proved to be less exciting, at least for the horses. The owner in question had subsequently switched stables.
‘Thanks, Neil.’
‘Any time.’ He didn’t ask me why I wanted to know. He knew I might tell him in due course, or maybe not at all. Asking didn’t make any difference and Neil knew it.
Next I called Kate Burton.
‘Oh, Sid,’ she said, ‘how lovely of you to call.’
‘How are things?’ I asked.
‘Pretty bloody,’ she said. ‘I can’t even organise Bill’s funeral because the police won’t release his body.’
That was interesting, I thought. Perhaps after all the police are taking more notice of my murder theory than they were letting on.
‘And Mummy is being absolutely horrid.’
‘Why?’
‘She keeps going on and on about Bill being arrested for race fixing, and the disgrace he’s brought on the family. I tell you, I’m fed up with it. The stupid woman doesn’t understand that race fixing is the least of my worries.’ She paused. ‘Why is suicide so shameful?’
‘Kate,’ I said, ‘listen to me. I am absolutely certain that Bill didn’t kill himself. He was murdered. And I’m becoming equally convinced that he was not involved with any race fixing.’
‘Oh God,’ she was crying, ‘I do so hope you’re right.’
‘Believe it,’ I said. ‘It’s true.’
We talked for a while longer about the children and the future of the house. I managed to steer the conversation around to the stable staff.
‘What has happened to them all?’ I asked her.
‘Gone off to other jobs. Mostly in Lambourn,’ she said.
‘What about Juliet?’ I said.
‘She’s with Andrew Woodward now,’ said Kate. ‘It’s a good job, and she’s done really well to get it. I’m so pleased for her. I like Juliet Burns.’
Jesus had liked Judas Iscariot. They had kissed.
‘How about Fred Manley?’ I asked. Fred had been Bill’s head lad.
‘I’m not sure. He may have retired.’
‘I doubt it,’ I said. ‘Fred is actually a lot younger than he looks. He’s not yet fifty.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ said Kate. ‘I always felt so sorry for him having to carry such heavy loads at his age.’ She laughed. It was a start.
‘Do you know where he lives?’ I asked.
‘In one of those cottages on the Baydon road. Next door to Juliet, I think.’
Wow!
‘Do you have his phone number?’
‘Yes.’ There was a pause. ‘But it’s in the den.’
‘Ah.’
‘Well,’ she said, taking a deep breath, ‘I have to go in there sometime. I suppose it had better be now.’
I heard her lay the phone down and I could hear her foot-falls on the wooden floor as she walked away. And again as she came back. She picked up the phone. There was a breathlessness in her voice as she gave me the number.
‘Well done, Kate,’ I said. ‘Be strong and believe what I told you.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Oh, and one more thing, Kate. Could you do me a favour?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’
I explained at some length what I needed without giving away the whole truth.
‘It sounds a bit strange,’ she said after I told her, ‘but if that’s what you want, I suppose it’s no problem.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘It will probably be tomorrow afternoon. I’ll call you.’
I tried Fred Manley’s number but got his wife.
‘Sorry, Mr Halley,’ she said. ‘Fred’s not here just now.’
‘When will he be back?’ I asked.
‘He’ll be back for his dinner, at one.’
‘I’ll call again then.’
‘Right you are,’ she said and disconnected.
It was a quarter to ten.
Provided Marina received the ‘all clear’ from Mr Pandita during his round this morning, she would be free to come home around midday.
I spent an hour cleaning the flat and washing up the dishes that were stacked in the kitchen sink. I was genuinely excited by the prospect of Marina’s homecoming. I was about to leave for the hospital when the phone rang. It was Charles.
‘Do you really think it’s necessary for me to stay in London?’ he asked, clearly hoping to be given the green light to go home to Oxfordshire.
‘Are you still at Jenny and Anthony’s?’ I asked back.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m desperate for a decent single malt. I’m fed up with carrot juice and bean sprouts, I can tell you.’
I laughed. ‘It’ll do you good.’
I thought about what I was planning to do.
‘I think it might be safer for you to stay away from Aynsford for a while longer,’ I said. ‘A few more days.’
‘I’ll go to my club then,’ he said. ‘I’ve been with Jenny now for two nights and everyone knows that guests begin to smell after three. I’ll move into the Army amp; Navy tomorrow.’ The lure of the bar had become too great.
I arrived at St Thomas’s to find Marina dressed and sitting in a chair.
‘They’ve cleared me for release,’ she said. She made it sound like the parole board.
‘Great,’ I said.
A hospital porter arrived with a wheelchair and he pushed Marina along the corridors and down in the lift to the patient discharges’ desk near the main entrance. I retrieved the car from where I had parked it, legally this time, in the underground car park, and we were soon a distant memory at the hospital. Today’s dramas had taken over.
‘Stop fussing,’ Marina said as I shepherded her into the Ebury Street building and up in the lift to our flat. ‘I’m fine.’
I knew she was fine. I was fussing because I was worried about her security.
At one o’clock, with Marina settled on the sofa with the Sunday papers, I telephoned Fred Manley, and spoke to him for nearly an hour.
‘Don’t let your dinner get cold,’ I said.
‘No problem, it’s keeping warm in the oven.’
He told me all about the systems that Bill had used, and about who went away with horses that needed to stay overnight at the northern tracks. In the end he told me more than I could have hoped for.
‘Thanks, Fred,’ I said. ‘That’s very helpful.’
‘What’s it for?’ he asked.
‘Oh, just some research I’m doing about training methods. I was about to ask Bill about it when he died.’
‘Damn shame that was. Mr Burton was a good man and a fine employer. I knew where I stood with him.’
‘Have you found another job?’ I asked him.
