Longshot. Part 62

'I thought he was off duty.'

'He got a message from you, it seems.'

'Mm. I did send one.'

'What message?' Tremayne asked.

'I don't know,' Sam answered. 'Doone phoned me yesterday to say he'd been to the boatyard and taken away some objects for which he would give me a receipt.'

'What objects?' asked Tremayne.

'He wouldn't say.' Sam looked at me. 'Do you know what they were? You steered him to them, it seems. He sounded quite excited.'

'What was the message?' Mackie asked me.

'Um-' I said. 'I asked him why the floorboards didn't float.'

Tremayne and Mackie appeared mystified but Sam immediately understood and looked thunderstruck.

'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, how did you think of it?'

'Don't know,' I said. 'It just came.'

'Do explain,' Mackie begged.

I told her what I'd told Erica at Tremayne's dinner, and said it might not lead to anything helpful.

'But it certainly might,' Mackie said.

Sam said to me thoughtfully, 'If you hadn't stopped me, I'd have rolled up the curtain so as to go into the dock in a boat, and all that stuff under the water would have slithered away into the river and no one would have been any the wiser.'

'Fiona's sure John will find out, before Doone does, who set that trap for Harry,' Mackie said.

I shook my head. 'I don't know who it was. Wish I did.'

'Matter of time,' Tremayne said confidently. He looked at his watch. 'Talking of time, second lot.' He stood up. 'Sam, I want a trial of that new horse Roydale against Fringe. You ride Roydale, John's on Fringe.'

'OK,' Sam said easily.

'John,' Tremayne turned to me, 'don't try to beat Sam as if it were a race. This is a fact-finder. I want you to see which has most natural speed. Go as fast as you can but if you feel Fringe falter don't press him, just ease back.'

'Right.'

'Mackie, talk to Dee-Dee or something. I'm not taking you up there to vomit in the Land Rover.'

'Oh, Tremayne, as if I would.'

'Not risking it,' he said gruffly. 'Don't want you bouncing about on those ruts.'

'I'm not an invalid,' she protested, but she might as well have argued with a rock. He determinedly left her behind and drove Sam and me up to the gallops.

On the way, Sam said to me dryly, 'Nolan usually rides any trials. He'll be furious.'

'Thanks a lot.'

Tremayne said repressively, 'I've told Nolan he won't be riding work here again until he cools off.'

Sam raised his eyebrows comically. 'Do you want John shot? Nolan's a whiz with a gun.'

'Don't talk nonsense,' Tremayne said a shade uneasily, and b.u.mped the Land Rover across the ruts of the track and onto the smooth upland gra.s.s before drawing to a halt. 'Keep your mind on Roydale. He belongs to a new owner. I want your best judgment. His form's not brilliant, but nor is the trainer he's come from. I want to know where we're at.'

'Sure,' Sam said.

'Stay upsides Fringe as long as you can.'

Sam nodded. We took Roydale and Fringe from the lads and, when Tremayne had driven off and positioned himself on his hillock, we started together up the all-weather gallop, going the fastest I'd ever been. Fringe, flat out at racing pace, had a wildness about him I couldn't really control and I guessed it was that quality which won him races. Whenever Roydale put his nose in front, Fringe found a bit extra, but it seemed there wasn't much between them, and with the end of the wood chippings in sight the contest was still undecided. I saw Sam sit up and ease the pressure, and copied him immediately, none too soon for my taxed muscles and speed-starved lungs. I finished literally breathless but Sam pulled up nonchalantly and trotted back to Tremayne for a report in full voice.

'He's a green b.u.g.g.e.r,' he announced. 'He has a mouth like elephant skin. He s.h.i.+es at his own shadow and he's as stubborn as a pig. Apart from that, he's fast, as you saw.'

Tremayne listened impa.s.sively. 'Courage?'

'Can't tell till he's on a racecourse.'

'I'll enter him for Sat.u.r.day. We may as well find out. Perhaps you'd better give him a pop over hurdles tomorrow.'

'OK.'.

We handed the horses back to their respective lads and went down the hill again with Tremayne and found Doone waiting for us, sitting in his car.

'That man gives me the sodding creeps,' Sam said as we disembarked.

The greyly persistent Detective Chief Inspector emerged like a turtle from his sh.e.l.l when he saw us arrive, and he'd come alone for once: no silent note-taker in his shadow.

'Which of us do you want?' Tremayne enquired bullishly.

'Well, sir.' The sing-song voice took all overt menace away, yet there was still a suggestion that collars might be felt at any minute. 'All of you, sir, if you don't mind.' Just the same if we did mind, he meant.

'You'd better come in, then,' Tremayne offered, shrugging.

Doone followed us into the kitchen, removed a grey tweed overcoat and sat by the table in his much-lived-in grey suit. He felt comfortable in kitchens, I thought. Tremayne vaguely suggested coffee, and I made a mug of instant for us each.

Mackie came through from having breakfasted with Perkin saying she wanted to know how the trial had gone. She wasn't surprised to see Doone, only resigned. I made her some coffee and she sat and watched while Doone picked a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and handed it to Sam.

'A receipt, sir,' he said, 'for three lengths of floorboard retrieved from the dock in your boathouse.'

Sam unfolded the paper and looked at it dumbly.

'Why didn't they float?' Tremayne asked bluntly.