The viciousness in his voice so shocked her, the jerk of her hand made water splash down the side of her glass. Despite their cordial dislike of each other Angus usually didn’t bother rising above casual disdain for anything she did or said.
‘Don’t worry, Krista,’ Rod said into the ensuing black hole of silence. ‘I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.’
That’s what Rod’s main job was so far as she could judge. Cleaning up after Angus. Pathetic. Did he know that when he accepted the position as stable manager? Why he and his wife Amy stuck around she had no idea. He came from a horse racing family, he knew about horses and had been a good choice by Hugh to ensure the place had a chance at succeeding, but why put up with an idiot like Angus as his boss?
That he and Angus and been at school together wasn’t reason enough, surely? Neither man was gay, Amy being proof if any was needed, so there was no emotional attachment beyond an inexplicable friendship. A big pay packet probably helped.
The maid came in with two entrees, served them and made a hasty escape.
‘Rod and I are going riding early tomorrow. You should join us on Calypso,’ Hugh said. ‘You might enjoy it, Krista. It’s about time you climbed aboard.’
In other words, get your arse out of bed at dawn, not that that would be a problem. She never slept well, always rose early and often swam before work. Out here in the country the quiet and the heat made sleeping even more difficult and early morning was the best part of the day.
‘I’d rather not, thanks,’ she said. ‘I haven’t brought the right clothes and I’d prefer to swim. Rod can ride her.’
Hugh glowered but said nothing.
‘I’ll need Krista’s help tomorrow.’ Viivi spoke as though she had to clean the house single-handedly and cook for an approaching army. In reality it would entail fussing over the floral arrangements and annoying the florist by changing her order, then ringing the chef and the caterer and doing the same. That would fill the morning, and in the afternoon, she’d start in on the music and the people bringing the marquee and the extra seating.
Brenda caught Krista’s eye and winked. Thank God for Brenda.
‘No problem, Mama, that’s why I came early.’
***
Oliver arrived home at ten-thirty with Gilbert and Sullivan setting up an ear worm. Much to his surprise, Taylor’s Bend and surrounds housed a number of reasonably competent musicians, some of whom, mainly the teenagers, played with style and finesse. Another cellist had been dragged along, a very shy, blonde teenager named Emma whose mother played flute and when she wasn’t doing that, talked for Australia and also on behalf of Emma.
Emma’s mother introduced her daughter to Oliver and said she’d only been playing for two years but was very talented and would benefit greatly from the experience. When she finally went away to unpack her flute, Oliver said, ‘I’m really glad you’re here, Emma. I thought I’d be all on my own.’
That remark elicited a tiny smile and bright red cheeks. ‘I’m not very good,’ she murmured.
‘I haven’t played for ten or twelve years so that makes us about even. We can muddle along together.’
Except she had been telling the truth. She wasn’t very good and spent most of the rehearsal either getting lost, not playing or playing wrong notes in the right place and the other way round. Luckily she was a sweet kid and took his suggestions well.
Gina certainly knew her stuff and conducted with enthusiasm and buckets of patience and tact. She raised an eyebrow during the tea and biscuit break when he commented that his playing was very rusty and said, ‘You’re a dark horse, aren’t you, Oliver? Why didn’t you do a music degree and play professionally? You certainly would have been good enough. Your tone is beautiful.’
‘I wanted to be a vet.’
‘Fair enough. And the MaDS benefit as well as the animals.’ She laughed and saved him from painful explanations about why he hadn’t gone down that path and how this was the first time he’d been able to touch his cello in many years. And why, as his father put it, he’d run away to hide in the back of beyond and spend his life surrounded by horse manure and flyblown sheep with both hands up a cow’s arse.
As usual, before going to bed Oliver checked the animals and made sure all the gates and doors were locked. The surgery had extra security and sensor lighting because of the drugs he kept on the premises. So far he’d had no trouble but times were changing and he wasn’t about to take any risks.
Billy was across the far side of the field, a dark outline in the faint light of the half-moon. Arch Rival whickered when he opened the stable and said ‘hello’. She seemed fine so he rubbed her nose and left her to it, locking the door as he went.
The surgery was secure and he crunched his way across the parking area to the front door of the house. The strong scent of the old honeysuckle vine covering the far side fence hung in the warm night air. Lovely night. He breathed deeply then let himself in. He had to fit in the visit to Jess Harrop early tomorrow morning and had day surgery at ten, which would be busy because of yesterday’s cancellation. Bed beckoned.
Heavy pounding on the front door woke him. He raised his head groggily from the pillow and focused on the bedside clock. Five-eleven. Daylight filtered in around the edges of the blind. He tossed the sheet off, pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and went to open the door. Must be an emergency although people usually phoned.
Yawning, he swung the door wide. Two men stood on the step. One, in a black shirt and jeans, with tattoos like sleeves on his arms, was either on steroids or spent far too much time pumping iron and looked like an inflated barrel with a beard. The other, taller by a head, wore beige slacks and a white long-sleeved shirt and resembled a sleazy accountant.
A souped-up red Holden ute with a rental company horse float attached was parked outside the gate on the road. He’d be very surprised if either of these two had ever handled a horse.
‘Morning,’ Oliver said. ‘Got a problem?’
‘No, mate,’ said Shorty. ‘We’re looking for a horse and word is it’s here.’
‘A horse?’
‘Yeah. Mind if we have a look? Your stable’s locked.’ The tall one smiled, revealing a space where an upper canine tooth should have resided. An accountant would have had that fixed and claimed it as a business expense.
‘What’s your horse look like?’ Oliver forced a casual tone into his voice as a sudden awareness of danger flooded his body. These two thugs wouldn’t think twice about belting information out of him.
‘Brown. Big.’
Not a lot to go on. ‘Mare or gelding?’
‘Mare.’
‘Brown and big? There are two horses here. One is mine and he’s a bay gelding, the other is a chestnut … you can have a look but the owner brought it here yesterday. Why are you looking for it?’
‘It’s our boss’s horse.’
‘I doubt it’s the horse you’re looking for. What makes you think it is?’ Was it? He only had Krista’s word for any of the information he had about Arch Rival. What if Angus had nicked the horse from a Mr Big? Was he that much of an idiot?
‘Listen, mate, we’ve got no beef with you. Just open the stable and let us take the horse.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t let someone walk in and take an injured animal that’s been left in my care. Wait a moment, please, I need to get dressed.’
Before either man could react, Oliver closed the door.
What the hell was this? Who was their boss? Some Mafia-type character? And what did they want with a horse? Krista Laatonen and her stepbrother had some questions to answer.
Should he phone Rupe or Shannon? Not yet.
He washed and dressed quickly then phoned Krista. He didn’t think she was going to answer but too bad if she was asleep, she’d just have to wake up. After a lengthy wait, she said, ‘Hello.’ Slightly breathless. An image of pink flushed cheeks and partly opened lips flashed into his mind.
‘Oliver Johnson, the vet, h
ere. Sorry for waking you but there’s a problem with your horse. Not medical, something else.’ He added that on the off chance she was concerned.
‘I wasn’t in bed, I was swimming laps,’ she replied tartly. ‘And it’s not my horse, remember?’
‘I don’t have a number for anyone else so you’re it. There are two blokes here wanting to take Arch Rival. They reckon she’s their boss’s horse.’
‘Who’s their boss?’
‘Probably the Godfather by the look of them.’
She cursed softly.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know … I … It’s bloody Angus.’
‘That’s as may be but these two aren’t going to wait quietly out there for much longer. If they get rough I’m calling the police.’
‘No. Don’t do that.’
‘Okay, so do I have your permission to let them take the horse?’
‘No. I’ll get Angus to come. Ask them to wait.’
‘I can try. Don’t know if they’ll agree.’ But he was talking to himself.
When he opened the front door, the dodgy-looking pair were having a smoke by the stable yard. Billy was stickybeaking again but if they thought they were going to lay hands on him they had another think coming.
‘The owner’s sorting this out. Someone’s on their way’
They dropped their cigarette butts on the gravel and ground them out with their feet. Perhaps their attire was a uniform of some sort. Thug wear. The ‘smarmy-one’ line and the ‘enforcer’ line. Would they thump him if he asked them to pick up the butts?
‘How long?’
‘Fifteen, twenty minutes. Like a cup of tea?’
They exchanged a look.
The tall one said, ‘Listen. mate, all you need to do is give us a look at the horse and if it’s not the one we want we’re gone.’
‘How will you know if it’s the one you want?’ These two looked like they’d be hard pressed to sort a horse from a cow.
‘Photo.’ Smarmy pulled a phone from his pocket and scrolled for a minute. ‘Here.’
Oliver looked. The horse was in a yard. A bright coppery chestnut mare, tall and elegant with no white socks. Arch Rival pre-accident and pre-wash.
‘That’s chestnut, not brown, and it’s not the horse I have here,’ he said. ‘The one in my stable has a white hind fetlock.’
‘Prove it.’
‘Why should I?’ hovered on his tongue but after a second’s calculation he shrugged. ‘Okay.’ The sooner this pair left the better.
He took the key from his pocket and led them to the stable. As she’d done last night, Arch Rival snickered her welcome. He opened the half door so the thugs could have a look.
Smarmy studied the horse then the photo and handed the phone to his mate who did the same.
‘What’s your horse’s name?’ asked Oliver, although he knew before the reply came.
‘Calypso Secret.’
‘Meet Arch Rival,’ he said.
‘He’s right. It’s got a white foot,’ said Shorty.
‘Where’s Calypso Secret?’ asked the other one.
‘No idea. I’ve never seen it, or this one, before yesterday. It’s not local or I’d know it. Why don’t you try The Grange? They have horses.’
‘We will, but we’ll wait here for the owner to show up first.’
‘Okay, suit yourselves but I have work to do, if you’ll excuse me.’ Work, as in making breakfast. If he didn’t have something now before the morning began in earnest, he’d be starving by ten.
‘How about that tea?’ Smarmy displayed his missing tooth in what passed as a smile.
‘Take a seat.’ Oliver pointed towards the old wooden bench along the wall of the office. No way was he letting them into his house.
‘Got any coffee?’ Shorty tried his own style of smile. He looked like a bulldog with its mouth open.
‘Yeah.’
Oliver locked the stable and yard gate and strode back to the house.
***
Krista wrapped her towel around her waist and headed for the house. Damn Angus and his idiocy. He could bloody well get out of bed and deal with this himself, injury or not. She charged inside and up the stairs to his room at the far end of the corridor to hers. The door was open. She marched in ready to deliver her ultimatum, but the bed was empty. Unslept in empty. The ensuite was cleared of personal paraphernalia, and when she looked into the walk-in robe most of his clothes had gone.
Angus had done a midnight flit. Krista ran back downstairs to the kitchen where Brandon, Hugh’s private chef, was pottering about.
‘Good morning, Brandon. Have you seen Angus this morning?’
‘Morning, Krista. No, sorry. There’s fresh coffee.’
‘I’d love a cup, thanks. I’m on my way out so I’ll have it while I change.’
Coffee and a warm croissant in hand, Krista ran upstairs.
Ten minutes later she was running back down again, and fifteen minutes after leaving The Grange, having planted her foot on the accelerator, she slowed to a law-abiding speed for the right turn into the main street of Taylor’s Bend and then the left into Victoria Road.
A car and float blocked the vet’s driveway so she pulled in to the side of the road. The gate was locked with chain and padlock. How was she supposed to get in? Climb over? Climb through the fence? She beeped the horn.
Two men appeared from the side of the stable, cigarettes in hand. The door to the house opened and Oliver came out. Krista waited by the gate as he walked across the yard.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I thought your brother was coming.’ He spoke quietly with none of the previous disdain and the frown on his face indicated concern. For her?
‘He’s gone.’
‘Where?’
‘I’ve no idea. He came home last night but when I went to wake him just now he’d gone. With most of his clothes.’ She glanced over his shoulder at the two men. Oliver was right with his Godfather remark.
‘Bastard.’ He unlocked the gate and swung it wide enough for her to enter, then relocked it. ‘How did he leave? His car’s at Stuey’s.’
‘That’s a work car, he took his Porsche. Who are those men?’
‘A couple of thugs. I don’t know what your brother was up to but he was tangling with some nasty types if these are a sample.’
‘Why do they want the horse?’ Thugs? What did that mean? They’d beat information out of her? She wasn’t about to protect Angus but neither was she handing Calypso over to this pair.
‘I don’t know but they know Arch Rival isn’t the right one.’
‘And Calypso is?’
He nodded. ‘I haven’t told them anything. Just said I don’t know either horse.’ He started walking back towards the two men who were watching, smoking. A pair of guard dogs on alert.
‘So they don’t know where she is?’
‘No.’
‘What should I say?’
‘Tell them you own this one and don’t know anything else.’
‘Thanks.’ She meant it.
He flicked her a tight smile. ‘Then you can tell me what the hell is going on.’
Before she could reply, he strode ahead. ‘This is Miss Laatonen. She owns Arch Rival.’
Would they know her name and associate it with Angus? Too late.
The man in brown slacks held out his hand. ‘Tony Griante, Miss Laatonen. Sorry to get you up so early but we hoped you could sort out this little problem for us.’
Krista grasped his hand firmly, staring down the familiar appraisal of her looks and body from the rodent-like eyes, pleased she’d grabbed a cotton skirt and T-shirt in her haste to dress, and not shorts and tank top. Another creep but this one looked nasty with it. And there was no recognition of her name, thank God.
‘Good morning. I was up already. What seems to be the problem?’
‘We understood a horse belonging to our boss was brought here yesterday. Calypso Secret.’
&
nbsp; ‘So? My horse is Arch Rival.’
‘That’s what the vet said. We want to know where Calypso Secret is.’
‘Why are you asking me?’
‘We just wanted to verify that this is your horse.’
‘Why? What right do you have to ask that? Besides, I thought the vet told you.’
‘He did.’
‘And why don’t you believe him? I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous. I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing but it has nothing to do with me.’
She gave him her best glacial stare and he glanced at his sidekick, who’d stood impassive as a brick wall during the exchange, then back to her.
‘If we find out you’re lying, you’ll be very sorry,’ he said.
Krista turned her back on them and said to Oliver. ‘Seeing as I’m here, how’s Archie doing?’
He met her eyes and smiled, a little conspiratorial smile that warmed her heart.
‘Come and have a look. I haven’t had time to give her a thorough check yet what with … one thing and another… but she’s got a bit of swelling on her upper hind leg. Must have hurt it somehow.’
She nodded. ‘Okay. Thanks.’
‘If you’ll excuse us, please …’ Oliver said to the silent pair. ‘You can climb over the gate, can’t you? The way you got in?’
Without a word, they turned and clumped towards their vehicle.
Oliver led her to the stables but he waited just inside the door to watch the men clamber over the gate and get into the ute. The engine started up and they were gone.
Krista exhaled loudly and sagged against the wall. ‘My God! Who were they?’
‘I’m sure your brother knows. Have you any idea where he is?’
‘He’s not my brother. I’m not related to him, not really. He’s my stepbrother. I was hoping they wouldn’t know my name in connection with him.’
‘They didn’t. Can’t you call him?’
He eyed her, doubt clear in the raised eyebrow.
‘I have, of course I have. He’s not answering. Did you tell them Angus was involved?’
‘They never mentioned him so I didn’t. They must know he comes from The Grange so chances are they’ll go there next.’
Where There Is Smoke Page 5