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“I don’t suppose you have any idea exactly when the tractor went missing?” A
Beddoes shook his head. “We were only gone a week. We’re not that big an operation, really, and it’s mostly arable. Some cereals, vegetables, potatoes. Rapeseed’s our biggest crop by far. We supply a specialist high-end oil maker. As you probably noticed, we also have a few pigs and chickens to keep the local quality restaurants supplied. Free-range chickens, of course, when it’s possible. And the pigs are British Landrace. Excellent meat. So there really wasn’t much to do last week.”
“I’ve heard that certain breeds of pig can be valuable,” A
“Quite, I suppose.”
“I wonder why they weren’t taken, too?”
“I should think these people specialize, wouldn’t you? There’s a lot of difference between getting rid of a tractor and a pig. Also, you’ve got to know how to handle pigs. They can be nasty when they want to be.”
“I suppose so,” said A
“How am I supposed to do that, apart from standing outside the sty all night with a shotgun in my hands?”
“I’d forget about the shotgun, if I were you, sir. They only get people into trouble. There must be special fences, alarms, Country Watch, that sort of thing.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Where was the key?”
Beddoes looked away. “What key?”
“To the tractor. I imagine if it’s modern and expensive it has various security features.”
“Yes.”
“So where did you keep the key?”
“Hanging on a hook in the garage.”
“And the car keys? The Beemer and the Range Rover.”
Beddoes patted his trouser pocket. “They’re on my key ring. I carry them with me.”
“But you didn’t take the tractor key with you while you were away?”
“Are you here to interrogate me or to help me recover my stolen tractor?”
A
“How could I know something like this was going to happen?” Beddoes had reddened and started waving his arms around. “We were ru
“John,” said his wife. “Calm down. Your blood pressure.”
Beddoes smoothed his hand over his hair. “Right. Sorry.” He turned to A
“I’ve no idea,” said A
“Frank Lane from over the dale said he’d feed the pigs and chickens and keep an eye on everything for us. Not that we blame Frank for what happened, of course. He can’t stand on twenty-four-hour vigil any more than I can. Besides, he’s got his own farm to take care of, and it’s far bigger than ours.” He laughed. “Frank’s a real farmer, as he never ceases to inform us. And he’s got that tearaway son of his to worry about. We’re just grateful he was able to help at all.”
“What makes you call his son a tearaway?” A
“Oh, he’s always been a handful, ever since he was a nipper. Mischievous imp. He got into some trouble with the police a while back.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“Frank wasn’t specific about it, but I think it was something to do with a stolen car. Joyriding. Got probation, community service, something like that. I didn’t like to say anything to Frank, but to be honest, the lad always seemed a bit of a shiftless and mischievous sort to me, if truth be told. He doesn’t live at the farm anymore, but he turns up now and again to see his father.”
“Capable of stealing a tractor?”
“I’m not saying that. I don’t think he’s basically dishonest.” Beddoes took a deep breath. “Just misguided. Frank calls me a hobby farmer. Laughs at me behind my back, like they all do. It’s true, I suppose. But I was born on a farm and grew up on one, dammit, until I was twelve.”
“I see,” said A
“I wouldn’t really call it bitterness. More envy. They tease me, make fun of me, exclude me from their little cliques, but that’s just their way. You know Yorkshire folk. God knows how many years before they finally accept you, if they ever do.”
“Any recent disputes, arguments?”
“None that I can think of.”
“Nor me,” Patricia said.
A
“Do you have any security alarms?” A
Beddoes snorted. “What, up here? Waste of bloody money, like I told the constable earlier. Any self-respecting criminal would be long gone before a patrol car got up here, even if one happened to be free when you needed it.”
He was probably right, A
“Right you are,” said Beddoes. “Please keep me informed.”
“We will.”
Patricia Beddoes lingered behind her husband, her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Beddoes,” said Doug Wilson, ever the polite young man.
“You’re welcome. Good-bye.”
Once they had put their rain gear on again, A
“A kid could have broken into that garage in five seconds,” A