark over his nose. He bobbed his head but did not pull away.

Joelle Chauncey's final journal implied on-going discussions with her father. Had this been the trigger that had gotten her killed? What could have been so sensitive that he would kill her, when he had faithfully parented her all these years? Multiple mothers would not put a man in jail.

Sonora took a dirty lead rope from a peg next to Poppin's stall. The cotton was thick; it felt good in her hands. She slid the stall door open, and Poppin was right there, trying to get his head through the opening.

She clipped the lead rope to his halter, glad Hal had insisted on leaving it on, since she had no idea how to get it on or off. Shoved the door open, and led the horse out.