Part 62 (2/2)

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.

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