As we returned to the car, Amy put her arm around me. 'I think the time has come when we really have to put this into the hands of professionals. Neither of us has the time to try and track down Corcoran and you really have to pick up the pieces of your life; you owe that much to Freddie. What do you think?'
Reluctantly, I agreed. Tom's lawyers were prepared to make unlimited funds available to track down Corcoran. But until he had been found there was no likelihood of any appeal succeeding. Even then, that didn't mean my safety would be assured. Hadn't I been declared dead, just like Edward?
Chapter 18
I had planned to return to Lambourn some time in the middle of July. The doctors had given me the all clear to start riding again and I had been getting myself fit by running but I wanted to have at least a couple of weeks' riding work on some flat horses so that I would be a hundred per cent fit for the start of the season at the beginning of August.
The news on the Corcoran front was bitterly disappointing. Private detectives had been unable to locate any trace of him whatsoever either in England or in Ireland. He had literally disappeared into thin air. In my last letter to Tom I had not been able to think of any good news to give him. All of the horses had now left his yard and, except for the head lad, all of the staff had gone as well. Tom had decided not to let Jamie Brown go until he was certain that there was no chance of his release, but as time went on, the chances of that happening seemed to become ever more remote. The only consolation as far as I was concerned was that during the past six weeks not one attempt had been made on my life. Something must have happened; something that I didn't know about to make whoever wanted me dead change his or her mind. I still kept the gun, though, just in case.
After the trial my name had faded from the newspapers, but since I still had to earn my living as a jockey, James had kindly suggested that the
'It would just let people know you're still alive,' he had said.
We were due to move back in on the Monday, and on the Saturday before, the
That night I had Amy and James to dinner to thank them for all their efforts on Tom's behalf and to discuss what steps we could now take to help him. His appeal had been fixed for the end of November and as a grim reminder of his predicament, Amy had brought with her the bronze statuette that had played such a fateful part in his conviction. The police had handed it back to her as my solicitor and it even still had its exhibit number attached to the jockey's arm. I was reluctant to have it on view in the house and put it in the cupboard under the staircase.
Not surprisingly, the talk about Tom cast a shadow on the evening, although Amy was determined to cheer me up. She was going to spend the night with her parents and devote Sunday to preparing for a trial at Winchester Crown Court on the Monday. Her client was accused of bigamy and was alleged to have three separate families in different parts of the country. James asked whether the maximum penalty for this offence was three mothers-in-law and Amy made us roar with laughter as she read out selected extracts from her client's statement to the police, one of a number of documents in the file she had brought down from London with her and which she refused to leave outside in the car. According to Amy, her client wanted to plead guilty and on no account was his counsel to ask the court for leniency. The prospect of a long jail sentence was, he considered, infinitely preferable to facing his three spouses.
It was well after midnight when they left and I locked the front door after them. For a woman and child alone, the security in the house was hopelessly inadequate and I resolved to change the lock and have a couple of bolts fitted. As I tidied up, I came across the file that Amy had brought with her: she had obviously forgotten it after finishing off James's bottle of champagne. Feeling inquisitive I sat down and perused the contents for the next half hour. I could well understand, after reading his wives' statements, why the client was so anxious to go inside.
I went up to bed feeling a good deal more relaxed than I had for some time and I popped into Freddie's room to see if he was fast asleep and give him one last good night kiss. As I stroked his hair and looked down on his angelic little face, I realised that for his sake alone there was much to live for. I went next door, undressed and slipped into bed. It was an odd and unnerving experience being back there for the first time since Edward's murder and I could hardly believe that it was the first night I had ever slept without him in this house. I hugged the pillow and pretended it was Tom. Then, less romantically, I checked that my gun was safely tucked underneath.
The sensation of fingers running through my hair jolted me from my dreams. The tickle, in the darkness, of what felt like the cold, sharp blade of a knife against my throat stopped me from screaming. I didn't dare move or open my mouth. Freddie was next door and at all costs I had to keep his presence in the house a secret. My visitor had climbed into bed beside me and I was revolted and terrified by the thought that he might have been there for the past hour or so. At least he was fully clothed. Sensing I was awake, he took my left hand and ran it slowly over his face, beginning with his unshaven chin, then along his cheeks and finally around his nose.
I gasped. I'd recognise my husband anywhere.
'Isn't this a nice surprise?' he said. 'Back in bed together, just like old times.'
'But I thought…'
'I know what you thought and everybody else thought the same. There's no need to talk in a whisper. I know Freddie's asleep next door.'
I was no longer sure that Edward wouldn't harm his own son. I certainly didn't want the boy to wake up and come in and see his father, because he would then be an eye-witness to the truth and a dangerous one at that.
'But whose body was it in the car?'
He laughed. 'Wouldn't you like to know?'
I nodded. If I could keep him talking, maybe I could get hold of the gun. I slid my hand gently under the pillow, fingers outstretched in search of the cold metal.
'Is this what you're looking for?' Edward sniggered and suddenly leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp; he kept the knife close against my neck.
'People who hide guns under their pillows need to be light sleepers.'
I saw the gun on the table, hopelessly out of reach, and my heart began to pound. Edward's eyes were locked on mine, and only inches away, but his expression was a million miles off – on another planet. I noticed a bubble of saliva creeping out of the corner of his mouth.
'Tell me how you did it.'
The question seemed to focus his attention. He got out of bed and started pacing round the room.
'The idea came to me after the fight downstairs when Freddie hit me with that bronze. When I came round and you had gone, I suddenly realised that here was a chance to disappear permanently. That would solve my little problem with Musgrave. There can be great advantages, you know, to being declared dead. You can even commit murder without anyone ever suspecting you.
'That Friday afternoon, your lover boy phoned up and asked me to meet him at the pub the following evening. Here was a marvellous chance to kill two birds with one stone. Isn't it a shame they've abolished capital punishment? I had known about your affair for ages. In fact, I had even followed you to Melksham Pit and watched you make love on that rug together. I must say that you certainly put more enthusiasm into it with him than you ever did with me. I hated you both for that. Anyway, that evening I telephoned Corcoran, who seemed the ideal victim, and asked him to meet me the following afternoon to discuss the return of his confession note. He had been pestering me about it for months. I met him in a car I had hired that morning in London and drove him out to Melksham Pit. He thought I was going to return the note. Instead, I pulled out a knife and plunged it into his heart, leaving a small pool of blood on the spot to give the police something to work on. You should have seen his face!
