Forged (Gail McCarthy Mystery) (10 page)

"I wonder who killed old Dominic?" she said, as we watched the forge chug away.

"He told me the gun went off as he was cleaning it. And then he died ten minutes later," I told her.

"Is that right? Then why is that detective acting like it's a murder investigation ?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "I guess he must believe that either Dominic was lying or I was. Since I know I'm telling the truth, the lie, if there was a lie, came from Dominic. But why would he do that?"

"To protect someone, maybe," Tommie said as she lifted the shoe, now red-hot, out of the forge. Using the tongs to place it on the anvil, she hammered it here and there, her motives indiscernible to an untrained eye.

Blue and I glanced at each other. "I guess that's the only possible reason," I said. "But who would he want to protect that much?"

Tommie dipped the shoe in a bucket of water to cool it, then measured it against Gunner's foot. Taking the shoe back to the anvil, she hammered some more. "His girlfriend, maybe," she said between blows.

"Why would Barbara kill him?" I asked.

"Because he's been running around on her." Tommie measured the shoe against Gunner's foot again and nodded in satisfaction.

"But they've been living together for years and from what I can tell, he always ran around on her. Why kill him now?"

Tommie shrugged, got a rasp from her truck, and began smoothing Gunner's hoof. "Hard to say. I know lots of people who hated Dominic almost as much as I did. Maybe one of them killed him."

"Who, for instance?" I asked.

"Do you know Sandy McQuire?"

"Just a little," I said. "She's a horse trainer of sorts. Gives riding lessons. Up near the summit."

"That's right. I'm her shoer. Sandy lived with Dominic for a while after Lee kicked him out. She left her husband and kids, just fell madly in love with the guy, God knows why. She lost custody of her kids, lost her job, lost her home, basically lost her whole life, all for worthless Dominic Castillo."

Tommie had gathered packing material, a wedge pad, shoeing nails, and a hammer from her truck. Laying the blend of pine tar and oakum against Gunner's hoof, she pressed the pad over it and put the shoe on top of that. Holding it all carefully in place, she began to nail.

Tap, tap, tap, the familiar rhythm of horseshoeing. As the nails were driven through the wall of the hoof, Tommie examined each one in turn. Gunner stood patiently and quietly, an old pro at being shod.

"Anyway," Tommie went on, once she was done hammering, "Dominic never would marry Sandy, even though she really wanted him to. She did everything, even had a boob job to make herself more feminine and alluring. But Dominic just ran around on her, like he did everyone else, and eventually left her to marry Carla. Sandy never got over it."

Tommie lifted Gunner's foot up onto a metal stand to clinch the nails down tight.

"Sandy talks about Dominic constantly. How he ruined her life, how her kids hated her because of him. She's still angry."

"Angry enough to kill him?"

"I couldn't say." Tommie untied Gunner from the tree and led him down the driveway a few steps, watching how he traveled. Grunting her approval, she looked back at me. "I was mad enough to kill him, but I didn't. Thought about it, talked about it, even, but I didn't do it. I don't know what it takes to push a person past that edge."

"Neither do I," I admitted. "Losing your kids might do it."

"It might," Tommie agreed. "That's why I thought of Sandy. Of course, Juanita Gomez hated Dominic just as much, and she had a better reason to kill him." Tommie grinned. "Better than me, even."

"What's that?"

"She had a kid by him, must be almost twenty years ago now. Dominic never would help her with anything, financially or otherwise. But he did tell her once that he'd left her boy some money in his will."

"Is the boy named Carlos?"

"That's right."

"Does Juanita Gomez have horses?" I asked curiously.

"Naw. I know about her because Carla told me. When Dominic was married to Carla, Juanita used to come around and try and get money out of him. But Dominic never gave her a nickel. It used to make Carla mad."

"Well, everybody seems to agree that Dominic was tight with money."

"So does he look good enough to you, Gail?" Tommie gestured at Gunner.

"Yeah, he sure does. Thanks, Tommie. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing, this time. It's on the house. Of course, I expect to be invited back."

"No problem. In six weeks, all right?"

"I'll put you on the schedule." Smiling at Blue and me in turn, she put her tools away, turned off her forge, climbed in her truck, and waved a good-bye. "Got to get home to Carla." Then she was gone.

Blue shook his head as her truck disappeared down the drive. "She seems nice," he said. "But it still strikes me funny, the notion of a woman in love with another woman."

I smiled. "A lesbian woman I know said it strikes her funny that a woman would ever choose to fall in love with anything but another woman. She thinks all of us straight gals are closet lesbians."

"And are you?" Blue asked.

"Not that I can tell. I haven't had so much as a single fantasy about a woman, let alone been tempted."

"That's a good thing."

"Of course, you never know," I teased.

Blue smiled. "I hope I can keep you happy," he said formally.

"You do. You'll make me especially happy if you'll help me move these corral panels to make a small pen over there." I pointed to a spot behind the hay barn.

"Sure. But why?"

"I'm bringing a new horse home."

Blue looked startled, as well he might. I told him the story of Mr. Twister and how I'd happened to acquire him; Blue shook his head at the conclusion.

"Gail, we barely have time to ride the horses you already own."

"I know," I agreed. "That's not lost on me. But this is a really sweet horse. What was I supposed to do?"

Blue sighed. "What you did, I guess."

"Besides, we won't be riding this guy very soon, if ever."

"So, we now have a pet horse."

"That's right. That's how I got Gunner and Plumber, you know. They were given to me because they got hurt. They recovered, given time. Twister might, too."

Blue shrugged. "It's certainly your choice."

I stared at him. "Do you mind me making a decision like that without asking you?"

"No, of course not. It's your place."

"You live here, too, and you help pay the feed bill and take care of the horses as much as I do. That gives you a say. Would you rather I didn't bring this horse home?"

I hesitated, then added, "I do realize I can't take home every horse I feel sorry for. But I fell in love with this gray horse the first time I saw him-it must be three or four years ago. I was at a roping, and he had such a nice way of working, tried so hard, really got his hind leg up under himself. He was talented, but it was more than that; he seemed so willing to try. He seemed ..." I searched for the word and found it " ... gallant. A truly gallant horse. I never forgot. And when I saw him today, about to be put down for lack of a chance, well ..." I spread my hands.

Blue pulled me to him and hugged me. With his face against my hair, he said, "Stormy, I'm happy for you to bring home as many horses as you please. Just so long as you marry me and let me help support them."

I sighed, enjoying the feeling of his long arms around me. "I haven't forgotten," I said. "But I think we'd better start moving panels before it gets dark."

Blue sketched a bow. "Your wish is my command."

I punched his arm lightly. "Oh, knock it off." As we both bent to the task of lifting and shifting a heavy steel corral panel, I added, "And now I have something important to ask you."

"Ask away." Blue took a deep breath and hoisted his end of the panel upward.

"Who," I said with a grunt, "really killed Dominic Castillo?"

 
ELEVEN

Blue didn't speak until we had the fence panel in its new spot. "Why do you ask?" he said finally.

"Because I want to know." I said it more forcefully than I'd intended. "Look at that stupid tape. It reminds me, every day. The man died in my barn, or as good as. Everyone seems to believe he was murdered. That means someone drove in here and shot him. On my property. I want to know who it was."

I looked up at Blue. "It feels personal," I said at last. "This is my space. My garden, my home. Someone invaded it to do evil. I don't like it. I want to know who."

"Don't make a vendetta of this," Blue warned. "Leave it to the cops. This isn't about you, Gail. It's about Dominic and whoever wanted him dead."

"Whoever it was came here to do it," I said, "not incidentally causing me to become a murder suspect. I don't like it. I want to know who," I said again.

"Well, I don't have any new ideas," Blue said, after we carried another panel into its position. "Your horseshoer has a point, though. Dominic's girlfriend is the most obvious suspect."

"Barbara." I leaned against the fence, catching my breath. "I know Barbara. She's been a client of mine for years. She team ropes, and I used to see her at ropings. She's a real strong lady, has a temper. I can see her killing someone. But she's been living with Dominic for a while; she always seems able to ignore his flings. So, why kill him?"

"I don't know," Blue said. "But I've read that one's significant other is the most likely candidate for killer in the event of murder."

"Oh, great," I said, as we marched off towards the next panel.

Once it had been lugged into place, I went on, "So, let's try a new angle. Whoever killed Dominic was someone he tried to protect, despite the fact that the person shot him. Who would inspire that emotion?"

"A lover or a wife?"

"Or a child," I said.

"Good point," Blue agreed.

"And I just saw two of Dominic's children today."

"And?"

"I don't know how to describe it," I said. "They were odd. Very closed, very silent. I couldn't tell if it was just normal adolescent sulkiness or something different. And then there's this mystery kid."

I told Blue about Carlos as we hoisted up the last panel and dragged it into its resting place. Blue tightened the connecting clasps with a wrench while I fed the horses, chickens, and barn cats. When we were done, we walked up the driveway side by side, Roey and Freckles behind us.

I stopped to admire the climbing tea rose, Madame Alfred Carriere, festooning the grape stake fence that ringed my vegetable garden. Holding a blossom in one hand, I inhaled the sweet scent as I studied the color-cream flushed with mother-of-pearl; glowing yet pristine warmth.

Looking back over my shoulder, I found I could no longer see the offensive yellow tape; the barn, shaded by the western ridge, was dark, even as the rose shone in the last, long, golden light.

"It's hard to imagine a child murdering his or her father for money," I said, more or less to myself.

"But you're wondering," Blue said.

"Yeah, I'm wondering. Those kids seemed somehow off to me. And Lee's attitude-it was a little strange, too. But it's hard to picture any of these people driving up my driveway and shooting Dominic in the belly with his own gun."

"How would they have known he was here?" Blue asked.

"That's a good question. He would have to have told them. Of course, Barbara could just look at his schedule."

"There you go."

I could hear the phone ringing as we neared the house. "I'd better answer it," I told Blue. "I'm on call this week."

Sure enough, the call was for me. "A Barbara King has a colicked horse," the answering service operator reported.

"I'll be right there," I answered, and put the phone slowly back in its cradle.

"That's odd," I told Blue. "Really odd. We were just talking about Barbara and now I get a call from her. It gives me a funny feeling. But I'd better go."