did they find the imprints of Belinda’s feet, much less the signs of rooting that would probably have been Belinda’s first act on being released from the van. The inference was that wherever she had been taken out, it wasn’t up here on Old Bareface, and since Shandy had already decided this would be an extremely silly place to keep a pig, he was no further along than he’d been before.
When the van had been thoroughly searched, photographed, fingerprinted, and whatnot, the question arose as to whether it should be impounded as evidence or returned to the frustrated farrier at Forgery Point There was indeed a schedule posted in the cab. According to its timetable, Flackley should at this moment be over in Hoddersville, attending to several draft animals belonging to various members Of the Headless Horsemen, who had all but nosed out the Balaclava Brigade last year and were bragging that they’d surely capture the trophy this time.
Shandy felt a mean satisfaction at their being thwarted, then his better nature asserted itself and he threw his weight on the side of getting the van back to Flackley, or at least making available to him such tools as were essential to his craft. Since most of the van’s contents had been removed and dumped in a heap back at the pigpens, presumably by the pignappers, then checked for fingerprints and bloodstains and found wanting, therefore useless as evidence, the state police agreed to strike a compromise. If the college would lend Flackley a van, they’d release the equipment.
Shandy took it upon himself to say they would and persuaded Stott to drive him back to arrange the matter. On the way, he managed to bring the subject around to sunflower seeds, turning out his own pockets in a semijocular way to see if he himself could have dropped them, although he knew perfectly well he hadn’t, and getting Stott to stop the car and do the same.
Stott cooperated without hesitation, surveying with gentle wonderment the agglomeration of articles he had been carrying around, but finding no sunflower seeds. That ruled out the possibility that he himself had inadvertently spilled them when he’d visited the van after it was first found.
It did not obviate the possibility that Stott had spilled them last night, though, because he’d been wearing different clothes then. Why in Sam Hill couldn’t Shandy think of a suspect who was somebody he didn’t like?
Chapter 8
B Y THE TIME SHANDY had talked the superintendent of buildings and grounds into lending a van, got Flackley’s tools and equipment loaded into it, and driven the vehicle out to Forgery Point with Helen following in their own car so he’d have transportation home, the farrier appeared to have lost his former zeal to snatch up the fallen torch.
He and Officer Madigan had made themselves snug in front of an open fire, with a card table set up and a game of gin rummy well under way. Various mugs, plates, and empty glasses showed they hadn’t lacked for refreshment. Officer Madigan had removed her uniform jacket and looked flushed and rosy, no doubt from the heat of the fire; also a trifle vexed at being interrupted in the performance of her duty.
Shandy hadn’t noticed before, but Frank Flackley was what he supposed some women would consider a reasonably good-looking man. He must ask Helen about that when they got back out to the car. In any event, Flackley took the keys of the college van with a moderate amount of grace, and did not seem overwhelmingly chagrined when he saw the schedule and realized how many horses he’d disappointed that day. He merely remarked that he probably ought to call them up from somewhere and explain but the chances were they’d already heard about Aunt Martha on the news. Then Flackley cast a thoughtful eye back at the card table and Officer Madigan.
The day was, in fact, further spent than Shandy had realized by the time he was back in his own comfortable car. It felt good to be alone with Helen.
When the van had been thoroughly searched, photographed, fingerprinted, and whatnot, the question arose as to whether it should be impounded as evidence or returned to the frustrated farrier at Forgery Point There was indeed a schedule posted in the cab. According to its timetable, Flackley should at this moment be over in Hoddersville, attending to several draft animals belonging to various members Of the Headless Horsemen, who had all but nosed out the Balaclava Brigade last year and were bragging that they’d surely capture the trophy this time.
Shandy felt a mean satisfaction at their being thwarted, then his better nature asserted itself and he threw his weight on the side of getting the van back to Flackley, or at least making available to him such tools as were essential to his craft. Since most of the van’s contents had been removed and dumped in a heap back at the pigpens, presumably by the pignappers, then checked for fingerprints and bloodstains and found wanting, therefore useless as evidence, the state police agreed to strike a compromise. If the college would lend Flackley a van, they’d release the equipment.
Shandy took it upon himself to say they would and persuaded Stott to drive him back to arrange the matter. On the way, he managed to bring the subject around to sunflower seeds, turning out his own pockets in a semijocular way to see if he himself could have dropped them, although he knew perfectly well he hadn’t, and getting Stott to stop the car and do the same.
Stott cooperated without hesitation, surveying with gentle wonderment the agglomeration of articles he had been carrying around, but finding no sunflower seeds. That ruled out the possibility that he himself had inadvertently spilled them when he’d visited the van after it was first found.
It did not obviate the possibility that Stott had spilled them last night, though, because he’d been wearing different clothes then. Why in Sam Hill couldn’t Shandy think of a suspect who was somebody he didn’t like?
Chapter 8
B Y THE TIME SHANDY had talked the superintendent of buildings and grounds into lending a van, got Flackley’s tools and equipment loaded into it, and driven the vehicle out to Forgery Point with Helen following in their own car so he’d have transportation home, the farrier appeared to have lost his former zeal to snatch up the fallen torch.
He and Officer Madigan had made themselves snug in front of an open fire, with a card table set up and a game of gin rummy well under way. Various mugs, plates, and empty glasses showed they hadn’t lacked for refreshment. Officer Madigan had removed her uniform jacket and looked flushed and rosy, no doubt from the heat of the fire; also a trifle vexed at being interrupted in the performance of her duty.
Shandy hadn’t noticed before, but Frank Flackley was what he supposed some women would consider a reasonably good-looking man. He must ask Helen about that when they got back out to the car. In any event, Flackley took the keys of the college van with a moderate amount of grace, and did not seem overwhelmingly chagrined when he saw the schedule and realized how many horses he’d disappointed that day. He merely remarked that he probably ought to call them up from somewhere and explain but the chances were they’d already heard about Aunt Martha on the news. Then Flackley cast a thoughtful eye back at the card table and Officer Madigan.
The day was, in fact, further spent than Shandy had realized by the time he was back in his own comfortable car. It felt good to be alone with Helen.
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