The man looked like a nasty character, with a thin, unshaven face; narrowed, piercing eyes; dirty, baggy clothing and a grubby cigarette clutched between his fingers.
It was obvious he was loitering; he had no business standing in the shadows behind the horse stable of the vet's office.
After he had finished his cigarette, he tossed it over the fence. Then he brought out his little lighter and a small, pocket-sized bottle of lighter fluid, dousing the fence thickly with it. Then he carefully lit the fence and stood away, doing the same with several different spots.
He was an arsonist. An arsonist nursing a grudge against horses and everything to do with them. That's why he had chosen this place; a perfectly innocent stable (or so it seemed). It would be an easy job. Besides, he had found someone -- someone who seemed to also have some sort of a grudge against the veterinarian -- who would pay him for the task.
With nothing but the ghost of a dark smile haunting his ugly face, the arsonist skipped quickly into the shadows and vanished around the corner, while flames leapt hungrily up around the wood of the stable.
