Toni Petti - Horse Girl Homicide

Chapter Seventeen

Diesel exhaust mixed with the smell of horses and new hay is what that French perfumer should bottle. I'd call it Working Summer. It's fragrance for men and women and right now my eyes search the farm for the only guy I know who smells like that, but there's no sign of him.

In the feed room, the door thuds closed and the noise summons Jasper the guard donkey who trots into the pantry to greet me. "Good morning," I scratch his curls and he gently headbutts my hip, a physical salutation.

In the Premier Barn, Monica Locksley hoists a duffle bag filled with pink plastic envelopes. She drops the heavy sack in the aisle and passes Dr. Swansea one of the packages over an iron gate. The vet opens the cellophane and they pull forth and spread-out a pink plastic sheet over the horse in the pen. The blond girl sees me and waves.

"Nice of you to join," Moni grins.

"What're you doing?"

"We're putting on bug rugs," Dr. Jon answers. "Amigo," he adds playfully and Monica giggles. I see why; the package reads, Amigo Fly Sheet - Sunkissed Coral.

The pink sheet is made of plastic mesh that's form fit to perfectly envelope equine loins and hindquarters. It snugs around the horse's neck where there's a crimson patch that supports a hook-and-eye fastener. The mare doesn't mind the garment, and I'm sure it's preferable to being bothered by insects, although I doubt she'll make the connection.

My car is parked on the gravel outside and further down the grassy hill, Terrence sits in his wheelchair near the red stain in the sand. His visitor kneels beside him with his white cowboy hat in his hands. They're having a heart to heart.

"Who's that with Terrence?′

"State Farm rep," Jon replies, "accident will likely be the end of Candace's riding school... But that's not what they're talking about."

"No..?" I probe, "then what?"

Monica glances at Dr. Swansea who frowns at me. I shrug, embarrassed. I'm doing it again. I'm snooping to turn them into gossips. Moni would tell me everything though, if Jon wasn't around, and I think he knows that. He summarizes the situation, matter-of-factly.

"Prince Tut is a stud horse that doesn't stud." Jonathan picks up the empty package, "and Scissor King is a race horse that won't run."

"But those are Teo's horses? Why isn't he down there?"

"Still in denial." Jon moves to the next stall and to the next horse to be cloaked. "Must break his heart to get this far and end up brick-walled with bad livestock."

"I don't believe they're bad." I say, and Jon and Monica smirk at each other.

"Well, Teo's in an evil mood, so you'd better keep your head down," Moni acts as spotter.

We wrap that horse and another before we come to Charlie at the end of the aisle. Dr. Swansea notices his red eyes and seems concerned. This is Candace's fjord horse from yesterday, and Jon gives him a close inspection and talks encouragingly to him. I don't hear what he says because outside the window, a tractor-trailer pours on the gas to climb the drive. Twin smokestacks belch black exhaust and loud engine noise fills the stables. The words Eastern Equine are stenciled on the wind scoop above the cab. Monica identifies the occupants.

"Ugg, Chuck Billings and Cooter McDougal." Moni winces. "Steel yourself for a redneck revival."

"Chuck and Cooter are revolting," Dr. Swansea agrees.

-

The transport looks futuristic. The Eastern Equine branding is emblazoned on the hood, and on the doors. The rig parks jackknifed with the cab perpendicular to the trailer. There's a side door with steps on the cargo box and over this breach is a huge white fabric awning extended as sunshade. The trailer also has a hydraulic tailgate which groans as Cooter disgorges tubs and trolleys.