'In the past month,' Clive said, 'there has been a series of attacks on our horses.'
'Attacks?'
'Someone is shooting them.'
'Dead?'
'Some die, some survive.'
'Do we have a theory?' I said.
'No, sir. The attacks seem entirely random and without motivation.'
'Insurance scam?'
'Nothing so crude as shooting the horse,' Clive said.
He was tall and athletic and ridiculously handsome. He had a lot of white teeth and a dark tan. His silver hair was thick and smooth. He was wearing a navy blazer with a Three Fillies crest on it, an open white shirt, beige linen trousers, and burgundy loafers with no socks. I approved. I was a no-socks man myself.
'Eliminate the competition?'
Clive smiled indulgently.
'Some of the horses who've been shot are barn ponies, not even Thoroughbreds-to think you could do anything constructive for your own horse, by eliminating other horses… not possible.'
'Only a dumb city guy would even think of such a thing,' I said.
He smiled again. It was a smile that said, Of course I'm superior to you, and both of us know it, but I'm a good guy and am not going to hold it against you.
'You're a detective, you have to ask these questions,' he said kindly.
He smiled again. Penny smiled. I smiled back. Weren't we all just dandy. Penny had big eyes, the color of morning glories. Her eyes were nearly as big as Susan's, with thick lashes. Her smile was not superior. It was friendly… and maybe a little more.
'Last week, someone made an attempt on Hugger Mugger,' Clive went on.
'Unsuccessful?'
'Yes. His groom, Billy Rice, was in the stall with him, at night. Hugger had been sort of peckish that day and Billy was worried about him. While he was there someone opened the stall door. Billy shined his flashlight and saw a rifle barrel poking through the open door. When the light came on, the rifle barrel disappeared and there were running footsteps. By the time Billy peeked out around the door, there was nothing.'
'Footprints?' I said.
'No.'
'Could he describe the gun barrel?'
'The gun barrel? What's to describe?'
'Did it have a magazine under the barrel, like a Winchester? Long stock or not? Front sight? Gun barrels are not all the same.'
'Oh God,' Clive said, 'I don't know.'
I tried not to smile a smile that said, Of course I'm superior to you, and both of us know it, but I'm a good guy and am not going to hold it against you.
'Cops?' I said.
'Local police,' Clive said. 'And I have my own security consultant.'
'Local police are the Columbia County Sheriff's Department,' Penny said. 'The deputy's name is Becker.'
'I wish to hire you, sir, to put a stop to this,' Clive said.
'To prevent the horse from being hurt?'
'That certainly.'
'Usually I get only one end of the horse,' I said.
Penny laughed.
Clive said, 'Excuse me?'
'Daddy,' Penny said, 'he's saying sometimes he gets a client who's a horse's ass.'
'Oh, of course. Guess I'm too worried to have a sense of humor.'
'Sure,' I said.
'Well, sir, are you interested or not?'
'Tell me a little more of how you see this working,' I said. 'Am I sleeping on a blanket in the horse's stall, with a knife in my teeth?'
He smiled to show that he really did have a sense of humor even though he was worried.
'No, no,' he said. 'I have some armed security in place. An agency in Atlanta. I would like you to look at the security and let me know what you think. But, primarily, I want you to find out who is doing this and, ah, arrest
