yet the clinic was still jammed with people. Lots of folks arriving with their animals after work. And not just dogs and cats. The place also held a skunk, a hutch full of rabbits, two newborn lambs, and a Guernsey calf. The reception area had once been the house’s living room, the old wood floors replaced with the vinyl tiles already discolored from animal “accidents.” The plastic chairs were mismatched and blanketed with fur and hair. The room gave off a distinct odor—antiseptics and urine. A couple of people were attempting to hold conversations over the yapping and yowling of their pets. They had to nearly scream.
The receptionist was a young, scrubbed-face blonde who wore jeans, a work shirt, and Reeboks. Her hands were squeaky clean, her nails clipped short and without polish. She held a German shepherd pup not much bigger than the hands that cupped him. She looked up when Decker walked in, kept staring at the door expecting an animal to follow on his heels. He went over to her and tickled the puppy at the scruff. The baby lifted his head and a tiny wet tongue moistened Decker’s finger. Before Decker could speak, a jowly woman holding a leash attached to a bulldog jumped up.
“Excuse me, I’m next!”
Decker held up his hands in defense. “I’m not butting in, ma’am. I’m looking for the lab.”
The secretary mouthed a silent O. “You’re the police?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Decker said.
“’Cause of the crazy horse?”
Decker nodded.
“God, I heard Dr. Mycroft talkin’ to Dr. Baker about that. She said it was awful.”
“It wasn’t pretty,” Decker said.
“What happened?” asked the lady with the bulldog.
“Wish we could tell you, ma’am.” Decker dropped his voice a notch. “But it’s official business.”
The woman nodded gravely.
“Is Dr. Mycroft in?” Decker asked.
“Yeah, she’s up in the lab,” the secretary said. “She’s expecting you. Go through the back, up the stairs to the second floor. If the door’s closed, just knock.”
“Thank you,” Decker said.
The secretary kissed the sleepy-eyed shepherd and pulled the pup to her breast. “God, you expect people to do crazy things—drive too fast and plow into a mountain.” She shook her head. “But a horse?”
A throaty voice told Decker to come in. Vera Mycroft was at her microscope, her black and silver braid slung over her right shoulder, her knotted hands adjusting the scope’s eyepiece. Her glasses, sidepieces attached to a neck chain, had been tossed over her back and were resting between her shoulder blades.
She spoke without looking up. “I already gave at the office.”
“This is your office, Vera.”
She kept turning the eyepiece. “Aha! There you are, you little rascal. Thought you could hide from Mama Vera. Now I ask you, Pete, when one worm is there, can others be far behind?” She looked up and squinted. “That is you, Pete, isn’t it?”
Decker smiled. Vera’s eyes had become slits. She claimed she was part Aztec and her features backed her up. But she never did bother to explain her Southern drawl.
“Last time I checked.”
Vera returned her eyes to the scope.
“Here’s number two. And here? Oh my, oh my, we downright have a housing project. How y’all doing, little guys? Making life miserable for Pogo’s gut?”
“Do you always talk to your slides, Vera?”
“Worms are animals, too.” She sat back in her chair. “You ever get around to trimming the hooves of the little one, Pete?”
Decker smiled. “Now you’re checking up on me?”
“Checking up on my patient.” Vera stood, unbuttoned her lab coat, and fanned the sides to cool herself off. “You’re going to cripple the poor thing if you don’t.”
“Yes, I trimmed her hooves. Ornery little sucker. When she realized I wasn’t going to let her kick me, she rolled me. Just stiffened and fell on me. Took me over an hour and I was sweating like a pig by the time I was done.”
Vera’s laugh was deep. “You could have brought her in, Pete. Saved yourself some work.”
“Macho guys like me don’t do sensible things like that.”
“One would have thought Rina might have sweet-talked some sense into you.”
“One would have thought.” Decker stuck his hands in his pockets.
Vera swung her glasses onto her chest. “Would you like some mint iced tea?”
“Very much, thanks.”
“My, but it’s a hot one.” She opened the refrigerator, swinging the door several times, providing herself with a breeze of chilled air. Taking out a pitcher of iced tea, she poured it into a two-half-liter beaker and handed Decker some calibrated glassware. She held her container aloft, then gulped down her tea. Decker could just imagine her tossing down some brews with the good ole boys. She had to be close to sixty, but he’d lay money that she could drink a barroom of truck drivers under the table. He finished his tea and Vera took the beaker from his hands.
“Thanks for doing a rush job for me,” Decker said. “Are we in luck?”
“Yes, we are.” Vera perched horn-rimmed glasses on her nose. The chain that connected to her spectacles fell down her temples like gypsy earrings. “Come on over to my desk, I’ll show you my printout.”
The lab wasn’t Parker Center Forensics, but it seemed well equipped—a centrifuge for blood work and a half dozen microscopes. There were racks of Pyrex glassware, shelves of reagents and solvents. A waist-high table of clean white Formica provided the working area. Vera’s desk was a wooden table topped with an IBM PC, a phone, and a salad bowl filled with floral potpourri. The computer’s printer was spewing out data, screeching as the daisy wheel inked numbers on paper. Decker pulled a stool next to the table and sat. Vera took a folder and read its contents.
“It was an easy analysis. Your poisoner didn’t go in for exotics. Does the name phencyclidine mean anything to you?”
“PCP.” Decker took out a pencil and a notebook. “But that’s used as an animal tranquilizer, isn’t it?”
“Not that much anymore. We have much better drugs that don’t have the side effects.”
“What are the side effects in a horse?”
“Well, human and equine brain chemistries are very different as you can well imagine. A horse’s brain is less likely to self-destruct, I can tell you that.”
“No argument from me.”
“Yeah, we humans do the most ungodly things to ourselves.” Vera scratched her
