This one is gonna be inspired b y a story in the news right now, about the Venezualan polo team's ponies suddenly dying mysteriously.
9:30 am JFK International Airport
April 20, 2009
The forklift was much larger than the usual cargo forklift-it was used to move the kind of cargo containers that could be used on a tractor-trailer, or a train. Today, it was moving a large container off a plane.
A foreman stood nearby, a clipboard in hand, an earpiece to a walkie talkie phone pressed into one ear.
"Yup, loading 'em now." He waved to a tractor truck, that was ready to back up, motioning it to take position under the container. "Ok, we're good!"
The driver got out of the truck, and began locking down his load. Several men, most tall and slim, yet well muscled, milled about speaking Spanish. One approached the driver.
"I'd like to check on them, please, " he said, in slightly accented English.
The driver shrugged. "No problem." He climbed onto a slight ledge, and opened a man door in the side of the cargo container. Two of the Spanish speakers climbed up, more nimble than the driver, and peered in.
One looked at the others on the tarmac, and said something, sounding worrried.
The driver frowned, hoping there wouldn't be a delay. Almost two hours to the polo grounds in Connecticut, and two hours back. He was hoping for a short day. "What?" he asked.
The English speaker smiled. "Nothing to worry about. Some of the ponies are sweating. Nerves. Some horses, like people, don't like to fly." At the driver's face, he added, "They've all been cleared by your government's quarentine regulations."
The driver shrugged, and watched as one man entered the container, which consisted of 20 stalls, all occupied by polo ponies. Some, smelling fresh air, and hearing the beeps and horns of trucks and forklifts, whinnied and stamped nervously. "He gonna ride in there?"
"Yes. It helps keep them calm."
The driver climbed down, and made his last lockdowns, and shut the door. "Whatever. Not my idea of fun, riding with a bunch of horses, smelling horses**t for 2 hours."
2 pm Connecticut Medical Examiner's office, Greenwich, Ct April 21, 2009
Det Cyrus Lupo looked around the well appointed office, noting the abundance of knick knacks, the over stuffed furniture. He wanted to fall asleep, he was so comfortable. Maybe, this was the kind of office you got, when the county the state had located you in, had more money than it knew what to do with.
The ME came in, a slight man wearing an expensive suit. Lupo wondered why he'd never seen Rogers in anhything but scrubs.
"Dr Owens, I'm Det. Cyrus Lupo....from Manhatten."
Owens nodded, and sat behind the large desk. "Well, sorry to fob this one off on you guys, but he died in your jurisdiction." He smiled slightly. "At first I thought one of the horses got him, as it died...maybe a panic when it couldn't breath...or just got pissed off at the guy, but it wasn't a hoof that did him in. More like a hammer."
Lupo frowned. "BAck up a sec. I was told, this was an accidental death?"
"What I thought at first too. Don't like animals of any kind myself. Fickle things. Bite you as soon as love you. But, once we got the body back here, and washed it up, we could see the imprints of the infamous blunt object. Very possibly a hammer, numerous blows." He handed Lupo a report.
Lupo read quickly. Man riding in a tractor trailer full of horses, found dead when the truck had arrived at its destination, a farm not far from the polo grounds. A Venezualan national, Gregorio
Hernandez. A trainer with the polo team....
"Whoa. Wahts this about the horses dying?"
Owens shrugged. "got me. The state is investigating-didn't you hear it on the news? 20 ponies on that truck, and 10 were either dead, or nearly so. And, another 5 got sick yesterday. Seem to be dying of heart failure, but as to whats causing it, no one knows yet. They're looking at the feed, since it seems its affecting most of them. The last 5 are in quarenteen. Rumor is, they don't look too spunky either."
Lupo blew out a breath. 'Well, Connecticut gets the horses. We get the stiff."
"Not so fast, Detective. 7 horses were dead when they got here. If our vets determine a time of death, New york may get them, too."
"i would hate to be the one to tell my lieutenant that." Lupo stood. "Well, lets go load up the body." He thought of the man the ME's office had sent, to drive the meat wagon. Lupo faced another few hours of listening to disco music, and a running commentary on the merits of Gloria Gaynor.
9:30 am JFK International Airport
April 20, 2009
The forklift was much larger than the usual cargo forklift-it was used to move the kind of cargo containers that could be used on a tractor-trailer, or a train. Today, it was moving a large container off a plane.
A foreman stood nearby, a clipboard in hand, an earpiece to a walkie talkie phone pressed into one ear.
"Yup, loading 'em now." He waved to a tractor truck, that was ready to back up, motioning it to take position under the container. "Ok, we're good!"
The driver got out of the truck, and began locking down his load. Several men, most tall and slim, yet well muscled, milled about speaking Spanish. One approached the driver.
"I'd like to check on them, please, " he said, in slightly accented English.
The driver shrugged. "No problem." He climbed onto a slight ledge, and opened a man door in the side of the cargo container. Two of the Spanish speakers climbed up, more nimble than the driver, and peered in.
One looked at the others on the tarmac, and said something, sounding worrried.
The driver frowned, hoping there wouldn't be a delay. Almost two hours to the polo grounds in Connecticut, and two hours back. He was hoping for a short day. "What?" he asked.
The English speaker smiled. "Nothing to worry about. Some of the ponies are sweating. Nerves. Some horses, like people, don't like to fly." At the driver's face, he added, "They've all been cleared by your government's quarentine regulations."
The driver shrugged, and watched as one man entered the container, which consisted of 20 stalls, all occupied by polo ponies. Some, smelling fresh air, and hearing the beeps and horns of trucks and forklifts, whinnied and stamped nervously. "He gonna ride in there?"
"Yes. It helps keep them calm."
The driver climbed down, and made his last lockdowns, and shut the door. "Whatever. Not my idea of fun, riding with a bunch of horses, smelling horses**t for 2 hours."
2 pm Connecticut Medical Examiner's office, Greenwich, Ct April 21, 2009
Det Cyrus Lupo looked around the well appointed office, noting the abundance of knick knacks, the over stuffed furniture. He wanted to fall asleep, he was so comfortable. Maybe, this was the kind of office you got, when the county the state had located you in, had more money than it knew what to do with.
The ME came in, a slight man wearing an expensive suit. Lupo wondered why he'd never seen Rogers in anhything but scrubs.
"Dr Owens, I'm Det. Cyrus Lupo....from Manhatten."
Owens nodded, and sat behind the large desk. "Well, sorry to fob this one off on you guys, but he died in your jurisdiction." He smiled slightly. "At first I thought one of the horses got him, as it died...maybe a panic when it couldn't breath...or just got pissed off at the guy, but it wasn't a hoof that did him in. More like a hammer."
Lupo frowned. "BAck up a sec. I was told, this was an accidental death?"
"What I thought at first too. Don't like animals of any kind myself. Fickle things. Bite you as soon as love you. But, once we got the body back here, and washed it up, we could see the imprints of the infamous blunt object. Very possibly a hammer, numerous blows." He handed Lupo a report.
Lupo read quickly. Man riding in a tractor trailer full of horses, found dead when the truck had arrived at its destination, a farm not far from the polo grounds. A Venezualan national, Gregorio
Hernandez. A trainer with the polo team....
"Whoa. Wahts this about the horses dying?"
Owens shrugged. "got me. The state is investigating-didn't you hear it on the news? 20 ponies on that truck, and 10 were either dead, or nearly so. And, another 5 got sick yesterday. Seem to be dying of heart failure, but as to whats causing it, no one knows yet. They're looking at the feed, since it seems its affecting most of them. The last 5 are in quarenteen. Rumor is, they don't look too spunky either."
Lupo blew out a breath. 'Well, Connecticut gets the horses. We get the stiff."
"Not so fast, Detective. 7 horses were dead when they got here. If our vets determine a time of death, New york may get them, too."
"i would hate to be the one to tell my lieutenant that." Lupo stood. "Well, lets go load up the body." He thought of the man the ME's office had sent, to drive the meat wagon. Lupo faced another few hours of listening to disco music, and a running commentary on the merits of Gloria Gaynor.
