couldn’t squeeze past the car door without brushing reluctantly against its inquisitive muzzle.
‘It looks quite friendly,’ said Cooper.
‘Are you sure?’
The one other thing Fry knew about horses was that they were supposed to like sugar cubes. But who on earth used sugar cubes any more, let alone carried them around in their pockets in case they met a horse?
But she did have a packet of mints in her pocket, and she took it out. The horse nuzzled her jacket, as if searching the rest of her pockets, a quick frisk on suspicion of possession. When she unwrapped a mint and held it out on her palm, the horse went straight for it.
Fry was used to seeing horses, but usually at a safe distance — the mounted unit controlling a crowd at a football match, Up close, she was amazed by the way the animal’s lips unfurled and grasped the mint. She had never realized horses had such prehensile mouths, almost like monkey’s. She supposed it was a characteristic you had to develop when you had no hands to use.
‘You seem to be bonding,’ said Cooper, sounding quite impressed.
‘Animals are all right, as long as they know who’s the boss.’
But then the horse began waggling its ears, and showed its teeth. That was definitely a threat. She backed away, and turned to find the owner of Watersaw House regarding her with scarcely disguised contempt.
Today, Mrs Forbes had removed her riding boots and replaced them with a pair of green wellies. Definite working boots, a crack in the side, mud and straw stuck in the ridges of the soles. They seemed to be at least a size too big, because they flapped as she moved about the yard. To Fry’s surprise, she was also wearing a head scarf. She didn’t think non-Muslim women wore head scarves any more — well, except the Queen, and Tubbs off The League of Gentlemen.
‘Mrs Forbes,’ she said. ‘Detective Sergeant Fry, Edendale Police. I spoke to you on Tuesday morning at the hunt, if you remember.’
‘Oh, yes. What can I do for you?’
‘We’d like you to assist us with our enquiries.’
‘Good heavens, do you people really talk like that?’
Mrs Forbes laughed. Fry bristled.
‘It’s about the death of Mr Patrick Rawson,’ she said. ‘We’re trying to gather as much information as we can about the circumstances of his death. Oh, this is my colleague, Detective Constable Cooper.’
Mrs Forbes examined Cooper with a critical eye, like a buyer weighing up a specimen of bloodstock. Fry wasn’t sure whether she was imagining it, but the woman’s expression actually seemed to soften a little. Mrs Forbes said nothing, but there was definitely a form of private communication going on that Fry wasn’t party to.
‘I see you run a livery stables, Mrs Forbes.’
The woman waved a hand around the yard. ‘Yes, indeed. Twenty-eight stables, eighteen turn-out paddocks, purpose-built boxes, indoor and outdoor maneges… everything you could want. We offer full-time or part-time livery. These girls you see here are some of our DIY-ers.’
Fry studied the youngsters brushing their horses and sorting out their tack. She could see straight away that these weren’t the kind of kids who hung around in the alleys of housing estates in Edendale, drinking bottles of lager and passing round a joint. These girls smelled of saddle soap and horse manure instead of alcohol and cannabis. Yet there was something elusively similar in their manner, a total absorption in their own world, and a hostile stare for the outsider. And in both cases, as Fry well knew, the outsider meant her.
‘We turn them out and bring them in, but the girls do their own feeding, grooming and mucking out,’ said Mrs Forbes. ‘I like to see young people who aren’t afraid of a bit of hard work, don’t you?’
A younger woman dismounted from a horse and came across the yard to join them, leading her mount by its reins. When she reached them, she took off her helmet and shook her hair free. Mid-twenties, probably. She wore an expensive-looking riding outfit. Nice leather boots. And those beige jodhpurs — they fit her rather well. Fry glanced at Cooper to see if he was noticing.
‘This is my daughter, Alicia,’ said Mrs Forbes. ‘I started the yard about ten years ago, and Alicia has been helping me in the business full time for the past four, ever since she graduated. A BHS-qualified instructor, aren’t you, darling?’
Fry blinked, but then realized the last comment had been addressed to Alicia, not to her or Cooper.
‘And she’s terribly interested in the use of complementary therapies,’ said Mrs Forbes. ‘Essential oils and all that, you know.’
Fry looked at the young girls again, sweating under the weight of rugs and saddles. Feeding, grooming, turning out, bringing in, mucking out… She didn’t know what on earth it all was, but it sounded like an endless amount of work. And for what? For nothing more than the chance to climb on the back of one of these monkey- lipped creatures and prance about the countryside in a pair of fancy leather boots.
‘You appreciate we have to try to establish how Mr Rawson died, Mrs Forbes. You, and other members of the hunt, are potential witnesses. What we need from you is a list of who was present at the location of Tuesday’s meet from about eight a. m.’
‘Inspector Redfearn already asked us for that information.’
‘Yes, he did. But so far as I’m aware — ’
‘Alicia?’
The younger woman produced an envelope from the pocket of her body warmer. ‘This is the list you want. The hunt secretary drew it up for you. Names, addresses and phone numbers. The times that each person arrived, and what they were doing between eight o’clock and nine thirty.’
‘You’ll find it’s a very short list, I’m afraid,’ said Mrs Forbes. ‘Largely the hunt servants, plus Alicia and I. And we were all much too busy to notice what was going on half a mile away from the meet, I can assure you.’
Fry could feel herself being pushed on to the back foot, and she didn’t like it.
‘Oh yes, of course,’ she said. ‘I suppose you all just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
She had the satisfaction of seeing a pained reaction. ‘Possibly.’
‘We still need to talk to everyone. One of you might have seen something significant.’
‘You’ll do what you have to do, Sergeant. Personally, I can tell you right now that I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, or anyone who shouldn’t have been there.’ Mrs Forbes smiled. ‘Apart from the antis, of course. But I don’t need to tell you that, surely? Now, if you’ll excuse me…’
The woman walked away towards the stables, and could be heard speaking to the girls. Fry turned her attention to Alicia.
‘You’re a member of the hunt, too?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you were out on Tuesday, I gather?’
‘Of course. We all want to show our support. But we didn’t see anything, really we didn’t.’
As the daughter spoke, she moved a hand to stroke the inside of her horse’s leg, where the skin looked smooth and soft. Fry found the gesture somehow disturbing.
‘I’ve no idea who that man was who died, and I’m sure Mummy hasn’t either,’ said Alicia. ‘We were just trying to get on with our own business, and avoid the antis. You’d be better talking to them, wouldn’t you?’
‘We have talked to them,’ said Fry. ‘But, you see, they weren’t on horseback.’
Alicia looked away. ‘I can’t help you.’
The horse swung around restlessly, pointing its haunches at Fry. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cooper moving away towards Alicia Forbes. But she was feeling more confident now, and she stood her ground, even when the rear end bumped gently against her.
‘Do you happen to know the bridlepath called Badger’s Way, Miss Forbes?’ Cooper was asking.
‘Yes, I’ve ridden there a few times. But everyone uses it — it’s good to be able to get away from traffic for a while.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘There have been several incidents of reckless driving near horse riders in this area. Perhaps you know.’
‘Any motorists identified are being warned,’ said Cooper. ‘They could face prosecution for driving without due care and attention.’
