CHAPTER 32 – A BIT OF DISCORD AMONGST FRIENDS
Now that Dennis Uppington and Carl "Hippo" Westmoreland had proved themselves capable enough when it came to looking out for the chief, Emma Hugh struck out on jaunts to see what the local gossip was, especially about the late Leonard Loomis. She came back from one trip looking amused. "I think we can probably rule out any connection between the attempted arson at the Loomis place, and the murder or anything to do with us," she told the chief, who was sipping hot cocoa in the kitchen.
"For some reason you don't want to tell me why, do you?"
"You do have such a strong feel for law and order," Emma said, half-jokingly.
"Don't tell me. More scofflawing, but totally justified, I suppose? If that's the case, perhaps you had better keep it to yourself."
"I can't. It's all over the countryside, and meeting with much approval, I might add."
"Spill."
"Word on the street – and the footpath and bridle trail and inside the shops – is that Loomis's heir wants to build a new house, but just about the only way to get permission to build from this heavy-handed and boot-footed local council is to not have anything standing that they'd rather see remodeled. Far and away it's considered the quite logical approach to rural renewal, burning up your own place so there's nothing left to haggle over with historically-minded but third-party people who are blind to private property rights."
"You're enjoying this," Stolemaker said.
"I'm American, big on property rights, and enjoy a really good end run. Live with it," Emma said, impishly. She sobered. "Of course, the downside is that people can get hurt fighting fires, so it's not as good a solution as one could hope for."
"No kidding."
"Kipling would be right at home, though, don't you think? He did seem to have a weak spot for smugglers and such, from what I've read of his work. It's so horribly English, you know, passing unworkable laws, and then having great gobs of people resolutely finding ways around them. You're not so bad as the French, and these days America's close behind, sad to say, but-" She held up a warning finger, and cocked her head, listening. "So anyway, it's quite a nice stable, and the rates are quite reasonable. I had a wonderful time," she said, as Janice walked into the room.
"Where did you have a wonderful time?" Janice asked, too chummily, showing that she was hoping to find out something she could use against her housemates.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I was having a wonderful time at the stables," Emma said. "They have some very nice horses, very sweet ones."
Janice struggled with herself, the chummy but cautious spy persona fighting her totalitarian streak. Caution lost. "No one has a right to own animals," she pronounced.
"Oh, and how long before the domestic horse would die out if no one bred them?" Emma asked. "I peg it at ten years. Some horses would live longer than that, but by then the broodmares are getting too old to have foals. No foals, no new generation, no horses. Bam. Wiped out. Extinction. You don't want that, do you?"
Janice looked wary. "There's something wrong with that argument. I know there is," she said.
"What?" Emma asked.
"Well… well, uh… The government wouldn't let them go extinct, for one thing," Janice replied, triumphantly, once she'd latched onto her idea.
"Oh, and how would they do that? Breeding programs? Run by people paid to breed horses, and not necessarily by people who love a horse for the horse's sake. That's a step up," Emma said, sarcastically.
Dennis walked in. "What's up?" he asked, before taking a proper reading of the room.
"We're discussing government breeding programs," Emma said. "Animal, not vegetable."
"I'll come back later," Dennis said, turning on his heel and leaving.
"I have important work to do," Janice pronounced. She flounced off, chin in air, forgetting just for the moment to walk boyishly to help erase the differences between the sexes.
"Unless you have something for me to do, I guess I'll go read some Dickens, or something. Bleak House, maybe," Emma said. "I haven't read that one yet."
"You'll like it, I think, except for the ending," Stolemaker predicted. He made the comment sound like a dismissal, so Emma left, too.
Stolemaker put in a call to the Prime Minister's office. A genial subordinate told him that there was, first of all, nothing new to report regarding threats to the PM or anything else. Secondly, like they had said before, they would call if anything seemed to be working itself loose. Stolemaker thanked the man for his time and rang off.
It was harder being on the sidelines than he'd imagined. Plus, the pain in his legs was driving him mad. It was better than being doped up on painkillers, but it was still driving him mad. On top of that, almost every time he thought of his legs, his mind flashed encores of a gun busting through glass and stabbing him with bullets. His imagination liked to add more bullets, and have them hit in deadlier places.
Feeling badly in need of something to do, he struggled to his feet and limped to the computer room, using mincing, wincing steps. "I need to use the computer," he told Janice.
"I'm scheduled for another fifteen minutes," she said.
"The wider world doesn't run on schedules. Prove you're doing something time-sensitive or move."
"But I'm writing a letter to my friend," Janice whined. "It's important."
Stolemaker exploded, using words he rarely used, and never used in the presence of ladies if he could avoid it. Dennis was there at a run, Emma on his heels, Hippo close behind.
Dennis started to protest the vocabulary, but after seeing the look in Stolemaker's eyes, he took Janice by the hand and led her gently and gingerly out of the room.
"Men are horrible creatures," Janice pronounced.
"You're an idiot," Emma said.
"No, she's not. She's only acting like one," Dennis protested.
He likely shouldn't have said just that. Neither woman looked likely to forgive him for it. He tried to explain himself by attempting to point out the difference between uninformed behavior versus ingrained traits formed by physiological characteristics.
"You're an idiot," Janice said to Dennis.
"No, he's not. He's only acting like one," Emma said.
Janice took herself off to watch television. Emma went to the kitchen to fix some tea. Dennis stood there blinking. "What did I do?" he asked Hippo.
"Now, lad, think for a moment. Would a man like me, who has been carefully standing in the background being tactfully quiet, would a man like me really want to get into the middle of a mess like this?"
Dennis drooped. "Likely not. Sorry I asked."
Hippo took pity. "It's very simple, really. The women didn't want anyone interfering in their catfight. That's all."
"But it wasn't a catfight yet."
"Care to bet? And Emma isn't the one who started it. Janice knew full well that no one would appreciate her calling men horrible creatures in a blanket statement."
"I don't know about that," Dennis protested.
"Oh, I see. You really do think that Janice is an idiot."
"No, of course not," Dennis said. He paused. "Oh, I see what you mean. But…"
"But the office clown is usually the fellow most afraid of being laughed at, isn't he? And the office crank is usually someone who's horribly afraid that no one will like him, so he hides behind a grumpiness shield that gives people an excuse to dislike him. It's ever so much easier to have people hate your behavior than give them a chance to dislike the core of your being," Hippo said. "To be more specific, it's easier if you don't mind being a coward."
Dennis bristled. He started to say something, but gave it up and clamped his mouth shut. Muscles twitched in the side of his face.
"Overran my headlamps, did I?" Hippo said. "Sorry. Let's go let Emma serve us some tea. She'll feel better and so will we."
He led the way to the kitchen. Emma was deep in prayer. She looked up. "Care to help me list how many of Christ's instructions I just bulldo
zed past just now?" she asked.
"We all have our moments, and our particular shortcomings," Hippo said. "Janice is in watching television, if the volume set at high hadn't told you that."
"I need to go apologize to her, don't I?"
"I'd say so," Hippo said. "If you're through apologizing to God."
Emma left. Dennis looked rather uncomfortable.
"Not used to people talking as though God is really real, and truly cares about what we do, are you?" Hippo asked.
Dennis shrugged. "I'm Anglican, you know. It's not like I don't believe in God."
"Cake or pie with your tea?" Hippo asked. "I'm having cake. And if you ever want to chat about what it is you believe about God, let me know. No need to worry I'll ambush you, you know. I don't work that way."
Not Exactly Allies Page 32