Snare by Gwen Moffat Read Free Book Online Page A

it seemed to the watcher on the scarp; she saw an arm rise and fall as the rider whipped his mount to full gallop: down the path up which Alec Millar was coming.
    Miss Pink watched in horror. He must hear the hoofbeats, she thought; he’s got time to jump clear. Alec had stopped. The horse exploded from a group of firs, closing the gap, but before they collided – fast horse and stationary man – Alec must have moved. There was a space between them as the horse passed, but the speed checked dramatically. There was a scream. The shape of the horse had changed; it had gone down.
    Miss Pink raised the binoculars. The horse was climbing to its feet, the saddle hanging below its belly. The policeman’s son was standing, clutching his arm and staring at big, childlike Alec who was advancing on him like a gorilla, with what appeared to be a club in one hand. Of the poodle there was no sign.
    Everything was in slow motion and Miss Pink had time to reflect that she could be the only witness when suddenly the scene changed. Young Knox was running through the trees and Alec, starting after him, lurched back, took a wild swipe at the horse which plunged away and took off at a gallop, the saddle bumping between its legs.
    Miss Pink released her breath and lowered the binoculars. She looked to her right and saw a tiny figure moving rhythmically round a green space: Flora MacKenzie taking her pony over jumps. If that had been a lovers’ spat, she thought, it had been one-sided. This one wasn’t bothered.
    She descended the green track and worked her way through the parkland until she reached the path she was looking for. This was used regularly by ponies, but their tracks were overlaid by the gouged imprints of an animal at full gallop. She turned north towards the river and, after some casting about, discovered the place where the incident had occurred. There was the indentation made by the pony when it fell and rolled, and there was the broken branch which must be the club that Alec had brandished, but there was nothing else and for that she was thankful.
    As she approached her cottage, a woman came bustling down the nurse’s drive and hurried ahead to turn in at the Post Office. Miss Pink unlocked her front door and left it ajar. It was five-thirty. Mindful that Beatrice Swan had invited her to dine at six-thirty, she went upstairs to run her bath.
    She was changed and downstairs again when the nurse passed the open door. Miss Pink called to her. She turned back: a slim neat person, her hair all but concealed by the uniform cap, her face unremarkable except for the eyes: hooded, large and grey, enhanced by careful make-up. Miss Pink introduced herself and Anne Wallace responded pleasantly and with no sign of impatience.
    â€˜I was on the cliff,’ Miss Pink said, with a gesture as incomplete as the statement. ‘Did Alec have an accident?’
    â€˜Not exactly.’ The accent suggested the nurse came from the Hebrides. ‘His dog was killed. He’s – very unhappy about it. Did you see what happened?’
    â€˜Probably less than Alec did. I was over half a mile away and they were in the trees. What does Alec say?’
    â€˜He’s in no condition to tell us.’
    â€˜A convulsion?’
    The nurse stalled. ‘He’s unwell. He came home with the dog in his arms, and crying, so you see ...’
    â€˜I know his history from Mrs Millar. Is there anything I can do?’
    â€˜No, Rose can cope. She phoned me because he was worse than usual, with the dog and all. I mean –’
    â€˜She was afraid that the convulsion would be worse,’ Miss Pink interpreted. ‘Shocking for anyone, of course, but worse for Alec.’
    â€˜Who did it?’
    â€˜Oh, no one. Not a person . The dog must have been in the way of a pony.’
    â€˜Who was riding it, or do you mean the pony was loose?’ Miss Pink did not respond. ‘Alec will tell us when he’s