‘Which horse have you picked?’ asked Madeleine.
‘Princess of Fire – the name reminded me of you, Maddy. When you’re in a good mood, you’re my very own princess. And when you’re not, it’s like being in the middle of a fiery furnace.’
‘That’s a terrible thing to say,’ she protested over his laughter.
‘Your father is only teasing,’ said Colbeck.
‘I’m the most tolerant daughter in the world.’
‘You are at that,’ said Andrews, giving her a kiss of appeasement and soaking her dress in the process. ‘I’m sorry, Maddy. I’ll get out of these wet things before I have supper.’
‘What are the odds on this Princess of Fire?’
‘20–1.’
‘Good luck!’ said Colbeck ‘Who owns the horse, Mr Andrews?’
‘A man with an eye for fillies – he has two of them in the race.’
‘Hamilton Fido?’
‘Yes, Inspector,’ replied Andrews. ‘My reasoning is this, see. No bookmaker would enter a horse unless it had a fair chance of winning. I reckon that he’s made sure all the attention has gone on Merry Legs when, in fact, the filly he expects to romp home is Princess of Fire.’
It was her second unexpected visitor that day and Kitty Lavender was torn between pleasure and discomfort. While she was glad to see Hamilton Fido again, she was unsettled by the fact that he had caught her unawares. She was grateful that she was wearing a necklace he had given her. Inviting him into her drawing room, she received a kiss.
‘I didn’t think to see you for a couple of days,’ she said.
‘Is that a complaint, Kitty?’
‘No, no, of course not.’
‘Are your feathers still ruffled?’ he said, caressing her shoulders and arms. ‘When you came to my office, you were very upset.’
‘I had good reason to be, Hamilton.’
‘Well, you seem much calmer now, I’m glad to say. And I kept my promise, Kitty. I found out the name of the murder victim even though the police still haven’t released it to the press.’
She braced herself. ‘Whose head was it?’
‘John Feeny’s.’
‘And who is he?’
‘He was a groom at my stables,’ said Fido, ‘though, in my opinion, he should never have been employed there. Feeny used to work for Brian Dowd. I think he was sent to England as a spy.’
‘Who killed him?’
‘That’s what I came to talk to you about. The man in charge of the investigation is Inspector Colbeck.’
‘Yes – I saw his name in the newspapers.’
‘His nickname is the Railway Detective but he knows a lot about the Turf as well,’ conceded the bookmaker. ‘He also knows how to pick up a scent and that’s where you come in, Kitty.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Colbeck discovered that we stayed at the Wyvern Hotel.’
Kitty was scandalised. ‘How on earth did he do that?’
‘I wish I knew. The hotel was your recommendation.’
‘I’d heard it was very discreet,’ she said, not wishing to admit that she’d been there before. ‘A woman friend of mine spoke well of it.’
‘You can tell your friend that she was wrong. They let us down badly. Inspector Colbeck came out to the stables this afternoon to question me about our stay there. I must confess that it gave me a bit of a jolt, Kitty. He knew far too much. What he really wanted to find out was your name.’
‘She started.
‘It was your hatbox.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘Colbeck thought there might be significance in the fact. The only way he can be certain is to talk to you in person.’
‘Did you give him my name?’ said Kitty anxiously.
‘You know me better than that,’ he soothed, taking her hands and kissing both of them. ‘I refused to tell him, Kitty. The problem is that that could be construed as holding back evidence. If he wants to, Inspector Colbeck could make life very difficult for me at a time when I need to concentrate all my energies on Derby Week.’
‘There’s nothing I can tell him, Hamilton. My hatbox was stolen. That’s the beginning and the end of it.’
‘He won’t be satisfied until he’s heard that from your own lips.’
‘I don’t want to talk to any detective.’
‘It could save me a lot of embarrassment, Kitty. When he saw that I’d never reveal your name, Colbeck suggested a compromise. He said that you could come forward of your own accord and that the meeting with him would be in the strictest privacy.’
‘No,’ she said, turning away. ‘I want no part of this.’
‘Not even to help me?’
‘I don’t wish for any dealings with the police.’
‘To give him his due, Colbeck seems very trustworthy.’
‘I don’t care what he is.’
‘Well, I do,’ he said, crossing to turn her round so that she faced him. ‘Unless you talk to him, he’ll keep hounding me and I simply can’t allow that. You know how busy I’m going to be, Kitty. The last thing I need is to be hauled into Scotland Yard.’
‘I’m sorry, Hamilton – I just can’t do it.’
Their eyes locked and there was a silent battle of wills. They had been together for a relatively short time but it had been long enough for Kitty to glimpse the rewards that might come her way. Fido was rich, amorous and highly indulgent. The few nights they had spent together had been wonderful, marked by pitches of excitement she had never known before. It would be reckless of her to put their friendship at risk. After mulling it over, she gave a noncommittal nod.
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, giving her a warm hug. ‘Oh, by the way, I saw your brother last night.’
‘Marcus is only my half-brother.’
‘I called in at a club I belong to and there he was – sitting at the card table with some of the most notorious gamblers in the city. From what I could see, Marcus was doing quite well.’
‘He had a lucky streak. He told me about it.’
‘That’s a good omen for Derby Week.’
‘He means to bet heavily.’
‘Then send him to me,’ said Fido. ‘I like a man who knows how to throw his money around. Cautious punters are the bane of my life.’
‘Marcus is never cautious.’ She remembered her discussion with him and saw an opportunity to probe a little on his behalf. ‘And neither are you, Hamilton. Because you’ve taken big chances, you’ve reaped big rewards.’
He grinned at her. ‘You’re one of them, Kitty.’
‘I may place a small bet myself.’
‘Then don’t come to me. Small bets are for small bookmakers.’
‘They all agree that Odysseus is the favourite.’
‘Put your money on him and you’ll lose it.’
‘What would you advise?’ she asked, nestling up to him.
‘Look to the lady,’ he suggested. ‘It’s high time that a filly won the Derby again and that’s exactly what Merry Legs will do. I saw her being put through her paces today and she reminded me of you.’
She spluttered. ‘A
‘A filly,’ he corrected with a wicked smile. ‘Merry Legs was sleek, beautiful and a class apart from all those around her – just like you.’
