The Troutbeck Testimony Read Online Free PDF

problem had been finally resolved. Which it had, Simmy supposed.
    ‘So, how was your Bank Holiday?’ Melanie asked, with an alert look that suggested she had something of her own to impart on the subject.
    ‘Restful, mostly,’ said Simmy. ‘I walked up to Wansfell Pike with my father. And then along a ridge to a pile of stones. We saw a dead dog,’ she added, for no discernible reason. ‘And my dad heard two men planning a crime.’ She laughed at their expressions. ‘Actually, I don’t suppose it was anything suspicious, but he got quite excited about it.’
    ‘Oh no! Had the dead dog been shot?’ The question came from Bonnie, whose blue eyes were wide with outrage. ‘Those farmers are much too quick to use their guns, if they think their sheep are going to be chased.’
    ‘No, no.’ She could hardly add strangled, actually , for fear of further alarming the girl. ‘There wasn’t any blood on it. But it was quite a nasty surprise. As my dad said, people don’t just abandon their dogs when they die. Some of them hold real funerals, apparently.’
    ‘Course they don’t,’ scoffed Melanie. ‘What a daft idea!’
    ‘They do,’ Bonnie assured her. Then she asked Simmy, ‘What sort was it?’
    ‘Some sort of terrier. Jack Russell, maybe.’ Simmy was vague about dog breeds. ‘White and brown, with shortish legs.’
    ‘What did your dad hear, then?’ asked Melanie. ‘Were these men crouching behind a rock on Wansfell?’
    ‘No, they were at the pub in Troutbeck, and then they drove away in a red car. There was a boy in the back, as well,’ she added, on a sudden thought.
    ‘What?’
    ‘They said he could be the lookout. That’s the bit that does sound rather suspicious.’
    Bonnie was shifting restlessly from foot to foot. ‘My aunt breeds dogs,’ she said. ‘Or she used to, until a little while ago. She absolutely adored them. But things have got difficult, lately. There’s a gang of dognappers working in this area.’ Her face tightened. ‘Sounds as if you might have got them in Troutbeck now.’
    ‘Lucky I haven’t got a dog, then,’ said Simmy lightly.
    ‘I didn’t know you weren’t breeding any more,’ Melaniesaid to Bonnie. ‘It was bringing in some useful cash, wasn’t it?’
    Simmy recalled hearing of a farmer near Coniston who was making thousands of pounds a year from Border terriers. ‘I gather it can be lucrative,’ she said.
    ‘When it works,’ Bonnie nodded. ‘A lot can go wrong.’
    ‘Like my father’s Lakeland terrier. He ended up in a rescue because he wasn’t right for breeding.’
    ‘Too right,’ Melanie said darkly. She was fighting a recurring battle with her mother over a rescue dog that had failed to come up to expectations. Mrs Todd wanted to send it back, and Melanie was trying to convince her that it was irresponsible to keep adopting dogs for a few months only to reject them in the end. It pained Melanie more every time it happened, but she was helpless to prevent it. ‘As far as I can see, there are already way too many dogs in the world.’
    ‘You can’t generalise,’ said Bonnie diffidently. ‘Some are in huge demand and some end up in rescues. There’s not much connection between the two.’
    Simmy had nothing more to contribute to the conversation. She wished she’d had the sense to stay off the subject. ‘What about you?’ she asked Melanie. ‘The Bank Holiday weekend, I mean.’
    Her assistant gave a satisfied little smile before replying, ‘I went out with Jasper, actually. On Saturday night. We had steak in a pub. It was great.’
    ‘Hey – that’s brilliant. He finally got his act together, then. After all these weeks.’
    ‘Yeah. Well …’ Melanie shrugged. ‘We’ve both been busy. Lambing and all that. He’s a vet, remember.’
    ‘And …’ Simmy prompted.
    ‘That’s it, really. He wants to do it again, so it must have been okay for him as well.’
    Melanie’s love life had provided Simmy with considerable