Reining in Murder (17 page)

“Which reminds me.” Annie had had about enough of hearing about Todos's exemplary qualities. “I got a call from James Fenton yesterday.”

Her pronouncement had the desired effect.

“What did he want? And why didn't you call me immediately?”

Annie glared at Dan.

“If he'd told me where Marcus was, of course I would have shared that information. But he doesn't have a clue as to where his client is.”

Dan snickered.

“No, really, Dan. It's driving him crazy. Until Marcus is found, the estate is frozen, as you well know. Which means he doesn't get paid.”

Dan grinned. “Well, there's a silver lining in every—”

Annie cut in. “Yeah, spare me your humanitarian views. But apparently a few days before he disappeared, Marcus designated
me
as the person to find new homes for Hilda's animals. And he's given me Trooper,” she added hastily, as Dan sputtered over his coffee, and brown drops dotted her flannel shirt. Really, Annie was getting wetter talking to the sheriff than she would have just standing in the rain.

“Well, we'll see about that.”

“What do you mean,
we'll
see about that? Doesn't seem to me that what Marcus decides to do with his wife's estate has any bearing on
your
work.”

“Welcome to Criminal Justice 101, Annie. It has everything to do with my case. Marcus can't divest himself of anything of Hilda's because: A, he's a suspect in Hilda's and possibly Wayne Johnston's deaths; B, he's missing; and C, judging by the late-night calls to her estate attorney, his late wife may have revised her trust so that Marcus was cut off at the knees. You must know that the Colbert marriage was pretty rocky when Hilda was murdered. Seems to
me
that Hilda may have been doing a bit of advance preparation for the impending divorce.”

Annie hated it when Dan was right, which, since his poor performance in the courtroom, was becoming far more frequent.

“Well, be that as it may, the horses need to be looked after.”

“Todos is doing a fine job.”

“I mean, beyond their day-to-day needs. They need to be exercised.”

“As you may recall, Todos is a former jockey. I'm sure he can take care of that.”

“Allegedly a former jockey.”

“No, really a former jockey. Do you think we just take people's words at face value, Annie? Todos is a card-carrying member of the Jockey Club of Mexico. He got rave reviews from owners who race their thoroughbreds in Mexico City. When Hilda hired him, she knew what she was doing. She hired the best in the business.”

Annie silently fumed. It was infuriating to learn that Todos was the real deal. She'd wanted him so badly to be a fake.

“Oh, and he's got a permanent green card, too. What's wrong with your arm?” Dan asked.

Annie looked down, and realized she'd been furiously kneading her left wrist.

“Oh, nothing. I was cleaning Baby's hooves, and she decided we were done a tad before I could put her hoof down. I got swiped with the hoof pick.”

Dan bent over the table and solicitously looked at the angry red mark on Annie's wrist.

“Be careful, Annie. You got nicked a few centimeters left of a major artery. I don't want to have to find you dead on your place from bleeding out.”

“You know me, Dan. I'm too ornery to die.”

* * *

When Annie got back to her car after running errands all afternoon, she realized she'd received a phone call from Dan a few minutes before. The sound of rain pounding on her truck roof must have drowned out the ring tone. She pulled into the parking lot to hear the message.

“Annie, I wanted you to know that Judy Evans is going to call Fenton to confirm Marcus's intention to give you the executive authority to divest Hilda's animals. It won't change a thing”—he seemed inordinately quick to caution her—“but if Fenton verifies this is what Marcus wanted, we've agreed to let you onto the ranch
under supervision
”—as Dan enunciated each syllable, Annie rolled her eyes—“so you can go through the office and make copies of anything you think you might need should you eventually get that role. Happy now?”

Annie quickly punched redial, but Dan apparently was off doing business in the service of justice. She left a message for him to call her. On the hour drive up the coast to the only feed store on the Peninsula that sold her horses' favorite stall treats, she'd remembered what she'd forgotten to ask Dan at lunch.

At five, she stepped in her farmhouse to find the two Belgian pups still by the woodstove but now encircled under Wolf's massive paws. It was an adorable sight.
If only humans could get along as well as canines,
she thought to herself, and, stripping herself of her soaked jacket, headed toward the kitchen. Lavender was chopping onions on the sideboard, singing completely off-tune, and completely oblivious to the rest of the world.
I could be an ax murderer,
Annie thought. But instead of angrily reminding her sister to lock the door when she was home alone, she thought of the pups nestled by Wolf, and instead, asked how her day was. She immediately regretted it.

“Sister! What an
amazing
day! I met the most wonderful people. One of them lives just right down the road. . . .”

Annie tuned her out to respond to the clang of her cell phone. It was Dan. She ducked out of the kitchen for her bedroom.

“What's up, Annie?”

“I got your message. How soon can I come out to Hilda's ranch?” Annie didn't know exactly why, but she felt the sooner she was able to put her own footprint down on Hilda's place, the better. It was a symbolic way of showing allegiance to Marcus.

“Fenton confirmed with Judy this afternoon, so tomorrow, if you'd like,” was Dan's response. “We just got the search warrant to look for Marcus's body on-site. The county commissioners aren't too happy about having to pay overtime on a Saturday, but a week's up and the guy's still AWOL.”

Tell me about it,
Annie thought morosely. Then her brain clicked in.
Look for Marcus's body on-site? At Hilda's place?

“It'll be a mudfest with all the rain,” Dan continued, “but we'll just have to work with it.”

“Are you serious? You think one of the workers
is
responsible?”

“Hard to say. But Hilda's ranch has enough places to hide a dozen bodies. We just want to make sure we don't overlook anything in our search. It's about all we can do on the county's side. Anyway, the place will be crawling with deputies, so it's an ideal time for you to come out and go through the office. We'll put one of our junior members at the door. I promise no one will look over your shoulder if you promise that you'll make copies of anything you want and leave the originals.”

Annie fervently hoped that she wouldn't be present if Marcus's body was actually buried on Hilda's property, but she couldn't see any way of turning down Dan's rather generous offer.

“What time should I be there?”

“How about ten? That should give us enough time to get organized on our end.”

“Thanks, Dan. And, by the way, I meant to ask you—what's happening with Wayne's death? It's the one I always seem to forget about.”

“Well, believe me, I haven't, and enough angry relatives of the deceased are making sure I don't. What is clear to us now is that Wayne Johnston's and Hilda's murders are related.”

“You mean the same person killed both of them?”

“No, I just mean they're related. Someone didn't want Wayne to deliver that horse you're caring for. And Hilda knew something about the horse that we still don't. Your belated delivery of the thoroughbred's papers pretty much sealed that deal. If Hilda hadn't been found with them, they might have been two unrelated events. Just where did you say you found them?”

Annie hadn't, but she realized that the time for dancing around the truth was over.

“Well . . . one part was in Hilda's hand and the other . . .”

“In Hilda's hand! You understand now how withholding that little piece of evidence held up our investigation?”

Annie did, indeed. And the only way she could make herself marginally feel better was to go out to the friends who never let her down and feed them dinner. Then she would dutifully go back to the kitchen and hear more about Lavender's fun-filled day. The latter was penance, pure and simple. But she deserved it.

Yet even the cloud that hung over Annie's head that day dispelled much of its grayness that evening. As she ladled the last of the mashes into the horse stalls, Jessica came roaring up in her vet van and burst through the door.

“Good news, Annie! It's not EHV! The bay's just allergic to practically everything in your pasture, paddock, and tack room, including straw bedding!”

Some people might have taken this as bad news. But Annie and Jessica squealed like they were teenage girls again, hugged each other, and whirled around the stable like two ecstatic dervishes.

The horses thought the two humans were nuts.

S
ATURDAY
, M
ARCH
5
^TH

With an ice pick in her hand, Annie was aware that she looked a tad menacing. She didn't care. She turned to the object in front of her, raised her arm, and swung down using her full strength. A satisfying
ker-runch
resounded throughout the room. Ah. Progress at last.

Turning, Annie saw her half sister in front of her, clutching a hairbrush—
my hairbrush,
she noted. It would make, she thought, a totally ineffectual weapon.

She hoisted the ice pick again.

“
Thwack!
”

Lavender jumped, her nightgown billowing around her, and emitted a small whimper.

Annie smiled.

“And, this, dear Sister, is how we defrost the freezer.”

After two nights of vegetarian fare, Annie had decided it was time to reclaim her carnivorous roots. Quinoa and pinto beans were all very well in moderation. But if one more grain-based casserole appeared in front of her tonight, she figured she might as well bed down with the horses and share their oats and hay.

The freezer, she knew, contained long forgotten morsels of pork chops, hamburger, and even a steak or two. When you lived alone, it was easy to buy in bulk and freeze the rest. It was time to find out what nestled among the sharp shards of ice that lay within her retro refrigerator, manufactured long before automatic defrosting was the norm.

Poking around, Annie espied a long, fat item wrapped in aluminum foil. Sausages! Fat, yummy sausages, made from parts of animals she didn't want to know about but wouldn't stop her from eating them. She pulled out the rock-hard package and reverently placed it on the kitchen counter. Surely it would thaw by dinner. She could already taste the greasy juices.

Lavender stared in horror.

“What?” Annie asked, with no little irritation.

“My God, Sister! Now I understand why your home is filled with bad karma. How can you fill your refrigerator with the sacrificed flesh of our fellow creatures?”

“Easily, Lavender. One shrink-wrapped package at a time.”

* * *

Annie had been up since before dawn and already put in almost a full day's work. At half past four, she'd tiptoed into the stables where the horses were still sleeping, made their mashes, and prodded them into the pasture a full two hours ahead of schedule. What grass remained in March was still encrusted with crisp frost, but it couldn't be helped. She needed the time to strip the stalls of straw and take out every offending morsel. Straw, she'd learned the previous evening, was one of the worst allergens the bay had inherited. She'd dumped wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow far behind the stables in the area reserved for horse poop. Jessica had assured her that it would make dandy compost that would be ready in time for next year's spring garden planting.

“He's also allergic to fescue, velvet grass, bayberry, and pine,” Jessica had cheerfully told Annie the night before. “And forget about beet pulp. Flaxseed is also a no-no. Did I mention that alder is borderline?”

Annie groaned. Most of the items the bay couldn't tolerate weren't indigenous to the Northwest. Sure, there was plenty of pine in these here woods, but it was mostly at a higher elevation. But alder? Volunteer alder was everywhere, and sprouted freely on the ten acres that the horses called their playground.

“What'll I do?” she'd wailed, after the first euphoria from realizing her horses didn't have a dreaded, potentially fatal disease had faded. “I can change the bedding. That's easy. But do I have to cut down every single alder on the damn place? You know they'll reappear just when I've put the chain saw away.”

Jessica had assured Annie that the alder issue could be controlled with a homeopathic medicine, which she'd order today.

“It's primarily the straw, Annie. Just change the bedding to cedar chips, and Trooper will be back to normal in no time.
But no pine chips.
You're just asking for the same problem if you do.”

So Annie had resolutely risen from her bed the following morning to perform the first half of the job. She could order cedar chips from the local Cenex en route to Hilda's ranch and have them delivered while she was gone. In the meantime, there was the small issue of nicely telling Lavender that meat had to appear on the family table at least five times a week.

Annie smiled sweetly at her sister. At least, she thought she did.

“Lavender, I know you've got your heart set on going into town today, but I need you here at home.”

Lavender started to pout, an instant irritant to her older sister. Would the woman ever realize that wiles that had worked in her youth were now simply embarrassingly transparent?

“But, Sister, I have things to do. I promised Martha I'd help her.”

Martha? Who was Martha? After forty-three years of living in the same community, Annie assumed she knew everyone in town, not to mention the outlying areas. But apparently Lavender already moved in circles outside her own. Annie was pretty sure those circles were outside her own comfort zone.

“Sorry, Lavender. But as a nonpaying member of this household for only twenty-one more days, you have to expect to pitch in a little.” Annie tried not to sound as annoyed as she felt.

A single tear slid down Lavender's cheek.

Damn, she's good,
Annie thought. She sighed. “Can't your new friend Martha come here?”

“No, she can't! And I wouldn't want her to! I wouldn't want
anyone
to come here until the house is cleansed!”

Annie glanced around her kitchen, dishes still piled high in the sink from last night's dinner. “Cleanse away, dear sister. I'm not stopping you.”

“Not that kind of cleansing! I mean a spiritual cleansing. Smudging.”

Annie stifled a giggle. “Smudging? I've heard of a lot of folk remedies for hard to remove spots, but I never knew that
smudging
got rid of red wine stains.”

“Oh, you think you're so smart!” Lavender flounced over to the woodstove and knelt by the Belgian pups, who had claimed this spot when they weren't tearing up the house. The Belgians eagerly began to lick Lavender's hands. She looked up, and to Annie's surprise, saw something like real anger flash in her sister's eyes.

“You create a place for all these wonderful creatures yet bring in dead animals for us to eat. You're going against the laws of the natural universe. It's put your whole karmic cycle out of whack. No wonder you're finding dead bodies and everyone you associate with disappears. And until I can go out”—here, Lavender gave a half sob and gulped—“and find the sage I need to yes,
smudge,
your home, the negative cycle will never end.”

Oh,
that
smudging. A faint memory filtered through Annie's brain. She'd read about this ceremony before. And Lavender undoubtedly had read about it in
Northwest Native American Spiritualism for Dummies
. Honestly, if her sister didn't sound so ridiculous, she could have been upset. She glanced at her watch: 9:30. It was time to go.

“Ah, Lavender? Can you use anything besides sage?”

After a few seconds, the muffled reply came. “Well, cedar is used a lot, too.”

“Well, you're in luck. Cedar trees abound throughout my property. You can walk outside and gather as much as you want within twenty feet. But, Lavender, listen to me. I really do need you home today.”

Lavender merely sniffed.
Oh, hell's bells.
Annie decided to give her sister a subtle lesson into how big girls got their way.

“Frankly, Lavender, I don't know what I'd do without you right now. I'm expecting a big load from Cenex. They're delivering bedding supplies that are
critical
to the horses' health. I need someone to be here to sign for them and make sure the workers put them in the right place.”

She had Lavender's attention. She could sense it.

“Here I have to go out on business, yet it's vitally important that I get this new bedding for the horses by tonight. Why, if you weren't here, I'd be lost.”

Lavender's face immediately changed. She stood up and wiped her hands on her nightgown, which now showed, Annie noticed, significant evidence of puppy drool.

“Why, of course, Sister. You just tell me what to do.”

Like taking candy from a baby,
Annie thought.
She simply wants to feel needed.

“Just tell the men to stack the bags of cedar chips by the Timothy in the tack room, Lavender. And make sure they do it right, so one won't come tumbling down on our heads when we least expect it. I'll call Cenex and tell them to put your name on the account so you can sign for them.”

Her half sister was actually preening, Annie realized. And putting her name on the account surely wouldn't do any harm. She couldn't imagine Lavender going crazy buying up what Cenex had to offer.

“Oh, and I won't have time to shop before coming home. So we'll have the meat that's thawing tonight.”

“Meat, Sister? I told you I was a vegetarian.”

“Well, I'm not. But you can give a shamanic blessing over it before we tuck in.”

* * *

Turning into the lane that took her to Hilda's ranch, Annie could hear the activity before she saw it. A long, low grumble of machinery permeated the air around her. In her mind, she imagined ancient dinosaurs rising from the earth and voicing their displeasure at what they'd found upon reentry.

What she saw as she approached the electronic gate bore more than a small resemblance to the creatures that had emanated from the primordial ooze. The pelting rain that obscured her windshield made her fantasy more plausible. In the distance, she saw the outlines of a Kubota backhoe, carefully swinging a load of dirt high into the air, then angling it off to the side and unceremoniously dumping it onto a mound already the height of a draft horse. Twenty feet to the south, a bulldozer stolidly made its way through the underbrush, clearing the way for further excavation. Surrounding these machines were a dozen hot, sweaty deputies, covered in rain gear already flecked with mud and grime. Most of them held shovels in their hands. More than a few were leaning on them, clearly exhausted.

She hadn't realized she'd been idling the truck for so long until a sharp
tap-tap
on her window brought her back to reality.

“Excuse me? Ms. Carson? Is that you?”

It was the same young deputy who'd helped her and Marcus out of the jail last week, a short passage of time that now seemed a lifetime ago.

Annie rolled down her window and smiled. “Deputy Lindquist. How nice to see you again. Couldn't you find a job that kept you out of the rain?”

Deputy Lindquist's face took on a very serious look, or, at least, as serious a look as a twenty-year-old rookie could manage under the circumstances. He was drenched. With his clothes sticking to him, he looked as if he weighed ninety-five pounds.

“No, ma'am. Well, actually, yes, ma'am. I've been assigned to watch you. Well, not watch you, exactly. To
accompany
you to Mrs. Colbert's office, I mean.”

Deputy Lindquist's face turned a bright red as he spoke, and Annie wondered if he'd been given the task because someone had found out about his mission of mercy at the jail. Well, if so, at least he'd have a chance to warm up. Annie intended to keep the thermostat as high as it could go in the tack room office.

“Fabulous. Want to hop in?” Annie started to move the assorted magazines, coffee cups, and other debris from her front passenger seat.

Deputy Lindquist looked shocked.

“Oh, no, ma'am. Let me first get you to sign in here, then I'll open the gate. Wait for me to get in my vehicle, and I'll escort you in. I've been told to tell you to park right next to me and to lock your vehicle and give me your keys while you're working inside.”

He thrust a clipboard inside the window, and Annie complied, fuming at all the unnecessary regulations. Jeez. Just because she was a tad late in handing over a couple of little pieces of paper. But there was no sense in taking it out on this poor guy, who was just trying to do his job.

“Here you go, Deputy.” Annie spoke with an enthusiasm she didn't feel. She had the feeling this was going to be a very tedious morning.

* * *

Annie didn't anticipate the acute sadness she felt upon entering the office. She quietly took off her coat and sat down in the chair where she'd last seen Marcus. It seemed so unfair, she thought, as she pulled the first stack of papers on the desk in toward her. The man who should have been attending to this business now could be buried within eyesight of her. She quickly got up and pulled down the blinds.

“Would you like some coffee, Ms. Carson? Sheriff Stetson said to make sure you were comfortable.”

Annie felt marginally better at Dan's thoughtfulness. “I'd love some, Deputy. I don't suppose Dan remembered to bring any doughnuts?”

“I believe he did, ma'am. I believe he did.”

“Then I'd like two, please. Three, if they have chocolate on them.”

Two hours later, Annie's head hurt. After locking the doors to the office, Deputy Lindquist had unobtrusively situated himself in a corner and was now reading a law-enforcement manual.
Probably studying up to become the sheriff when Dan retires,
Annie thought. He was so quiet that Annie forgot he was even there most of the time.

No one else had popped in, either. Apparently the work outside was so all-consuming that no one cared what Annie was finding, or attempting to find, in Hilda's office. Annie was grateful that Marcus had at least been able to spend a few hours here. The mounds of paper that had littered the desk when they had first walked in were neatly organized in piles. She'd initially thought this would make her job of researching Hilda's stable fairly straightforward.