Read Online Kickback by Damien Boyd - Free Book Online

moonlight shimmering on the water.
    They drove through Spaxton, past the Lamb Inn, and arrived at the racing stables to find the whole yard lit by arc lamps. A large area was cordoned off and various smaller areas marked on the ground with white tape. Kevin Tanner was going from stable to stable feeding the horses, all except Westbrook Warrior, whose stable was still empty.
    ‘Where is he?’ asked Dixon.
    ‘We moved him round into the barn,’ replied Watson.
    ‘Give me a minute.’
    Dixon walked around the area that had been cordoned off and along the alleyway between the stables and the hay barn. He went into the American barn. Both sides were lined with stables, twelve in total, each sectioned off with wood panelling to five feet high and then steel bars on top.
    He walked along until he recognised Westbrook Warrior. He was at the far end on the right. This time there was no metal grille in place and the Warrior’s head was out over the stable door. Dixon knew that the horse was watching him approach.
    He heard footsteps behind him. Jane was running to catch up.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘I just want to check something.’
    They approached the stable. Westbrook Warrior stepped back inside and ripped a large mouthful of haylage from his net and then put his head back over the door. Dixon watched him eating.
    ‘What?’ asked Jane.
    Dixon inched forward and stood by the latch on the stable door, within reach of the Warrior’s head. The horse stared at him.
    ‘Be careful.’
    ‘It’s alright, Jane. His ears are up. Maybe he’s not such a...’
    Suddenly, Westbrook Warrior’s ears went flat back on the top of his head. Dixon saw it and stepped back just as the Warrior lunged at him, baring his teeth. Dixon stumbled backwards but kept his footing.
    ‘No, he is aggressive. Make a note to get his records from the vet tomorrow, will you?’
    Jane was laughing so much she couldn’t reply.
    ‘For heaven’s sake, constable, get a grip,’ said Dixon.
     
    ‘Right then, what’ve we got?’
    ‘This way,’ said Watson. He lifted the blue tape that was cordoning off an area outside the last two stables in the block and stepped under it. Dixon and Jane followed.
    ‘It was raining heavily when he was killed and it’s rained since, of course, but we’ve got the residue of a large pool of blood here,’ said Watson, pointing to an area on the concrete plinth in front of the stables. ‘There’s some light spatter on the brickwork too and then a trail of blood running along the gutter into that drain you can see over there. There’s some on the block paving too. It’s not visible to the naked eye, of course.’
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘Yes. He’d been mucking out at the time so we checked the wheelbarrows. That one has blood spatter on the handles. Not much, but enough. You can see it in the rust.’
    Dixon looked at an old wheelbarrow that was standing under cover in the hay barn.
    ‘What about the muckheap?’ asked Dixon.
    ‘That’s next.’
    ‘So, he was killed there...’
    ‘Looks like it,’ said Watson.
    ‘And then carried, what, ten paces to Westbrook Warrior’s stable and thrown in?’
    ‘It’s not much further than that,’ said Jane.
    ‘The killer then washed the plinth off with the hose over there,’ said Dixon, pointing to a yellow hose coiled around an outside tap on the wall of the feed room.
    ‘Looks like it, yes,’ said Watson.
    ‘Thanks, Don,’ said Dixon, ‘are you gonna be here all night?’
    ‘As long as it takes.’
    Dixon and Jane ducked under the blue tape and walked across the yard towards the car park. He looked up at the farmhouse to see Georgina Harcourt watching them from the window. She turned away when she saw Dixon looking at her.
    ‘Let’s try the Lamb in the village, Jane. We’ve just got time to get there before they stop serving food.’
     
    Dixon took two Tramadol with a large swig of Doom Bar.
    ‘Are you sure you should be doing that?’
    ‘One