Logan watched him thoughtfully.
‘You know I can’t help you unless you tell me the whole story . . .’
‘Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry. I will, but I have to speak to someone first.’
‘Well, you’d better hurry up and do it, mate. These guys weren’t playing around today. Who’s to say that next time they won’t take it a step further?’
‘Yeah, believe me, I know.’
‘Well, I hope whoever you’re protecting appreciates the risk you’re taking on his or her behalf,’ Logan said heavily. ‘As for your list, I’d say it has all the hallmarks of blackmail. Whoever wrote it has got something on these people and is making them pay. Have you spoken to that person? Do they know you have the list? Because I imagine they might be quite keen to have it back, and possibly shut you up in the process.’
‘The break-ins!’ Eve exclaimed.
‘Break-ins?’
‘Yeah, I thought someone had been in the house one evening when I was out,’ Gideon told him, wishing Eve had kept quiet. ‘And we had a prowler the other night, but nothing was taken, either time.’
‘And you called it in, of course,’ Logan’s cynicism was obvious.
‘Nothing was taken. I didn’t think your lot would be all that interested, and I didn’t want the hassle. It didn’t occur to me that it might have anything to do with the list, at that time. It didn’t seem that important.’
‘If I had a tenner for every time someone has said that to me, I’d have retired to the South of France by now,’ Logan said. ‘Well, all I can suggest is that you try and find something that links two or three of the names. If you do, it’s a fair bet that if you look hard enough you’ll find the others fit into the pattern, too. But do me a favour and be discreet, huh? You’re a stubborn bastard, but I don’t particularly want to be investigating your murder; I’ve got enough to do!’
‘You’re all heart,’ Gideon said. ‘But I will be careful.’
‘Well, I think it would be far better for him just to leave the whole thing alone,’ Eve stated vehemently. ‘And I’m surprised you don’t tell him the same!’
‘I would, if I thought it would do any good,’ Logan told her. ‘But with this guy it’s more about damage limitation.’
‘I don’t actually go looking for trouble,’ Gideon protested. ‘But on the other hand, I can hardly just leave it at that, can I?’
‘I don’t see why not!’ Eve declared. ‘It hasn’t really got anything to do with you, after all.’
‘I think this is probably where I bow out,’ Logan said wisely.
‘And if you turn up anything on the fencer . . .?’ Gideon asked.
‘I’ll maybe let you know,’ Logan said. ‘It works both ways, mister. You should remember that.’
Before he left, Logan got Eve to remove the dressings from Gideon’s wrists so he could take some photographs. He then thanked her courteously for the coffee, and went on his way.
When the door shut behind him, Eve returned to Gideon on the sofa.
‘I think he was remarkably patient, considering he’d come all the way out here and you patently weren’t being straight with him.’
‘I was being straight. I warned him I couldn’t tell him all the names.’
‘All right. Not co-operating with him, then. I thought he’d be a lot tougher on you, from what you told me about him.’
‘Yeah, so did I,’ Gideon said. ‘And that’s a bit worrying. It makes me wonder what he thinks he knows . . .’
Gideon spent the night at Eve’s, a phone call to Pippa ensuring that Elsa would be fed, and Zebedee dining on minced beef and pasta from Eve’s fridge. To Gideon’s surprise, she even took the dog out for his late night ‘comfort’ walk, and came back reporting that he’d tried to chase a neighbour’s cat, and almost pulled her into a row of dustbins.
‘Funny how they live quite happily with their own cat but see everyone else’s as fair game,’ Gideon remarked.
‘What I think is funny is how you can call yourself an animal behaviourist and yet own such a crazy and ill-disciplined dog!’ she retorted.
By the morning, Gideon’s throbbing headache had settled down to a dull muzziness but, by contrast, his ill-treated arm and shoulder muscles had become doubly stiff and sore, and the skin felt tender, as though someone had given him a stiff brushing over with a wire brush.
Taking one look at his face, Eve made him lie face down and proceeded to work at his back and shoulders with her fingers and palms, rubbing in some strong-smelling ointment at the same time.
‘What is that?’ Gideon asked, turning his head to one side.
‘Arnica. It’ll help. Now, lie still, will you?’
It did indeed help. When she’d finished, Gideon sat up gingerly, pulled her towards him and kissed her.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘Why don’t we have a lovely lazy day, doing nothing? I can call Sarah – she’ll look after the gallery for me and we can just eat, drink, make love and maybe take old Zeb for a walk along the beach later.’
Gideon stroked her hair. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’d love to, but . . .’
‘But . . .?’
‘I promised I’d take a look at one of Tilly’s horses this morning.’
‘Can’t you just call her and tell her you can’t make it?’
‘And then there’s Angie Bowen. I’m supposed to be helping her with a new horse that has a blacksmith phobia . . .’
‘You’re hardly in a fit state to wrestle with a phobic horse!’ Eve pointed out. ‘Why can’t you do it tomorrow? Give yourself a chance to recover.’
‘Because the blacksmith is booked for today,’ he said gently. ‘I’m really sorry, but I have to go.’
‘OK. Suit yourself. I’ll go and rustle up something for breakfast,’ she said, pulling away and disappearing towards the kitchen. She spoke lightly but Gideon wasn’t deceived.
Sighing, he slid off the bed and followed, finding her putting slices of bread in a big chrome toaster.
‘Eve . . .?’
‘Scrambled egg on toast?’ she suggested without turning round.
‘Lovely.’ He went across and stood behind her, drawing her curtain of dark hair aside and kissing her neck, just below her ear. ‘I will be careful, you know. I promise.’
‘I still don’t understand why you can’t just turn it all over to the police and have done with it.’ She turned to face him and the words burst out as though suddenly she could no longer hold them back. ‘Or tell Lloyd and Pippa, and let it be their problem. It’s got nothing to do with you – but you’re the one getting hurt here!’
Gideon shook his head, sliding his hands down to rest on her hips.
‘It’s not that simple. You heard what Mark said. It sounds like whoever made the list was blackmailing the people on it, and I think he’s right; it’s the only thing that fits. I came to that conclusion myself, after I’d spoken to Bentley the other day.’
‘You didn’t say anything to me.’
‘I think I’ve been trying to find another explanation; I didn’t like that one, it makes everything very messy. Which is exactly why I can’t tell the police just yet. Imagine what this would do to Tilly and her family. Bad enough that they’ve lost Damien, without finding out that he had another side to him that they knew nothing about! I feel a bit let down, myself, and I only knew the guy for a few weeks.’
‘But . . .’ Eve clearly saw the force of this reasoning. ‘But . . . where does that leave you? If you don’t want the family to get hurt, can’t you just tear up the list and forget about it? Damien’s dead and they’ve caught the guy that did it – even found the gun, for goodness sake – so presumably the blackmailing is over. Who’s to know, or care? Isn’t it better to leave it at that?’
Gideon shook his head, helplessly. ‘I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right here.’
‘Well, you’re the only one who thinks so,’ Eve exclaimed with a touch of impatience. ‘You say you’re worried about Till
y and her family finding out about Damien – but who’s going to tell them? Only you.’ She punctuated the last word by prodding him in the chest with her forefinger, then eased out of his grasp and went across to her huge American-style fridge for butter and eggs.
Frowning, Gideon leaned on the marble worktop and thought about it.
‘You’re right, of course,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ve lost track of what’s important. In fact, I’m not really sure how all this got started, any more.’
Eve broke eggs into a bowl.
‘OK, I think I was to blame for that,’ she admitted. ‘I think I may have been the one who suggested you ring the numbers, but it was only an off-the-cuff remark. I didn’t really expect you to do it, and I certainly never expected any of this to happen. Can you put some plates to warm?’
‘I think I had some vague idea that it might have something to do with the murder,’ Gideon said, switching the oven on. ‘And, come to that, it still might. What if Tetley found out who was blackmailing him and decided to put a stop to it, once and for all?’
‘I suppose it’s possible. But does the motive really matter? If the police are happy with the one they’ve got, why not leave it at that?’
‘Well, because of yesterday,’ Gideon said. ‘That can’t have been Tetley because he’s locked up, so it must have been one of the others.’
The atmosphere at Puddlestone Farm was so much lighter when Gideon visited, later that morning, that the wisdom of Eve’s logic was brought home to him. The arrest of Adam Tetley had clearly brought with it some form of closure and the grieving process had moved on a stage. Even Damien’s mother seemed to have begun to adjust to her loss.
‘We’re having the kitchen done,’ Tilly told Gideon when he cocked an inquisitive eye at the three vans that were drawn up in front of the farmhouse. ‘It was all put in motion months ago, and they were due to start the week that – well, you know. So then, of course, it was put on hold indefinitely. Mummy didn’t really seem interested until a few days ago, and then suddenly, she must have it, right now! I must say the fitters have been really good; I just hope someone somewhere hasn’t been abandoned mid-job.’
‘It’s good that she’s taking an interest,’ Gideon said. ‘Even if it’s only to take her mind off things. It’ll all help. So, where’s this young horse of yours?’
‘Luigi,’ Tilly said, leading the way into the yard. ‘He only arrived a couple of days ago. One of my owners bought him at a sale in Ireland, but he’s got a real problem with having his hind feet touched. He panics and lashes out as soon as you get down below his hock. He caught Melanie the first evening and broke a bone in her hand.’
‘Oh dear. And how old is he?’
‘Just five.’
‘I wonder if he’s got caught in wire at some point. Or it could be as simple as having fidgeted as a baby and someone having walloped him for it. Let’s have a look at him.’
Luigi turned out to be a light-framed brown gelding with an intense, slightly anxious air about him. He eyed Gideon and Tilly when they entered his stable but accepted a Polo mint, and made no fuss about being caught. He was watchful but calm as Gideon patted his glossy neck and ran a hand down his shoulder and front legs. However, as soon as Gideon moved to his hindquarters and his hand approached the horse’s lower hind leg, Luigi stopped chewing his mint and became as taut as a bowstring.
Gideon straightened up with an effort.
‘There’s no sense in pushing it. I can see how worried he is.’
‘What do you suggest we do?’ Tilly asked. ‘We haven’t even been able to pick his feet out properly yet. It’s a real battle.’
‘There is something we could try. I saw it done at a demo once, and it’s worked several times since . . . I shall need a broom handle, without the head, a glove, some sawdust and some string.’
‘I think I can manage that. What kind of glove?’
‘Oh, anything’ll do. But one you’re not using every day, because this may take a while.’
Ten minutes later, with a riding glove stuffed full of sawdust and tied tightly to the end of the pole, Tilly and Gideon led Luigi into Puddlestone Farm’s covered schooling area. Holding a long lead rein in one hand, Gideon used the other to guide the pole like an extended arm and gently stroke the gelding all over.
At first the horse sidled away, distrustful of the broom handle alongside him, but gradually he relaxed and stood still, appearing to enjoy the sensation of the glove rubbing his satiny coat. This peaceful status quo lasted right up to the point when Gideon ventured to slide the false hand over the animal’s hock joint and on down the leg.
Luigi exploded.
He lashed out with the leg that had been touched, and then leapt in the air and kicked out with both hind feet together before plunging forward and circling Gideon, who loosely held the end of the rein and waited for him to calm down.
When he slowed to a halt and faced Gideon warily, Gideon moved closer, spoke calmly to him and began the process again. The result was more or less the same, as it was the third, fourth and fifth times, but on the sixth attempt, although Luigi snatched his foot up, he didn’t kick out.
Gideon rested the pole down and patted the horse’s sweaty neck, murmuring words of praise. After a moment, he tried again. Once more the foot was lifted but not kicked, and he decided to end the session there.
‘That’s a really clever idea!’ Tilly said, coming forward from her viewing position by the wall.
‘Yeah, well, as I said, I can’t claim the credit for it, but it’s worked every time so far. I think, because there’s no danger, you relax and the horse picks up on that. After a while he realises that nothing terrible is actually happening and the only one getting worked up is himself, and then he starts to relax as well.’
‘It’s not rocket science, is it? So why didn’t I think of it, instead of getting stressed and making the animal ten times worse?’
‘Like most things, it’s easy when you know how,’ Gideon said, rubbing Luigi behind the ears. The brown horse was totally relaxed now, his head low and eyes half closed.
Tilly watched him, smiling.
‘There you go again, making my highly strung racehorses look like beach donkeys,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen him look so chilled-out since he got here.’
‘I expect you need them to be a bit fired up to run their best, so maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have this effect on them.’
‘Come on. Let’s put the lad away and go and have a coffee. I’ve got quite cold standing watching. Are you OK?’ she added, as Gideon went to pick up the glove pole and found that his muscles had stiffened again.
‘Yeah. Just took some unaccustomed exercise yesterday, and I’m paying for it this morning,’ he said, glad that he’d taken the time to call in at the Gatehouse and change into a cream-coloured long-sleeved tee shirt. This, whilst not an immensely practical colour for working with horses, effectively disguised the bandages on his wrists.
‘Come into the cottage,’ Tilly said as she and Gideon headed out of the yard. ‘Mum’s kitchen is in complete chaos with the builders. But mind your head, people were smaller when this place was built!’
Gideon did indeed have to duck to get under the stone lintel in the cottage doorway. There was no hall, the front door leading straight into the lounge, where the beamed ceiling was also too low to allow him to straighten up.
‘Oh, dear. You’d better come into the kitchen and sit down,’ Tilly said, laughing. ‘Dad has that problem, too.’
Damien’s widow, Beth, was emptying the dishwasher when they went in, and she looked up with a smile.
‘The kettle’s on; I saw you coming,’ she said.
Gideon thought she looked pale.
‘Where’s Freddy today?’ he asked, to make conversation.
‘Out somewhere with his granddad. He loves the farm. He’s going to hate it when he has to go to school.’
‘Freddy’s going to have a little brother,’ Tilly anno
unced, taking a jar of instant coffee from the cupboard.
‘You’re pregnant, Beth? Congratulations!’ Gideon said. ‘I bet he’s excited about that.’
‘He keeps asking when we’re going to get the baby,’ Beth replied. ‘As if we just have to pop out to the shops and buy one. I wish!’
‘The other day he asked if you could get two, didn’t he?’ Tilly said, and Beth nodded, smiling.
‘Buy one get one free at Mothercare,’ Gideon suggested. ‘Or a free baby coupon for every ten pounds spent at the supermarket.’
They all laughed, and no mention was made of the tragedy of a child who would never know his father, and a father who’d died unaware.
As they chatted over coffee, Gideon’s eye was caught by three photographs on the middle shelf of the pine dresser opposite him. One was of a boy jumping a breedy pony over a white gate; the second, of a group of fifteen or twenty young men posing for the camera in front of a stately home – some kind of team photo, Gideon supposed; and the third was of a much younger Damien, standing with his arm round a fair-haired boy of perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with a wayward fringe and a shy smile.
‘Damien and Marcus,’ Tilly said, seeing his interest.
‘I wondered if it was. Doesn’t Marcus look like Freddy?’
‘Freddy’s the image of him,’ she agreed. ‘That was taken the day before he went off to the Olympics training camp. He was terribly nervous but determined to go through with it. Damien kept telling him he’d be OK, and I think he’d have done anything to earn his big brother’s respect. I don’t think Damien ever really forgave himself when . . . well, you know.’
‘He looks very young.’
‘Actually, he was almost eighteen, though I admit he doesn’t look it. He never had half the confidence that Damien had; he was much more sensitive. If only we’d known just how sensitive . . .’
‘And the group picture?’ Gideon asked.
‘Taken at the camp. They held it at Ponsonby Castle; lovely place. And the one on the end is Marcus, competing at the Junior Championships.’
‘How did he get into pentathlon? It’s not a sport you hear of every day, is it? In fact, usually not from one Olympics to the next.’
Time to Pay Page 22
