Unti Peter Robinson #22 Read Free

week. We’re not that big an operation, really, and it’s mostly arable. Some cereals, vegetables, potatoes. Rapeseed’s our biggest crop by far. We supply a specialist high-­end oil maker. As you probably noticed, we also have a few pigs and chickens to keep the local quality restaurants supplied. Free-­range chickens, of course, when it’s possible. And the pigs are British Landrace. Excellent meat. So there really wasn’t much to do last week.”
    â€œI’ve heard that certain breeds of pig can be valuable,” Annie said. “Are yours?”
    â€œQuite, I suppose.”
    â€œI wonder why they weren’t taken, too?”
    â€œI should think these ­people specialize, wouldn’t you? There’s a lot of difference between getting rid of a tractor and a pig. Also, you’ve got to know how to handle pigs. They can be nasty when they want to be.”
    â€œI suppose so,” said Annie, though she knew absolutely nothing about pigs except they smelled and squealed and she didn’t eat them. “Now the thieves know that the pigs are here, though, perhaps you should think about improving your security?”
    â€œHow am I supposed to do that, apart from standing outside the sty all night with a shotgun in my hands?”
    â€œI’d forget about the shotgun, if I were you, sir. They only get ­people into trouble. There must be special fences, alarms, Country Watch, that sort of thing.”
    â€œI’ll look into it.”
    â€œWhere was the key?”
    Beddoes looked away. “What key?”
    â€œTo the tractor. I imagine if it’s modern and expensive it has various security features.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSo where did you keep the key?”
    â€œHanging on a hook in the garage.”
    â€œAnd the car keys? The Beemer and the Range Rover.”
    Beddoes patted his trouser pocket. “They’re on my key ring. I carry them with me.”
    â€œBut you didn’t take the tractor key with you while you were away?”
    â€œAre you here to interrogate me or to help me recover my stolen tractor?”
    Annie and Wilson exchanged glances. “Well, sir,” Annie went on, “at the moment we’re trying to establish just how the tractor was stolen, and it would seem to me that being able to start it is a major issue. I mean, you could hardly push it into a waiting lorry, could you?”
    â€œHow could I know something like this was going to happen?” Beddoes had reddened and started waving his arms around. “We were running late. Pat . . . The bloody taxi was waiting. I just didn’t think. The garage was securely locked when we left, for crying out loud.”
    â€œJohn,” said his wife. “Calm down. Your blood pressure.”
    Beddoes smoothed his hand over his hair. “Right. Sorry.” He turned to Annie again. “In retrospect I know it looks stupid, and I didn’t want the insurers to know, but I . . . I mean, mostly we’re around, so it’s not a problem. I often just leave the tractor in the yard with the key in the ignition. When you get on a tractor, you want to just start it and get going, not search around for bloody keys. In this case, the garage was well locked, I had someone keeping an eye on the place. What more was I supposed to do?”
    â€œI’ve no idea,” said Annie. “Who took care of the place for you while you were away?”
    â€œFrank Lane from over the dale said he’d feed the pigs and chickens and keep an eye on everything for us. Not that we blame Frank for what happened, of course. He can’t stand on twenty-­four-­hour vigil any more than I can. Besides, he’s got his own farm to take care of, and it’s far bigger than ours.” He laughed. “Frank’s a real farmer, as he never ceases to inform us. And he’s got that tearaway son of his to worry about. We’re just