ingredients unique to that person, his or her blueprint, as it were. They can then be matched up to another sample of blood or semen or skin or hair root, it doesn't even matter which, and hey presto, you have positive identification.'
'So if I told you that there was still some of Edward's blood on that bronze they took away…'
'It would be a major breakthrough for them. If that pool of blood they found is human, they will now be able to tell you for certain whether it's Edward's or not. In other words, they'll have both halves of the jigsaw.'
I frowned.
'Do you think it might not be Edward's then?'
'No, not really. I'm just worried that if it is, suspicion's going to fall on someone I know.'
'May I ask who, and perhaps even more importantly, why?'
She looked extremely concerned when I gave her the answers.
I returned to spend the night at Ralph Elgar's. Freddie was fast asleep, still blissfully unaware of the tragedy unfolding around him. Not surprisingly, I couldn't sleep. I looked back on my life with Edward and tried to pinpoint a time when things had started to go wrong. There was no doubt that some of the blame for the failure of our marriage lay on my shoulders. I had become consumed by my ambition to make it as a jockey and expected him to understand that ambition too, as well as giving it his whole-hearted support. It never occurred to me that he might have different goals for himself; indeed he never gave any indication of having any goals. I suppose on reflection that we married because at the time we enjoyed going to bed together and liked having fun. Unfortunately, marriage requires a commitment of a different nature. And now Edward was dead.
I wondered what was going to happen, just how much was going to come out. I thought about what Inspector Wilkinson had said about lying low for a couple of weeks and rejected the idea. There would no doubt be a lot of gossip on the racecourse and no shortage of pointing fingers. On the other hand, if I gave up riding, even for a short while, it would seriously damage my prospects. After all, someone still had to pay the bills and the mortgage and buy Freddie's clothes. I compromised by deciding not to ride for a week and to do my best to shelter Freddie from the turbulence that lay directly ahead. If Edward
The police arrived to collect me just before lunchtime. I can't say I was surprised. I had tried to phone Tom earlier that morning, only to be told by Mrs Drummond that he had been taken away for questioning shortly after breakfast. She sounded perplexed and upset and said that the police had been extremely brusque in their manner.
It was a curious sensation sitting in the back of a police car with an officer on either side. Like ambulances, police cars may be part of our everyday life but somehow they always seem reserved for somebody else, never you.
After arriving at the station I was shown into a bleak and depressing interview room, which contributed even more to my sense of foreboding. The walls needed a good coat of paint and I could not help wondering what sordid details they had heard over the years. Waiting to greet me was Inspector Wilkinson and he in turn introduced me to an overweight, morose gentleman, a Superintendent Pale down from Scotland Yard. It appeared that Wilkinson was to conduct the interview under Pale's watchful glare.
'Firstly, Mrs Pryde, I must warn you that this interview is being recorded on video camera
I looked over and spotted the camera in the ceiling.
'… and that everything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Is that clear? You are, of course, entitled to say nothing and if you wish, you may contact a solicitor.'
Neither course appealed to me. The last thing I wanted to do was to appear in any way embarrassed or as if I had something to hide.
'No, thank you,' I answered. 'I'm perfectly happy to answer your questions.'
'Good. You told me yesterday that the last time you saw your husband alive was three weeks ago on Friday, that would be the nineteenth.'
'Yes, that's right.'
'You had a row, following which you walked out on him taking your son with you.'
I nodded.
'And since that time, you have had no contact with him?'
'Correct. That's just what I told you yesterday.'
'You know, of course, that Mr Radcliffe claims he saw your husband the next day, in the evening?'
'I've no reason to doubt Mr Radcliffe's word.'
'Can you remember what Mr Radcliffe said about that meeting?'
I chose my words carefully. 'Only that he had asked my husband to meet him at the Crown and Anchor pub on the Marlborough road, that they had a row and that the next thing Mr Radcliffe remembers is waking up in his car, still in the car park, in the early hours of the following morning. He was unable to explain why he had passed out.'
'And you have no idea why your husband and Mr Radcliffe met?'
I had a very good idea, but saw no reason to tell Inspector Wilkinson.
'Is it true to say that you and your husband didn't see eye to eye?'
'You might as well know, Inspector, that my husband didn't see eye to eye, as you put it, with a lot of people. He was capable of being very charming to some people and rather vicious towards others.'
'Didn't he and Mr Radcliffe fall out about a horse?'
'That started it, but it was all over years ago. Tom, I mean Mr Radcliffe, wasn't in the least to blame but you couldn't tell Edward that. He wouldn't hear a good word about him.'
'But you wouldn't describe your marriage as a happy one? Surely the truth is, Mrs Pryde, that your marriage was on the rocks, wasn't it?'
I saw no point in lying. 'Things were going very badly. You've probably heard it all from Mrs Parsons anyway. I no longer loved my husband, Inspector, and I very much doubt if he had the slightest bit of affection for me.'
'Did you consider divorcing him?'
'I did, but I was worried about losing custody of our son.'
'Did you fight?'
'Do you mean just argue, or actually come to blows?'
'Come to blows.'
'He often hit me. The cut above my lip was his work at Cheltenham races, as are these burn marks.'
'Do you know how the blood came to be on that bronze we found at the cottage?'
'It was Edward's. I hit him with the bronze on Friday.'
'Tell us about it.'
I told him about Friday's fight, embroidering it in such a way as to divulge nothing about Freddie's involvement.
'Are you sure your husband was only concussed that evening?'
'If you're accusing me of murdering him, you're wrong. If I had done, how could he have met Mr Radcliffe for a drink on Saturday night?'
'We've only Mr Radcliffe's word for that.'
'What about the landlord and anyone else who saw them in the pub?'
He didn't pursue that train of thought. 'Did you go and ride out at Mr Radcliffe's yard that morning?'
I nodded.
'When you arrived, did you have a long conversation with him in the yard before you started schooling?'
'Not that long, about five minutes.'
'What did you talk about?'
'My ride in the Gold Cup, that sort of thing.'
