The Stabbing in the Stables Read Free

a man. The pale moonlight glistened on the blood that had only recently ceased to flow from his face, throat and chest.

2
    J UDE’S PLUMP BODY moved with surprising speed back across the tarmac to the Renault. Carole took a moment or two to interpret her friend’s excited gabble, but once she understood was quickly out of the car. With her torch.
    Its beam did not improve the look of the body. The man had been the object of a frenzied assault. A trail of bright blood spots suggested that he had been backing away from his attacker. Deep gashes on his hands showed that he had tried to protect himself, until he had tripped backwards or collapsed from his injuries.
    The horses in the stalls framing the women shifted nervously, some snorting unease at this new invasion of their domain.
    Carole looked back along the trail of blood. A few feet beyond where the broken line stopped—or in fact where the spillage had started—the door to a wooden two-storey building hung open. A solid door, not divided in the middle like those on the loose boxes. Hinged metal bars and heavy padlocks hung from rings on the frame. From inside there was a slight glow from a hidden light source.
    â€œWhat’s that, Jude?”
    â€œI’ve no idea. First time I’ve been to this place. Saddle room, tack room maybe? Mind you, the blood spots suggest that the victim and his attacker came out from there and—”
    â€œIt’s not our place to make that kind of conjecture,” said Carole, suddenly all sniffy. “We should ring the police. You’ve got your mobile, haven’t you?”
    â€œYes…” Jude reached reluctantly into the pocket of her coat. “I wouldn’t mind having a quick look around before we—”
    Carole’s Home Office background would not allow the sentence to be finished. “This is a crime scene. It would be deeply irresponsible for us to disturb anything.”
    â€œJust a quick look?” Jude wheedled.
    â€œNo.” A hand was held out for the mobile. “If you won’t do it, then I will.”
    A short hesitation, then Jude said, “I think we should tell the Fleets first.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe people who own the place. They must live in the house next door. They should know what’s happened on their premises before the police arrive.”
    Carole wavered for just long enough for Jude to say, “I’ll tell them,” and set off towards the gates.
    â€œDo you want the torch?”
    â€œNo, I can see. Besides, I don’t want to leave you alone in the dark with the body.”
    â€œWe must call the police as soon as the Fleets have been informed,” Carole called after her friend’s retreating outline. “We must be very careful we don’t tamper with a crime scene.”
    She stood still for a moment, then let the torch beam explore the space around her. Not onto the body—she had seen quite enough of that for its image to haunt her dreams for months to come.
    Most of the loose box top-halves were open, but the moving ray of light did not reveal any of their inmates. The horses lurked in the recesses of their stalls, snuffling and stamping their continuing disquiet.
    A complete circuit of the yard revealed double gates at the far end, offering access to the paddocks beyond, and gateways leading to barns, tack rooms and the indoor school. The torch beam ended up once again fixed on the open door. Carole felt a sudden, overwhelming temptation.
    She shouldn’t do it. Everything she had ever learnt during her extensive dealings with the police told her that she should touch nothing, explore nothing. Jude’s footprints and her own might already have destroyed important evidence. To investigate further would be the height of irresponsibility. Her duty as a citizen dictated that she should stay stock still where she was until the police arrived. Or, perhaps even better, go back to the Renault