The action hits Grange Farm

Seeing the looks of anxiety on Mrs Hannaford's and Soppy's faces, Brenda decided they needed to develop some strategy in the light of what she had read in the note. As she took the large mug of tea from Mrs Hannaford, she tried to smile reassuringly.

"I must make contact with Inspector Temple. That means I'll need to go into the village."

"You can't, ma dear. Now that chap of Redbourne's is 'ere, you'm never goin' nowhere."

"There be no one 'bout today," Soppy said hopefully. "P'rhaps she could ..."

"Think straight, 'arry! They'm in the village, that's why she can't go. Right into a trap if she did!"

The three sat glumly in silence. There seemed no way out of the situation. The old grandfather clock ticked away the minutes. To Brenda the ticks grew louder and louder.

"Tell 'e what!" Soppy grinned as if he had the solution. "I'll go to the village t'morrer and wait round the Green for an 'our or so! I can chat to some of the old chaps. They might've seen somethin'"

Mrs Hannaford fairly beamed with pride in her Harry, he might not be the brightest lad around but he was brave and honest, in her eyes. Brenda pondered the suggestion.

"They'll be expecting to see me," Brenda said. "But if I describe them to you then ..."

"Oh, I dunno, I really dunno." Mrs Hannaford interrupted. "Just s'ppose ..."

She never finished the sentence. There was a tremendous knocking on the back door. The three of them froze as they saw it open. A tall, fair-haired young man stepped quickly and furtively inside. Soppy got up, his mouth open and a flush spreading across his cheeks. Mrs Hannaford grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Brenda got up instinctively.

"Who the hell are you? What do ..."

"Mrs Ellacott? Mrs Brenda Ellacott?" The stranger asked.

"Yes!" Brenda paled and clutched at the kitchen table for support.

"Thank God!" The young man whistled silently, his whole frame relaxing. "Look, I'm sorry for the shock I've given you all. There's not much time! I'm Constable Truscott.." He paused and corrected himself "Detective Constable Truscott," He added. "I'm working with Inspector Temple." It was Brenda who now relaxed. She nodded reassurance to Soppy and Mrs Hannaford. "I saw Davey and some other bloke in the village. So I took the chance to nip up here."

Mrs Hannaford saw that the bottom of his trousers and his shoes were caked in thick red mud. "You'm come over the 'igh field?"

"Yes! But there's no time - I must tell you that Detective Sergeant Cantwell and his wife were shot - almost two weeks ago. They were outside Inspector Temple's flat." Truscott was pleased to note the effect his words had produced. This was more like being a Mike Hammer clone! He pulled himself together from out of his vivid fantasy world. "They are both recovering."

"Thank the Lord!" Mrs Hannaford said.

"Inspector Temple wants to find out who the man is staying here with Davey. Do you know?"

"We don't," Brenda responded, "but we know he was more than a little on edge when he arrived here. He's got a London type accent. He's still jumpy, though less so than when he first came." She paused, "if he catches you here, there'll be hell to pay!"

Mrs Hannaford tugged at Soppy's sleeve. "Be a good lad, 'arry, watch out front and give us warnin' if you'm sees anythin'."

He did not need to be told twice. Without further ado, Soppy disappeared into the yard. At last, he thought, he was being useful to Mrs Hannaford and Brenda.

"Do you think this man was involved in the shooting?" Brenda asked, hoping the answer would be 'no'.

"That's what we need to find out." Truscott said. "I've got a pretty good description and now you confirm he's not local and probably from London. Inspector Temple and I will have something to work on."

"Redbourne is due here on Friday. There's a big race on Saturday at the County Ground. He's hoping to pull off some big betting job." Brenda glanced at Mrs Hannaford for confirmation. She nodded. "The man that Redbourne landed on the farm arrived quite suddenly, late at night. He's always on the key-vee..."

"What's the 'key-vee'?" Truscott was puzzled, he'd not seen that word in Spillane. Maybe it was code for something.

"On edge, on tenterhooks!" Brenda was irritated, "anyway, what are we supposed to do?"

Truscott didn't know. He was not, however, going to lose face and admit it. Was this man, the shooter. Truth to tell, he did not know. However, he must give them some advice.

"You must be on your guard, all of you. All we do know, is that whoever works with Redbourne is up to no good and probably quite dangerous."

"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Hannaford exclaimed.

Truscott ignored her and tried to think up a strategy, as fast as he could. "Are you going to be at the races?"

"Harry and I have to go. We'll be there looking after the dogs." Forgetting that Soppy's name was Harry, Truscott frowned when the name was mentioned by Brenda. She noticed this and explained. "Harry's the one who knows the most about the dogs, he trains them, cares for them."

"Well," Truscott said, "I'll be there too. I'll try to make contact." He saw her frown. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. Redbourne and his lot, don't know me. They recognise Inspector Temple, so he'll keep a very low profile. Nothing will be done to jeopardise your safety or the ..."

The door opened and Soppy rushed through, in an excited way. "They'm drivin' up the lane. Quick, come with me to the cottage." He grabbed Truscott by the arm and, without more ado, bustled him out through the side-door.

It seemed just seconds but it must, in fact, have been some minutes later that Brenda and Mrs Hannaford heard the car doors slam. The kitchen door was thrown open: Davey and Willis had returned. Both men had been drinking; a strong smell of beer came from them.

"So - what have you two been up to?" Davey leered at them. "Behaving yourselves, we hope!" He leaned over Brenda. "Still with just old Soppy for company, there couldn't have been much fun!" He giggled and turned to Willis. "Shall we show the little lady here what fun really is?"

Mrs Hannaford got up from the table and banged the large copper kettle on the range. The noise startled both men.

"Time for a strong cup of tea, I think." Mrs Hannaford said in menacing tones.

Davey straightened up and grinned at her. "We didn't intend for you to miss out, Mrs H. No need to get jealous!"

Mrs Hannaford picked up the long poker and plunged it into the fire beneath the range. Without being told, Davey and Willis both sat down. Drunk or not - they realised the foolhardiness of angering Mrs H. Besides, if Redbourne heard, he'd do more than threaten them with a poker!