For Sale or Swap - Alyssa Brugman [63]
'Can I make anyone some coffee?' asked Shelby's mother, leaning forward.
'They're here,' said Shelby's dad, dropping the drape and heading to the front door.
Shelby was relieved to see that it was the same constable who came the first time, and not Sergeant Everard. He took off his hat when he walked in the door, and shook Shelby's father's hand. Shelby's mother brought some chairs in from the dining room so that everyone could sit down.
Mrs Crook didn't waste any time.
'So did you check him out?'
'Yes, I've just been to see Mr Olsen.' The policeman shook his head. 'This is such a terrible business,' he said.
'So?' asked Mrs Crook.
'Mr Olsen bought the horse through a broker. He has all the documentation. There was a veterinary inspection and a valid receipt. He bought the horse fair and square.'
'But it's our horse!' protested Shelby's father.
'Yes, but can you prove it? Does he have a brand? Do you have registration papers? A receipt from your original purchase? Even photographs?'
Shelby stood up. She ran to her room and got the handful of photographs of Blue from her bedside table.
The policeman looked through them and shook his head. 'These could have been taken anywhere. There's not even a date on them. There is no evidence that you ever owned this horse. It's your word against Mr Olsen's and he has all the proof.'
'This is outrageous!' said Mrs Crook. 'What about our word? There has to be thirty people at the Pony Club who will tell you that the horse was Shelby's.'
'Yes, but none of you can testify that Shelby didn't sell the horse. We know that she did enter into a transaction – she said so herself.' The policeman turned his hat over and over in his hands. 'Was he insured? You might be able to recoup your losses that way.'
'But will I get Blue back?' Shelby asked.
'It doesn't matter,' muttered Shelby's mother. 'He wasn't insured anyway.'
Mrs Crook leaned forward and put her hand on Shelby's mother's knee. 'You need a good lawyer. We have some friends who might be able to help. When I get home I'll give them a call.'
Constable Bidgood shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but there's no case here. It's just bad luck. These things happen. At least you will know for next time.'
He stood up to leave and Mrs Crook followed close behind him.
'This is not the end of it,' she told Shelby at the door. 'Something will be done, don't you worry.'
'Thanks, Mrs C. And thanks for a great day. Some parts of it were really fun.' Shelby ran to catch up with Constable Bidgood before he drove away.
'Can you please just tell me one thing?' she asked.
The policeman stopped. 'What's that?'
'The place where the Olsens keep him – was it nice?'
The policeman put his hat on his head. 'Yes, it was all right.'
'I mean . . . did he have room to move around? Was there grass? Can you tell me what it looked like?'
The constable leaned his back against the side of the patrol car, and tilted his head to the side. 'Well, there was a paddock and it would have been around fifty metres by, say, twenty-five. There was plenty of grass in it – about up to my ankle, except it was bare under a few trees here and there. The fences had wooden poles into the ground, and wooden poles along the top, and under that was a wire.'
'Post and rail,' said Shelby, smiling.
'Yes. And in the corner there was a shed – quite tall, around the size of a single car garage. It was enclosed on three sides, but the front was open.'
'What about water?' asked Shelby.
'I'm pretty sure there was an old bath tub half in and half out of the shed.'
'And what about the people? What about the little girl?' Shelby asked.
Constable Bidgood scratched the back of his head. 'She's a sweet little thing – polite, quiet, but with a lovely big smile. Her parents love her to pieces.'
Shelby bit her lip.
'Let me tell