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Authors: Lyndon Stacey

BLINDFOLD (34 page)

BOOK: BLINDFOLD
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`A bit, the last few weeks, but he's never been fat.' Stephanie dismissed that with a wave of her hand. `But what's wrong with his teeth? He's only six. What could be wrong? It's ridiculous!'

'Gideon's not a vet, Stephanie,' Pippa interposed quickly, anticipating the pithy retort that was forming on his tongue. `I suppose it could be an abscess or too many teeth coming through, like kids get.'

`The thing is to get him somewhere where there are X-ray facilities and find out,' Gideon said, making an effort to hold on to his patience. `Rosetti's place, for instance.'

`Well, how on earth am I going to get him there?' she asked peevishly. `Can't you make him quieter? I thought that's what you were here for.'

`I can't do anything until we sort out the pain in his mouth.' Gideon was exasperated, as usual, by the wilful stupidity of those who should know better.

`And then he'll be all right?' she persisted.

`No. Then we can start to rebuild his trust in us. But it won't happen overnight. There are months of learned behaviour to overcome. We'll have to see how he is. He may possibly benefit from being turned out to grass for a few weeks and then starting fresh. We could try join-up, perhaps. That might give him a good start.'

`Like I've seen on TV?' Stephanie lost her petulant look. `Yeah, just like that,' Gideon said, wearying of her.

The natural method of bonding using discipline and reassurance through body language had been given a lot of publicity recently, and this obviously recommended it to Stephanie. It was probably something she could drop into conversation on social occasions, Gideon thought uncharitably: `We used join-up, you know,' rather like having one's own therapist or fitness coach.

`How do you know he's in pain?' Pippa asked interestedly, as Gideon slid the rope off Wings' neck and let himself out of the stable. The stallion backed away instantly, ears close to his head. `Couldn't he just be head-shy? I mean, it's not like lameness, is it? There's nothing to see - no obvious swelling or anything.'

Gideon hesitated. It was almost impossible to put into words. He didn't fully understand it himself and wished Pippa had kept her question for the journey home.

`Instinct, I suppose. It's difficult to say. It's in his body language.'

How to explain the sense of harmony he experienced from a healthy animal and the discord where pain or illness was present? It sounded wildly improbable even to himself, and he certainly wasn't going to try it on Miss `Tough as Nails' Wainman!

`If you want to arrange it with Rosetti, I'll come and help load him into the box for you,' Gideon offered, more for the horse's sake than anyone else's. `In fact,' he said, thinking quickly, `I've got to see Sean later. I'll arrange it with him and let you know, if you like.'

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pippa raise an eyebrow in surprise but Stephanie seemed to find nothing unusual in people exerting themselves on her behalf.

`Okay, let me know what he says,' she agreed, apparently not feeling that gratitude was called for. `Pippa darling, you'll have a cup of coffee before you go, won't you? It's all in the tack room, so it won't take a mo.'

`You came over uncommonly helpful back there,' Pippa said quizzically, as they began their homeward journey some twenty minutes later. `What happened? Did you fall for her warmth and charm?'

`She's a real sweetie,' Gideon said sourly. `Prime spinster material.'

Pippa laughed. `Actually, underneath that rich-bitch exterior, I think there's probably a shy, insecure person trying to get out.'

`It should try a little harder!'

`She's the classic spoilt only child. I should imagine she's never sure whether people are interested in her for herself or Daddy's money. It can't be easy.'

`My heart bleeds . . .'

`Okay. So she's a bitchy snob. In that case, why did you offer to arrange everything for her?'

`For the horse's sake, and ... er, you remember the night I was abducted?'

`Of course. It's not the sort of thing you forget easily, is it?' `Well, think about the half-wild stallion I had to catch. Joey said it was copper-coloured with white legs . . .'

`Not Whitewings!' Pippa exclaimed, and the car swerved towards the kerb as she turned her head to look at him. `Are you sure?'

`Absolutely,' Gideon stated, calmly putting out a hand to steer them on to a safer course.

`But why?'

`That's the rub,' he said. `The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. I mean, when I thought the stallion must be Sox - from Joey's description - it made sense in as much as he's valuable and his youngstock would be. But this Whitewings is a complete unknown.'

`Except that he's a full brother to Popsox. Surely they weren't trying to kid someone that the foal was his? After all, they do look alike. But why go to so much trouble for just one foal? I mean, how much could the stud fee be, for heavensakes?'

`You wouldn't. Not for one,' Gideon said slowly. Then he slapped his leg in triumph. `That's it! You've got it! Well done!' He leaned across and gave Pippa a resounding kiss on the cheek, which made the car wobble dangerously again.

`Well, I'd be feeling pretty pleased with myself if I knew just

what it was that I'd come up with,' she said, glancing at him in some amusement.

`Yeah, sorry. I just need to check something with somebody and then I'll explain,' Gideon promised, reaching for his mobile phone.

FOURTEEN

IT WAS STILL RAINING when Gideon pulled up outside Redbarn Farm that evening, which suited his mood.

When he'd rung to arrange the meeting with the vet, he'd merely said that Mary had wanted him to come to sort out something about Tom's affairs. Rosetti must have known his partownership of Sox would eventually come to light, so he would have seen nothing strange in that. Nevertheless, Gideon had delayed ringing him until he was on his way to the farm, just in case the idea of contacting Slade crossed Sean's mind. He didn't really think it would but recent experience had made him cautious.

As Gideon slid out of Giles' Mercedes - generously loaned, as Pippa needed her car - he was hailed from the direction of the hospital yard. Rosetti was waiting under the stable overhang. Gideon ducked his head into his collar and splashed across at a run.

`What a miserable night!' was Rosetti's greeting. `Is it ever going to stop raining?'

He led Gideon into the hospital block and from there to his office, where an electric fire kept the winter chill at bay. He waved his guest into an upholstered chair and offered him soup, coffee or chocolate from a vending machine.

`Tea's run out, I'm afraid,' he said apologetically. `Clare - our head nurse - is supposed to keep it stocked up but she doesn't drink tea, so it only ever gets re-ordered when the coffee runs out. Anyway, help yourself.' He sat down in one of the chairs and looked across at Gideon. `Now, what can I do for you?'

Gideon hesitated. It was daft that he felt awkward, after all, he'd done nothing wrong. `I went to see Mary the other day,' he said finally. `She wanted me to look at some papers she'd found.'

'Ah,' Rosetti said. `So she knows about Sox. Tom should have told her at the start. I always said so.'

`So why didn't he?'

`I think because he was ashamed to admit he was in trouble again. He'd promised Mary a new bathroom and he'd lost the money that he'd put by for it. He just couldn't face disappointing her.'

`But why sell to Slade?' That was the thing that had been puzzling Gideon most of all. `Selling a share to you I can understand. But why get involved with someone like that?'

`You know Slade?' Rosetti sounded surprised. `We've met.'

`Well, unfortunately he was already involved. It was Slade Tom owed the money to and he was getting impatient. What I could afford to pay for my share wouldn't cover it, so he let Slade in on the deal, promising him that it was an investment and that the stud fees would soon more than cover his debt. What he should have done was sell Sox outright to someone else, pay Slade off once and for all and be shut of him. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He's very fond - was very fond - of that horse.'

`So when did it start to go wrong?' Gideon asked.

`Wrong?' All of a sudden, Rosetti looked wary. `What do you mean?'

`I was called out to see a horse called Whitewings today,' he prodded gently.

The vet held his gaze for what seemed an age and Gideon could sense the flurry of frantic mental activity behind the black eyes, then Rosetti bowed his head and rubbed his brow with the palm of his hand as if he had a headache. All at once he looked desperately weary.

`So you know,' he said after a moment. `Or you've guessed. How much? All of it?'

`Most of it. I think I know the how but I'm not so sure of the why, and I'd like to hear it from you.'

Rosetti got to his feet and absent-mindedly helped himself to soup from the vending machine. `Are you sure you won't?' he asked, gesturing at the machine.

`Okay,' Gideon nodded. `Coffee, please.' Somehow it helped restore a measure of normality to a wretched situation.

 

 

 

Rosetti walked round behind Gideon to deliver the coffee but his body language signalled no threat. Then he sat heavily in his chair and sighed once more.

`I don't expect you to believe this, but I'rn glad you know. I'm glad it's finally all out in the open.'

Gideon saw no reason to tell him that it was not yet common knowledge; that he'd told only one other person, and then not the whole story. The assumption that the facts were generally known was a kind of insurance, if he should need it. He didn't think he would.

`So how did Tom get mixed up with a rat like Slade in the beginning?' he asked. `They're hardly in the same line of business.' `No,' Rosetti shook his head sadly. `But they are in the same line of recreation. Gambling. I gather Slade runs illegal poker games for big money. Tom met him over a friendly game of cards with some mates and got drawn in. He's always had a gambling problem, and although he had it under control for a while, it's like alcoholism, you're never really cured, only in remission. He told me he was feeling a bit low at the time, what with Sox's accident and Annabel going off to university. She was his little girl.'

`I never knew he had a problem.'

`Well, no, 1 didn't to start with. He hadn't gambled since he married but apparently, as a youngster, he got into big trouble. Cards, horses, the dogs, you name it. He told me his father was the same. Said it was in his blood, but that's a cop-out, if you ask me! Anyway, his mother knew all about it, as you might imagine. She never really trusted him, and when she died she left the farm to Anthony instead of Tom. She was a shrewd woman.'

`So Tom lost money to Slade, kept going back to try and recover his losses, and ended up in over his head?' Gideon suggested.

Rosetti nodded. `That's about it. Slade let him win at first, of course. It's the old story. But what it comes down to is that the stallion was the only thing of value that Tom really owned for himself. He couldn't mortgage the farm because it wasn't his. He couldn't even sell off stock because there was hardly any market for British beef. So he decided to sell a third share of the horse to me. I'd already said I'd be interested as an investment, as I was still building the hospital at that time. So Tom offered the money I gave him to Slade as a down payment, with the promise that as the stud fees started to come in he'd pay back the rest plus the interest. Unfortunately he put his case rather too well. Slade said he'd waive the debt in return for a third share in Sox.'

`But over the years that would amount to a small fortune,' Gideon protested.

`Yes, but as you probably know, Slade isn't a man to be troubled by his conscience and Tom was in no position to argue. He'd already been turned down by his bank manager, who felt there were just too many potential pitfalls involved in using a projected stud career as security for a loan. As it happened,' he went on, shaking his head ruefully, `he was only too right.'

`Sox was infertile,' Gideon stated.

Rosetti nodded once more. `You do know, then. Who told you?'

`Nobody, actually. When I'd worked out the rest it was the only answer. But presumably you didn't find out yourself until it was too late?'

`No, more's the pity. You see, he'd sired one or two foals before, while he was competing, and the accident didn't directly affect his reproductive equipment. It simply never occurred to either of us that he wasn't as virile as ever. It wasn't until he covered half a dozen mares in the late-summer after his recovery and only one of them scanned in foal that we began to suspect all was not right. We can only think that somewhere along the way he must have picked up an infection that left him all but infertile. It's the only answer.'

`So what happened then? How on earth did you come up with such a crazy idea?'

`It was my fault,' Rosetti admitted. `And you're right - it was crazy. That's just it. It was meant as a joke, nothing more. Tom was in a dreadful state about having to tell Slade the bad news, so I said I'd go along with him to add my professional weight, as it were. I'd not met Slade at that point, and although I could see that Tom was pretty rattled by him, I didn't know what a bastard he could be.' He almost spat the last few words and Gideon could sympathise with him.

`I wish I'd never gone,' the vet went on bitterly. `Oh, he was charming enough on the surface but it was obvious he didn't believe us at first when we told him that his investment wasn't going to bring any rewards. I think he thought we were trying to trick him. I had to show him the actual lab report before he'd accept it. Then he turned nasty. Not loud or violent but sort of icy-cold. He said Tom would have to find some way to pay what he owed because he was through waiting.

`I suppose I was trying to lighten the atmosphere, I don't know, because then I said something really stupid. I said, "It's a shame we're not using AI, artificial insemination that is, because then we could use old Sovereign to service the mares."'

`As a joke,' Gideon put in.

`Of course as a joke,' Rosetti asserted with a touch of irritation.

BOOK: BLINDFOLD
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