Death on the Diagonal - By Nero Blanc Page 0,21
tape recorder from his jacket. “Getting back to business; I’m just going to poke around and make some verbal notes, Mr. Collins.” He began to head toward the stable. “I’ll need a list of everything that was in the tack room with a value placed on it. The policy was drawn up for a content value of three hundred thousand dollars. I assume that’s going to cover it, but we’re going to need to see some written appraisals or receipts. Whatever documentation you have.”
“I’ll have to look around,” Todd replied. “Most of the saddles cost upwards of four thousand dollars. They were French Bruno Delgranges and Luc Childérics as well as English Crosbies . . . but it’s not simply a matter of replacing them. Once a rider gets his—or her—rump into something he’s comfortable with, anything else feels like a wooden merry-go-round seat. Stupidly, most of the paperwork was kept in the filing cabinet right in the tack room—which wasn’t fireproof.”
“I think we’ll be able to give you some leeway there,” Mize told him. “I’m sure your supplier will have records on what you paid.”
“I’d like to take a look at what’s left of the tack room myself.” Rosco added.
“Sure.”
The three men walked through the mud and entered what was once the building’s west entrance. That half of the structure had collapsed into a pile of charred beams and ruined box stalls; the threatening odor of smoke and drenched wood and ash remained, while the burned leather of the saddles and bridles emitted a ghoulish stench of scorched flesh. Apart from the pervasive smell and a few blackened patches of wood, the eastern end of the stable remained untouched. Once the sprinkler system had been activated, the fire had been stopped dead in its tracks.
Collins shook his head as he stared at the scene. “I could just shoot that damn plumber.”
“As long as you had a work order for the sprinkler repair, you’re in the clear as far as Dartmouth is concerned, Mr. Collins,” Clint told him. “It shows intent.”
“I don’t give a hang about the insurance. I just hate to see the place torn up like this.” Collins kicked at a number of steel bits and stirrup irons lying near his feet, all that remained of some of the ornate trimmings that were as much a part of a horse show as rider and steed.
“Maybe you could tell me what happened the other night,” Rosco prompted.
Collins drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I had just finished watching the evening news, so I can place the time as being a bit after seven. I was in the den. The room looks out over this stable, which is damn lucky. I don’t know why I happened to glance outside, but I did . . . and that’s when I spotted flames kicking up through the window in the tack room. I saw the shadow of someone swatting at them with a large cloth, which I assume was a horse blanket; obviously that person was Orlando. I don’t know how he could’ve been so stupid; we had three-quarters of a million dollars worth of horseflesh stabled in this barn, and there he was trying to put out the fire before getting the animals to safety. Anyway, I just tore out of the house, bum leg or no. All I could think about was, save the horses.”
“Which you did,” Clint said.
“Damn straight. I ran down here, yanked open one of the doors, and found Orlando standing there like a bump on a log. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking. Anyway, we got all the stock out. Then Polk ducked back inside to activate the busted sprinklers.” Collins abruptly ceased talking; his eyes moved past Rosco and Clint. “Ah, here’s Jack . . . Jack Curry. He’s the head trainer around here. He helped me drag Orlando out. Good thing he showed up when he did. I couldn’t have done it alone.”
Jack introduced himself to Clint and Rosco and finished with, “I saw you drive up. Just thought I’d swing by and throw in my two cents if you needed it.”
“Sure,” Rosco answered. He looked at Curry, who gazed affably back as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Rosco’s suspicious nature made him wonder whether Jack had arrived in order to validate answers rather than supply them. “Perhaps you could tell me when you first noticed the fire.”
Curry pointed to one of the three largest