Free Give First Place to Murder by Kathleen Delaney

for a second. "This horse is one hell of a lot more important than yours or Linda's schedule. No, I couldn’t wait for you. I didn't need you. I’m perfectly capable of driving this rig.” She paused again. “Then take the big van and go get the rest of the horses. I don't care. But, Wes, don't ever talk like that to me again. Don’t forget, I'm your boss, not your wife." She snapped the phone off with a vicious click and threw it on the seat. "If it rings, don't answer. We're almost there, and right now I don't need to be any more upset than I already am."
    We pulled off the freeway and slowly wound our way through the charming business center of some small town. What town I had no idea, but I wasn't interested.
    "What did he say to you?" I was too shocked by Irma's end of the conversation to worry about tact.
    "Started to bawl me out like he does Linda. That's another reason I don't stay in the office much. All the fighting, I hate it. He said I shouldn't have taken the truck and trailer without consulting him, he should have driven, I would need him when we got to the clinic, drivel like that. Wes doesn't think there’s a woman alive who can survive without a man's supervision, especially his.” She sighed, and the tight lips and staccato sentences started to soften a little. “He means well, he really thinks he's supposed to act like that, but it gets on my nerves."
    "Sounds like it gets on Linda's too." Irma didn't answer.
    We slowed down. Irma turned into a driveway blocked by iron gates, with a sign that proclaimed "Valley Oak Equine Clinic."
    Shea pushed a button, the gates opened, and we drove down the gravel driveway toward the low, white hospital buildings.

CHAPTER EIGHT

    "Hop out, Ellen, tell 'em we're here."
    I didn't need to. Double doors on the side of the low, white building opened and a tiny Chinese woman, who looked more like a girl, emerged followed by a tall, lanky, Hispanic man.
    "I'm Dr. Woo." She paused for a second by the truck window. "This is Dr. Hidalgo. Dr. Williams is inside, waiting. Let’s get her out."
    Irma piled out and headed for the trailer doors. She got them open and Dr. Hidalgo went in. Almost immediately the horse staggered out, the vet beside her, crooning sympathetically in Spanish. They headed toward the open doors of the building. Dr. Woo hurrying along behind, asking Irma all kinds of questions, making notes on a clip board as she went. I followed slowly, feeling about as useful as the fifth person on a double date.
    I was torn between thinking Irma might need me and being certain I would get in the way, but the doors were still open and no one said anything as I eased my way inside a large, open room. The concrete floor was covered with rubber mats, a hose hung from an overhead pulley, and white cupboards, each closed door with a label identifying its contents, lined another wall. The horse was being scanned by what I guessed was an ultrasound machine. The screen flickered with indecipherable images as the probe was moved gently over her belly.
    A tall, skinny, completely bald man stared at the screen. “Only two choices, Irma. Operate or put her down.” He turned inquiringly back toward Irma, his eyes resting briefly, sympathetically, on the suffering horse.
    "You know the answer, Charlie." Irma looked almost as bad as the mare and my heart went out to her. I started to take a step forward, until I saw her shoulders straighten. I stayed where I was. "Do I need to sign something?"
    "Just the permission slip. After all these years, I guess we know where to find you." The vet gave a bark of a laugh and waved toward the horse. "Let’s get her ready."
    The tiny Dr. Woo and the tall Dr. Hidalgo immediately ran off in different directions while we followed the bald vet into a dark office.
    "I guess I can find what we need. Don't know why we don't have office staff on Sundays, seems they’re always the worst day of the week. Permission forms, where does Nancy keep--here,