“There we go!” I exclaimed, and Corey came over to have a look.
Hidden under the little tuft was a fat tick, happily sucking away on poor Touch of Frost. Corey let out a low whistle.
“Damn, I missed it completely.”
“It’s a spinous ear tick, pretty common in dry climates like Arizona.”
Suddenly, a small radio in Corey’s pocket went off.
“Corey, it’s Philippe. I need you in the paddock,” a voice said with a strong French accent.
“Sure, be right there,” Corey replied. He looked at me. “You ok here by yourself?”
I nodded.
“Cool. Make sure you never tell Caroline Gibson I left you in here, she’ll fire me for sure,” he said with a grin before heading out of the stables.
“Alright big guy,” I told Touch of Frost when I heard the stable door close behind Corey. “Let’s get this tick off you, hey?”
“Thank you,” he muttered tiredly.
“I’ll make sure you feel better in no time,” I murmured, stroking him softly. I went over and grabbed my bowler bag with all the necessities, and took out a pair of tweezers. Carefully moving the tuft of hair back, I gently pulled the tick out, making sure that the whole tick came out without leaving the body inside the ear.
“Good,” I told Touch of Frost, putting the body in an empty vial I would dispose of later, to make sure the tick didn’t re-attach itself to another horse. I stoked him carefully.
“You should be feeling better soon, little guy. Let me have another look at you, to make sure there aren’t any more of these little buggers hanging around, ok?”
He nodded his head at me slightly, and I spent ten minutes carefully going over every inch of Touch of Frost, making sure there weren’t any more ticks anywhere on him. Just as I was finishing up with, confident that there wasn’t a single other tick on the horse, Corey came back into the stables, breathing heavily.
“Hey,” he said, catching his breath back. “Thanks for that. Philippe’s one of the trainers, he was having problems with a horse and wanted my input.”
“No problem,” I replied. “I got the tick out, and gave Touch of Frost a pretty thorough going over. I’m pretty sure that was it.”
“Sweet.”
“I want him to get some prescription insecticide just in case,” I continued.
“Oh, no problem,” Corey said, motioning to the end of the stables. “I have access to all the stuff you need, the regular vet Dr. Williams keeps a permanent supply.”
We made our way over, had a look, and I pointed to one I thought was suitable. Telling Corey the dosage I wanted, he pulled out a notebook from a pocket and wrote down what I told him.
“I assume you’re going to check with Doctor Williams before you give Touch of Frost anything?”
Corey grinned. “You got it. Got nothing against you, myself. But Caroline Gibson, well, she’s a pretty exacting woman. I’m pretty sure she’d skin me alive if I didn’t.”
I laughed. “Yeah, she seems like a pretty hardcore person. The type who always gets what she wants.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, I thought a dark look passed through Corey’s eyes as I said that, but I must have imagined it, because a second later they were back to twinkling happily.
“You’re not wrong there, that’s for sure,” he said. “Caroline Gibson is tough. But she’s had to be, in a sport that’s been incredibly male dominated for centuries.”
“Mmmm,” I replied, noncommittally. I couldn’t forget how badly Caroline had treated her daughter outside; tough or not tough, there was no excuse for that.
“Anyway, I think we’re good!” Corey said. He pulled out a cheque and handed it to me. “This was the fee we agreed upon, I believe. Caroline gave it to me earlier. I’ll take you back out towards the house and get Susan to meet you.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took the cheque. Seven thousand dollars for just an hour or so of work. That was hands down the best fee I’d ever gotten. I slipped it carefully into my bowler bag, patted Touch of Frost one last time, and headed towards the door of the stable with Corey.
As soon as Corey opened the door to the stable, he gasped. I looked past him to see what he was looking at, and found myself looking at Caroline Gibson, lying on the ground in front of the stables, completely motionless.
Chapter 3
“Did she have a heart attack?” I asked, immediately pushing past Corey and leaning down over her. I pressed my fingers against her neck, and the lack of pulse told me that it was too late.
“I don’t think it was a heart attack,” Corey said weakly, motioning to my hands. I suddenly noticed what he meant. Her neck had a thick red mark around it; I’d seen enough episodes of CSI to know that she’d been strangled. No doubt about it.
Almost as if on autopilot, I pulled out my phone and dialled 9-1-1. I told them to come to Gibson Farms, that there was a body and a probable murder.
When I hung up, I saw Corey on his radio. He was telling Susan to expect the police to come, and to make sure she didn’t come to the stable, that Caroline was dead and he didn’t want her to see the body.
Corey and I looked at each other, grim-faced, neither one of us talking. This wasn’t the first body I’d ever come across, I’d found a man who had broken into my vet clinic to try and save himself before. But this wasn’t easier. It wasn’t the sort of thing that you got used to after doing it once.
Suddenly, I saw two men coming over from the paddock. One was obviously a jockey; he was shorter than me, and was dressed in riding gear. The other man was taller, but still not very tall, with an aquiline face, dark hair and eyes and a short beard. He looked to be in his early 50s. He had a serious face, but his clothes were casuaclass="underline" a polo shirt and jeans.
“Corey,” the jockey called out. “Is it true? Is she dead?”
Corey nodded as the men came near.
“Yes, Tony, it’s true.”
“Good,” the man replied, spitting on the ground to the side of the body. “Good riddance.”
I openly stared at the man. I mean, sure, Caroline Gibson wasn’t the nicest person I’d ever met, by far, but hadn’t he ever heard of not speaking ill of the dead? And at the very least, was spitting next to her body not an overreaction?
“We think she’s been murdered,” Corey said quietly, and the two men stared.
“Murder?” the other man asked, with the same voice and accent as I’d heard on the radio with Corey before. This must have been Philippe, the trainer.
Corey nodded, and motioned to her neck. The two men were careful not to touch the body as they looked. Finally, Tony, the jockey, let out a low whistle.
“Damn. I mean, the lady wasn’t exactly popular, but murder?”
“But who could have done it?” Philippe muttered almost under his breath.
Suddenly, we all looked at each other, all of us having the same thought, but none of us daring to actually say it out loud. Susan had told me all about the ultra security on the grounds. Only someone who was already in Gibson Farms could have killed Caroline Gibson.
Just then, Susan came rushing forward, followed by three policemen that I didn’t recognize. As soon as she saw Caroline’s body lying on the ground, from around 200 feet away, she stopped and put her hand to her mouth, motioning for the policemen to keep going.
I instantly knew which man was in charge. He was in his early 40s or so, enormously fat, with a dusting of what I was pretty sure was icing sugar on the front of his shirt. His badge was prominently displayed, clipped to his pocket, and he walked with a swagger that only a small-town police chief who thinks he’s much more important than he actually is can pull off.
“Daniels, Mahoney, seal off the crime scene. Kelly, take the witnesses into the house and separate them, along with anyone else on the property.”
“Yes, sir,” the three men replied, almost in unison.