Deadfall by Lyndon Stacey Read Free Book Online Page B

turning left, they passed the wheel itself, newly refurbished and re-hung on its massive hexagonal axle-tree made of seasoned oak which, alone, had cost the project some two thousand pounds of its budget.
    The channel, or head race, that fed the wheel was at present nearly empty, as was the pond itself, both in the course of being drained in order to remove the silt, shore up the banks and retaining walls, and repair the weir. The millstream was currently being diverted away from the pond by way of a temporary dam and a huge pipe, and only three or four feet of murky water remained, some of which would have to be pumped out before work could commence. About twenty feet away from the head race the curving steps of the weir were dry and already under restoration, as was the bridge which crossed above it. Thirty feet or so downstream, the diverted flow poured back into the river and away down the valley.
    The projected timescale for finishing the main stage of the project was just over a month, but Linc found it hard to believe that it would be achieved. He said as much to Geoff as they returned to the car park.
    â€˜It’s mostly only man-hours. You get behind, youjust have to throw a few more men at it,’ he said placidly, whistling up the soggy Labradors.
    â€˜I guess so. But we’re at the mercy of the weather, too, and I really want to get this right.’
    â€˜His Lordship can’t hold you responsible for the weather,’ Sykes said, well aware of the peppery relationship between the Viscount and his eldest son.
    â€˜Don’t you believe it!’ Linc responded.
    The afternoon brought two police officers to Farthingscourt to take a statement from Linc regarding the theft at the Vicarage. He took them through to the library and, having read and signed the resulting document, asked them if any other stables in the area had been targeted.
    â€˜Unfortunately it’s all too common,’ he was told. ‘There’s been a number of similar thefts over the last few months. There was another one later on Friday night, as a matter of fact. A riding school north of Shaftesbury lost most of their tack for the second time in a few weeks. We don’t know for sure that it was the same gang, but it tends to go in waves and, as I told the Hathaways, the thieves will often hit the same area again in a couple of months’ time. That’s just long enough for people to use the insurance money to replace their old tack with new. In fact, it’s not unknown for the old tack to be found dumped somewhere.’
    â€˜Really? And when the thieves have got the new tack, where do they sell it on?’ Linc wanted to know. ‘Presumably not locally?’
    â€˜We think some of it’s sold at auction, and we suspect a fair amount finds its way to Ireland.’ Thepolice constable stood up and moved towards the door. ‘Anyway, as I told Miss Hathaway this morning, it would be wise to install some security at the Vicarage. I’ve left some leaflets with them. Normally, our Horse Liaison Officer would visit to advise but she’s on maternity leave at the moment.’ His radio crackled with news of another call-out and he paused to listen before saying, ‘Well, if that’s all, sir, we must be on our way. Rest assured that everything possible is being done to track these thieves down. Robbery with violence is a particularly nasty business.’
    Linc showed them out, ignoring the curious gazes of the paying visitors and reflecting that in attacking Abby the thieves had made a big mistake. From being the subjects of a routine ongoing investigation, however thorough, their violent raid on the Vicarage had made their apprehension a matter of priority. Thinking about what the constable had told him, Linc experienced a sudden wave of anger. It would have been naïve to suppose that what had happened at the Vicarage would have given such organised criminals much pause for thought,