Free Forged (Gail McCarthy Mystery) by Laura Crum

doubt that Tommie was in love; to the impartial eye Carla Castillo was a plump woman in her late thirties with a flighty air, a girlish giggle, tiny, silver-rimmed spectacles, and a truly spectacular mane of long, black hair. Not someone I could imagine anyone falling in love with, though.
    Probably Tommie wouldn't think much of Blue; I smiled to myself. At that moment, I saw his pickup coming through the gate. Looked like I would find out what they made of each other.
    Blue parked his truck in its accustomed place and ambled in our direction, Freckles beside him. Tommie had finished her preparations and was studying Gunner's right hind foot. She paused, then turned to see who was approaching.
    "Tommie, this is Blue Winter," I said. "Blue, this is Tommie Harper."
    I watched as the two "guys" greeted each other. A pleasant handshake, a smile on both parts. I knew Blue well enough to be sure that he would see Tommie as an individual, and like or dislike her as such, not, as many men might have done, dismiss her because she was a lesbian.
    Tommie, on the other hand, I was barely acquainted with. For all I knew, she might dismiss all men on general principles. Apparently not. Tommie smiled at Blue as readily as she did at me; her direct blue eyes were friendly.
    "You must be Gail's boyfriend," she said.
    "I am," Blue agreed. "You must be our new horseshoer."
    "Yep. Come to finish the job the old one left undone. Pretty dramatic way of quitting in the middle, I'd say. Now Gail, tell me how you want this horse shod."
    "We've been using an egg bar shoe and a wedge pad on him. Just like the other hind foot."
    "Uhmm." Tommie studied Gunner another minute, then selected a shoe from the rack in the back of her truck. Using tongs, she set the shoe in her forge to heat up.
    "I wonder who killed old Dominic?" she said, as we watched the forge chug away.
    "He told me the gun went off as he was cleaning it. And then he died ten minutes later," I told her.
    "Is that right? Then why is that detective acting like it's a murder investigation ?"
    "I'm not sure," I said. "I guess he must believe that either Dominic was lying or I was. Since I know I'm telling the truth, the lie, if there was a lie, came from Dominic. But why would he do that?"
    "To protect someone, maybe," Tommie said as she lifted the shoe, now red-hot, out of the forge. Using the tongs to place it on the anvil, she hammered it here and there, her motives indiscernible to an untrained eye.
    Blue and I glanced at each other. "I guess that's the only possible reason," I said. "But who would he want to protect that much?"
    Tommie dipped the shoe in a bucket of water to cool it, then measured it against Gunner's foot. Taking the shoe back to the anvil, she hammered some more. "His girlfriend, maybe," she said between blows.
    "Why would Barbara kill him?" I asked.
    "Because he's been running around on her." Tommie measured the shoe against Gunner's foot again and nodded in satisfaction.
    "But they've been living together for years and from what I can tell, he always ran around on her. Why kill him now?"
    Tommie shrugged, got a rasp from her truck, and began smoothing Gunner's hoof. "Hard to say. I know lots of people who hated Dominic almost as much as I did. Maybe one of them killed him."
    "Who, for instance?" I asked.
    "Do you know Sandy McQuire?"
    "Just a little," I said. "She's a horse trainer of sorts. Gives riding lessons. Up near the summit."
    "That's right. I'm her shoer. Sandy lived with Dominic for a while after Lee kicked him out. She left her husband and kids, just fell madly in love with the guy, God knows why. She lost custody of her kids, lost her job, lost her home, basically lost her whole life, all for worthless Dominic Castillo."
    Tommie had gathered packing material, a wedge pad, shoeing nails, and a hammer from her truck. Laying the blend of pine tar and oakum against Gunner's hoof, she pressed the pad over it and put the shoe on top of that. Holding it all