Cut Throat (14 page)

‘Steady, little fella,' Ross told him. ‘Easy now. Nobody's gonna hurt you. You'll be all right now. Steady, fella.'

The horse raised his head still higher and Ross frowned as he got a closer look at his injuries. Feeling trapped, Clown made to rear. Ross stood still and the horse eyed him anxiously.

Slowly, very slowly, Ross reached out a hand to Clown's neck and rubbed the wet coat. The horse trembled violently and jumped as though Ross' hand was hot. Still moving slowly, he slid the headcollar rope over Clown's stiffly held neck and quietly reached under to grasp the end. After a minute or two, and a lot more soothing, he was able to slip the headcollar on. He looked across to the door where Bill stood watching silently.

‘Poor fella,' he said. ‘He's in a terrible state.'

‘West is coming straightaway,' Leo reported, appearing abruptly behind the stable manager.

Clown jumped nervously.

‘Quietly,' Ross warned softly. ‘Bring me some warm water, a sponge and a blanket.'

‘What do you think, Ross?' Bill asked softly. ‘How bad is he?'

‘I may be wrong,' Ross said, looking the horse over, ‘but at the moment I can't see any major wounds.'

Bill looked puzzled. ‘What are you saying? There must be. There's so much blood.'

Ross nodded. ‘There's a hell of a lot, but I can't see where it's coming from. I know this sounds crazy but I don't think it's his.'

‘What?' Bill struggled to take in Ross' words. ‘What d'you mean? I don't understand.'

‘Me neither.' A combination of shock and the early-morning chill on his bare skin were having their effect on Ross and he shivered. ‘Best make up another box for him, don't you think?'

Bill hurried off and Ross stroked Clown gently. The smell of blood was sweet and sickening. He willed Leo to hurry with the water.

When Roger West arrived fifteen minutes later, Clown had been washed down, covered with a warm blanket and moved to a different stable. They had offered him a bran mash but he was still too strung-up to eat and stood trembling in a corner.

The perennially cheerful young vet examined Clown in total bewilderment, eventually pronouncing him free from injury but deeply traumatised. He gave him a sedative injection and, after taking samples of the blood from the walls of his stable, left with instructions to keep the skewbald warm and quiet.

‘What now?' Ross asked, as he and Bill watched West's Range Rover depart. Sarah had been calmed and comforted by Maggie and a cup of hot, sweet tea, and was now helping Leo with the routine mucking out. The sun was climbing steadily into a deep blue sky and a tractor made its noisy way down the road at the end of the drive.

‘You look as though you need another bath,' Bill observed, casting a disdainful look at Ross' bloodstained person.

Maggie had handed Ross a jumper while he waited with Clown for the vet. Now it was liberally doused in bloody water and the rough wool was irritating his bare skin.

‘I guess I'll take one,' he said. ‘But shouldn't we call the police or something?'

Bill shook his head. ‘I rang the Colonel while we were waiting for Roger. He said no. Wanted to speak to Mr Richmond first.'

‘But don't the police have to be told?' Ross asked with what he hoped seemed like natural curiosity. In fact he knew that Franklin wouldn't want the police involved if it were possible to avoid it. ‘I would have thought this sort of thing had to be reported. Especially after what happened last year?'

‘And a fat lot of good they were then,' Bill said bitterly. ‘Said it was local yobbos going home drunk or some such thing. Then they would've had us believe Mr Richmond did it hisself for the insurance. Bloody fools, the lot of them! As if someone who felt the way he feels about his horses could even think about doing something like that. Bellboy was a legend, he was, with a heart as big as a lion's.'

Ross stared into the middle distance, at the clouds of dust that were all that told of the recent passage of the Range Rover.

‘Did they never find out who killed the horse?'

Bill shook his head, sighing. ‘No, never. And now this. I thought when I first saw him . . . Well, you know. That's why Sarah was so upset, of course. She used to look after Bellboy. It's criminal, but to the police it's only an animal. They click their tongues and take notes but you can see they think they're wasting valuable time. There are some funny laws where animal deaths are concerned. Did you know you don't legally have to report running over a cat? Never mind that it's somebody's pride and joy . . . part of their family.'

Ross shook his head, thinking again of the death of his dog. Nobody had reported that either. He would never know how long it had taken Rebel to die.

When Ross emerged from the bathroom, he found the rest of the team sitting down to breakfast.

‘The Colonel just rang,' Bill told him. ‘Mr Richmond is coming at ten and he wants us both up at the house.'

Ross nodded. He had remembered, while he bathed, how the dog had asked to be let out early that morning and wished desperately that he had done so.

Who would he have surprised?

Ross couldn't imagine anybody he had yet met doing such a thing. Except perhaps Leo. But he would have laid odds that Leo had been genuinely taken aback by what they had seen this morning, and he was honest enough to admit that his suspicion of the man stemmed mainly from their mutual dislike.

And where would anyone get that much blood? A slaughterhouse, perhaps?

He wondered, also, if his encounter with the prowler the night before had provoked the attack. The person he had attempted to waylay then had certainly not been carrying anything that could have contained blood, so it hadn't been a first attempt, foiled. Unless . . .

What if there had been two prowlers?

Guiltily, he remembered accusing the dog of stupidity in running the wrong way.

What if he hadn't? What if the man Ross had challenged had merely been a lookout?

He gave up then, his thoughts leading nowhere.

Maggie Scott was full of the morning's events. As kind-hearted as they came, she nevertheless thrived on any kind of gossip and the more shocking the better.

‘What kind of sick mind can have dreamt up a thing like that?' she asked of nobody in particular. ‘They ought to be locked away. Poor Mr Richmond, he's so unlucky! Somebody must have it in for him. Still, it's not as bad as last time, thank the Lord. God forbid that that should ever happen again! But why Mr Richmond's horses, do you suppose? Do you think it's just a coincidence?'

Bill grunted something unintelligible through his eggs and bacon and shook his head. Sarah sniffed loudly, prompting Maggie to hurry to her side, and when Ross glanced up he noticed that Leo had a very thoughtful expression on his face.

He became aware of the American's scrutiny. ‘How are the bruises, Yank?' he asked with a smile that was anything but concerned.

‘Oh, you'll find I don't bruise easily.' Ross returned the smile. ‘But it's kind of you to ask. By the way, the school wants raking, it's very uneven. Perhaps you'd do that this morning?'

He knew he shouldn't antagonise the man, but seeing a sulky scowl replace Leo's sly grin more than made up for any guilt he might have felt. Raking the school was an arduous and tedious job even on a cool day.

Today was not going to be a cool day.

Ross and the stable manager walked up to the house with the German Shepherd at their heels. The dog co-existed quite happily with the Colonel's spaniels, each party affecting not to notice the other. As the two men approached the door, Bill looked at his watch.

‘It's about ten, isn't it?' he asked Ross. ‘This old watch is slow and I've lost my other one.'

‘What, your gold one?' the American exclaimed. ‘I thought that was on a chain.'

‘It was. Bloody thing broke,' Bill said disgustedly. ‘Had it fifteen years, never looked like breaking. My first anniversary present, that was.'

‘That's a shame! Well, you might find it yet, I suppose, though I never found mine. Yours is bigger, of course. Have you any idea where you might have lost it?'

Bill shook his head. ‘Could be anywhere,' he said hopelessly. ‘In one of the boxes. In the school . . . out in the fields, even.'

‘Maybe Leo will turn it up while he's raking,' Ross suggested with an optimism he didn't feel. He secretly thought it more likely that the groom already knew where the watch was, but he could hardly say so.

‘Yeah, and maybe he won't.'

Bill sounded sour and Ross glanced at him speculatively as the door opened to his knock.

The Colonel and Richmond were awaiting them in the Colonel's study, as usual. Ross wondered idly if the rest of the house had been consigned to dust sheets. On every occasion he had visited he had found his boss in his study, no matter what the time of day.

‘Thank you, Masters. We'll have coffee now,' the Colonel said as Ross and Scott were shown in. The four men rearranged chairs and other articles of furniture until they could all be seated comfortably, and as Ross sank into the depths of a worn leather armchair, his dog padded round behind it and lay down with a deep sigh.

‘You've got a faithful companion there,' Franklin observed.

‘Yeah, and if I'd taken a little more notice of Fido here this morning, I might have caught our joker red-handed. Literally!' he added.

Bill looked sharply at him, obviously considering this to be in poor taste.

The American ignored him. He knew the older man disapproved of his informal manner with their employer. Bill's own demeanour was deferential to the point of servility. No matter what he might feel, or even say at a later date, he never queried an order or suggestion made by the Colonel or one of the owners. Ross had a fair idea that this unquestioning obedience sometimes exasperated Preston greatly.

‘Franklin and I have been discussing this deplorable business,' the Colonel began. ‘And we feel that in view of last year's tragedy, and without knowing if there is any connection, we should take steps towards better security, at night at least.' He paused, smoothing his moustache in a manner that Ross had come to recognise as a sign of thoughtfulness. ‘Having said that, and for the same reasons as last time, we have decided that intensive and complicated security measures are both undesirable and impractical. We cannot and would not wish to turn Oakley Manor into a sort of Fort Knox for horseflesh.'

The others variously nodded or voiced their agreement.

‘After all,' Richmond added, ‘it's been nine months since Bellboy was killed. At the time, I hired men with dogs and walkie-talkies but they were here for months and all they did was dent my bank balance and keep the horses awake. How long was I supposed to continue? It may never have happened again.'

Ross cleared his throat. He already knew what Richmond would say but it would seem odd not to question him. ‘It seems to me somebody went to a great deal of trouble last night, but for what? Just to scare the hell out of us? Surely there must be some deeper motive behind these attacks? This sort of thing doesn't happen to the same person twice by accident. Is there something you're not telling us?'

‘Ross, I don't think . . .' The Colonel sounded uncomfortable but Franklin Richmond put up his hand and shook his head.

‘No, John. It's all right,' he said gently. ‘I understand his suspicion. It's only natural. After all, he hasn't known me as long as you have. No, I've no idea why I'm being targeted. I only wish I did.'

A light tap at the door heralded the return of Masters bearing a tray laden with coffeepot and cups. He was followed closely by Roland, immaculately attired in the kind of expensive country casuals that might grace the models in
Country Life
, and by Lindsay, in jeans and jodhpur boots as usual. She was laughing up at her cousin in response to something he had said, and Ross' spirits lifted instantly.

‘Oh, I say!' Roland exclaimed. ‘Are we interrupting something?' And he advanced unhesitatingly into the room in a manner that suggested he had no intention of letting the possibility deter him. He greeted Franklin with easy familiarity and nodded to Ross and Bill.

‘Franklin, I'm so sorry about Clown,' Lindsay said with ready sympathy. ‘What a horrible thing to have happened! Horses absolutely hate the smell of blood, don't they? I can't imagine who could do such a thing.'

Coffee was served and conversation became general.

Roland, Ross discovered, had a positive genius for making sudden and complete changes of direction in his conversation, quite often in response to some remark which he appeared to have misheard. At one point, when Ross and the Colonel were discussing the way horses sleep on their feet and Ross was saying that he had never yet seen Flowergirl lying down, Roland broke in, quite uninvited, with a little-known fact concerning sheep.

Ross watched him carefully, but try as he might could not decide whether the Colonel's son was really as flakey as he appeared or whether he was privately amusing himself at their expense. If he was trying to annoy his father he was certainly doing a good job of it. The Colonel had very little patience with his recently returned offspring.

‘I hear you had a spot of bad luck with Woodsmoke last night,' he remarked to Ross.

‘Er . . . yes,' he agreed. ‘The girth snapped. One of those things, I guess.'

Bill bristled. ‘It should never have happened. I'd swear that stitching was sound.'

Franklin sent Ross a searching look from across the room, but the Colonel appeared unconcerned. ‘As Ross said, these things do happen. It's not necessarily anyone's fault.'