Can't Beat A Dead Horse (A Carly Keene Cozy Mystery): Carly Keene Cozy Mysteries, #4

Chapter 1

The first thing that Brandon Sparks thought when he woke up was that he’d somehow fallen out of bed. That could be the only explanation for the hard, dusty surface he was now lying on, since he wasn’t the best at keeping the dust bunnies at bay. When he dared to open one eye, this thought was challenged, replaced by one that told him that he might ought to have kept his eyes shut.

A pounding headache made him lie perfectly still for a few seconds as he realized that he was most definitely not in his bed, nor was he in his home at all. Opening his second eye revealed a strand of sunlight creeping through a crack between two wooden planks, dust motes dancing in the golden light as they drifted down towards the dirt floor.

What the heck? Brandon cast his eyes around the space, his eyeballs felt like lead marbles in his skull and his mouth was as dry as a wad of cotton. His stomach riled and rolled, making him wonder for a moment if he might not feel better if he just gave in and threw up. Gingerly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, and took a full look at his surroundings.

The smell of horses hit him hard, and his stomach lurched a little more. He couldn’t see much from where he was sitting, apart from a wooden door and a bench with some muck-laden boots sitting underneath. Brandon fought the urge to be sick and pressed his head between his hands, willing the headache to go away. It felt for all the world like the worst hangover he’d ever had, but everything he could remember about the night before told him that it wasn’t a hangover he was experiencing. I had one glass of champagne. Remembering the previous night, a moment of panic and dread filled his heart. He looked down to confirm that he was indeed wearing his best suit, which was now hopelessly covered in filth and hay.

The awards banquet. The last thing he remembered was sitting at a table surrounded by Georgia’s finest boys in blue, waiting to receive an award from the sheriff for ‘contributions to the community,’ some sort of reward that Brandon suspected was meant to take the place of an actual pay rise but that did come with a nifty certificate and a guaranteed pair of tickets to the Governor’s Ball.

Brandon didn’t care about the tickets, but he’d been tickled to receive the award for providing excellent service to his community. He’d hoped it would help pave the way for a promotion and look good when the sheriff finally retired, just in case Brandon decided to finally run for the position.

Hobnobbing with the local police departments had also been a good way to gauge what was going on in the surrounding communities. Brandon liked to keep an eye on crime in neighboring cities, how much each local law enforcement group was involving themselves in their own communities, and generally what gossip was making its rounds throughout the ranks.

His award was the last thing on his mind now, though the thought of what everyone would say if they found out he’d woken up in such a dire location did make him blush. As he pulled himself to his feet, Brandon had to fight the panic that rose inside of him. He struggled to remember the details of his evening at the banquet, but it seemed to drift off into a dreamy haze. His hand went to his holster underneath his jacket. It was empty.

Crap. Brandon’s voice sounded foggy in the silence. Somewhere outside the barn he could hear birds beginning to sing. It had to be early still…what time had he arrived here? His mind went back to the awards banquet. He’d been too nervous to drink more than a glass of champagne, and he hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime, worried he’d have an upset stomach all evening.

Mandy hadn’t been able to attend, so he’d arrived alone. They’d been dating since she’d moved back to town after Christmas, and although it had only been a few months since they’d started seeing each other, he felt good about where the relationship was heading. She was a level-headed girl who didn’t put up with nonsense, and Brandon was starting to feel like this situation was more nonsensical that she’d like. Boy, what have you done? Again his voice felt out of place, but it was at least something more than the silence that seemed to be surrounding him.

He’d been sitting with George Chambers and his wife, Elaine, that much he remembered. Then Bubba had come by the table with guy from over in Belleville—what was his name? Brandon searched his wobbly memories until he pulled a face and name together. Alex Thompson, that was it. Alex and Jenny Dupree, she’d been the guy’s date. Brandon did recall thinking that Jenny looked a little too rich for Alex. She’d been wearing more jewels than Thacker’s Jewelry store and had mentioned something about her daddy’s racehorses.

Racehorses. Crap. The awards banquet had been at Moore House, which backed onto property owned by the Dupree family, whose daughter, Jenny, just happened to have been knocking back champagne at Brandon’s table the night before.

Rising to his feet, Brandon felt stiff, but not sore. That seemed to rule out him being in a fight or accident. Walking was an effort, at least the first few steps, and Brandon stumbled through the door of what he could only describe as a stall and out into the center of what he now realized was a mostly empty stable. He could see the door at one end, cracked just enough to cast an eerie glow down the center of the stable. He let his eyes adjust, and looked around cautiously. He had to find his gun.

Most of the stalls in the stable were standing open, but the second one from the entrance was pulled shut, its top door open but the bottom closed as if it were keeping something inside. I didn’t hear any horses in here, Brandon thought as he moved towards the door. He couldn’t see exactly what was on the other side, so he glanced around for a light switch. He found one pretty fast, and flicked it on, flooding the stable with light. One glance back into the closed stall made him wish he’d left it off.

A chestnut-colored horse lay on its side in the stall, its eyes frozen open in a death stare. That sight itself was pretty disturbing, but the fact that Jenny Dupree lay beside it with the same glassy gaze was almost more than Brandon could handle. Pushing panic aside, Brandon forced himself to assume the role of police officer once again, and as he searched his pockets for his cell phone, it dawned on him that he may just be investigating a crime in which, so far, he seemed to be the only suspect.

Chapter 2

Brandon’s phone was shoved down deep inside the interior pocket of his jacket, keeping it relatively clean and dirt-free. He hesitated before dialling the number of his local police station, trying to frame what he needed to say without sounding too panicked or confused. Although Brandon had absolutely no recollection of how he’d arrived at the stables or how Jenny Dupree’s lifeless body had ended up there, he knew without a doubt that he had nothing to do with the woman’s death.

Standing over six feet tall, the muscular cop pulled at his collar and rubbed his temples. The sight of Jenny’s lifeless body made him feel momentarily weak, the way every dead body he’d ever seen always made him feel. Somebody had hated her enough to kill her. Brandon had been raised to despise anyone that would ever dare to lay a finger on a woman, no matter how riled up they got. It was also Brandon’s calm, easygoing nature that had led him into becoming a policeman in Parker’s Mill. It took a special kind of patience to be able to deal with some of the town’s more annoying troublemakers without losing your cool, but Brandon was the poster boy for a chilled out police force.

Brandon took a few deep breaths, which he instantly regretted, thanks to the meaty smell of horse manure he inhaled, and he felt like he had himself pulled together. Finally, he dialled the number and relayed his location to the officer on duty, giving a quick, but thorough, description of what he’d found when he’d woken up, and he’d even had the presence of mind to request a drug test, because it was becoming clear to him that he’d been drugged with something the night before.

As soon as he finished the call, he dialled another number. It rang twice before his cousin answered. He didn’t let her get much of a greeting out before he cut her off. Carly, hey, I need to ask you something.

Well, good morning to you, too, Brandon. Go ahead, ask away. Carly Keene knew that Brandon wouldn’t phone her this early in the morning if it wasn’t important, so she bit back the urge to question him about where he’d disappeared to the night before. She’d spent nearly an hour looking for him after he’d accepted his award, hoping to get a photograph for the newspaper where she worked part-time. She’d been taking photographs of the event for work, but she’d also been very proud to see her favorite cousin accept his award for community service.

Carly, when did I leave the awards banquet last night? Carly could hear a slight edge of something that sounded a lot like panic creeping into Brandon’s voice.

Well, I don’t know, she replied. I looked for you at nine-thirty and couldn’t find you, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I mean, half the county was there for those awards. The other half was there for the food, she added with a weak laugh. Brandon, what’s wrong?

He hesitated, then told her what had happened to him. Carly, I have absolutely no recollection of leaving that banquet. Fear filled his voice, and he sounded like he wanted to cry.

Brandon, I can meet you at the police station, if you want. Or, would you rather I come straight to where you are?

No, he replied firmly, this is a crime scene. My first priority is to figure out what happened here, who killed Jenny Dupree and why in the heck I ended up here in the first place. I’ll call you when I get finished. I may want to take a look at those pictures you took last night at the awards ceremony. I need something to trigger my memory soon or I’m going to look awful suspicious when my boss starts asking why the town’s golden boy suddenly ended up in the hay next to a dead debutante.

Carly winced. I’m so sorry all this is happening. Have you spoken to Mandy yet? Carly knew that Brandon and Mandy were crazy about each other, and since Mandy was the younger sister of Carly’s best friend and sometimes-employer, Shell, she figured the story was bound to make more waves than Brandon realized.

No, he sighed. I’ll have to wait to talk to her after all this. He looked down at the front of his shirt. Red smudge marks that appeared to match the shade on the dead woman’s lips covered the edge of his collar and, he suspected, his face. I woke up covered in lipstick. I don’t think Mandy would want to talk to me right now, anyway.

Before he could explain further, the sound of a siren interrupted him. I’ve got to go meet the coroner. I’ll talk to you soon. He hung up before she could reply, and slipped the phone back into his pocket before heading off to wave down the ambulance.

**********

The moment Carly realized that Brandon had disconnected the call she became a flurry of nervous energy. She’d been getting ready to have a shower before the call, so she decided to go ahead and do that. Normally her morning shower was a relaxing way to wash her sleepiness away, but this morning she was so concerned about her cousin that she nearly forgot to rinse the conditioner out of her hair.

After she was showered and dressed, Carly fired up her laptop and inserted the memory card with the photographs from the awards banquet. She’d been there for hours, and with the realization that she had nearly five hundred photographs on the disk, her heart sank. It would take hours to go through all of these properly, and she may not even find anything that would help Brandon figure out what had happened to him.

A knock on her bedroom door reminded her that she had promised to go into the bakery this morning to help Shell with a catering order. Since Shell’s parents had come home from their year-long RV trip, Carly had been needed less at the bakery, much to Shell’s distress. Fortunately for Shell, her mother had decided that three days a week at the bakery was enough for her to keep boredom at bay and keep her famous baking skills sharp.

Why can’t this be Jean’s day to work? Carly mused as she opened the door, expecting to see Shell’s bubbly face. Instead, she opened the door to find her boyfriend, Tucker Gaston, holding a bunch of flowers and a to-go cup of coffee.

Oh, hey, Tucker, she exhaled, caught completely off-guard by his presence. He was smiling, like he’d just had good news or won the lottery, but that was a pretty common look for Tucker. He just had one of those faces that wanted to smile, even when times were tough, and Carly believed that was his most endearing quality and a huge reason why they’d started dating in the first place. She loved his positive outlook on things, and right now, she sure could use a little positivity. You didn’t have to bring me flowers! And is that coffee?

"Yep. I got up early this morning, had a few errands I needed to run for my mama, so I thought I’d just surprise you and see