Just Horsing Around (Willow Bay Witches 3) Read online

  “What?” her mother snarled, turning back to her daughter.

  “Nothing,” the poor girl replied, looking like she wanted to sink into the ground at the sight of her mother. I was absolutely mortified. Poor Ellie! Caroline Gibson’s estimation in my mind dropped to rock bottom. The woman was a bully at best, an abuser at worst. I’d only known the woman for a couple of minutes, and I already hated her.

  “Susan, when the vet is finished, tell Cory to come and find me, I want a report before she leaves.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Susan replied instantly, and without a single word more, Caroline Gibson turned on her heel and headed back towards the house.

  “Are you ok? I’m so sorry your mom said those things,” I told Ellie as soon as Caroline Gibson was out of hearing range. Ellie gave me a small smile in return.

  “Oh it’s alright. She doesn’t really mean those things. She just thinks I need to be a little bit tougher.”

  “Still, she could be a bit nicer about it,” I muttered.

  “That’s just how mom is. I know deep down she really loves me,” the girl replied, and before I could say anything else, Susan coughed lightly.

  “Follow me and we’ll continue,” she said, and the three of us made our way to the Gibson Stables.

  Five minutes later I was standing in front of the biggest stable I had ever seen. It was nicer than most houses. Made of obviously good quality, thick wood, it had to be at least two thousand square feet. Just outside the stable was a big training paddock, where a mare and her foal were being casually watched by a man who seemed to be about my age, with rugged good looks and an easy smile. Wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, if you’d put a cowboy hat on him and given him a lasso he could have been the star of any western film, easily. His blue eyes stood out against his dark hair and stubble, and they flashed with an easy amusement that only those who were happy with life could pull off.

  He had been sitting on the fence of the paddock, watching the two horses, when we arrived. As soon as he saw us the man turned and easily jumped down onto the ground.

  “Ah, you must be Dr. Wright,” he said, shaking my hand happily.

  “Please, call me Angela.”

  “Hey Ellie,” he told her with a nod, and a blush crept up her face as she replied with a quick “hey,” in reply. Goodness. That poor girl was so under her mother’s thumb that she was nineteen and couldn’t even talk to guys.

  “Alright Susan, thanks for bringing the ladies to me, I’ll take it from here. I’ll let you know when you come and grab Dr. Wright here later.”

  With an crisp, efficient nod, Susan gave me a quick smile and turned and headed back the same way she came.

  “I’m Corey, the head of the stables,” the man told me as he motioned for us to follow him towards the stable. When we reached the door he entered a passcode that I couldn’t see, then pressed his four fingers against a pad that scanned the print before unlocking the door. Susan was not joking about security here being tight. “Thanks for coming to have a look at Touch of Frost. For a day or so he’s been fairly lethargic, and he hasn’t been eating,” Corey told me as we entered the stables. “I immediately thought ticks, but I checked his mane and tail thoroughly, and didn’t find anything. I checked over the rest of him as well, just in case, but didn’t manage to find anything.”

  Corey stopped in front of a stall holding a horse I’d seen in magazines and newspapers a dozen times, at least. Touch of Frost was just over sixteen hands, a perfect specimen of thoroughbred. Every single inch of him was a perfect chestnut brown; I’d never seen a horse with such a shiny coat. His brown eyes stared at me, sadly.

  “Hi, Touch of Frost,” I said softly, holding out a hand. Normally I liked to bribe horses to like me with a piece of apple, but Corey had just said he wasn’t eating.

  “Hi,” he replied heavily. This was a horse who wasn’t in a good way. He sighed heavily.

  “I think he likes you,” Ellie said, smiling. “I’m going to head off, now that my mom’s gone. I have some things to do, despite her thinking my time is worthless.”

  “Sure, of course,” I said, my heart sinking for the poor girl.

  “It was nice to meet you, Angela,” she told me.

  “You too,” I replied. With a shy smile at Corey, Ellie turned around and headed back out into the afternoon sun.

  “I’m just going to come in here and have a look at you, alright?” I asked Touch of Frost cheerily as Corey opened the stall door for me. Touch of Frost didn’t even have the energy to reply.

  I put my bag down on the floor of the stable and began to look him over.

  “Has there been any change to his diet, or to his stools?” I asked Corey, who shook his head.

  “No, everything’s been normal,” Corey replied, looking over at me anxiously. “Thanks for coming, I’m really worried about the poor guy. Our normal vets are both out with Touch of Class, his little brother who’s racing out east.”

  “And has Touch of Frost travelled anywhere in the last week?”

  Corey nodded. “He was in Phoenix for a sponsor event for about three days, we got back on Tuesday.”

  So Touch of Frost had only been back for two days. The more Corey told me, the more the tick idea made sense. Suddenly, I remembered something I’d learned back in vet school about ticks in the southwest.

  Moving over to Touch of Frost’s ears, I told him I was just going to have a look.

  His left ear twitched once as I had a look, inspecting closely. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything.

  When I moved to his right ear, however, I moved back a little tuft of hair and smiled.

  “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.

&nbs
p; “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 casual: 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.

  “Um, excuse me?” I asked, “I’m wondering if you know how long this is going to take? I have plans for tonight,” I said, remembering the date with Jason.

  The man turned and glared at me.

  “Girly, this is a murder investigation, it’ll take as long as it’ll take. Now go to the house or I’ll arrest you for obstruction.”

  What on earth? Overreaction, much? Too stunned to reply I let myself be led back to the house by the officer who must have been Kelly, a bald man who looked like he spent way too much time in both the gym and the kitchen. He was muscular, but also very much on the chubby side. None of us said anything as we were led back to the house.

  I barely noticed the incredible opulence inside the Gibson home when I entered. Instead, I heard someone crying from one of the rooms off to the side, probably Ellie Gibson.

  “There’s a bunch of rooms down that hallway,” Corey told the cop, who nodded briskly at him. We went down the hall Corey mentioned, and the first door opened led into a library.

  “You,” the cop said, motioning to me. “You can wait here. Don’t leave.”

  I went into the room, and the door was quickly shut behind me. I forced myself to steady my breathing. This was a lot to take in. Caroline Gibson had been killed, and probably by someone I’d met today. I wondered who else was on the property.

  I also quickly realized that I wasn’t going to be able to make my date with Jason. But I could still make his night if I told him why; Jason was a journalist, and the local paper came out once a week, on Fridays. It was Thursday now, I wondered if he would have time to submit something to his editor and have it published in time. After all, the Willow Bay Weekly wasn’t exactly a high volume publication.

  Hey, I have to cancel our date tonight. But I have a hot scoop for you. Caroline Gibson’s been murdered.

  I barely had to wait thirty seconds for the reply.

  Really? Are you ok?

  I am, thanks. And it’s true. It looks like she was strangled, sometime in the last hour or so. I’m waiting to give my statement.

  I guess that’s a legit excuse for cancelling our date if I’ve ever heard one. Thanks for the tip.

  Knowing Jason would immediately be driving out here to try and get more information, or writing his article if he had the time, I didn’t reply. Instead, I put my phone down and tried not to think about the fact that I’d likely met a murderer this afternoon.

  I got up and paced arou
nd the room. I really, really hoped this wasn’t going to take too long. I had nothing except my thoughts around, and the memory of Caroline Gibson’s body lying there on the ground, all the life gone out of her forever.

  Wandering around the library for a while I looked at some books, tried reading a leather-bound copy of Pride and Prejudice, but found that I couldn’t focus on the words at all.

  The sun was heading down to the horizon before the door finally opened and that same fat cop came in, his face now covered in a thin layer of sweat. He was beet red, and a vein was bulging from his head so far I wondered if he wasn’t about to have a heart attack.

  “Alright, girly,” he told me. “Sit down, I gotta take your statement.”

  I bristled at the use of the word “girly”. It was so patronizing, and I knew that was how he meant it. I made sure to wait a minute before sitting, and even then I placed myself on the edge of an armrest. It wasn’t that I hated cops; in fact I wondered why Chief Gary, the police chief in Willow Bay wasn’t here, it was just that I hated bullies, and I knew immediately that this man was a bully.

  “Why isn’t Chief Gary here?” I asked before he got started.

  The man grunted. “Mr. Bigshot is out of his jurisdiction here, this farm falls on the Wawnee Police Department. I’m the chief there, Chief Hawthorne. Speaking of, you’re the one who got kidnapped by the drug guy a week ago, aren’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “And you were the one almost killed by Zoe Wright a few months ago?”

  Again, I nodded.

  “I need spoken words to my answers, missy.”

  “Yes,” I replied. I wasn’t going to give this guy any more information than I had to, I had a bad feeling about him.

  “So you’ve been involved in three murders now recently.”

  Hawthorne looked at me expectantly. Finally, after about thirty seconds had passed, he said, “I told you I need spoken words to my answers. I won’t tell you again.”

  “I didn’t hear a question, just a statement,” I replied. The vein in his head bulged, and I swear his face grew a shade more purple.