The Clincher by Lisa Preston

Author:Lisa Preston
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781510732742
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2018-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

Nichol glanced over his receptionist’s frizzy head and waved me back right away to a treatment room. It was one of those little rooms with a door on each end, the other door going to the office’s surgery and main work area.

Beyond the door, Nichol muttered to someone about a just-spayed dog. He let the door to the surgery area stay open when he came back in, affording me a view of shattered cabinets, a pile of broken stuff swept into a corner, a clipboard and prescription bottles lined up on the counter. Disinfectant wafted. They were still doing clean up and inventory from the break-in. Nichol stood, looking fixed to wait for my words.

“I’m sorry someone broke into your office and all. And by the way, it wasn’t me. That’s what I came here to say.”

He raised his eyebrows and then mine with “Yeah, I know it wasn’t you.”

“I thought you might have figured it was, on account of the rounding hammer.” Horse vets tend to know shoer’s tools. It wasn’t like talking to Guy, who couldn’t tell a rounding hammer from a driving hammer, didn’t know the difference between my clinchers and my crease nail pullers.

“The deputies said you were out at the Rocking B, some shindig going on there.”

Nichol hadn’t been at Weatherby’s hootenanny, I realized.

So it was possible, I had to admit, that Nichol could have vandalized his own place just to make someone else look guilty. Which worked for about a minute in my case.

Then, instead of continuing down this stupid road of thinking Nichol had tried to frame me for vandalizing his office, I named the people who’d been at the Rocking B, people who had definitely not been bothering his office that night. Weatherby, Schram, all those cowpokes and semi-regulars.

“Mr. Harper wasn’t there,” I continued, “but his son was.”

I thought again about Patsy-Lynn. I mean, things were peaceful here in Cowdry before she died in her garage. It seemed like there was a crime wave of sorts, given a death and a major vandalism and—

“Rainy.”

I focused. Nichol looked to be waiting for me to make another comment. He knew I knew he hadn’t been at Weatherby’s potluck. Come to think of it, Nichol had been missing at the funeral and reception, too. Really he was as much a newbie in town as me. I considered this and sort of liked it. Maybe I am doing all right. Sometimes I feel ready to panic, like no one can understand how it is, me trying to make it on my own, with my head and hands to support myself. A vet, with a big money education behind him and a big money future ahead, he can’t understand the boots I’m wearing. And lots of folks, me included, would have rather stuck with Doc Vass.

Other folks weren’t at Weatherby’s the other night. I wondered if the detective was already making a list. I could think of one who’d probably had a spare rounding hammer.

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