Lead a Horse to Murder (33 page)

An hour or so later I was still agonizing over the shocking scene I’d witnessed at Betty’s house. Even the hot bath I’d taken to calm myself down hadn’t helped. I’d sat amidst the bubbles as tense as if I was sitting in a dentist’s chair, mystifying poor Cat, who lay curled up on the bathmat, with my constant muttering. As I sat on the couch, towel-drying my hair, I still couldn’t stop ruminating about Winston Farnsworth’s ruthlessness.

I froze at the sound of a knock. The dogs launched into their usual barking routine, sounding fierce but wagging their tails, thrilled over the prospect of company. I just stared at the front door, hoping it wasn’t Betty, coming over in her bathrobe to explain.

And
really
hoping it wasn’t Winston.

I was incredibly relieved when Nick opened the door and poked his head in.

“Anybody home?”

“Come on in,” I said, wondering why he was getting so formal.

“I’m not alone. I brought a friend.” He hesitated. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Just as long as my surprise guest for the evening
doesn’t turn out to be one of the obnoxious members of
your study group,
I thought.

“The more, the merrier,” I told him. “Bring him in.”

“It’s a she, actually,” he said as he came inside.

I stared at Nick, confused. From what I could see, he was alone.

Don’t tell me he’s developing a split personality,
I thought.
Given everything that’s happened over the last
couple of weeks, I really don’t think I could handle—

And then he reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out what looked like a teeny-weeny, ridiculously fluffy orange ball. Fake fur, I figured. A pair of earmuffs, or maybe a big key chain.

Then the ball meowed.

“Oh, my,” I cried, reaching for the tiny kitten. “You sweet little thing! Where did you come from?”

She was tiny enough to fit in the palm of my hand— yet she had the coloring and markings of a ferocious tiger. Her fearful mewing turned to a contented purr as I stroked the amazingly soft, silky fur on her head with one finger.

“Who’s lucky enough to be owned by you?” I asked her, holding her face up to mine and gazing into her huge, golden eyes.

“See, that’s the thing,” Nick returned. “She’s homeless.”

I glanced up at him. “You found her?”

“She was abandoned, right on campus. I was cutting across the grass to the parking lot, and next to the curb, I found a cardboard box. She was in it.”

“Oh, you poor baby!” Anger rose inside me as I tried to comprehend the horror of leaving a poor, defenseless animal all alone like that. Didn’t whoever was heartless enough to just leave her like that understand that her chances of survival were horrendously low?

“What’s the matter with these people?” I cried. “Don’t they have any sense? To do something that cruel and that heartless is unforgivable! If they’re not responsible enough to have their pets neutered—which is reprehensible enough—then the
least
they can do is find a home for the puppies and kittens! People like that shouldn’t be allowed to have pets! In fact, anybody who abandons a poor, helpless animal should face criminal prosecution!”

Nick blinked. “Wow. I knew you felt strongly about this, but this is even more than I expected!”

“I’m sorry.” I suddenly felt like one of the balloons Nick had brought over—right after all its air had been let out. “Of course I feel strongly about people’s senseless treatment of animals. But you also happen to have caught me at a very bad time. I’m not exactly in the best of moods right now.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, settling onto the couch beside me.

I took a deep breath, looking down at the darling kitten in my lap and hoping her cuteness would help improve my mood. But even the miniature tiger gazing up at me with golden eyes the size of planets couldn’t manage that. “I just found Betty in bed with Winston Farnsworth.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Whoa! The distinguished guy in the bow tie who came to opening night? With the English accent?”

“That’s the one.”

“Way to go, Betty!” he crowed.

“Wrong!”
I countered crossly. “This is not a good thing, Nick. In fact, it’s terrible!”

“Explain,” he said, shaking his head in confusion.

“You should see the way he’s treating her!” I cried. “Sneaking over to her house in the middle of the day for a clandestine rendezvous, bringing her big, showy bouquets of flowers, buying her expensive presents . . .”

“I can see why you’re so freaked out,” Nick observed dryly. “Such horrible mistreatment would upset anyone.”

“You’re missing the point!”

“Which is?”

“I don’t trust him, Nick! I know for a fact that he’s not who he says he is—”

“ ‘For a fact?’ ” he repeated. “I don’t remember you saying anything about doing a background check on the guy. Or did I miss that while I was up to my ears in torts?”

“I have a sixth sense about these things,” I replied archly.

“No offense, but your track record isn’t exactly all that impressive,” Nick replied. “I could name a few people you were convinced were good guys who turned out to be bad guys. I could also name a few you thought were
bad
guys who were actually
good
guys.”

“Winston Farnsworth is just plain shady,” I insisted. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Do you know what I think?” Nick asked.

I was glad he was finally going to make a comment of the constructive variety. “No. What?”

“That you’re guilty of ageism.”

“Me?”
I sputtered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nick! I’m simply looking after Betty’s best interests. She’s one of my dearest friends—”

“And she happens to have gone a bit beyond the sweet blush of youth,” Nick finished calmly. “Look, Jess, the fact is you can’t imagine a man—any man— being interested in Betty for who she is, can you? You see her as someone . . . someone old, instead of someone who’s exceptionally kind, sweet, and loving, not to mention a person who has a lifetime of experiences to share with someone who’s capable of appreciating her.”

“That’s not true!” I protested. “It’s also completely unfair!”

“Then there’s Winston,” Nick continued. “A perfectly lovely fellow, if you ask me. I couldn’t imagine anyone more gentlemanly. Yet you assume that because both he and Betty have a few years on you—okay, a few decades—that the only possible explanation for his interest in her has got to be something sinister.”

“Nick, you’re missing the whole—”

“Did it ever occur to you that Winston and Betty might simply
like
each other? That the two of them probably have a million things in common? They grew up at the same time, they lived through the same historic events, they probably enjoy listening to the same music . . . I bet there’s a long list of other interests and experiences they share that would instantly bond them together.”

I opened my mouth to protest. Almost immediately, I snapped it shut, figuring there was no point in trying to explain. Of
course
I recognized what a gem Betty was! Of
course
I wasn’t surprised that a man who was her age would find it rewarding to be in her company!

But we weren’t talking about just anybody. We were talking about Winston Farnsworth, who happened to have close ties to a dashing polo player who had recently been murdered. He also had a motive and, from what I’d heard, a bit of a past.

My concerns are completely legitimate,
I told myself firmly.

Aren’t they?

“Besides, we have much more relevant things to discuss,” Nick insisted. He gestured toward the kitten lying on her back in my lap, swatting at the button on my shirt with her tiny paws. “Like this little girl’s future.”

That was an easy one. At least, in my opinion.

But there were others I needed to consider. I glanced over at Cat, who was my first concern. I wondered how she would feel about adding another feline to the household. She’d wandered into the room as Nick and I discussed Betty’s questionable love life, leaving her favorite spot in the kitchen to check out what all the commotion was about. She hovered nearby, watching the kitten. She seemed more curious than anything else—a good sign, I figured.

As for Max and Lou, they seemed to be taking the situation in stride, just as I would have expected. As my two sidekicks, regularly accompanying me on calls, they were both in the habit of encountering new animals all the time. They never seemed to feel threatened, and this situation was no exception. They were both too secure in the knowledge that the three of us were all part of the same pack, which created a bond that would never be broken.

“So what about it, Jess?” Nick urged. “Can you find room for one more in your menagerie?”

I nestled the darling little kitten against my cheek, marveling over how soft she was. I’d already picked out a name: Tinkerbell. “I think we can squeeze in someone this cute.”

“In that case, how about
two
more?”

I frowned, confused. I half expected Nick to pull another kitten out of his pocket.

Instead, he said lightly, “You know, she’s not the only one who’s homeless.”

It was then that I realized that Nick wasn’t referring to a four-legged creature. He was referring to himself.

“Oh,” I said, the single syllable coming out sounding more like a squeak that an actual word. “You mean you.”

“The dogs already like me,” he said, talking quickly. “Cat does, too. And Prometheus . . . well, ever since I taught him the pirate song, the two of us have been as thick as thieves, if you’ll pardon the expression. Besides, I’m self-cleaning, like a cat. I’m capable of refilling my own water bowl. I’ve never met anybody who’s allergic to me. I don’t bite or shed. And did I mention that I’m completely housebroken?

“But I’m rambling, aren’t I? I do that when I’m nervous. I guess a lot of people do. But it’s because I really want us to live together, Jess. I love you, and I can’t help thinking that being forced to move out of my apartment is a sign. Especially since we’re both even busier than ever, with me back in school and all, and so living together is the perfect solution to the problem of finding time for each other as well as all the stuff we both have to do every day. So . . . what do you think?”

As he looked at me expectantly, I could feel a wave of terror rising up inside me. My hands got clammy, my skin felt warm, and I could feel a strange vibration near my hip.

It took me a few seconds to realize that the vibration wasn’t physiological. It was my cell phone.

“Excuse me,” I told Nick. “I’d better get this.”

This was one of the few times in my life I was actually glad I’d been interrupted by a cell phone. Placing Tinkerbell on the cushion beside me, I pressed the green button. “Dr. Popper.”

“It’s me, Dr. Popper. Callie.”

I hadn’t recognized the high-pitched, frightened-sounding voice as hers.

“What’s wrong, Callie?”

“You’ve got to come to Heatherfield,” she insisted. “I can’t—” Her voice broke off, and she made a terrible choking sound.

“What is it?” I demanded. “What’s going on?”

“Just come!” she insisted. “I’m here all alone . . . and whoever poisoned Eduardo has struck again!”

Chapter 15

“There is no secret closer than what passes between a man and his horse.”

—R. S. Surtees

Callie, quick,” I instructed the terrified girl at the other end of the line. “Tell me your symptoms.” “It’s not me,” she replied in the same panicked voice. “It’s Inez.”

“Inez?”
The idea that someone had targeted the MacKinnons’ housekeeper was horrifying. “Callie, call nine-one-one!”

“She won’t let me! She refuses to go to a hospital because she doesn’t have any health insurance. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to be any trouble. In fact, you’re the only person she’d let me call. I’m here all alone, Dr. Popper. Please, you’ve got to come!”

I had already leaped off the couch and was dashing around the cottage madly, trying to locate my car keys.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” I told her. “Just stay calm!”

“Another emergency?” Nick asked as I hung up. His expression was grave.

“An emergency of the people variety,” I replied. “Callie thinks Inez, the MacKinnons’ housekeeper, has been poisoned! I hate to do this, but do you think you could hold down the fort while I—?”

“Of course. Just go, Jess.” Scooping up the tiny kitten who was mewing in confusion, he added, “I’ll take care of the dogs and everybody else.”

“It’s probably a good idea to keep Tinkerbell—that’s what I’m calling her—away from the other animals. If you could put her in the bedroom—”

“We’ll be fine,” he assured me. “I promise.”

“Thanks, Nick.” I paused long enough to cast him a look of gratitude. Even in the heat of the moment, I realized that simply knowing that he was there to support me, as solid as a rock, went a long way in keeping me from going over the edge. “I don’t think I could manage without you.”

Flashing me a funny half-smile, he said, “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

I took the VW to Heatherfield, figuring it would get me there faster than my van. I struggled to follow the advice I’d given Callie and remain calm. Still, I had to make a point of reminding myself that clenching my jaw so hard that my teeth hurt wasn’t going to help.

I had to admit that I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. First, Eduardo Garcia had been poisoned, a tragedy that had preoccupied me for the past two weeks. Then, that very morning, I had rushed to Heatherfield to treat a horse that had ingested poison.

Now, here I was only a few hours later, rushing to the aid of someone else at Heatherfield who looked like the victim of poisoning.

Of course, there was one major difference—one that made my stomach tighten. In a way, I was responsible for this one.

The third anonymous note. It had warned that there would be another victim. Of course, at the time, I’d assumed it referred to
me
.