Free Gently at a Gallop by Alan Hunter Page A

I’ve wondered about the horse, but I wouldn’t let myself think it was that one.’ He set the shaking glass on the settle. ‘You will have seen Creke?’ he said.
    ‘We’ve seen him.’
    ‘It wasn’t . . . him?’
    ‘Creke has an alibi,’ Gently said.
    ‘Thank heaven,’ Stogumber said. ‘I couldn’t have taken that. Not my own tenant the guilty man.’ His face twisted and he pressed his hand to his chest. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry, but it’s a shock.’
    Gently paused, watching him. ‘Are you all right, sir?’
    ‘Yes, yes, I’m all right,’ Stogumber said.
    ‘If you’d sooner we went—’
    ‘No, stay. It’s my cursed heart. But I’m all right.’
    A little grey-faced, he picked up the glass and took two or three firm swigs. Then he returned the glass to the seat and faced Gently again.
    ‘That terrible horse! I had a premonition it would do some harm one day. I warned Creke, but he would never listen. Now he’ll have to put it down.’
    ‘You’re familiar with the horse,’ Gently said.
    ‘I’ve seen it once or twice,’ Stogumber said. ‘We’ve always been horse people in this family. We can never resist looking at a horse.’
    ‘Have you ever ridden him?’
    Stogumber forced a smile. ‘I’m afraid he’s out of my class these days.’
    ‘Have you seen him ridden?’
    ‘I’ve seen Creke on him. He’s like a lamb with Creke up.’
    Gently studied his glass for a moment. ‘I think you’ll appreciate the position,’ he said. ‘We’ve found the horse, now we have to find the rider. And we can only do that by elimination.’
    Stogumber faltered. ‘Couldn’t Creke tell you that?’
    Gently shook his head. ‘Creke couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.’
    ‘Well then . . . may I take it I’m eliminated?’
    ‘I’d sooner,’ Gently said, ‘that you didn’t.’
    Stogumber looked aslant, his hand straying to his chest. ‘This is a strange state of affairs,’ he said. ‘Good heavens, I never thought it would come to this, with me being suspected of killing my own son-in-law.’ He pressed his chest. ‘But that’s your affair. Let it never be said that I obstructed your inquiry. On Tuesday afternoon I was in the kitchen garden. I was burning pea haulms and generally pottering.’
    ‘Have you a witness?’ Gently said.
    ‘No, I don’t have a witness. Tuesday isn’t one of Johnson’s days. But truthfully, I could never have saddled and ridden that stallion. Jerry Rising’s old cob is all I aspire to.’
    Gently nodded deliberately. ‘I’ll accept that,’ he said. ‘But couldn’t your son have been your witness?’
    ‘Lachlan,’ Stogumber said. ‘He was writing in his study. I might have gone to the moon for all he’d notice.’
    ‘Well, your cousin,’ Gently said.
    ‘He’s a bug-hunter. He went out after breakfast.’
    ‘Went where?’
    ‘To Stukey Woods,’ said a voice by the door. ‘In search of
Orchis hircina
. May I come in?’
    He had opened the door very silently: a tall, ruddy-faced man of around fifty, clad in a bush-shirt with buttoned pockets and carrying binoculars slung from his shoulder. He smiled ingratiatingly. He had smooth, regular features and unassuming hazel eyes. Along with the binoculars hung a botanical collecting canister, and from one of his pockets sprouted an array of ball-pens.
    ‘I’m the bug-hunter,’ he smiled. ‘Cousin Leo. I saw your magnificent beast parked outside. White, and fitted with R/T. I knew the gendarmerie must be with us.’
    ‘I see,’ Gently said. ‘Have you just come in?’
    ‘Just this moment,’ Leo Redmayne smiled. ‘I’ve been in the back woods, towards Clayfield. Still searching for the elusive
Orchis hircina
.’
    ‘It must be quite an attraction,’ Gently said.
    ‘Oh, it would be a feather in my cap if I found one,’ Redmayne smiled. ‘But it wouldn’t make a brilliant alibi, would it? And I gather that’s the object of the present visit.’
    ‘They’ve identified the horse, Leo,’