“Can you tell me why?”
A pained chuckle came from the corner of the room. “You don’t give up, do you, Jude?”
“No, I don’t. The reason you won’t tell me-you know, why you know Alec Potton didn’t kill Walter-is that something to do with your blackmailing activities?”
“Now why would you think that?”
“Because I can’t see any other reason why you’d keep quiet about it-unless the information was of some financial value to you.”
“Well now, that might be a very shrewd observation.”
“I can take that as a ‘yes’ then, can I?”
“You’re welcome to do so. But I’m still not going to tell you why I know Alec Potton didn’t do it.”
“Is it something to do with the Dalrymples?”
“And why should it be?”
“Because Sonia’s very tense about something, which could be a threat of blackmail. And if you knew details about her marriage that she didn’t want made public, or even details she didn’t want her husband to find out about…”
She let the ideas trail hopefully in the air, but Donal only let out another painful chuckle and said, “I’m enjoying listening to how your mind works, Jude, but you’re still not going to get anything out of me.”
She tried yet another tack. “I know about other people you’re blackmailing.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Very generous of the Brewises to let you camp out here, isn’t it?”
This time the idea seemed genuinely to amuse him. Jude pressed home her advantage. “Are you going to tell me what you’re blackmailing them about?”
“Well, I’m a fair man, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t, because the secret in that case is not one I can imagine you spreading around.”
“So what is the secret?”
“Would you be surprised, Jude, if I told you that Mrs. Brewis had…a past?”
“Nothing would surprise me less.”
“Right. Well, I got this from a Russian horse dealer I do the occasional bit of business with. He was down at Long Bamber with me one day when the Brewises were ‘riding out’ and he told me he recognised her.”
“Oh?”
“Whore who used to work the Moscow international hotels. Expensive one but still a whore.”
So Jude’s thought about a “tart’s boudoir” hadn’t been so far off the mark after all.
“Well, thank you, Donal, that’s most generous. You’re right, though. It’s not information I would use.”
“I know, but I think it could be a nice little earner for me for quite a while.”
“Be careful, though. If you get too pressing, I think Victor Brewis could turn nasty.”
“I’m damned sure he could. Don’t worry, I’ll watch my back.”
“So, though you’re so generous with the Brewises’ secrets, are you still not going to share the Dalrymples’ with me?”
“No, I’m not,” he said firmly. Then came a “Damn” when he realised he’d fallen into her trap.
“Thank you very much, Donal. At least you’ve confirmed that you are blackmailing the Dalrymples.”
“Ah, but I haven’t given you anything else. I may be Irish, but I’m not entirely stupid, you know.”
“You’re very far from stupid.”
“That’s true. Do you know, out of school I got a scholarship to Trinity College, Dublin. To read history.”
“But-”
“I never took it up, though. Far more interested in horses. Always was.”
This was a fascinating insight into Donal Geraghty’s past, and at any other time Jude would have followed up on it. But not right then.
“Donal, listen. You know that Nicky Dalrymple is a violent man?”
“I’d got that impression, yes.”
“He might not take very kindly to being blackmailed either.”
“I’ll watch my back with that one too.”
“But it’s Sonia Dalrymple I’m concerned about. Do you have to blackmail her?”
“Well, a man has to make a living, and that couple are almost indecently well heeled. They’re not going to miss a few thousand”-he smiled wryly-“given to such a worthy cause as the Injured Jockeys Fund. And I can’t pretend I didn’t see what I saw from the hayloft, so…”
“Donal, all I’m asking is for you to show a little pity. Sonia’s in a terrible state and…”
They seemed to hear the sound at the same time. Both raised hands to silence the other. Footsteps were approaching the stable block from the side away from the manor house.
Jude moved softly to the broken window.
Walking past, almost close enough for her to touch, with his eyes set determinedly ahead of him, was Nicky Dalrymple.
In his hand was a large kitchen knife.
37
Except for giving directions, Imogen Potton said nothing to Carole on the way home in the Renault. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She shrank into her seat, sniffling occasionally, looking younger by the minute.
Once at home, all she seemed to want was for her mother to baby her, and her mother, rather to Carole’s surprise, obliged. Having set her guest up with a cup of coffee in the sitting room, Hilary Potton vanished upstairs with her daughter. She was some time getting Imogen in and out of a bath, and didn’t come down till the girl was tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle and on the verge of sleep.
“Sorry about that,” she said, entering the sitting room with a cafetiere. “Can I top you up?”
“Thank you.”
Hilary Potton settled down in a frayed armchair with her own cup, and, as usual, there was no problem in getting her to start talking. “Poor Immy. She’s taken about as much as she can take. You know, I often wish I’d never met Alec.”
“You think all her problems are down to him, do you?”
“What else is there to think? His constantly going off with other women is what broke up our marriage, which meant Immy had to grow up in an atmosphere of constant rowing and arguments. And now he’s proved to be a murderer too.”
“That hasn’t actually been proved yet,” said Carole cautiously.
“As good as. Just needs the court proceedings to dot the i ’s and cross the t ’s. And what’s that going to do for Immy-having a father in prison for life? No, as soon as this is all over, we’ll move away from Fethering.”
“Any idea where?”
“I don’t know. A long way. Australia? New Zealand, maybe.”
“But if you did that, neither of you would be able to visit your husband in prison.”
Hilary Potton’s look turned venomous. “Do you think either of us will want to visit my husband in prison?”
“I can understand why you might not, but Imogen still seems to be devoted to her father.”
“All the more reason to get her as far away from him as possible,” Hilary snapped. “Cauterise the wound, get rid of all the poison that man has brought into our lives. Immy and I need a completely new start.” She looked defiantly at her guest. “And I’m going to ensure that we get it.”
Jude thought quickly. There was only one explanation for Nicky Dalrymple’s presence at the old stables. He had been at home when Sonia had taken the call revealing where Imogen and Conker had been found. Nicky knew that the girl spent a lot of time with Donal Geraghty at Long Bamber Stables, and must have deduced that the ex-
