Page 6 of One in a Million

Roper stood in the open doorway of the stable and watched her stride back to the house. He had just witnessed a stunning performance. But what kind of performance was it? Was the woman in shock? Did she care so little for her husband that she couldn’t pretend to grieve his loss? Or was she, as Jasmine might have implied, a scheming manipulator, already making plans to use her power as Frank’s widow?

The question hung unanswered in his thoughts as he stepped outside to see two police vehicles coming along the drive. He knew what to expect. The county troopers in the cruiser would talk to the family and any witnesses. The crime lab people in the white van would process the scene, including the stallion. Frank’s body would be bagged and taken to the morgue for an autopsy to determine the cause of death and whether any foul play had been involved.

As the vehicles rolled up to the house, Roper realized that no one else was in sight. Lila had disappeared indoors, and there was no sign of Jasmine or her brother. Unless someone in the family showed up, it would be his job to greet the responders and show them to the body.

Two uniformed troopers stepped out of the black-and-white car. The bigger, older man had a weary look about him, as if he’d seen more than he ever wanted to see again. The younger officer, who looked like a rookie, was as lean and eager as a half-grown coonhound.

They made their introductions while the crime lab team unloaded their gear. “Were you the one who found the body, Mr. McKenna?” the older man asked.

“His daughter found him first. I got there right after.”

“And you’re sure he was dead? Has anybody touched the body?”

“Only to feel for a pulse. Mr. Culhane’s prize stallion was in the stall. We had to move the horse for everyone’s safety.”

“The lab team will want to inspect the horse. Will that be a problem?”

“It shouldn’t be, as long as I can be there to manage him.”

“That’ll be fine. Let’s have a look at the deceased first.”

Frank’s body lay unmoved and unchanged, except for the flies that droned around his head. The two officers nodded, spoke a few words, and moved away to make room for the lab team.

Wearing masks, gloves, boot covers, and disposable coveralls, the technicians worked with cool efficiency, taking photos, bagging samples of hair and nail clippings, and stirring through the straw. One man broke away from the group and approached Roper. “I hear there was a horse with the body.”

“That’s right. The horse might be nervous. If you’re ready to process him, I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll come, too.” The young officer looked pale. Roper, too, was glad for a reason to be leaving the scene before the body was turned over. He had respected Frank Culhane. He had no desire to see the look on the man’s face as he died.

Who—or what—had been last to see that face?Roper wondered as he walked to the stallion’s temporary stall. But the question was premature. So far, there was no proof that Frank had died of anything but natural causes.

“What a gorgeous horse!” the young trooper exclaimed as he stepped into the stall. “I’ll bet he’s worth a pile of money!”

“You might say that, but he’s never been bought or sold.” Roper held the stallion’s halter while the technician combed his haircoat and dropped the combings into a plastic evidence bag. “One in a Million was born on this ranch thirteen years ago. He’s never left except to compete for prizes.”

“So how much would you say he’s worth?”

Roper lifted the stallion’s left rear hoof and held it steady while the technician, who’d clearly done this before, scraped the bottom and bagged the scrapings before going onto the next hoof. The well-trained horse was accustomed to having his hooves cleaned, trimmed, and shod. He snorted but made no move to resist.

“How much is he worth?” the lawman persisted.

“He’s past his prime,” Roper said. “But discounting that, maybe half a million. His winnings and stud fees have paid for a lot of improvements on this ranch. And he’s sired some real moneymakers. With performance horses, that’s the bottom line—earnings and bloodlines.”

“Bloodlines? I’m a city boy. Can you explain that?”

Roper steadied the stallion’s foreleg. “One in a Million is retired except for breeding. Our top competition earner now is a mare named Million Dollar Baby. This stallion was her sire. One of her colts, Gunnin for Millions, was a top futurity winner last fall.”

“So how does a prize-winning mare like that manage to have babies? Does she get to take, like, you know, maternity leave?”

“It’s generally done using IVF and a surrogate mare. Sometimes the foal’s pedigree will list both mothers.”

“Sheesh!” The young trooper shook his head. “It’s like science fiction! Don’t the mares and stallions ever just get together and . . . like, you know, do it the natural way?”

“Maybe you’d better ask a horse.” Roper gave the stallion a pat as the technician finished his job and stowed the samples he’d taken. “Let’s go—we’ve all got work to do.”

As Roper followed the two men out of the stall and closed the gate, he heard the sound of raised voices from the entrance to the stable. Roper sighed as he recognized the loudest one. He’d been wondering who’d be in charge now that Frank was gone. The answer should’ve been an easy guess.

Maybe now, at least, he could get back to working the horses.

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