Small Town Filly (Sandbar Stables Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read Free

the cool darkness of the concrete barn.
    "Wow," she said, looking all around. "I guess I really wasn't expecting this."
    The aisle was long and wide, and the interior cool and fresh. There were fifteen large square stalls with sliding doors on them, and the stalls were open to the high ceiling above.
    Near the front was a large covered room with a padlock on the door. "I guess that's the tack room," said Alex. "You keep it locked?"
    "I sure do, whenever I'm not in here," said Lance. "People will steal saddles just like they'll steal bicycles, and for the same reason, fast cash. Sell them at flea markets or at an auction."
    He took a key ring from his belt and opened the lock. Alex saw neatly placed saddles resting on wooden stands along the walls, with bridles hanging from pegs above the saddles.
    She couldn't help but notice that there were a couple of bales of hay shoved up against the wall near the tack room door, with blankets and an old beach chair cushion thrown over them. If she didn't know better, she would have thought someone had been sleeping there, but she didn't mention it.
    "This is one of the finest barns ever built in this part of the country," Lance said. "The concrete block keeps it cool in the summer, and it's fireproof."
    "I have to tell you," said Alex, "that I know this really isn't horse country. I guess I was expecting sagging wire fences and rusty old sheds. But this is as nice a barn as any in Kentucky, isn't it?"
    "It is. It was built back in the 1920s for a beach riding concession that was already here and doing pretty well. They decided they needed something more permanent—something where they could keep and train a few show horses for their daughters, as well as shelter their rental horses. So they built this. And it's still here."
    "I saw some old photos," Alex said as they walked down the barn aisle. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could see that there was a horse in almost every stall.
    A halter and lead rope hung on each stall door, and even though the nylon halters were of all different colors and the lead ropes were all mismatched and of all different materials, they had been neatly put away.
                  "So," Alex went on, "you've been here for the last two weeks? Ever since–"
                  "Yeah. I've been here since Fred Lucas was killed."
                  Alex stopped halfway down the aisle and turned to Lance. Behind him, she could see the horses lifting their noses up to the wire mesh of their stalls to look at the two of them in the aisle. "Does anybody know what happened to him? Nobody will tell me anything."
                  "There's not a lot to tell. He was found right about here where we're standing—right in the middle of the barn aisle—dead from a gunshot wound. There's no word on who did it, or why."
                  "Oh." Alex turned away and went on walking. "So, you've been taking care of this place for more than two weeks all by yourself? You've been keeping sixteen horses fed and cleaned?"
                  He glanced at one of the stalls, where what looked like a tall and slender gray horse stood looking at him. "When I heard what had happened, I came straight over here and asked the cops who was going to take care of the horses now. They said the family was gone and they hadn't hired anyone else. So they told me to go ahead. And I did. Fed them twice a day, and turned them out into the arena each morning."
                  Alex stopped again near the rear doorway of the barn. "Lance, I am very grateful that you stepped in to take care of these horses. Now, you did get paid, didn't you? Because if you didn't, I can arrange that right now. I have access to all the estate money, and there's plenty in there to keep this place going for a long time."
    "Yes. I was paid. Thank you. The day after Fred Lucas was killed, the lawyer for the Norman estate came out here,