Read Online Forged (Gail McCarthy Mystery) by Laura Crum - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Crum
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satisfaction as he began to eat.
Somehow or other, I had been the right person in the right place and time to make this gesture. It all felt harmonious. Whatever came of it, I was glad to be here now with this horse.
A slow tear ran down my cheek; I brushed it away with the back of my hand and smoothed Mr. Twister's mane. What would it take to redeem all the suffering I routinely saw? The right person in the right place making the right gesture? I couldn't take them all home.
But still. "Compassion," I whispered to the horse. "It takes compassion. I think we'll get along just fine."
TEN
The rest of my day passed in a much more routine fashion. Saying good-bye to Mr. Twister at five o'clock, I went home to meet my new horseshoer and rearrange my corrals to accommodate a fourth horse.
Half an hour later, I was staring morosely at the only possible place to squeeze another pen into my barnyard and castigating myself as a soft-hearted idiot. I really didn't have room for a fourth horse. Nonetheless, I was bringing one home.
In the midst of these fruitless ruminations, Roey barked sharply. A black pickup truck pulled in my gate and bumped up the gravel drive. Tommie Harper, I hoped.
Sure enough. The truck parked itself in front of the barn and the distinctive form of Tommie Harper emerged from the driver's side.
Tommie was a big woman. At least six feet tall, by my reckoning. She had wide shoulders, wide hips, and a pretty good belly on her. Big-boned and strong-featured, with her blond hair cropped crew-cut short and a heavy leather belt encircling her jeans and boot-clad figure, Tommie looked about as butch as it was possible to appear.
I walked in her direction and got her wide, white, friendly smile. "Hello, Gail McCarthy."
"Hi, Tommie. Thanks for coming out."
We shook hands as Roey sniffed Tommie's heels. Tommie smiled again. "No problem. I'm happy to help you out of the mess Dominic left you in." Gesturing at the yellow crime scene tape, she asked, "Is that where he bought the farm?"
"Yes," I said, slightly shocked. Even for someone who was known to have disliked Dominic, it seemed a callous tone.
Tommie caught my look. "Sorry," she said, as she laid out her shoeing tools and lit her forge. "But I hated that bastard. I'm just plain glad that he's dead." She grinned at me. "Of course, I hope no one thinks I wanted it enough to shoot him. Especially that damn detective."
"Oh. Has Detective Johnson been on your case?"
"Got it in one. He was around this morning before I left for work, bothering Carla. But I think at this point he likes me better as a suspect." Her grin flashed again. "I've got a feeling Detective Johnson doesn't care for my kind."
I could imagine. "How's Carla taking it?" I asked.
"Well, she doesn't miss Dominic, that's for sure," Tommie snapped. "Dominic tormented poor Carla. He never got over the fact that she left him for me-another woman. God forbid. It was just too much for his poor, fragile male ego. He wouldn't leave Carla alone, he called her, he wrote her notes, he followed her; I swear he stalked her for years."
"He quit eventually, didn't he?" I asked. "After all, they've been divorced for a long time."
"Naw, he never really quit. Though he didn't hound us lately like he did in the beginning. But Carla still got the occasional note, or he'd come by the house when he knew I wasn't home. He never got over her." Once again the smile. "Of course, that I can understand."
I smiled back. I liked Tommie.
"Dominic hated me." She grinned cheerfully. "Now, if I was the one dead, you'd know where to look. He threatened to kill me a couple of times. I can't imagine how he resisted shooting me for all these years."
"That can't have been fun for you," I said.
"Oh, I wasn't afraid of Dominic. It was more the other way around. He'd go out of his way to avoid me; he couldn't stand to look at what Carla chose over him. And whatever trouble he was, Carla's more than worth it." Again the smile.
No
Somehow or other, I had been the right person in the right place and time to make this gesture. It all felt harmonious. Whatever came of it, I was glad to be here now with this horse.
A slow tear ran down my cheek; I brushed it away with the back of my hand and smoothed Mr. Twister's mane. What would it take to redeem all the suffering I routinely saw? The right person in the right place making the right gesture? I couldn't take them all home.
But still. "Compassion," I whispered to the horse. "It takes compassion. I think we'll get along just fine."
TEN
The rest of my day passed in a much more routine fashion. Saying good-bye to Mr. Twister at five o'clock, I went home to meet my new horseshoer and rearrange my corrals to accommodate a fourth horse.
Half an hour later, I was staring morosely at the only possible place to squeeze another pen into my barnyard and castigating myself as a soft-hearted idiot. I really didn't have room for a fourth horse. Nonetheless, I was bringing one home.
In the midst of these fruitless ruminations, Roey barked sharply. A black pickup truck pulled in my gate and bumped up the gravel drive. Tommie Harper, I hoped.
Sure enough. The truck parked itself in front of the barn and the distinctive form of Tommie Harper emerged from the driver's side.
Tommie was a big woman. At least six feet tall, by my reckoning. She had wide shoulders, wide hips, and a pretty good belly on her. Big-boned and strong-featured, with her blond hair cropped crew-cut short and a heavy leather belt encircling her jeans and boot-clad figure, Tommie looked about as butch as it was possible to appear.
I walked in her direction and got her wide, white, friendly smile. "Hello, Gail McCarthy."
"Hi, Tommie. Thanks for coming out."
We shook hands as Roey sniffed Tommie's heels. Tommie smiled again. "No problem. I'm happy to help you out of the mess Dominic left you in." Gesturing at the yellow crime scene tape, she asked, "Is that where he bought the farm?"
"Yes," I said, slightly shocked. Even for someone who was known to have disliked Dominic, it seemed a callous tone.
Tommie caught my look. "Sorry," she said, as she laid out her shoeing tools and lit her forge. "But I hated that bastard. I'm just plain glad that he's dead." She grinned at me. "Of course, I hope no one thinks I wanted it enough to shoot him. Especially that damn detective."
"Oh. Has Detective Johnson been on your case?"
"Got it in one. He was around this morning before I left for work, bothering Carla. But I think at this point he likes me better as a suspect." Her grin flashed again. "I've got a feeling Detective Johnson doesn't care for my kind."
I could imagine. "How's Carla taking it?" I asked.
"Well, she doesn't miss Dominic, that's for sure," Tommie snapped. "Dominic tormented poor Carla. He never got over the fact that she left him for me-another woman. God forbid. It was just too much for his poor, fragile male ego. He wouldn't leave Carla alone, he called her, he wrote her notes, he followed her; I swear he stalked her for years."
"He quit eventually, didn't he?" I asked. "After all, they've been divorced for a long time."
"Naw, he never really quit. Though he didn't hound us lately like he did in the beginning. But Carla still got the occasional note, or he'd come by the house when he knew I wasn't home. He never got over her." Once again the smile. "Of course, that I can understand."
I smiled back. I liked Tommie.
"Dominic hated me." She grinned cheerfully. "Now, if I was the one dead, you'd know where to look. He threatened to kill me a couple of times. I can't imagine how he resisted shooting me for all these years."
"That can't have been fun for you," I said.
"Oh, I wasn't afraid of Dominic. It was more the other way around. He'd go out of his way to avoid me; he couldn't stand to look at what Carla chose over him. And whatever trouble he was, Carla's more than worth it." Again the smile.
No
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