Hoofprints (Gail McCarthy series) by Laura Crum Read Free Book Online Page A

these is love." I remembered reading that in a P. D. James novel.
    Had someone loved, hated, desired Ed or Cindy that much? Or had someone simply coveted the money they undeniably had? It struck me that the first question would be: Who inherits?
    Half an hour later, I was still staring and thinking when I heard a car pull in. Blue got up and woofed softly. I had left the door unlocked and Bret gave it a brief preliminary knock and walked into the room. Blue quit barking right away and limped up to Bret, wagging his little stump of a tail.
    "Hey, old man." Bret knelt down and made a big fuss over the dog, rubbing his head and muzzle, scratching his back. Blue flattened his ears and wiggled, for all the world as if he were a big dumb Labrador instead of an ornery Blue Heeler. Bret was one of Blue's favorite people-a member of the select group he allowed to pet him. Most folk were in the other category; their attempts to placate him resulted only in subdued growls.
    After he finished rubbing the old dog, Bret got slowly to his feet. "So, Gail, what's the deal?"
    I shrugged. Bret grinned his goofy grin. If he'd been wearing a hat, he would have pushed it way back on his head-an attitude that went with the grin.
    "Know where I've been?"
    "No, but I can guess."
    "I been drivin' truck."
    "You've been doing what?"
    "Drivin' truck. You know ..." He straightened his back, put his hands on an imaginary steering wheel, cocked his foot for the throttle. His eyes got the steely look of a man guiding an eighteen-wheeler down the highway at 2:00 A.M.. He nodded gravely. "Drivin' truck."
    Abruptly he abandoned the pose. "Drivin' Big Red truck." He laughed. "You got any beer in this house?"
    He was already at the refrigerator, looking inside. I could hear him getting a beer out. He came back in the room, carrying two. "Have a beer, Gail; they're on the house."
    "You're already about a dozen ahead of me."
    "Don't let it daunt you. Never be daunted. I read that somewhere. Hemingway. I read it in Hemingway." He looked pleased with himself for remembering. "Seriously, Gail, the thing to do is drive truck."
    1 shook my head. "The thing to do is have dinner. Where've you been drinking?"
    Bret grinned his half-cocked grin. "The Back Door. I saw Bob down there. You remember Bob. Asked him what he's been doing. He said, 'Drivin' truck,' " Bret mimicked a serious macho tone. Then he laughed. "The dumb son of a bitch drives a Goodwill truck around town, picking up clothes from people's backyards. Drivin' truck." Bret shook his head, still laughing.
    I knew the Bob he was talking about. Another perennial hanger-on in the local horse world, he was one of those people who is an expert on everything. He tended toward black leather jackets, cowboy hats with long feathers in the band, and snakeskin boots. Most people I knew went out of their way to avoid him. It was like Bret to sit and drink with him; Bret got some kind of a kick out of difficult people.
    "Let's go eat," I said.
    "How we gonna get there?"
    "I know, I know; we're gonna drive truck."
    He laughed. "That's right. Now you're getting it. Drivin' truck."
    I drove truck down to Carpo's-a favorite institution in Soque1. It features Santa Cruz-style fast food, which means that though you wait at the counter and scramble for a table, as you would at any burger joint, the food and drink would not shame a moderate French restaurant, at a price that's still competitive with the burger joint. Carpo's was a regular evening stop for me, as I didn't like to cook unless I had time to enjoy the process and the results, and it was a rare evening that I got home early enough for that.
    I found a parking place in the always-crowded lot and was following Bret through the swinging doors when someone, pushing their way out, grabbed my arm and said, "Gail." Focusing on the face, I recognized Gina Gianelli, one of my clients, along with a man I couldn't immediately place.
    Shouting, "Calamari with pasta and veggies,"