“This is a list of all the bullets, shells, and casings we found on the property.” Wynona Pratt was dressed in a short-sleeve cotton shirt and had on jeans and tennis shoes. “Almost all of the ammo was located in the northeast sector—number four—near and in four stacked bales of hay.”
“Sounds like a target practice area.”
“That would be my guess. We also found a rusty knife and some other sharp pieces of metal that might have been knives or shivs, but it appears that they haven’t been touched in a long time. I’ve sent them to forensics. I’ll be ripping through the bags of evidence this afternoon at the station house. It’s cooler there.”
“Good. Tell me about the exits and entrances.”
“The ranch is surrounded by a double layer of barbed wire and seven-foot cyclone fencing. Nothing is electrified so it is possible to cut through the metal if you have a good pair of wire clippers and you’re wearing thick, protective gloves. I found eight gates in and out of the property.” Wynona rummaged through her folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I even drew you a little map.”
Decker scanned the diagram.
She said, “The gates are solid metal except for the two back gates, which are made out of cyclone fencing and secured by padlocks. Wire cutters could take care of them.”
“Did either of the padlocks look breached?”
“No.”
“What about the fencing? Holes anywhere?”
“Nothing that’s obvious, but I haven’t gotten down and checked every inch of the perimeter.” Wynona adjusted her hat. “I have a set of knee pads at home. I’ll organize something tomorrow morning unless you want it done right now.”
“Tomorrow is fine.” Decker mopped his brow with a handkerchief. He could hear the dogs and the horses registering protest at the heat. “Who’s watching over the animals?”
“I assumed it was the groomsman—Riley Karns. He was here yesterday.”
“Is he here today?”
“Haven’t seen him.”
“Who let you inside the property?”
“Piet Kotsky. He said you told Neptune Brady that you don’t want any private guards around until you’ve cleared them.”
“I might have said that,” Decker told her. “Does that mean Riley Karns isn’t considered a guard? Because I certainly haven’t cleared him.”
Wynona shrugged. “Someone has to take care of the livestock.”
“I’m going to poke around the stables … see if he’s there.”
“Take a mask. I betcha it stinks.”
“I don’t mind horse shit. In my younger days I had a ranch and stables. I used to ride all the time.”
She cocked her hip and looked at him. “Is that a fact?”
“It is. I’m at home around horses. It’s people that I find confusing.”
The stables had eight stalls and six of them were empty, but the straw had been recently changed. The two remaining horses—both looked like Morgans—were well fed and well hydrated. Decker left the stables through a half door that led to a paddock. Three animals were hooked up to an automatic horse walker—a contraption that looked like a giant umbrella frame without the canvas top. As the horses walked, the frame rotated like a carousel.
Riley was grooming a well-muscled mare with a deep brown coat and a white blaze down her snout, moving the rubber currycomb in a gentle circular motion to loosen up dirt. He glanced up when he heard Decker come into the area, but he continued working. Karns was a tiny man, but with a wiry frame that screamed jockey. He had thin brown hair that was combed across his brow and tiny facial features embedded in a craggy face covered with a sheen of sweat. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and work boots.
Decker said to Karns, “Nice-looking quarter horse.”
“Not just any quarter horse. Her sire—Big Ben—was AQHA World Cutting Champion two times over. Won a purse of over a half million.” Karns pursed his lips. “I used to ride him … Big Ben.”
“Did Mrs. Kaffey buy the mare on your recommendation?”
“I don’t make recommendations,” Karns said. “I’m just hired help. But when I heard that Big Ben was siring a foal, I gave the missus a contact number. She fell in love with Zepher. Who wouldn’t?”
“She looks young.”
“She is young. Wait till she fills in.”
“She’s got good muscle.”
“Great muscle.”
Decker said, “So the Morgans came first?”
“The missus loved Morgans. She shows them all the time.” Karns grew quiet. Then he said, “Horse shows bore Mr. Kaffey. So he decided that he’d try his hand at racing. That’s how he came to buying Tar Baby … the black stallion. The first time I raced him, I knew he didn’t have it. But I kept me opinions to meself.”
“Smart man.”
“I’m just hired help, sir.” Karns trailed a finger over Zepher’s topline. “Go ahead. Ask your questions, Governor.”
“It’s Lieutenant Decker.”
“Whatever you say, Guv. Where’d y’learn about horses?”
“I used to keep horses. I like quarter horses. Versatile animals. On my way over here, I noticed Afghan hounds in the kennel; was Mrs. Kaffey the primary force behind them as well?”
“Yes, the missus loved her Afghans, but not Mr. Kaffey. He didn’t allow any animals in the house. I think he was bitter.”
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause he tried out some of his own dogs and it was a disaster.”
“Let me guess. Greyhounds.”
“Right you are, Guv.” Karns shook his head. “Mr. Kaffey thought he could make money racing them. He could have, except he bought on the cheap. Any half-wit could see that those dogs didn’t have it. The man didn’t know a fig about animals.”
“Or he didn’t want to put out the cash to buy champions.”
“True enough, Governor.”
“Who owns the remaining animals now that Mr. and Mrs. Kaffey are gone?”
“I reckon it’ll be the boys. They’re the ones paying me to keep ’em healthy. The younger one, Grant. Yesterday, he asked me how he would go about sellin’ them. I told him if that’s what he wanted, I could help. He said he wanted to wait until his brother got better first, but if I could get some prices, that would be good. He also said to sell the dogs. That won’t be hard. Some of them are champions.” He looked at Decker. “You’re not asking me this to buy a dog.”
“That’s true.”
“So what do you want, Guv?”
“Your building isn’t too far from the kennel.”
“About five minutes.”
“Did you hear the dogs barking on the night of the murder?”
“When Ana woke me