Free Gently at a Gallop by Alan Hunter

by the windows. He sat, resting one leg along the settle.
    ‘Now, gentlemen, we can get to business. But if you’ve come here hoping I can name the woman for you, then I’m afraid I must disappoint you.’
    Gently shook his head. ‘That wasn’t the object. Though, naturally, I value your opinion.’
    ‘And I gave it to you,’ Stogumber said. ‘I doubt whether this woman ever existed. Heaven knows, I wasn’t in favour of Marie’s wedding, but one must give the devil his due. Charles was infatuated with Marie. Let me define what I mean by that. A man is infatuated with a woman when he is in love and she isn’t. And that’s how it was with Charles and Marie: he loved her, and she let him.’ He dropped his eyes from Gently’s. ‘She’s a wilful girl. I’m afraid her marriage was just an act of rebellion.’
    ‘Against you?’ Gently said.
    Stogumber nodded. ‘Mine are a pair of sad children,’ he said. ‘They lacked their mother. She died with Marie. Poor Stella. She was never a strong one.’
    ‘But your daughter must have had some fondness for Berney,’ Gently said.
    ‘Aye, well . . . in her way,’ Stogumber admitted. ‘But it blew up suddenly on the tail of a row. I can never get that out of my mind. Charles would always hang around Marie, but Marie knew well enough how to snub him. Then there was a scene at quarter-day about Marie’s allowance, and after that she turned right round.’
    ‘Are you suggesting it was his money?’
    ‘No, no,’ Stogumber said. ‘I know Marie better than that. She was wanting to slip an old father she couldn’t manage, to take on a husband who she could.’ He gave a little sigh. ‘And she knew the way,’ he said. ‘One look at her must have told you that.’
    ‘What was her brother’s reaction?’ Gently asked.
    Stogumber’s hand twitched. ‘He backed her up. Lachlan will always back up Marie, and she him, against me.’
    ‘And your cousin?’
    ‘Leo’s neutral . . . perhaps a little on the old man’s side. But that’s no good. Against Lachlan and Marie, we might as well hold our peace.’
    Gently sipped some of his drink (it was ice-cold bitter). ‘So you don’t favour the police theory,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t a woman who lured Berney on the heath. Perhaps you have an idea who did?’
    Stogumber frowned at his blotched hands. ‘I haven’t,’ he said. ‘It’s a mystery to me. Charles’s actions on Tuesday make no sort of sense. It’s as though he went fey, was expecting death.’
    ‘I think there was a reason,’ Gently said.
    ‘Yes, that’s your business,’ Stogumber agreed. ‘But I’m an old man, I remember things. This reminds me very much of my father’s death.’
    Gently stared. ‘Was he killed by a horse?’
    Stogumber shook his head. ‘He gassed himself. But there’s the point. One day he went off, with no imaginable reason, booked a room in a hotel, and turned on the gas. Till then he was a normal, sane person. You couldn’t have guessed he’d do any such thing. No troubles with money, health or women. Yet suddenly he went fey and took his life.’
    ‘But that’s all the connection,’ Gently shrugged.
    ‘It’s the best I can do,’ Stogumber replied. ‘Just like my father, Charles went off on Tuesday, did inexplicable things, and died.’
    ‘Only,’ Gently said, ‘in this case there was a horse. And horses you don’t simply turn on.’
    Stogumber’s tired eyes lifted. ‘Have you found the horse?’
    Gently nodded. ‘It was Farmer Creke’s.’
    ‘Farmer Creke’s!’ Stogumber echoed, his eyes widening, searching into Gently’s. ‘But . . . can you be sure?’
    ‘Fairly sure,’ Gently said. ‘His horse would have been available on Tuesday.’
    ‘Oh my goodness!’ Stogumber exclaimed.
    ‘Is it really a surprise to you?’ Gently said.
    Stogumber shook his head dumbly, his lips trembling. The beer was slopping in his glass.
    ‘This is a shock, truly a shock. Oh my goodness, poor Charles! Of course,