Breaker

mantra. 'Six months of quarantine costs the owner a fortune, the dogs are miserable while it's happening, and not a single one has ever been diagnosed with rabies in all the time this country's been enforcing the rabies regulations.'

'Cut the crap, Tony,' said the DI impatiently. 'Personally, I think it's a crazy law that allows a smackhead like you within a hundred miles of impressionable children, but I'm not going to break your legs to keep you away from them. How much does he charge?'

'Five hundred, and I'm no fucking smackhead,' he said with genuine irritation. 'Smack's for idiots. You should bone up on your drug terminology.'

Galbraith ignored him. 'Five hundred, eh? That's a nice little earner. What does he make per person? Five thousand?'

There was a distinct hesitation. 'What are you talking about?'

'Twenty-five different sets of fingerprints inside Crazy Daze, not counting Steve's or Kate and Hannah Sumner's. You've just accounted for two-yours and Bibi's-that still leaves twenty-three unaccounted for. That's a lot of fingerprints, Tony.'

Bridges shrugged. 'You said it yourself, he runs a sordid establishment.'

'Mmm,' murmured Galbraith, 'I did say that, didn't I?' His gaze shifted toward the trailer again. 'Nice rib. Is it new?'

Bridges followed his gaze. 'Not particularly, I've had it nine months.'

Galbraith walked over to look at the two Evinrude outboards at the stern. 'It looks new,' he remarked, running a finger along the rubber. 'Immaculate, in fact. When did you last clean it?'

'Monday.'

'And you hosed the garage floor for good measure, did you?'

'It got wet in the process.'

Galbraith slapped the inflated sides of the rib. 'When did you last take it out?'

'I don't know. A week ago maybe.'

'So why did it need cleaning on Monday?'

'It didn't,' said Bridges, his expression growing wary again. 'I just like to look after it.'

'Then let's hope Customs and Excise don't rip it apart looking for drugs, my son,' said the policeman with poorly feigned sympathy, 'because they're not going to buy your story about red wine being Steve's most dangerous import any more than I do.' He jerked his head toward the back of the garage. 'That's just a blind in case you're sussed for anything more serious. Like illegal immigration. Those boxes have been in there for months. The dust's so thick I can write my name in it.'

Ingram stopped at Broxton House on his way home to check on Celia Jenner and was greeted enthusiastically by Bertie, who bounded out of the front door, tail wagging. 'How's your mother?' he asked Maggie as he met her in the hall.

'Much better. Brandy and painkillers have put her on cloud nine, and she's talking about getting up.' She headed for the kitchen. 'We're starving, so I'm making some sandwiches. Do you want some?'

He followed with Bertie in tow, wondering how to tell her politely that he'd rather go home and make his own, but kept his counsel when he saw the state of the kitchen. It was hardly up to hospital standards, but the smell of cleaning rising from the floor, countertops, table, and stove was a huge advance on the ancient, indescribable aroma of dirty dog and damp horse blankets that had shocked his scent and taste buds earlier. 'I wouldn't say no,' he said. 'I haven't had anything to eat since last night.'

'What do you think?' she asked, setting to with a loaf of sliced bread, cheese, and tomatoes.

He didn't pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. 'All in all, a vast improvement. I prefer the floor this color.' He touched the toe of one large boot to a quarry tile. 'I hadn't realized it was orange or that my feet weren't supposed to stick to it every time I moved.'

She gave a low laugh. 'It was damned hard work. I don't think it's had a mop on it for four years, not since Ma told Mrs. Cottrill she couldn't afford her anymore.' She glanced critically around the room. 'But you're right. A coat of paint would make a hell of a difference. I thought I'd buy some this afternoon and slap it on over the weekend. It won't take long.'

He should have brought the brandy up a long time ago, he realized, marveling at her optimism. He would have done if he'd known she and her mother had been on the wagon for four years. Alcohol, for all its sins, wasn't called a restorative for nothing. He cast an interested eye toward the ceiling, which was festooned with cobwebs. 'It'll slap right off again unless you shift that little lot as well. Do you have a stepladder?'

'I don't know.'

'I've got one at home,' he said. 'I'll bring it up this evening when I've finished for the day. In return will you put off your paint-buying trip long enough to give me a statement about Harding's assault on you this morning? I'll be questioning him at five o'clock, and I want your version of the story before I do.'

She looked anxiously toward Bertie, who, at Ingram's fingered command, had taken up station beside the Aga. 'I don't know. I've been thinking about what you said and now I'm worried he's going to accuse Bertie of being out of control and attacking him, in which case I'll be faced with a prosecution under the Dangerous Dogs Act and Bertie will be put down. Don't you think it would be better to let it drop?'

Nick pulled out a chair and sat on it, watching her. 'He'll probably try to bring a counterprosecution, anyway, Maggie. It's his best defense against anything you might say.' He paused. 'But if you let him get in first, then you'll be handing him the advantage. Is that what you want?'

'No, of course it isn't, but Bertie was out of control. He sank his teeth into the stupid idiot's arm, and I couldn't get him off for love or money.' Angrily, she turned a ferocious glare on her dog, then stabbed her knife into a tomato and splattered seeds all over the chopping board. 'I had to thrash him in the end to make him release his hold, and I won't be able to deny it if Steve takes me to court.'

'Who attacked first, Bertie or Steve?'