Lead a Horse to Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

members, Major Benjamin Tallmadge. While the older Tallmadge had dedicated his life to fighting for freedom, his descendent had spent his life benefiting from it, becoming a prosperous industrialist who owned several mills in the area. Every day, I thank my lucky stars for this place.
    Usually, just pulling up in the circular driveway in front of the Big House fills me with a sense of peace. But today was an exception. I was haunted by the image of Eduardo Garcia lying on the ground, his handsome face ashen and his muscular body lifeless. As I put the van into park, I realized my hands were trembling.
    The moment I opened the door, Max and Lou leaped out of the van, clearly as glad to be home as I was. I left them to sniff around happily as I made a beeline for Betty Vandervoort’s front door.
    While the Big House wasn’t nearly as grand as Andrew MacKinnon’s mansion, it was certainly an impressive residence. The angles of its stately white columns and brick façade were softened by the circular driveway. Well-tended flower beds and geometric bushes added to its solemn look.
    Given the residence’s formal appearance, anyone who didn’t know its owner would probably have expected an equally dignified dowager to come to the door, draped in strings of pearls—or at least a pair of reading glasses on a chain. Not my Betty. In fact, just seeing her, dressed in purple linen pants, a boxy turquoise blouse edged with beads, and chandelier earrings studded with brilliant stones that echoed both colors made me feel better immediately.
    “Why, Jessica! What a lovely—” Within a split second, her expression changed. I’d long suspected that Betty was a mind reader. Either that, or my distress was clearly written all over my face.
    “Goodness, are you all right?” she demanded.
    “Not really.” I cast her a pleading look. “But a cup of tea might help.”
    “I’ll put the kettle on.”
    As soon as I was settled inside Betty’s kitchen, I began to feel better. There was something comforting about watching her bustle around. I watched in silence as she filled her old-fashioned copper teakettle with water, then retrieved delicate Limoges cups and saucers from the china cabinet. Next, she grabbed a bottle off a shelf, the secret ingredient that gave her tea its magical powers.
    “Tell me, Jessica,” she said firmly, finally sitting down at the table. “What happened?”
    I took a deep breath. “I was making a house call on an estate in Old Brookbury early this morning, and a man who was riding there fell off a horse and was killed.”
    Her eyebrows leaped up to her hairline. “That’s terrible! Was it someone you knew?”
    “Not exactly. I’d only seen him once, practicing for a polo match. Stick-and-balling, they call it. I watched him—not for very long, just a few minutes. But seeing him on that horse, so powerful and so much in control, but at the same time so graceful and so...so connected with his horse...” I shook my head slowly. “It’s an image I’ll never forget.”
    “And now he’s dead.” Betty’s voice was practically a whisper.
    “It’s hard to imagine, but yes.”
    We were both quiet for what seemed like a very long time. When Betty finally broke the silence, she spoke slowly, as if she were choosing her words carefully. “Jessica, I’m waiting for you to assure me that you have no intention of getting involved in whatever happened to this poor man. Especially since you’d never even met him.”
    “Don’t worry. As tragic as his death is, it was an accident. Besides, it had nothing to do with me.”
    “Good. I just wanted to make sure this wouldn’t turn into another one of those situations in which you’d take it upon yourself to ensure that truth and justice prevail.” With a little smile, she added, “These days, we can leave that up to that Nick of yours. Speaking of Nick, how is he—and how is law school going?”
    “Nick is fine. He’s just busy. And stressed