Hoofprints (Gail McCarthy series) Read Online Free Page A

single, and a horse vet; I was the type of person she liked to know. She would have said we were friends." Inside I felt a little uncomfortable, as though I had betrayed Cindy.
    "What about the husband?"
    "Ed. I knew him even less than I knew her. She was the one that had the horse; he wasn't involved with it. He could be kind of abrasive."
    The detective pounced on this. His voice didn't change, and the tired-looking brown eyes stayed droopy, but I could feel his mind pouncing. "What do you mean by abrasive?"
    "He liked you to know he had a lot of money."
    Reeder kept his eyes on my face, and I could see I was expected to continue.
    "I'm not sure how to put this. As I say, I didn't know him very well, but he seemed to be the typical spoiled rich kid who's busy trying to impress everyone all the time. He had the Ferrari, the beautiful blond wife, the extravagant lifestyle. He liked to mention he'd flown to Aspen last weekend in his best buddy's Learjet. That sort of thing. His attitude toward Cindy, too-sort of casual possession, as if she were an object he'd bought and paid for-it was irritating. I didn't find him an appealing person."
    Reeder nodded impassively. "Do you know anyone who might have wished to harm them?"
    "No."
    "Think about it," the detective repeated. The pouches under his eyes tightened as he narrowed his focus at me. "Don't forget, they were murdered."
    "I don't know of anyone who had a reason to kill Ed and Cindy Whitney. I liked Cindy; as far as I know, everyone else did, too. I didn't know them well enough to be aware of any enemies they might have had."
    Reeder sat silently for a minute. "Where were you last night?"
    "I saw two emergencies and got home around midnight. The last time I could prove where I was would be about eleven-forty, when I left the second case." I gave him the names and addresses of the people involved.
    "You live alone?" he asked.
    "Yes."
    "Would any of your neighbors have seen you come in?"
    "It's possible." I gave him their names and addresses.
    "All right," he said. "That's all for now. You'll be in town this week, Dr. McCarthy?"
    "Yes."
    He nodded. "Thank you for your time."
    Heaving himself up, he left the room. Fat body, ugly, crumpled suit. Detective Ward stood and watched him go, and I could swear there was resentment in her glance. Then she looked at me. Not warmth exactly, but some sort of unspoken shared comment seemed to pass between us. "We'll be in touch," was what she said.

THREE
    A young deputy with a square face took me back to my truck and waited carefully to see that I drove away from the scene of the crime. They had the house roped off and all kinds of vehicles parked around it. They needn't have worried; I had no desire to stay and spectate.
    I drove back to the office slowly, feeling disgusted with myself. It seemed to me that I ought to have felt more grief over Cindy and Ed. We weren't close friends-I had told the fat detective the truth-but Cindy, at least, had been friendly and hospitable to me. Their lives had been cut short with a savage finality, and I found that inexplicably intertwined with my sorrow was an interest and excitement that made me ashamed. What is it that drives us to stare at traffic accidents-that draws us to horror? Some sort of relief that at least it isn't me, this time? The relish I felt at being in the center of such a drama was leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
    I pulled into the office parking lot filled with a sense of chagrin at the failings of human nature-my own in particular. It didn't help any to realize that half of my excitement about the murders had been the thought of telling my story at the office. That's sick, I told myself, sick.
    Blue spilled stiffly out of the truck when I opened the door, ready to water the familiar trees in the parking lot. Looking up into my face when he was done, he snorted softly and stumped off to lie in his favorite box stall. Blue knew my emotions better than I did, I sometimes thought.