Authors: Lyndon Stacey
`Yeah, and I'm Eskimo Nell! You've still got the scars, Mister, so don't give me that crap!' He regarded Gideon thoughtfully for a moment. `But something's happened to make you change your story. I don't suppose you're going to tell me what it was, are you?,
Gideon got to his feet. `I've withdrawn the allegation. More coffee?'
`I don't mind if I do,' Logan said, swallowing the last dregs and holding out his mug. `I know you've withdrawn it. Your statement's still on record, though, and if we feel it needs to be followed up, it will be. Are you saying now that you knew Joey Dylan all along?'
Gideon hesitated. Once again Logan was driving him into a corner. Knowledge brought with it responsibilities. A few days before, he would have welcomed Logan's interest, but what Joey had told him about that night had sent his thoughts along unwelcome avenues, and he wanted to know more before he took the matter any further with the authorities.
He shrugged. `What do you want me to say? It's over, as far as I'm concerned. I've spoken to Joey and we've sorted it out.' Logan regarded him through narrowed eyes. `I think you're lying, but I can't figure out why. Is someone threatening you?' Gideon handed him his second mug of coffee. `No,' he said, returning Logan's look steadily. Above their heads the floorboards creaked as Rachel went across to the bathroom.
Logan held his gaze for several long seconds and then sighed. `Well, it's up to you, I guess. I just hope you know what you're doing.'
Elsa mewed plaintively and Gideon opened a tin for her. He was beginning to feel hungry himself, so he fished a loaf of bread out of the cupboard, cut several slices and put them in the toaster. `Do we know how the fire started yet?'
Logan nodded. `In the farmhouse. It seems one of the workmen was careless. Some unfinished wiring, some old wallpaper and woodshavings, the power left on ... These things happen.'
`So, it was an accident?' `Looks that way.'
'But accidents can be arranged, right?'
`You'd have a job proving it. There were no suspicious circumstances, no use of accelerants, nothing obviously out of place. You'd be surprised how many fires are started by workmen. I mean, look at Windsor Castle . . .'
`I suppose so.' Gideon wasn't convinced and he didn't think Logan was either, though his expression gave nothing away. Rachel came downstairs with her characteristic quick, light tread and through to the kitchen.
Gideon saw Logan's look of mild enquiry sharpen into appreciation as he took in elfin features surrounded by a mane of dark curls, and the slim curves that weren't completely disguised by the huge mohair jumper she wore over her jeans.
She paused, then advanced hesitantly.
`Rachel, this is Constable Logan. Logan, Rachel Shelley, my temporary lodger.'
`Mark,' he said, standing up to shake her hand with a brief smile.
Rachel took the proffered hand shyly, her dark-fringed eyes glancing anxiously from Gideon to the policeman and back again. `What's happened? Have they caught Duncan? Is he back in prison?'
`He's here about the fire, Rachel.'
`Duncan?' Logan looked at Gideon. 'Ah, Duncan Shelley. The man who broke parole and has been making a nuisance of himself.'
`Yes. Rachel's ex-husband,' Gideon said. The toast popped up, and as Logan showed no signs of leaving, he put three plates on the table and more bread in the machine. Rachel fetched butter, marmalade and knives.
Logan helped himself.
`Well, well,' he said. `And are you involved in any other criminal matters I should know about?'
Surprisingly, it was Rachel who became fired up in Gideon's defence.
`That's not fair! It's not Gideon's fault he got mixed up in this, it's mine, and all because he was kind enough to help me! He didn't have to.' She glared at Logan who appeared a little bemused by this unexpected attack.
`In fact, I'm thinking of putting in for canonisation,' Gideon told him.
Logan's mouth twitched but Rachel coloured up unhappily.
`I know you're teasing me. But it's not fair to criticise you for something that's not your fault! That other policeman was just as bad!'
`W{aat other policeman?' Logan asked through a mouthful of toast and marmalade.
`Hillcott, I think his name was,' Gideon said. `He and his pal were here the other day about Duke Shelley and more or less accused me of attention-seeking. As if I hadn't anything better to do!'
'Ah,' Logan said, as if things had become clear. `You get prats in every walk of life. Unfortunately, the police force is no exception. I know Hillcott. He was stationed with us at Chilminster for a while and he's not a particular friend of mine.'
Small talk occupied the remainder of the meal. Rachel's hostility was apparently dissipated by Logan's opinion of Hillcott
and she joined in the conversation as if she had known the policeman all her life. Gideon couldn't be sure whether this was due to Logan's undoubted skill in managing people or to Rachel's growing confidence. She seemed to have come on a lot, even in the short time he had known her.
`So, what did you come about, really?' Gideon asked as he eventually showed Logan out. `Or were you just hungry?'
Logan flashed his boyish grin, then said frankly, `I was checking up on you, actually. I found myself going over the connection between you and Joey, and Slade and the Sanctuary, and none of it made a lot of sense.'
`Join the club,' Gideon said.
`I needed to know more about you.'
`And now you do?' he asked, trying to remember what might have been said to this end.
`Enough,' Logan said. `For now, anyway.'
`Well, let me know if you're coming again,' Gideon suggested. `And I'll get extra bread in.'
For a couple of days it seemed as though things had settled down a little in Gideon's orbit. The donkeys appeared to have adjusted quite happily to life at Home Farm and, unexpectedly, Giles had taken to them in a big way. Although so far he'd drawn the line at actually mucking out, he seemed fascinated by them and was often on hand to help Naomi when she came over to see them.
At the Sanctuary itself, Tim reported no further disturbances. The insurance company was dragging its feet, which left him treading water, unable to do more than maintain the remaining animals as best he could while waiting for the okay to begin rebuilding. When Gideon visited him, on a cold and frosty day the week after the fire, he was busy hand-feeding an injured kestrel that somebody had brought in.
`How often do you have to do that?' Gideon asked, watching with interest as Tim patiently coaxed the bird to accept food from a dropper.
`Every couple of hours to start with,' he said. `She's very weak and won't take much at a time.'
`She? How do you sex a kestrel? Or is the plumage different?' `Yeah. The male has a grey head and tail.' Tim refilled the dropper but the bird appeared to have lost interest. `The hell of it is, you wear yourself out doing this all day and night and think you're doing well, and then they up and die on you with no warning. Delayed shock, heart attack, stress - I'm never sure, but it happens again and again. You can't not try though, can you?'
Gideon agreed that you couldn't.
`Seen or heard anything of the neighbours?' he enquired. `Well, strangely enough,' Tim said, laying down the pipette and carefully returning the kestrel to its cage, 'Milne was here yesterday.'
'Milne was?'
Tim nodded. `The man himself. I was busy in the yard, clearing some of the rubble from that old wall that came down, and when I looked up he was there. Just standing looking at the mobile home - or what's left of it. He hadn't said a word. When I spoke to him, he looked at me for a moment as if I was the one who was trespassing.'
`Then what happened?'
`Well, not a lot, really. He said he hadn't realised that there'd been so much damage and asked how long it would take to clear up. No explanation of what he was doing here or anything. Oh, and he asked if we'd be rebuilding it all as it was.'
Gideon frowned. `That's odd. No, not that he didn't explain, he's a bad-mannered bugger at the best of times. I mean, asking about the rebuilding. What did you say?'
`Well, to be honest, I didn't see that it was any of his business, so I said we hadn't decided for sure but we'd probably take the opportunity to expand on quite a grand scale.' He looked a little sheepish. `It probably wasn't the wisest thing to say but I was feeling a bit peeved.'
`No! Good for you!' Gideon declared. `What did he have to say to that?'
`Not a lot. He muttered something about how distressing it must've been for us, and then left. It was all very strange.' Gideon pondered the riddle of Meredith Milne as he headed on from the Sanctuary to visit some clients and then pick up Mary Collins' picture from the framer.
It would have been easy to pass off this interest in Tim's plans for the future of the Sanctuary as mere curiosity, if it hadn't been for the fact that Milne was self-interested almost to the exclusion of all else. If he had instigated the burning of the buildings, it had surely been with the intention of driving the occupants out, not because the present layout offended him. After all, he could hardly see the Sanctuary buildings from the Grange.
Gideon abandoned the puzzle.
The clients he'd journeyed to see were John and Yvonne Radcliffe, a young husband and wife whose hobby was three-dayeventing. They were friends of Pippa's and it was she who'd passed on Gideon's name.
He was taken to see the problem horse, a big, rangy gelding called Bouncer who, he was told, was as quiet as a lamb to handle with practically everyone except John.
Gideon asked to see the horse alone first and went into the stable talking softly and with palms held uppermost for the horse to sniff. The gelding snuffed both hands and then his face in a perfectly relaxed fashion, then stood calmly while Gideon ran his hands over the bay coat with its hard, fit muscles beneath.
Leaving the stable, he asked John to approach the horse and watched carefully. John was a fairly burly individual but his body language was good. Immediately, though, the black-edged ears went back and the horse retreated a step or two, showing the whites of its eyes and blowing distrustfully through distended nostrils.
`That's enough,' Gideon called. Then turning to Yvonne, `Does he react like that to anyone else at all?'
`No, only to John. Oh, and yes, now you mention it, one of my friends. A girlfriend. But she isn't horsy, so we thought nothing of it. Before that, we were thinking maybe he just didn't like men, but then he's been all right with Ted, an ex jockey who helps me out sometimes when John's working.'
`And how far will the horse go? I mean, is it all show or does he get physical?'
`He bit me once. Hard, too.' John fished a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his waxed jacket and lit one. `And he's threatened to kick. I leave him to Yvonne these days but it's not an ideal situation. I mean, it's one thing at home, but come the spring, when we want to travel to events, I'm going to have to be able to handle him too. To be honest, if we can't sort it out he'll have to go.'
`D'you think you'll be able to do anything?' Yvonne asked anxiously. `We really don't want to have to sell him, he jumps like a.dream.'
They were talking less than ten feet from the gelding's stable door and Gideon had been watching the horse closely all the while. Now he transferred his attention to the waiting couple again.
`No, I'm afraid I don't think there's much I can do,' he said, and saw their faces drop with disappointment. `But I think maybe John can.
`Me? What can I do? I can't get near him.'
`Tell me,' Gideon said to Yvonne. `Does your girlfriend have any bad habits?'
`Bad habits?' she echoed, looking utterly bewildered. `What d'you ... ?'Then the coin dropped. `Oh! You mean smoking! Of course! John smokes and so does Clare but neither Ted nor I do. You've got it, I'm sure you have. Ha!' she exclaimed triumphantly, turning to her husband. `Now you'll have to give up.'
He withdrew the offending object from his mouth and looked at it ruefully. `Damn!' he said. `Why couldn't it have been my after-shave he didn't like?'
Gideon laughed. `I expect he associates the smell with someone who's abused him in the past. Horses have exceedingly long memories when it comes to that sort of thing. And they have a very acute sense of smell.'
`I suppose you're sure?'
`Reasonably. I'll tell you what. You give up smoking for, say, three months, and if there's no improvement, I'll come and see him again, free of charge. But I warn you, there probably won't be an overnight change. For one thing, the smell of tobacco will linger for quite a while, and after that you've got to give the horse time to adjust to the new you.'
`Bugger!' John said succinctly. `I can't believe I've just paid a small fortune for somebody to come and tell me to quit smoking!' Yvonne was highly amused. `Personally, I think it's well worth it,' she said. `I've been on at him for ages to stop. Come on, Gideon. Come and tell me what you think of my baby while you're here.'
The `baby' turned out to be not a bawling pink bundle wrapped in a blanket, as Gideon had feared, but a leggy, dark chestnut yearling colt with two long white stockings and two white socks. As they leaned on the stable door, Gideon was able to say with perfect honesty, `He's gorgeous, isn't he?'
Yvonne glowed.
`No need to ask who the sire is,' he added. `He couldn't be by any other horse, with those trademarks.'
`Let's hope he jumps like his dad,' John remarked. `The stud fees were phenomenal.'
`I suppose you can't blame them for trying to make as much as they can while Popsox is still a household name,' Yvonne said reasonably. `I think he'll jump. He's got the pedigree and he's going to have the right build, and the mare was a jumper, but of course there are no certainties in breeding.'
`Only that you're going to lose money,' John put in.
`Never mind, dear,' Yvonne said sweetly. `You'll just have to go out and make some more.'
The portrait, when Gideon collected it from the framer's, was a triumph. Framed in a dark oak, with a dusky, mushroomcoloured mount, the horse and man depicted were thrown into relief so they appeared almost three-dimensional.