Requiem for a Dealer (15 page)

Authors: Jo Bannister

BOOK: Requiem for a Dealer

13.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

But doubt is one thing, being upstaged another. The moment Brodie walked on Alison felt herself relegated to the part of a supporting actress.

Nor was her resentment in any way soothed by knowing that Brodie's support was key to finally being taken seriously. Daniel had given her a hearing mostly out of kindness. Kindness was not a significant motive for Brodie, and her opinion was worth more because of it. If Brodie Farrell was persuaded, could Detective Superintendent Deacon be far behind?

So Alison needed Brodie on her side. But she didn't have to like it. âWhat things?' she asked guardedly.

âThe fight you walked in on, between Windham and your father. Why were they so angry? Everyone I've talked to reckons the odd sick or injured horse is par for the course. So maybe your father was bothered that it kept being
him
having to explain to a client, maybe he thought Windham could do better â but why were they so angry they almost came to blows?'

Shock dropped through Alison's expression like bricks off a hod. âYou think he found out? My God! You think that's why Johnny killed him?'

âIt's a possibility,' said Brodie, dipping her gaze with uncustomary tact.

âI never thought of anything beyond the horses!' gasped Ally. âBut you're right, aren't you? Johnny was using our horses as a cover to bring in drugs. But while he was doing that he let his standards slip and the horses got sick. And Dad didn't believe it was just bad luck, not time after time, and he kept chipping away at it until he got to the truth. And that was it. Drugs. Johnny asked him to keep it to himself and Dad refused. And Johnny killed him.'

Alison had a vested interest in that version of events. It made her disinclined to look far beyond it. But Daniel had seen the reticence in Brodie's eyes, and asking himself what it was about had come up with an alternative scenario. For a moment he wondered if they should even mention it, or leave the girl with the consolation of her beliefs.

He decided it was little kindness to leave her in a bubble that would be burst, without ceremony or much sympathy, the first time she talked to Deacon about it. Better to put it on the table now and let her get used to the idea in her own time.

âThere's something else they could have been arguing about,' he said quietly.

Her thin face was all avid attention, as if he was showing her a glimpse of the Holy Grail. âWhat?'

âThe cut.'

She didn't understand. âWhat cut?'

Brodie sighed. âWell, there were dead horses to be paid for. They could have been arguing about whether that came out of Windham's share of the profits or your father's.'

Chapter Fifteen

There's one thing about being good with horses: it tends to make you bad with people. Different rules apply. If a horse kicks you, you don't offer to discuss the matter, look for common ground and try to negotiate a means of avoiding confrontation in the future. You retaliate, instantly, so in the small and chaotic space that is a horse's brain it associates its own action with an undesirable result and minds its manners next time.

It should be noted that not all horsemen, and particularly horsewomen, subscribe to this view. They believe that a horse is entitled to an equal say with its owner and should not be constrained to do anything it doesn't want to. They believe that negotiation will accomplish more in the long run.

And indeed it will. It'll accomplish everything the horse wants: long days in the field and an owner who only visits at meal-times, juggling buckets and elbow-crutches with stoic aplomb. Horses are a lot like teenage boys: they're big and strong, they have a childish sense of humour, and given the chance they always argue. They're nicest to be with, and also happiest, when the lines of responsibility are clearly drawn so they know what's expected of them.

Alison Barker had loved her horses dearly, and had got the best out of them, and given them a future in which they would always be valuable to someone, but she hadn't done it by letting them trample her. Now she didn't let anyone trample her. Instead of blanching as Brodie's meaning hit her â and indeed there was nothing subtle about it â she struck out with her fists.

Brodie never saw it coming. She reeled under the first blow, would still have been there for the second but that Daniel flung himself at the girl, wrapping his arms around her, pinning her elbows to her sides. âEnough!' he commanded crisply in her ear; and by degrees her struggles ceased until she was just standing against his chest, the violence contained, only the hatred still radiating from her.

Brodie was almost too shocked to complain. It's not often a grown woman takes a sock in the eye; unless her nearest and dearest is that way inclined. She pressed the heel of her hand
over it and stared, one-eyed and open-mouthed, at her assailant.

âNow, everybody settle down,' Daniel said sharply. He pointed a spare finger at Brodie. âYou too. Honest to God, Brodie, you asked for that. Which doesn't mean' â he gave the girl in his arms a shake without releasing her â
âyou
had any right to deliver it. Not in my house. You want to scrap, go outside. But at some point you'll still have to sit down and talk about this, and it might as well be now.'

Ally's whole body was stiff with resentment. âWhy the hell would I want to talk to someone who thinks my father was a drug-runner?'

âMight have been,' gritted Brodie.
âMight
have been a drug-runner.'

âAnd you.' The girl spun in the compass of Daniel's arms, staring fiercely into his face. âIs that what you think too? It is, isn't it? That's what you meant. You bastards! You say you're my friends, you want to help me, and all the time that's what you're thinking! You didn't know him, either of you. How
dare
you think that?'

Now her attention was on him Daniel thought the danger of fisticuffs was probably over. At least, he was prepared to risk his front teeth in a way that he wasn't prepared to risk Brodie's. He released Ally and stepped back, spreading his hands. âA lot of weird things have been happening. But they aren't really weird. Somehow, to someone, they make sense. We're just trying to work out who they make sense to and how.

âAnd Brodie's right: one of the possibilities we have to consider is that your father and Johnny Windham fell out when a drugs operation they were both involved in went sour. You want people to believe you? Well, your story makes a lot more sense if there was more at stake than a few horses. A man might certainly be annoyed with someone who was bad-mouthing him to their mutual acquaintances, might even seek an injunction to shut her up, but he wouldn't dream of killing her. But he just might go that far if he thought she was going to draw attention to a nice little sideline he'd set up importing illegal drugs.'

âJohnny Windham will do anything that's in his own interests and he thinks he can get away with,' Ally said tersely. âI'd believe
anything of him. What I'll
never
believe is that my father was involved.' Her gaze was sharp, astute. âHow much of this is just a pretty theory and how much do you actually know?'

âIf you'll stay in your corner for five minutes I'll tell you.' Brodie repeated everything â there was no reason not to â that Deacon had told her. The German veterinary tranquillizer. The factory that was combining it with common pharmaceuticals to produce the powerful party-drug that had already killed two and put four, herself included, in Intensive Care. The fear that this was just the tip of the iceberg: that now the factory was up and running Scram would any day explode onto the streets of southern England leaving devastation in its wake.

âWhy doesn't he shut down the factory?' asked Ally, as if that simple solution might not have occurred to anyone.

âIf he knew where it was,' said Brodie heavily, âI'm sure he Would.'

âWhat do you mean by a factory? Literally, a big industrial building with smoke coming out of a chimney?'

Daniel shook his head. âIt might be just a room in someone's house. Or an outbuilding somewhere. A power supply, water, privacy. You could do it in a flat as long as you didn't get too many visitors.'

Brodie was watching him oddly. âHow do you know?'

âIt's chemistry, isn't it? A lot of good science is done in chemists' kitchens.'

âWell, in this case some bad science is being done there too.'

âThe point is,' said Daniel, âthere are too many places where this stuff could be manufactured. Jack can't search every house within a ten mile radius of Dimmock.'

âOf course he can't. Which is why he's so desperate to find one person who's involved in this. One person will do. Once he has a way in he'll get at the truth.'

âJohnny Windham.' There was no missing the cat-like satisfaction in Ally Barker's voice. âAs I keep saying.'

âAnd it may turn out you were right,' nodded Brodie. âIn any event, Jack'll need to take a good hard look now at everything Windham's ever done or been suspected of, right down to fiddling his income tax and jumping red lights.'

Ally nodded. It was happening â what she'd hung on this long for. âTell him.'

As if telepathy was a new service offered by the mobile phone companies, Brodie's warbled in her handbag â no one who knew her was surprised that it played “The Ride of the Valkyries” â and it was Deacon. âWhere are you? Something's come up. I need to see you.'

âFunny you should mention that,' replied Brodie. âI'm at Daniel's. Something's come up at this end too. Shall we come to you or â¦?'

âStay where you are,' said Deacon, âI'll be there in five minutes.'

It quickly became apparent that the two leashes of bloodhounds had converged on the same scent. If that's a reasonable analogy; if it wasn't more like one leash of bloodhounds and a Saluki accompanied by a Jack Russell. Over a fresh pot of coffee, which contained rather more stimulant than the shandy Deacon had left undrunk in The Belted Galloway, they compared notes.

Everyone listened carefully to everyone else, but Alison listened to Deacon like Moses taking down the Ten Commandments. When he'd finished she said, âSuperintendent - are you saying now that I might have been right?'

âHonest answer, Miss Barker? I don't know. I want to take a fresh look at the whole business.'

âWell, hallelujah!' she declared. âYou mean, maybe I'm not insane after all?'

âI wouldn't go that far, Miss Barker,' he said gruffly.

âNeither would I,' muttered Brodie, still comforting her eye.

Deacon was looking oddly at her. âYes. What happened to â¦?'

âWhat we were wondering,' Daniel interrupted hurriedly, âwas if Windham could be using his lorries to smuggle in this German tranquillizer. If he was doing it when he was supposed to be looking after horses for Barker & Walbrook. If Alison's father found out, and that's why they fought and he took his business elsewhere.'

âOr if they were in it together,' Brodie said stubbornly, keeping her good eye on Alison and her distance from her.

âOr if Dad figured out what he was up to and Johnny killed him because of it,' added Ally, her voice rising as if to meet a challenge.

Deacon blinked and looked to Daniel for an explanation, and Daniel rolled his eyes theatrically. âWe've covered a fair bit of ground in the last half hour,' he murmured.

Deacon shook his head to clear it and tried to get back to what was, for him, the point. âCharlie says you went to see Windham.' He was looking at Brodie.

âThat's right,' said Brodie after a moment, âthough I don't know how he knew.'

âEr â me,' said Daniel, raising a finger as if asking to be excused. âI didn't know it was a secret.'

âIt isn't,' glowered Brodie. âI was planning on putting an announcement in
The Sentinel.'

âSorry,' mumbled Daniel.

Deacon squinted at the ceiling. âI think I liked it better when you two weren't talking. Daniel, shut up. Brodie, tell me about Windham â what you said, what he said.'

So she did.

âDid you think he had anything to hide?'

âAt the time, no, I didn't. Talking about it since, I'm not sure. He wanted to fetch my pony from Germany, that's for sure. But it could be that what he really wanted was an excuse to make another run.'

âBecause he has something to bring in that's even more profitable than transporting horses,' said Deacon.

âThat's what we were thinking, yes.'

âCustoms couldn't find anything.'

âIf Customs could find everything that was smuggled in we wouldn't have a drugs problem.'

âMules,' said Daniel pensively.

Brodie frowned at him. âWhat?'

âPeople who carry drugs through Customs. Not the drug-runners themselves â people they've hired. Poor people and stupid people. They hide small quantities inside their trainers and their children's toys and souvenirs for their mothers, and sometimes inside themselves, and some of them get caught but
most of them get through, and at the other end all the small quantities are put together to make quite a large quantity. And that's what the drug-runners call them. Mules.'

âYes,' agreed Deacon. âSo?'

âI was just wondering if there was anyway of using a horse as a mule. They're a capacious animal. If a human mule can carry a commercially significant quantity of drugs in his digestive system, how much more could you pack into a horse?'

Brodie's eyes flared wide with understanding, then flicked to Alison. âYou're the expert here. Is he talking nonsense?'

âI don't know,' said the girl, nonplussed. âI just don't know.'

Deacon was struggling with the practicalities. âHow do you persuade a horse to swallow a condom full of drugs? And how do you stop it throwing up at deeply inconvenient moments?'

âThey don't throw up,' said Ally. âThey can't â they haven't the mechanism. Anything that goes down their throats will come out the opposite end.'

âWhen?' asked Brodie.

Ally shrugged. âI've never put a stopwatch on it.'

âWithin the next three days, anyway.'

âOh yes. Horses are the perfect vegetarian â they eat nothing
but
roughage. It goes straight through them, and doesn't look that different when it comes out the other end.' She looked puzzled. âWhy three days?'

âBecause Windham reckons to keep everything he brings in from Europe in his own yard for three days. Till a vet passes them fit to go to their new homes, he said. But maybe that isn't the only reason.'

âOK,' said Deacon tersely. âSo this is a serious possibility? Miss Barker, you know more about horses than the rest of us put together.
Could you
get them to swallow a package on demand?'

She gave it some thought. âI don't know if I could, but I think it could be done. Ostlers used to shove medicine down horses' throats with something they called a balling iron. These days we tube them â pass a plastic tube up a nostril and down into the stomach. And yes, anything that can go down that tube will go into the stomach. Or for something a bit bulkier than that, a bit of sedative might relax the muscles enough to put it straight
down the throat. I don't think it would pose a massive problem to a vet.'

Other books

Raunchy by T. Styles

Tristano Dies by Antonio Tabucchi

Falling for Romeo by Laurens, Jennifer

Extrasensory by Desiree Holt

Button Hill by Michael Bradford

Dance of Demons by Gary Gygax

Barbara Metzger by Lord Heartless

Death of a Hero by Richard Aldington

The Eyes Tell No Lies by Marquaylla Lorette

Therian Prisoner: 3 (Therian Heat) by Friberg, Cyndi Friberg