‘Peter became very excited by the idea. He doesn’t like his father. He hates the way he still tells him what to do even though Peter is over thirty. And he didn’t have a happy childhood. Lord Enstone tells people that Peter’s mother died but that isn’t true — well, it is now, but it wasn’t the reason for her leaving his father. She died a long time after that. By then, she had divorced Peter’s father and had claimed mental and physical cruelty to do so. I hate him.’
‘So when did you start to fix the races?’ I asked.
‘A few months after I first met Peter,’ she said. ‘God, I was nervous the first time. I was sure everyone would know what I was doing but it was really very easy. The lads would always do what I said, so I’d send them off to do something while I poured the water away. I would then feed the horses. As you know, oats and the horse nuts make the horses thirsty so they drink during and after eating. I simply took away their water. It was dead easy.’ She smiled again.
It was not a new trick but she was undoubtedly pleased with herself for having managed to do it without being detected — at least, until now.
It seemed like more unnecessary mental and physical cruelty to me. She was no better than Peter’s father. Worse even, as a horse has no means of escape. I could feel the anger rising in me again. Anger at the callous nature of this person who had been trusted to look after the horses, but had been the cause of great distress for them instead.
‘But soon it stopped being a game,’ she said. ‘Peter became obsessed with being in control of his father’s horses. It gave him such power to know when they would do well and when they would not.’
Huw had told Kate it was more about power than money.
Juliet was almost gabbling now. Now she had started there was no stopping her. ‘Lord Enstone liked his horses to run up at Newcastle or Kelso and at the other northern tracks when he was up there at home for the weekends. I couldn’t go up there with them, but Peter was specially keen that the horses should be stopped when he knew his father was going to be at the races with all his mates — so he would be shown up when the horse lost. So he paid Huw Walker to stop some. I told him it was stupid to get someone else involved, but he was absolutely determined. He said he needed Huw to get at the horses in the north.
I wondered how long it would take Juliet to work out that Peter had probably only bedded her to get at the horses in the south.
‘Then it all started to go wrong,’ she said. ‘Huw Walker said he was afraid that people would say that he was fixing races. He wanted out, but Peter told him that if he didn’t do as he was told then he would fix him good and proper, so much so he would get warned off by the Jockey Club.’
‘But surely that would have been the same for Peter?’ I said.
‘As you know, professional jockeys are not allowed to bet but Peter placed bets on the other horses in the races that Huw was going to fix and used an account that could be traced back to Huw. Peter had it as a hold over him. Unless Huw did as he was told, Peter said he would anonymously tell the Jockey Club where to look to see Huw’s name on the account.’
‘Why didn’t Huw report Peter to the Jockey Club himself?’ I asked.
‘When Huw threatened just that, Peter said that no one would believe him, that they would just see it as an attempt to shift the blame, and they would be more likely to warn him off for life. I don’t know whether they would have, but it frightened Huw enough.’
‘How many races did Huw fix?’ I asked.
‘Only a few,’ she said. ‘Maybe eight or ten, all in the north.’
A little greed had been his undoing.
‘He had wanted out after only two,’ said Juliet.
A very little greed, indeed.
‘Then Huw said he would tell Peter’s father what we were doing if we didn’t stop, or at least stop involving him. Peter went mad and threatened to kill him. I didn’t think he meant it, but…’ She stopped.
‘Peter shot Huw at Cheltenham,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘I didn’t know anything about it at the time, I swear, but Peter told me afterwards that it was during the Gold Cup when everyone was watching the race either live or on the big screens near the paddock. He said no one noticed him and Huw going off for a chat.’
And some shooting practice, I thought.
‘And I suppose the crowd noise at the end of the race would have drowned out the noise of the shots,’ I said, ‘but it was still a hell of a chance.’ Perhaps he’d used a silencer, I thought.
‘I know,’ she said, ‘but Peter was desperate. He’s terrified that his father would find out about the race fixing and go and change his will just before he drops off the perch.’
‘Is he likely to drop off the perch?’ I asked.
‘He’s got cancer,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you know? It’s prostate cancer and he’s had some treatment but it isn’t working. Peter doesn’t think he’ll last much longer, a year maybe, and he’s shitting himself in case the old man cuts him off without a bean for fiddling with his horses.’
So it was about money, after all. It usually was.
‘And how about Bill?’ I said.
‘Peter started a rumour some time ago that Bill Burton was involved in race fixing.’
‘Why?’ I asked her.
‘He said that it would keep the heat away from us if anyone started asking too many questions.’
Seemed to me to be like waving a red flag, bringing needless attention.
‘Peter was so excited when Bill got arrested,’ she said. ‘He reckoned that the only thing better than getting away with something was to have someone else convicted for it.’
Peter Enstone wasn’t the nicest of people.
‘He was annoyed when the police released Bill. He said that it meant that they didn’t really think he’d done it.’
‘But why did Peter kill Bill?’ I asked. ‘He’d done nothing to deserve that.’
‘He wanted to get the police to think that Bill had killed himself after killing Huw. So they would stop looking for Huw’s murderer.’ She looked at me. ‘And it would have worked, too, if you hadn’t stuck your damn nose in.’
‘Did you see him do it?’ I asked her.
‘No, absolutely not,’ she cried, ‘I didn’t know that he was going to kill him. I’m not a murderer.’
I still wasn’t sure about that.
‘So what happened that night?’ I asked her.
‘Peter rang me to say that he had to talk to Bill urgently,’ she said, ‘about his father’s horses going to another trainer.’
‘But the horses had already gone to Andrew Woodward,’ I said.
‘I know, but Peter told me that he was going to help Bill get them back.’
I wasn’t sure I believed her.
‘So what happened?’ I asked again.
‘I tried to get Bill on the phone but he’d gone out,’ she said.
To see Kate, I thought, at Daphne Rogers’ place.
‘Peter picked me up from home,’ she continued, ‘and we spent ages in the driveway waiting for Bill to come back, which he finally did at about half past ten.’
‘Then what did you do?’ I asked.
‘Bill was a bit surprised to see us, I can tell you. “What on earth are you doing here at this time of night?” That’s what he said. He was all smiling and joking. He asked us in for a drink so we went into the den. Bill poured himself a Scotch and Peter asked me to go and make him a coffee in the kitchen as he was driving.
To get her out of the way, I thought.
‘I was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil,’ she said, ‘and there was a loud bang and the next thing I know Peter comes out to the kitchen all frantic like and hyper. He said that would sort out the police. I asked him what he’d done.’
She began to breathe more quickly at the memory.
‘He didn’t reply,’ she went on. ‘He just stood there laughing and saying that that would show them. So I went into the den and saw Bill.’
