Free Outside Chance by Lyndon Stacey

call, the population of the public bar had thinned out quite dramatically.
    The barman caught Ben’s wry look at the departing backs and nodded.
    â€˜What did I tell you? Another coffee? Are you sure you wouldn’t like something stronger?’
    â€˜Coffee’s fine.’
    â€˜Bit odd with steak and chips.’
    â€˜With steak and chips I’d probably have a beer,’ he agreed.
    â€˜Comin’ right up.’
    The food beat the police to Ben’s table by a good twenty minutes and he was, in fact, just wiping the juices from his plate with his last chip when a diminutive WPC came in, followed by a stout and ponderous colleague who looked to be pushing retirement age.
    â€˜Ben Copperfield?’ she enquired of the room in general.
    Ben put up a hand and spent the next quarter of an hour answering her questions. Finally, closing her pocketbook, she got up to go.
    â€˜Aren’t you going to take a statement?’ he asked.
    â€˜Well, that depends . . .Would you be prepared to give evidence?’
    â€˜I thought that’s what I’d just been doing.’
    â€˜I mean, in court,’ she said. ‘You see, we’ve been through all this before. People start off full of anger and good intentions but somehow by the time the court case comes around, they aren’t interested any more. It’s just a waste of everyone’s time and effort.’
    Her portly sidekick, who had been enjoying a cup of coffee over by the bar, nodded his agreement. ‘Bloody waste of time.’
    â€˜Well, if you can get
them
there,
I’ll
be there,’ Ben promised, and the landlord announced his willingness to back him up.
    Shortly after the officers left, Ben also took his leave, pausing in the porch to scan the car park area for undesirables.
    â€˜Come on, I’ll see you to your car,’ a voice offered and, looking to his right, Ben saw a pleasant-faced, fair-haired young man sitting at one of the outside tables with the collecting-box boy. ‘I wanted an opportunity to thank you for what you did for Seb,’ the man added. ‘Henry Allerton, by the way. Seb’s my nephew.’
    â€˜Well then, it’s a pity you don’t take a bit better care of him,’ Ben observed sardonically. ‘He should never have been left on his own with a box of cash. It was asking for trouble.’
    â€˜And he wouldn’t have been if I’d had anything to do with it,’ Allerton assured him. ‘I wasn’t here at the time, but I’ve had words with those concerned.’
    â€˜So, you’re one of the animal lib protesters too,’ Ben observed, starting towards his car. ‘I hear you pulled off quite a coup, up at Belinda Kepple’s stable earlier.’
    â€˜We did what we set out to do.’ He sounded smug.
    â€˜And you think stopping a couple of thousand people looking round a racing stable is going to make a real difference?’
    â€˜If we cause even one of those people to think again about what they are helping to support, we will have achieved at least part of our aim.’
    Ben stopped and turned to face him. ‘You really believe in all that stuff, don’t you?’
    Allerton frowned. ‘Of course I do, or I wouldn’t be doing this. I believe that it’s gross arrogance on the part of humanity to think we’re justified in using animals for whatever purpose we please. And even more so when it is solely for amusement.’
    â€˜No need to ask if you’re a veggie,’ Ben murmured. Then, before Allerton could respond, ‘Listen, I’m a journalist. I specialise in horse-related topics and I’ve had stuff published in some of the big national dailies as well as many of the top horse publications. What would you say to some real countrywide coverage?’
    Allerton’s eyes narrowed. ‘That would depend what slant you put on it. We don’t need the kind of publicity that