A Quiet Kill by Janet Brons Read Free Book Online Page B

tried very hard to do things right. But that muddle over the invitations that time—she cringed yet again over the incident. She had been over it countless times in her mind, and she still didn’t know what had gone wrong. How had she gotten the dates wrong? It was impossible. Surely she had checked and double-checked. Mary tried to push the unwelcome thoughts out of her head as she plunged her hands again into the bowl of wet, sticky meat.

FOUR
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    The stable yard was of another era—charming, right down to the cobblestones. Liz estimated that it housed some twenty to twenty-five horses, but she couldn’t begin to guess at the vintage of the yard itself. She looked at the sky, realizing it was only a matter of time until the rain resumed. The penetrating damp was unpleasant. But it would be comfortable enough to ride.
    Colonel Lahaie was more casually attired now, but there was no question as to his profession. Even in riding breeches and ribbed sweater, he looked every inch both officer and gentleman. He introduced Liz to the resident riding instructor, a grizzled Lancastrian with the unsurprising name of Albert Taylor. Taylor was leading a tall slate gray gelding that was already fully tacked up. He handed the reins to Lahaie.
    â€œI were shocked to ’ear about Natalie,” said Albert Taylor, doffing his peaked cap. “She were a delight to ’ave ’ere. I shall miss ’er, and no doubt so will Reckless. That were ’er ’orse, th’knows,” he explained to Liz. “Well, not ’er own, but she rode it all t’ time just t’same. It’s not an ’orse we let just anybody ride.”
    â€œInspector Forsyth here is with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police,” Lahaie broke in. “Perhaps she might exercise Reckless today?”
    Liz was about to protest—it seemed indecent somehow—but Albert Taylor acquiesced immediately. “The Mounties, is it?” he said, impressed. “’Ast thou e’er seen that musical ride of theirn?”
    â€œSure. In fact, I was assigned to it for three years early on. Best detail I ever had.” She meant it.
    Now there was no question: Liz should have Reckless. She disappeared to groom and tack up the horse herself, to the surprise of the old instructor. “She’s a bit like Natalie in ’er ways, int she?” he asked Lahaie. “Natalie always did that an’ all.”
    The Anglo-Arab craned her neck around and rolled her eye to get a better look at the person who had just entered her stall. The bay mare was already spanking clean but evidently believed she merited the full treatment anyway. The tack room was in the center of the barn. Liz found the locker with Reckless’s name on it and pulled out the grooming kit. She brushed the mare’s glossy coat and picked out her already pristine hooves, but at least Reckless seemed mollified.
    Liz returned to the locker to fetch the bridle and fine English-made saddle. She slung the saddle over her forearm and grabbed the headpiece of the bridle with her other hand. Suddenly she froze and hurriedly replaced the tack. In the back of the locker was a small pile of riding clothes. “Plain view,” she muttered to herself, inwardly rehearsing the exceptions by which police officers could obtain evidence without a warrant. She carefully riffled through the clothing. There was one unexpected find. A note, computer-generated and printed on good-quality bond, had evidently been wadded tightly into a ball and then smoothed out again to be placed carefully under a pair of tan riding breeches. Liz didn’t have a plastic bag on her, although some were in her purse in front of Reckless’s stall. She couldn’t risk running back and confronting Lahaie or Taylor, so she hastily folded the piece of paper and stuffed it in her jodhpurs. Liz then quickly tacked up the mare, who had become quite indignant with waiting.
    DCI