Page 14 of His Worst Crime

“What…?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. … I’ve just found him. We cleaned the wound well. I mean it couldn’t, but it has… The wound’s got infected. He’s got a fever.”

Ramon slipped into the box and knelt beside David. Estel raised his head as he recognized Ramon’s scent, and he stroked the horse’s head and neck. He looked at the wound covering. It had held, and he had been there watching David dress it. He had seen nothing to fault the care the younger man had given his horse. But Estel’s lower leg now looked obviously swollen, and this fever must have come from the cut. Stroking his hand gently down the swollen leg it felt hot, and Estel quickly lashed out against his touch, not quite a kick but a warning. The leg was clearly sensitive.

“OK, time to call the vet. Do you have a number?”

“Yeah, I don’t know it, but it’ll be in Carme’s office.”

“Where is she?”

“She and her girlfriend… they had a wedding this weekend, in Aragón. They’ll be back tomorrow. She left us to it. We all know the drill for the regular day-to-day stuff.”

“OK, if we can’t get in touch with Carme’s vet, I’ll call in the police one. Do you know where in her office she'd have his number?”

David eased Estel’s head off his lap, and gently got to his feet so as not to spook the horse.

“I’ll show you.”

As they walked through the stables, Ramon was aware of David’s physicality, his shoulder and hip swinging along so close to him. He wanted to reach out and pull him close, but they were both now estranged by the crisis of the horse’s ill health. David said nothing about what had just happened down in the quarry, and Ramon could think of no way to broach the subject, so they walked in silence. At the end of the block from Estel’s box was an office. The door was unlocked and they went in. Tidiness was clearly not Carme’s forte, though it looked like the office of someone who knew where to find things—even if no one else could. Papers were stacked in two messy piles on the desk, weighted down with an old horseshoe and a worming syringe still in its box, next to an aging computer. Books were arranged on a couple of cabinets around the walls, propped up with more piles of papers and brochures. The titles, mainly in Spanish or Catalan, were things like Equine Veterinarian, An A–Z of Horse Health, and Breaking In – A Horse Trainer’s Guide. Pieces of broken harness, a coiled lunge rein, and mouth bits of various types were piled on other surfaces. There was a large white-board planner on the wall beside the desk, and a free calendar from a feed company, still showing last month’s dates, hanging on the wall behind.

“OK, where do we start?” Ramon mused.

“She has a diary for all the day-to-day stuff,” David said. “Maybe she’s got phone numbers in there? I could give her a call.”

“No, she’ll come roaring straight back. Let her enjoy the wedding.”

Ramon walked around the desk. He couldn’t see anything that looked like a diary planner on top, so he started opening drawers. In the top left one he found it: a dog-eared diary planner with a black vinyl cover. Flipping through, he found a list of phone numbers at the back.

“Here we are,” he said, reading out the entry: “ ‘Dr. Ernest Iglesias, vet. Better & cheaper than Serveis Veterinararis SL’.”

He was already dialing. As he talked to the vet, he watched David, who was perusing the contents of Carme’s office with mild curiosity, picking up the occasional book or brochure here and there, and flicking through it. At one point he looked up, and his gaze met Ramon’s. He blushed and looked away quickly, a storm of emotions clouding his normally clear blue eyes. Ramon hung up.

“He’ll be here in half an hour.”

David nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes, keeping his gaze on whatever he could find in the office to occupy him. He was beautiful, but clearly troubled. Ramon had no idea what demons from his past or present might be chasing him, though he wished he could help. If only David would let him in.

“Hey, ah…” He had no idea what to say. “Ah… I’m sorry for what happened down there, by the pond.. I mean….” He laughed. “I’m not sorry actually, I liked it. But I didn’t mean to… take advantage…”

“No, it’s OK. We’re cool.” David’s gaze met his briefly, before flicking away again. “I, ah….” Now he was looking around the room, anywhere but at Ramon. “Yeah, it was… It was … nice. But maybe we shouldn’t… we shouldn’t… again.”

He trailed off again. And now he was facing the wall away from Ramon. He seemed to be containing himself. There was a storm brewing there, but it wouldn’t boil over.

“I’ll go check on Estel.”

And then he was gone. Ramon sat in the office for a while, trying to control his feelings. So that was that. Stupid idiot that he was. What had he been doing there, making some sort of declaration of love? They’d just rubbed up against each other, shared a kiss. It was nothing. Guys do that all the time, and then they’re on to the next one. Barcelona’s Gaixample district is full of queens kissing, rubbing up against each other, fucking in twos, threes and groups. It’s just sex; it doesn’t mean anything. That was probably all it had been for David. It was only that he, Ramon, had to turn a silly kiss into a major event.

And then—was it just worry about Estel?—a huge wave of emotion, of sadness, anger and despair swept over him. For several long minutes he fought to keep his tears at bay. He had to stop and control himself. David would think he was nuts. But there it was, another guy he’d fallen for, hook, line, and sinker. And of course nothing was reciprocated. David didn’t want anything to do with him. He was in a vulnerable position. Maybe he thought Ramon might badmouth him to Carme and get him sacked. So, he’d tried to let Ramon down as gently as he could. But there it was: he wasn’t interested. People never were. Was it because he was a cop? Was it because he was too intense? Or too old-fashioned, wanting just one man for himself, for himself alone? Was that too much to ask?

He wanted to leave, head back to his apartment, leave David to his life, whatever life he had made for himself here at the stables. But he couldn’t leave Estel. The gelding was his horse, his police mount, his responsibility. And also his love, a surer, more faithful love than any you might expect from a human. He would at least be faithful to Estel, and stick it out, here at the stables, until he could take his horse back to the police stables and be done with all this. He took out his phone and checked himself in the camera, made sure he didn’t look all red-eyed and weepy. Then he left Carme’s office, closing the door behind him, and began the long walk back to Estel’s box, where an English stablehand was sitting with his horse.

eight

Doctor Ernest Iglesias was a small, fit and muscular man of about thirty-five, dressed in a green overall and boots as if he’d just come up from the country. A mop of shiny dark hair that was constantly falling down into his eyes caused him to toss his head back often, the way a horse might fight against too tight a rein. His quick nervous energy instantly transformed the mood in any room he entered. And the mood in the box when Maria showed him in was grim.

David and Ramon were both there, accompanying Estel, but an awkward silence hung between them. Neither knew what to say to the other, yet neither was willing to leave. Estel was breathing feverishly, his head resting in Ramon’s lap.

“What have we here then?” the vet asked, dropping his bag beside him in the sawdust.