‘Not any more!’ said Dowd, flinging himself at Johnson.
They grappled in the middle of the stall and flailed around in the straw. The fight was short-lived. Before either of them could land a telling blow, the stable door was flung open and Colbeck came in with Leeming at his shoulder. The combatants stood back from each other.
‘I’ve never heard such a frank confession before,’ said Colbeck. ‘The sergeant and I are very grateful to Mr Johnson for clarifying the details. We were standing outside while he did so. There’s one more crime to add to the list,’ he added, waving a letter in the air. ‘I’m talking about the theft of a painting from Lord Hendry’s house.’
‘That was nothing to do with me,’ protested Dowd.
‘I’m not accusing you, sir. Mr Johnson is the culprit. This letter was found in Lord Hendry’s pocket. It gives instructions about where he can leave ?3000 to buy the portrait back. That money will never be paid or collected. Lord Hendry is dead.’
Johnson and Dowd traded a look of utter amazement.
‘He committed suicide,’ explained Leeming, ‘immediately after he had shot Hamilton Fido. Both of your rivals have perished, Mr Dowd.’
‘Is this true?’ gasped the Irishman.
‘We were witnesses to the shooting, sir.’
‘When I searched Lord Hendry’s pockets,’ said Colbeck, ‘I found this second demand. I showed it to your half-sister, Mr Johnson, and she was kind enough to identify the handwriting as yours.’
‘Kitty must be mistaken,’ said Johnson.
‘No, sir – she won’t ever make a mistake about you again. Now that she sees you in your true light, she knows you for what you are.’
‘Brian is to blame – he put me up to it.’
‘Shut your bleeding gob!’ yelled Dowd.
Johnson laughed. ‘Compliments pass when the quality meet.’
‘This is all your fault.’
‘You are just as guilty, Mr Dowd,’ said Colbeck. ‘This whole business sprang out of your hatred of John Feeny. You never forgave him for standing up to you. When you heard that he was working at the stables owned by Hamilton Fido, you saw a chance to get your revenge on the lad and cause some embarrassment for one of your rivals at the same time. It was a clever ruse.’
‘Getting that hatbox delivered to you,’ said Leeming, ‘made it seem as if you were the victim and not the man who instigated the crime in the first place. You fooled us at first. What let you down was that you tried to do it again.’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘When I discovered that you had forged the letter supposedly sent to your jockey, I became very suspicious. I was convinced that you lied to me about John Feeny.’
‘Feeny was a vile little bugger!’ roared Dowd. ‘When I threw him out of my stables, he went round telling everyone that I was a cheat and a bully. If he hadn’t fled to England, I’d have strangled him with my bare hands.’
‘So you had no compunction about ordering his murder?’
‘None at all, Inspector – it was what he deserved.’
‘The severed head was my suggestion,’ said Johnson airily. ‘I thought it would add a suitably macabre touch. When Kitty told me about the hatbox that Lord Hendry had bought her, I couldn’t resist stealing it. At one brilliant stroke, I linked Lord Hendry and Hamilton Fido with the death of Brian’s former groom. There was an almost poetic roundness to it all.’
‘It’s not one that I appreciate, sir,’ said Leeming.
‘Nor me,’ added Colbeck. ‘Let’s take these gentlemen into custody, Victor. I’m sure that Superintendent Tallis will be delighted to meet both of them – on their way to the gallows.’
Leeming produced a pair of handcuffs to put on Dowd but the Irishman tried to buffet him aside and escape. The sergeant had arrested far too many men to be brushed aside. Sticking out a leg, he tripped Dowd up then sat astride him and pulled his arms behind him so that he could put on the handcuffs. He then got up, grabbed the prisoner by the collar of his frock coat and hoisted him to his feet. Dowd was still swearing violently as he was pushed unceremoniously out of the stall. Colbeck was left alone with Marcus Johnson.
‘You seem remarkably unperturbed, sir,’ said Colbeck, taking out a pair of handcuffs.
‘I backed the wrong horse in every sense, Inspector.’
‘How did you get involved with Brian Dowd?’
‘I spent some months in Ireland,’ replied Johnson, ‘sponging off friends. I met Brian at a race meeting there and we hit it off at once. I admired his determination to win the Derby at all costs and he was grateful to meet someone who would do anything for money and, moreover, do it in great style.’
‘There’s nothing stylish about murdering an innocent lad.’
Johnson brayed. ‘You were not there at the time.’
‘You won’t laugh quite so loud on the scaffold,’ warned Colbeck. ‘Turn around, please, and put your hands behind your back.’
‘Your wish is my command, Inspector.’
Johnson turned round obligingly but, instead of putting his hands behind his back, he pulled out a small pistol from under his coat and swung round to point the weapon at Colbeck.
‘The tables are turned,’ he said, grinning in triumph.
‘I dispute that,’ said Colbeck, showing no fear. ‘As well as Sergeant Leeming, there are four uniformed policemen outside. You can’t kill six of us with one bullet, Mr Johnson.’
‘I won’t need to kill anybody now that I have a hostage.
‘As you wish, sir.’
‘And no tricks.’
‘You have the advantage over me, Mr Johnson.’
‘I’m glad that you appreciate that.’
Colbeck held out the handcuffs but, when Johnson tried to take them, they were suddenly thrown into his face. In the momentary distraction, Colbeck grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the weapon and forced it upwards. The pistol went off with a loud bang and the bullet embedded itself harmlessly in a wooden beam. Colbeck, meanwhile, was hurling Johnson against the wall to make him drop the weapon. He then hit him with a succession of punches to the face and body. Johnson put his arms up to defend himself but the attack was far too strong. A vicious right hook finally sent him to the floor. Blood streaming from his nose, Johnson lay huddled in the straw.
Having heard the shot, Leeming came running back to the stall.
‘What happened, Inspector?’ he asked.
‘Fortunately,’ said Colbeck, ‘he decided to resist arrest.’
It was dark by the time their train steamed into the station. Robert Colbeck first supervised the transfer of the two prisoners into custody before taking Madeleine Andrews home in a cab. An eventful day was finally drawing to an end.
‘Thank you, Robert,’ she said. ‘It was a marvellous experience!’
‘That’s what I felt when I arrested Marcus Johnson.’
‘I’m sorry that you weren’t able to enjoy the Derby itself.’
‘But I was,’ said Colbeck. ‘Once I knew that I’d be speaking to Kitty Lavender after the race, I could watch it without any distraction. I was as enthralled as you, Madeleine – enthralled but disappointed.’
‘How could you be disappointed with such an exciting race?’
‘I bet on Merry Legs,’ he confessed.
She giggled. ‘You should have followed Father’s advice.’
‘I’m sure that Mr Andrews will point that out to me.’
‘Time and time again.’
They snuggled against each other in the cab and watched the gas lamps shoot past on both sides of the
