Kitty Lavender spent most of the morning on a shopping spree, buying what she considered to be the last few vital accessories for her visit to Epsom Downs during Derby Week. She wanted to look at her best for the occasion. A hansom cab returned her to her lodgings and, when she alighted from it, she was laden with boxes and packages. Her landlady was at the window as she arrived and, seeing what Kitty was carrying, she came to open the front door for her.
'Thank you, Mrs Collier,' said Kitty, stepping into the house. 'I didn't have a spare hand to ring the doorbell.'
'You have a visitor, Miss Lavender,' said the landlady, a small, rotund, motherly woman. 'I showed him up to your room.'
Kitty was wary. 'It's not Mr Johnson again, is it?'
'No, Miss Lavender.'
'Then it must be Mr Fido.'
'It's not him either.'
'Oh – then who is it?'
'Your father.'
Kitty was nonplussed. Since her father had died years before, she knew that it could not possibly be him. Somebody had entered her lodgings under false pretences and that disturbed her. Hiding her alarm from the landlady, she struggled upstairs with her shopping then put down one of the boxes so that she could open the door of her drawing room. Lord Hendry was sitting in a chair. When he saw how burdened she was, he got up and walked over to her.
'Let me help you, Kitty,' he volunteered.
She was shocked. 'What are you doing here, George?'
'Let's get everything inside first, shall we?' he said, picking up the box from the floor and ushering her into the room. He closed the door behind him. 'We don't want your landlady to overhear us. She believes that I'm your father. We can't have her thinking that we committed incest.'
Kitty put her shopping down. 'You've no right to be here,' she said belligerently. 'Even when we were friends, I kept you away from my lodgings. I like to preserve some privacy.'
'I needed to speak to you, Kitty.'
'Then you should have asked me to meet you somewhere.'
'After what happened last time,' he said reasonably, 'I had no guarantee that you'd agree to see me again.'
'So you tricked your way past my landlady with an arrant lie.' She became suspicious. 'How long have you been here?'
'Long enough to have a good look around.'
'I hope you didn't dare go into my bedroom.'
'Why – what secrets have you got hidden in there?'
'Is that why you came?' she demanded. 'To snoop on me?'
'Calm down, Kitty,' said Lord Hendry, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'I've only been here five minutes or so.'
Reacting to his touch, she pulled away smartly and went to open the door of her bedroom. She glanced inside to make sure that nothing had been moved or taken. Satisfied that all was well, she turned back to face him again.
'I was interested to see where you lived,' he said. 'It's exactly the kind of place I imagined – comfortable, tasteful and essentially feminine.' He became serious. 'I had a visit from Inspector Colbeck this morning. Does that name mean anything to you?'
'Yes – he's leading the murder investigation.'
'God knows how but he somehow discovered that you and I spent that night at the Wyvern Hotel. He asked me to divulge your name. I refused to give it, of course, but he's the kind of man who won't let the matter rest there.'
'He has no need to speak to me,' she said irritably.
'Colbeck believes that he does.'
'I have nothing whatsoever to do with the crime.'
'Unfortunately, you do,' he told her. 'It was your hatbox that contained the severed head. The Inspector feels that it was no random choice. Your property was stolen for a specific purpose.'
'How could it have been? Nobody knew I was at that hotel.'
'Someone must have done.'
'No,' she stressed, walking across to him. 'For obvious reasons, I didn't tell a soul that I was going there.'
'What about the person who accompanied you?'
'He was equally circumspect.'
'That's what he claimed, I daresay, but men are men, Kitty. Some of them simply can't resist boasting about their conquests. It may well be that this fellow unwittingly let the cat out of the bag.'
'He'd never do that, George.'
'How do you know?'
'Because he's very discreet.'
'By instinct or necessity?' he asked, eyelids narrowing. 'Is he married? Having a wife forces a man to be extremely discreet.'
'You'd know more about that than I do, George.'
'So who is your mysterious lover?'
'Mind your own business.'
'You won't be able to say that to Inspector Colbeck,' he warned. 'He'll find out who the man is and follow the trail to you. One thing is certain. Your new admirer is patently not accustomed to clandestine encounters in hotels or he'd have known exactly where to take you. Instead of that, he let you recommend the Wyvern.'
Kitty flared up. 'I did that for with good reason, George.'
'Did you?'
'I wanted to purge the memory of spending time there with you. In fact, I'd like to forget every single thing that ever happened between us. It was all a regrettable mistake.'
'You didn't think so at the time.'
'I didn't know the sort of person you really were then.'
'I cared for you, Kitty. I indulged your every whim.'
'But you didn't,' she countered. 'You denied me the thing that I coveted most and that was a public acknowledgement of my status. You kept me out of sight because you were ashamed of me.'
'Ashamed of myself, more likely,' he said under his breath. 'How could I be seen with you in public? I have a wife. That fact inevitably imposed restrictions on our friendship. I told you from the start that Caroline's feelings had to be considered.'
'What about my feelings?'
'You seemed happy enough to me.'
'Did you ever ask how I felt? Did you ever show any real interest in what I actually wanted? No, George – you simply wished to have me at your beck and call.' She struck a dignified pose. 'I'm worth more than that.'
'I took you for what you were, Kitty – a scheming adventuress.'
She pointed to the door. 'I think you should leave.'
'I'll not depart until I find out who he is,' he resolved. 'I don't believe that you deserted me because I didn't take you with me to the races. There was someone else, wasn't there? All the time we were friends, you were intriguing behind my back with another man.'
'I'm not that unprincipled, George.'
'Who is the fellow?'
'We only met after I'd parted company with you.'
'I want to know his name!' he howled, stamping a foot.
Kitty was shaken by the intensity of his anger and she took a precautionary step backwards. There was no way that she could conceal her relationship with Hamilton Fido indefinitely and she had no wish to do so. It had been her intention to flaunt it at the Derby when everyone would see her and where it could be used as a potent weapon against Lord Hendry. Nothing would hurt him more than the realisation that the woman he had lost was now on intimate terms with a despised rival. The revelation could not be postponed until then. Cornered in her own lodgings, she responded with spirit.
'I'll tell you his name,' she said, raising herself up to her full height, 'but I'll only do so on one condition.'
'What's that?'
'That you leave this house immediately.'
'With pleasure,' he said, picking up his top hat and cane. 'Now, then, what benighted fool have you enticed into your bed this time?'
'Hamilton Fido.'
He was stunned. 'You'd never do that to me, Kitty.'
'Hamilton Fido,' she repeated with a smirk of delight. 'You'll see us both at the Derby next week. What do you think of that, George?'
Unable to find words to express his fury, Lord Hendry resorted to actions. Drawing back his cane, he used it to hit her across the side of the head and knock her down. Then he stormed out of the room and slammed the door after him.
Derby Week did not begin until the following Monday but preparations were already well under way. When he took the train to Epsom that Saturday, Robert Colbeck found that it was already covered with tents, marquees, stalls, sideshows and gypsy caravans. It was a sunny afternoon in late May and more people were arriving in carts, wagons, drays, cabs and coaches or on horseback and foot. Even at that early stage, a carnival atmosphere prevailed. By the time the Derby was run on Wednesday of the next week, the whole place would be transformed into a giant fairground.
Like Victor Leeming, Colbeck had been saddened to learn that the informer inside Scotland Yard was Constable Peter Cheggin, a competent and hard-working detective, but he was relieved that the man had been caught. The letter that Cheggin had tried to send to his paymaster was addressed to the office in Bethnal Green and Colbeck had dispatched his sergeant there, choosing himself to seek Hamilton Fido at the venue where the bookmaker would be working during the races. He was in luck. Fido was there. After making enquiries, he was directed towards the betting office.
Hamilton Fido was outside the grandstand, talking to Marcus Johnson with an affability that suggested a measure of friendship. The bookmaker was displeased to see Colbeck again but he performed the introductions with suave politeness.
'I've read about you, Inspector,' said Johnson, pumping his hand. 'You are the celebrated Railway Detective.'
Colbeck was modest. 'That's not a title I ever use, sir.'
'Have you come to place a bet on the Derby?'
'Not yet, Mr Johnson.'
'I've been trying to get some guidance from Hamilton but he's too canny to give it. His only advice is to bet on the horse I fancy.'
'Look at the odds I've set,' said Fido. 'They tell you everything.'
'But they don't,' said Johnson, displaying his teeth. 'They tell us enough to mislead us. Do you know what I think, Inspector?'
'What, sir?' said Colbeck.
'I believe that Hamilton is playing a deep game. Merry Legs is only 8-1 but her chances are much better than that. Did you know that he has a second horse in the race?'
'Yes, sir – Princess of Fire.'
'One filly might not win against all those colts but two might. That's his plan, I suspect,' argued Johnson. 'He'll use Princess of Fire to set the pace so that Merry Legs can sit in behind her until the final couple of furlongs. Am I right, Hamilton?'
Fido's smile was enigmatic. 'Put your money where your mouth is, Marcus,' he counselled. 'Rely on your instinct.'
'I did that two years ago,' boasted Johnson, 'when the favourite was Little Harry. My instinct told me that Daniel O'Rourke was a tempting bet at 25-1 and I walked off with a full wallet when he won by half a length. Little Harry, by the way, was unplaced.'
'I remember it only too well,' said Colbeck. 'I had money on Little Harry that day. If my memory serves, there were over thirty runners in that race. Merry Legs will have fewer to contend with this year.'
'Twenty other runners in all.'
'Nineteen,' corrected Fido.
'Since when?'
'Since this morning, Marcus.'
'Oh?'
'My spies tell me that Tambourine has sprained a tendon and been withdrawn. His owner, Sir Richard Duggleby, will be livid – he had high hopes of Tambourine.'
'That means we only have twenty runners.'
'A much smaller field than usual,' observed Colbeck, 'but it's still infernally difficult to pick the winner.'
'Not unless you're a bookmaker,' said Johnson, clapping Fido on the back. 'However, I can see that the inspector wants a private word with you, Hamilton, so I'll make myself scarce.'
There was a flurry of farewells then Johnson withdrew. Colbeck watched him bounding off with a spring in his step then raising his hat to two ladies who walked past.
'A born gambler, by the sound of it,' he said.
'Marcus Johnson lives off his wits,' observed Fido. 'If he's not at the races, he'll be at the card table. If not there, he'll be betting on something else.'
'Illegal blood sports, for instance?'
Fido laughed. 'You'll have to ask him yourself, Inspector.'
'You're the only person who interests me at the moment, sir. It's odd that you mentioned spies a moment ago because that's exactly what I came to talk to you about. First,' he went on, taking a letter from his pocket, 'I'm delivering this on behalf of Detective Constable Peter Cheggin. He was unable to come here as he's now in custody.'
'I see,' said Fido calmly, taking the envelope and opening it to read the letter. He grinned. 'Is this some kind of joke, Inspector?'
'I'm here to do exactly what he says – to arrest you.'
'On what charge?'
'Corrupting one of our detectives so that he passed on privileged information from Scotland Yard.'
'Is that what I did?'
'The letter is proof of that.'
'I don't think so, Inspector. Have you talked to Peter Cheggin?'
'Of course.'
'Did he say that I asked him to act as an informer?'
'He didn't need to do that.'
'Did he claim that I paid him for information?'
'Cheggin is being rather bloody-minded at the moment,' said Colbeck. 'He'll admit nothing beyond the fact that he wrote that letter.'
'I wish that it had arrived before you did, Inspector.'
'So that you could take to your heels?'
'On the contrary,' said Fido. 'I'd have saved you the trouble of coming here by giving myself up. Then I could have told you the story that lies behind this letter.'
'That's only too apparent, Mr Fido.'
'Is it? How well do you know Peter Cheggin?'
'Reasonably well. I judged him to be a good officer.'
'I've no doubt that he is but Peter has two glaring problems. The first is that he loves to gamble and the second is that he doesn't earn enough to cover his losses. Peter Cheggin owes me money,' said Fido quietly. 'A fair amount of money, as it happens. Most bookmakers are not as patient as I am, Inspector. If someone can't settle his debts, he gets a visit from two strong men with the gift of persuasion. I prefer to do business on a more civilised basis.'
'Very noble of you, sir,' said Colbeck with light sarcasm.
'Peter is obviously so grateful that he sends me the occasional nugget of information as a sign of goodwill. I don't ask for it and I most certainly don't pay for it. Did I corrupt one of your men?' he asked rhetorically. 'No, Inspector – he was already corrupted by the desire to gamble and that's what landed him in debt.'
'I only have your word for that, Mr Fido, and – if you'll forgive my saying so – I don't accept that at face value.'
'In that case,' said Fido, enjoying the situation, 'you must do your duty and arrest me so that you can question me at Scotland Yard. But bear this is mind – the burden of proof lies with you. And there is no court in Creation that can prove I paid Peter Cheggin to act as a spy. He did it entirely of his own accord.'
His readiness to be arrested rang a warning bell for Colbeck. Before he had joined the Metropolitan Police Force, the inspector had been a successful barrister, spending every day in court and testing the limits of the English legal system with regularity. He knew how difficult it sometimes was to persuade juries of a malefactor's guilt even when the evidence against him was fairly strong. In view of what Fido had just told him, the evidence against the bookmaker could look decidedly flimsy in court. Though he had certainly encouraged a detective to act as an informer, proving it would be difficult. Hamilton Fido was a wealthy man who would retain the ablest defence counsel he could find. The case against him would be ripped to shreds and Colbeck did not want that to happen.
'How many of them are there, Mr Fido?' he asked.
'How many what?'
'People like Peter Cheggin – decent men who get led astray by you and who end up taking the punishment that should really be yours alone.'
'I told you once before, Inspector,' said Fido gleefully. 'I have a gift for survival. When others fall by the wayside, I carry on unscathed.' He thrust out both wrists. 'Well – come on,' he goaded. 'Aren't you going to put handcuffs on me?'
Late that afternoon, Brian Dowd had ridden over to Epsom to inspect the course and get a feel of the place where he expected Limerick Lad to achieve a resounding success. He talked to some of the officials who were there and also chatted to a couple of the men whose job it was to cut the grass and ensure that the course was in good condition. Dowd was standing reflectively near the winning post when a carriage pulled up beside him. Sitting in the back of it was Lord Hendry, still smarting from his earlier encounter with Kitty Lavender. The sight of his rival enraged him.
'That's the closest you'll get to the winning post, Dowd,' he said with condescension. 'Odysseus will flash past it first.'
'Really?' said Dowd, looking up at him. 'How do you know that, my lord? You've never trained a racehorse. I've trained dozens and I can tell you now that Limerick Lad is the finest three-year-old I've ever had in my stables. I've brought him to his peak for the Derby so I know what he'll do. You, on the other hand, rely solely on the word of your trainer.'
'He happens to be a master at his trade.'
'Then why have none of your horses won a major race?'
'They've been unlucky,' said Lord Hendry, stung by the remark.
'I don't believe in luck.'
'No, you believe in gaining the advantage by unfair means. What tricks have you got up your sleeve this time, Dowd? I haven't forgotten that race at Doncaster in which one of your jockeys – acting on your instructions, no doubt – forced my horse against the rails.'
'Your horse tried to come through a gap that did not exist.'
'That's not how I saw it.'
'You're a poor loser, my lord,' said the Irishman with a grin. 'That surprises me, considering how much practice you've had at it.'
'Sneer, if you must,' said Lord Hendry. 'You'll change your tune on Wednesday when Odysseus leaves your horse standing.'
'I admire your confidence.'
'It's shared by every bookmaker of note.'
'Never trust bookmakers,' said Dowd. 'They work on incomplete information. Look how many favourites are beaten out of sight. You'll see another come to grief in the Derby.'
Lord Hendry flicked a hand. 'I'm not here to bandy words with the likes of you,' he said scornfully.
'I assumed you'd come to see Odysseus. Has the horse been moved to Epsom already?'
'He arrived this morning under police guard.'
'Yes, I heard that you'd a spot of trouble.'
'Is that because you incited it?' challenged Lord Hendry.
Dowd's face was impassive 'Now why should I do that?'
'For the reason you always resort to criminality – to gain an unfair advantage.'
'But I already have an advantage, Lord Hendry. I own better horses than anyone else. I'm far too busy protecting them to worry about anybody else's stables. Before you portray yourself as a victim,' said Dowd forcefully, 'look at my problems. Someone tried to send me the severed head of a groom I used to employ. How would you like to open a lady's hatbox and find that inside?'
Lord Hendry flinched at the mention of the hatbox. It brought back painful memories of Kitty Lavender's betrayal of him. It also made him wonder who had committed the murder and why he had sent such a chilling memento of it to Ireland.
'Then we come to Tim Maguire,' continued Dowd. 'Even you must admit that he's the best jockey alive.'
'One of them, I grant you.'
'Someone offered him five hundred pounds if he refused to ride for me. When that bribe failed,' said Dowd with rising anger, 'they set a couple of ruffians onto him last night. They were supposed to make sure that he was unfit to ride in the Derby. But I keep my jockeys well guarded so the attackers were frightened off with a shot or two.' He stepped closer to the carriage and fixed Lord Hendry with an accusatory stare. 'The location of those stables was supposed to be a secret,' he added. 'How did anyone know where Tim Maguire was?'
'Don't look at me like that,' said Lord Hendry. 'I'd never hire ruffians to assault a jockey. As for your stables, I haven't the slightest clue where they are.'
'Someone does. If it's not you,' said Dowd, still subjecting him to a piercing stare, 'then who the devil is it?'
They left early on Sunday morning. Robert Colbeck had hired a trap so that he could drive Madeleine Andrews to her rendezvous with the barmaid at the Shepherd and Shepherdess. On the ride there, he explained precisely what he wanted her to do when she met Bonny Rimmer. Madeleine was attentive. It was not the first time she had been given this kind of unofficial assignment so she had a degree of experience on which she could draw. Talk soon turned to the progress of the investigation. Colbeck told her about his visit to Epsom Downs.
'Why didn't you arrest Mr Fido?' she said.
'Because I could not build a convincing case against him in court,' he confessed resignedly. 'I'd need firmer evidence.'
'You had that letter sent by one of your detectives.'
'It would be almost impossible to establish that he ordered Peter Cheggin to provide the information. Hamilton Fido is far too clever. There'd be no direct link between him and Cheggin. Fido would always use intermediaries and I have no idea who they might be.'
'Couldn't your prisoner tell you?'
'He's too ashamed of what he did, Madeleine. I feel sorry for him. Cheggin has a wife and children. When he's sentenced, they'll be left to fend for themselves. In fact,' he went on, 'knowing Fido, he'll probably try to force Mrs Cheggin to pay off her husband's debts.'
'There must be something you can arrest him for, Robert.'
'I'm sure it will emerge in the fullness of time.'
When they got to the village, Colbeck did not head for the inn. He drove on to the little church at the top of the hill. Its bell was ringing sonorously in the tower. As he brought the trap to a halt, Colbeck saw a few people going in through the porch.
'How did you know what time the service was?' she said.
'I took the trouble to find out when I was last here.'
'Why?'
'Because that's where we'll find Bonny Rimmer.'
'How do you know?'
'She's mourning a loved one,' said Colbeck. 'She needs help. My guess is that she'll turn to the church.'
He got out of the trap, tethered the horse then offered a hand to assist her down. When Madeleine stepped onto the ground, she straightened her dress and adjusted her hat. She was thrilled when he extended an arm for her to take. They went through the lychgate together and into the little churchyard where tombs, monuments and stone crosses were clustered together at odd angles and surrounded by uncut grass and bramble. The church itself had stood on the same spot for over five hundred years and it showed clear signs of decrepitude.
When they left the morning sunshine, they entered the chill interior of the building. Wooden pews ran down either side of the nave and there was a scattering of worshippers there. Colbeck could not identify the woman who knelt in the front pew wearing black but he was certain that it was Bonny Rimmer. He and Madeleine sat halfway down the nave and bent their heads in prayer. It was the first time they had been in a church together and the significance of attending morning service as a couple was lost on neither of them.
The vicar was a white-haired old man who took the service briskly and who preached a combative sermon as if addressing a full congregation rather than a mere nine parishioners. When it was over, he stood at the door to bid farewell to people as they left. Bonny Rimmer remained immoveable in her pew. Colbeck and Madeleine shook hands with the vicar and made complimentary remarks about the service before moving out into the porch. Most of the others had drifted away but they lingered in the churchyard.
'Wait for her here,' said Colbeck. 'She stayed behind for some words of comfort from the vicar.'
'Where will you be, Robert?'
'In the trap – I'd only be in the way.'
'Suppose that she won't speak to me?'
'I think she'll be grateful for sympathy from anyone.'
'I'll do my best,' said Madeleine.
He touched her arm. 'That's why I brought you.'
Putting on his hat, he went out through the lychgate and took up his position in the trap. Madeleine, meanwhile, read some of the inscriptions chiselled into the stone and let her thoughts turn to the death of her mother. It had been so sudden and unexpected that it had left her father in a daze for weeks. Though trying to cope with her own bereavement, Madeleine had also had to help him through his despair. It had forged a strong bond between father and daughter. As she read some of the elaborate and sentimental epitaphs, she remembered the simplicity of the inscription on her mother's tombstone and wished that these neglected graves could be tended with as much loving care as she and her father always showed.
It was some time before Bonny Rimmer came out of the church. When she did so, her head was down and she clutched a prayer book in her hand. Madeleine stepped back onto the path to intercept her.
'Miss Rimmer?' she began.
'Oh!' cried Bonny.
She looked up in dismay as if someone had just bumped into her. Madeleine saw the oval face, drained of colour and framed by the black bonnet. The girl had been crying and there were dark patches beneath her eyes. She was patently bewildered.
'My name is Madeleine Andrews,' said the other, 'and I'd like to offer my sincerest condolences. I know that you've suffered a terrible loss and I'm sorry to intrude on your grief.'
'You knew John?'
'No, but I'm aware of what happened to him. I'm a friend of Inspector Colbeck's. He told me what had happened.'
'He was kind,' murmured Bonny.
'I wonder if I might talk to you for a moment?'
The girl's face was blank. 'Talk?'
'About your friendship with John Feeny.'
'He was a wonderful person, Miss Andrews.'
Madeleine gave a gentle smile. 'Tell me about him.'
Taking her by the elbow, she led Bonny across to a wooden bench that had been stained by age and autographed by youthful parishioners with sharp knives. They sat down together. Bonny gazed at her with a curiosity tempered by anxiety.
'What do you want?' she said.
'I want to do all I can to help the police catch the man who killed your friend. I'm sure that you want to do the same.'
'Yes, yes, I do.'
'Then talk to me about John.'
Bonny was lost. 'What am I to say?'
'Tell me how you first met him.'
The barmaid began slowly, stopping from time to time as the pain of recollection became too acute. Madeleine said nothing, sharing her anguish, offering solace, acting as a silent and uncritical witness. The tale eventually gathered pace. Bonny had met John Feeny when he came to the inn with a group of other lads from the stables. He had seemed quieter and more thoughtful than the others. While they had flirted with her, Feeny stood shyly on the side and watched.
Then the day came when one of the grooms tried to molest her. He was very drunk and the others had egged him on. He caught Bonny in the yard at the rear of the inn and pounced on her. John Feeny was the only person who responded to her scream. Rushing out of the bar, he tore her attacker off and flung him to the ground. A fierce struggle ensued. The other groom was bigger and older than Feeny but that made no difference. The Irish lad was so incensed that Bonny had been assaulted that he fought like a demon and put his opponent to flight. Full of gratitude, the barmaid had washed the blood from Feeny's face.
'So he wasn't quiet all the time,' she said softly. 'John had a real temper. He never turned it on me but it was there. He wasn't afraid of getting hurt – that's why he'd have made a good jockey. And he was so brave, Miss Andrews.'
'Brave?'
'Yes,' replied Bonny. 'Do you know how he came to England?'
'On a boat, I suppose.'
'But he had no money for the passage. John had a row with Mr Dowd – that's the man who owned the stables – and walked out. John was so keen to get to this country that he sneaked aboard a boat and hid under a tarpaulin.' She smiled for the first time. 'Now isn't that brave?'
'Brave but foolhardy.'
'That's what John was like. He took chances. When the boat was a mile or so away from Anglesey, they caught him. Do you know what the captain told him? He said that if John was that keen to get here, he could swim. So they threw him overboard.'
Madeleine was shocked. 'He might have drowned.'
'Not him,' said Bonny. 'He swam ashore and dried himself off. Then he made his way to London by walking and begging lifts off carters. At long last, he found his uncle and started to look for work. Weeks and weeks later, he got a job at the stables down here.'
'And he met you.'
'Yes – we made so many plans together.'
'Plans?' repeated Madeleine.
'For when he became a jockey,' explained Bonny. 'John said he'd make enough money to look after me. I wouldn't have to work at the inn any more. He wanted me all to himself.'
Madeleine was deeply moved by the tenderness with which she spoke of John Feeny and she learnt far more about the groom than Colbeck had done when he spoke to Bonny Rimmer. The presence of another woman had unlocked memories that the girl would otherwise have kept to herself. Uncertain at first, she was now eager to talk about her relationship and the facts tumbled out. She talked of secret meetings, bold ambitions and an exchange of vows. Bonny and the young Irishman had decided to get married one day.
'Who could possibly have wanted to hurt him?' said Madeleine.
'Nobody – he was the kindest person I ever met.'
'What about the groom who had a fight with John?'
'Oh, he was sacked a long time ago.'
'He could have come back to get his revenge.'
'He'd never do a thing like that.'
'You told Inspector Colbeck about a man that John had met.'
'A real gentleman, he was,' said Bonny, 'or so John thought at first. He wanted information about Limerick Lad – that's one of the runners in the Derby. He offered him money but John refused. The man wasn't so friendly then – he threatened John.'
'So I understand.'
'He had no choice, Miss Andrews,' said Bonny defensively. 'If it was known that he'd worked for Mr Dowd, he'd have been kicked out of the stables. They'd have thought he was a spy.'
'Instead of which,' noted Madeleine, seeing the irony of the situation, 'he was being asked to spy on Mr Dowd himself.'
'John was helping to look after Mr Hamilton's horse, Merry Legs, but the man wasn't worried about her in the Derby. All he wanted to hear about was Limerick Lad.'
'What did he tell you about this man?'
'Very little.'
'Was he young or old, tall or short? How did he dress?'
'John said he was well dressed,' she recalled. 'He wasn't old but I've no idea how tall he was. The man had money. He gave some to John and told him there'd be a lot more when they met to have a long talk about Mr Dowd's stables.' She pulled the sleeve of her dress back to expose a delicate silver bangle. 'John used the money to buy this for me. Then he went off to meet this man in London.'
'Did he say where the meeting was to take place?'
'No, Miss Andrews,' said Bonny, brightening for a moment, 'but he promised to buy me another present when he got the rest of the money.' Her face clouded. 'I never saw John alive again.'
Surprised to receive the summons, Marcus Johnson responded to it at once. He went to the house to see Kitty Lavender, kissing her on the cheek when they met. She let him into her drawing room and shut the door. Putting his hat down, he beamed at her.
'Three meetings in a week,' he said. 'This is a treat. We rarely see each other more than three times in a year.'
'I wanted your advice, Marcus.'
'I'm always ready to give that, bidden or unbidden.'
'Sit down,' invited Kitty, taking a seat well away from him. 'And thank you for coming so promptly.'
'I hoped you might have gleaned some information for me,' he said, settling into his chair. 'That's why I rushed here. Any warm hints from Hamilton?'
'He still believes that Merry Legs will win.'
'I want to know why. When I met him at Epsom yesterday, he'd tell me nothing. It was like trying to get blood from a stone. However,' he went on, sensing her concern, 'you obviously don't want to hear any more about the Derby. What's this about advice?'
'Do you remember my telling you about that missing hatbox?'
'Yes – it was stolen from some hotel or other, wasn't it?'
'The police wish to speak to me about it.'
'How do you know?'
'Because that's what Inspector Colbeck said both to Hamilton and to Lord Hendry. Somehow he found out that I was connected with both of them and tried to get my name from them.'
'I hope they had the decency to refuse,' said Johnson sharply. 'I'd certainly have done so in their position.'
'They didn't give me away, Marcus.'
'Good for them! You're an innocent party here, Kitty. You don't want your name entangled in a murder investigation. If it got into the papers, it could be very embarrassing for you.'
'That's my fear. I'm worried.'
'About what?'
'Inspector Colbeck,' she said. 'Lord Hendry came here to warn me that he was looking for me and Hamilton actually urged me to go to Scotland Yard.'
'Why did he do that?'
'When he was questioned by Inspector Colbeck, he refused to give my name. That could be seen as withholding evidence. On the eve of Derby Week, the worst thing for Hamilton is to get embroiled with the police.'
Johnson laughed. 'He's spent most of his life getting embroiled with the police, Kitty. That's why I like him so much – he outwits them at every turn. I wish I had his effrontery.'
'What would you advise me to do?'
'Stay in the shadows and say nothing.'
'Even if this detective is looking for me?'
'Forget about Inspector Colbeck,' he said expansively. 'He's no threat to you. As it happens, I met the fellow myself only yesterday when I was chatting to Hamilton at the racecourse. He didn't impress me, Kitty. He's like all policeman – plodding and slow-witted. If neither Hamilton nor Lord Hendry surrenders your name, Colbeck would never be able to identify you.'
'Yet he knows I befriended both of them.'
'That's all he knows and all he will know. What purpose can be served by questioning you?' he asked with a grin. 'Unless he wants you to discuss their respective merits in the boudoir, that is.'
'Don't be unseemly, Marcus.'
'I'm only trying to look at the situation through your eyes. If you were able to help the police solve this horrendous murder, then I'd take you to Scotland Yard myself. But that's not the position you're in. As far as I know, you can't shed any light on the crime.'
'None at all,' she said plaintively. 'What I want to avoid at all costs is facing Inspector Colbeck and enduring his disapproval at the way I choose to live.'
Johnson guffawed. 'If he disapproved of you,' he said, 'then he'd hold up his hands in horror at the kind of existence I lead. It may be sinful to say this on the Sabbath but I believe moral standards are nothing but silly impediments to happiness.'
'There's nothing useful I can tell the police.'
'Then steer clear of them.'
'What about Hamilton?' she said, still worrying. 'Unless I go to Scotland Yard, they may harass him again.'
'He can run rings around a man like Inspector Colbeck.'
'What if the inspector sees the two of us together at the Derby?'
'Make sure that he doesn't, Kitty. Exercise discretion – you're an expert at that. My feeling is this,' he went on, rising to his feet. 'The only time we should get involved with the police is when we are in danger. Otherwise, the less the Inspector Colbecks of this world know about us, the better.' He flashed her a smile. 'Have I answered your question, Kitty?'
'Yes, Marcus,' she said. 'You've put my mind at rest.'
'Then I'd like you to do the same for me.'
'What do you mean?'
'I want you to tell me why you behaved so oddly when I arrived,' he said. 'Why you only offered one cheek for me to kiss and why you sat just as far away from me as you could. I'd also like to know why you're wearing so much powder on your face today. What's wrong?'
'Nothing – nothing at all.'
'I don't believe you, Kitty.'
'I'm fine, I tell you.'
'That's not the feeling I get,' he said, crossing over to her and pushing back the hair from one temple to reveal a bruise that was only half-hidden by cosmetics. He was shocked. 'Who did this to you?'
'Nobody – I slipped and fell.'
'You're far too sure-footed for that.'
'It was a stupid accident,' she said with a shrill laugh.
'You're lying to me, Kitty. I think somebody hit you.'
'No!'
'Was it Hamilton?' he asked, letting the hair fall back over the bruise. 'If he's been knocking you about, he'll suffer for it. Tell me the truth – was it him?'
'No, Marcus.'
'Do you swear that?'
'Yes – Hamilton is considerate. He'd never lay a finger on me.'
'Then who was responsible?'
'It was my own fault, I tell you.'
'But I don't believe you,' he said, trying to contain his anger. 'Somebody else gave you that bruise or you wouldn't be so eager to disguise it from me. Who was it, Kitty? I insist on being told.'
There was no chance of deceiving him. Marcus Johnson was too sharp-eyed and too familiar with his half-sister's manner to be fooled. All his protective instincts had been aroused. Kitty was touched but she was still reluctant to tell him the truth. When she remembered what had happened, she was filled with shame and discomfort. She could feel the stinging blow from the cane all over again.
'Tell me his name, Kitty,' he demanded. 'This is one time when I might actually be able to be useful to you. Who is he?'
She swallowed hard. 'Lord Hendry,' she said.
Sunday was no day of rest for Edward Tallis. A deeply religious man, he first attended a service of Holy Communion at his parish church. It left him both spiritually replenished and reinvigorated to continue the unending fight against crime. He adjourned to Scotland Yard. Most of the day was spent reviewing the security arrangements for Derby Week. In the evening, by prior arrangement, he had a meeting in his office with Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming. The superintendent was used to seeing Colbeck look immaculate but the sight of Leeming in his best suit was something of a novelty. For once in his life, the sergeant had achieved a miraculous smartness.
Predictably, the meeting began with a rebuke for Colbeck.
'You made a bad mistake, Inspector,' he said, using a paper knife to wag at Colbeck. 'You should have arrested Hamilton Fido.'
'On what charge, sir?'
'Keeping a paid informer in the Detective Department.'
'I explained that,' Colbeck reminded him. 'I lacked sufficient evidence to convict him. He argues that Cheggin provided information voluntarily as a means of settling his gambling debts.'
'Gambling is a disease,' said Tallis, gaze shifting to Leeming, 'and we see what havoc it can wreak in the life of a man like Constable Cheggin. Next time you have the urge to bet on the Derby, Sergeant, call that to mind or you'll end up in the same cell as him.'
'Hardly, sir,' said Leeming, aggrieved. 'I only have a bet once in a blue moon and always with small amounts of money. There's no danger of me going the same way as Peter.'
'Once the disease gets hold of you, there's no cure.'
'Victor knows that full well,' said Colbeck, heading off another homily from Tallis, 'and is too aware of his family responsibilities to get infected. His study of the Derby field has not only been for the purposes of selecting a winner, sir. At my suggestion, he's been doing something else as well.'
'What's that?' asked Tallis.
'Trying to sift out possible suspects. Consider the situation that we have before us. Three horses stand out from the rest. Each of their owners has – to put it mildly – experienced difficulties of late. Each one has accused his two rivals of the various crimes committed.'
'What we have to ask,' Leeming interjected, 'is cui bono.'
Tallis's mouth dropped open in wonderment. The sergeant had many sterling virtues but knowledge of Latin was not one of them. His strengths lay in his tenacity and courage.
'Who stands to gain?' Leeming continued. 'That's what it means – or so the inspector tells me, anyway. If all three fancied horses were put out of the race, who would be the likely winner?'
'Don't ask me, man!' scolded Tallis.
'According to the odds, sir, Aleppo, Gladiator and Royal Realm would come to the fore. Someone connected with one of those horses could be behind all the upset.'
'A vicious murder is rather more than an upset, Leeming, but I take your point. The owners of those three horses must be kept under suspicion. Indeed,' said Tallis, 'it seems to me that anyone involved in the Derby must be watched carefully. I did a little research into the event and it confirmed my long-held belief that horseracing is a sordid business.'
'It has its darker side, sir,' conceded Colbeck.
'Ten years ago, in 1844, the winner of the Derby was a four-year-old called Maccabeus, masquerading under the name of Running Rein. It was a year older than any other animal in the race.'
'The fraud was eventually exposed, Superintendent, and it left a stain on the event that will be difficult to eradicate. I think we face an even more blatant example of villainy and intrigue this year. For the sake of the Derby, we must catch the people behind these crimes.'
'For the sake of our reputation, you mean,' corrected Tallis.
'That goes without saying, sir.'
'So what have you learnt since we last met?'
'I made some more enquiries about John Feeny,' said Colbeck, 'and discovered new facts that altered my view of him slightly.'
Without mentioning that he had been there with Madeleine Andrews, he talked about his visit to church that morning and related what Bonny Rimmer had disclosed. Feeny was no longer the hapless victim they had assumed him to be. The person who got closest to him described an ambitious, dedicated, brave young man given to fits of temper and unwilling to take criticism.
'Brian Dowd told me that he and Feeny were on good terms when the lad left his stables,' said Colbeck, 'but that's not true. They had a violent row, it seems, and Feeny stormed out. He stowed away on a boat sailing for Anglesey.'
'As if we didn't have enough Irish over here!' sighed Tallis.
'I think the man we're looking for is the one who claimed to be seeking information about Limerick Lad. Once he'd lured Feeny away from the stables, he killed and beheaded him. The same man probably tried to cripple Odysseus and he may even have sent that anonymous letter to Tim Maguire. One way and another,' said Colbeck, 'he's determined to stop the fancied horses from winning.'
'Who's paying him, Inspector?' asked Leeming.
Tallis had the answer. 'I'm certain it was Hamilton Fido,' he said, slapping the paper knife down on the desk. 'You should have arrested him when you had the chance, Inspector, instead of letting him stay free to cause more trouble.'
'We could never prove that he instructed Peter Cheggin to act as his spy,' said Colbeck. 'Our case would be laughed out of court.'
'Then arrest him for refusing to name the young lady with whom he spent the night at the Wyvern Hotel. In remaining silent,' said the superintendent, 'Fido is denying us the opportunity to collect evidence that might be of critical importance in a murder investigation.'
'You wish me to arrest him now, sir?'
'Yes, I do.'
'Then I'll also have to take Lord Hendry into custody on the identical charge,' said Colbeck, 'for he has also declined to cooperate with the police. What good that will do, I fail to see, but it would have one immediate effect.'
'What's that?'
'To frighten away the young lady we're anxious to speak to, sir. She'll disappear completely and we'll be left to fight a ferocious battle against the respective lawyers of Lord Hendry and Hamilton Fido.'
'I agree with the inspector,' said Leeming.
'Was your opinion sought?' asked Tallis nastily.
'No, sir.'
'Then keep it to yourself.'
'We could be sued for wrongful arrest,' warned Colbeck. 'Lord Hendry is a man of considerable influence and Fido exerts power of another kind. Both are staking an enormous amount on this year's Derby. If they're languishing in a police cell while the race is being run, there'll be serious repercussions.'
Before he could signal his agreement, Leeming was quelled with a glance from the superintendent. Tallis was forced to rethink his tactics. He was under severe pressure from the commissioner and from the press to solve the murder of John Feeny and he wanted to be seen to be taking positive steps. At the same time, he did not wish to end up in a legal wrangle that would simply hamper the inquiry. With reluctance, he accepted what Colbeck had just told him.
'What would you advise, Inspector?' he said.
'Let them stay free,' urged Colbeck. 'We'll find out the young lady's name without their help. What we need to do is to keep an eye on all three owners, Lord Hendry, Fido and Brian Dowd. It's only a matter of time before one of their horses is in danger again.'
Sidney had worked at the stables for years. The little terrier acted as a guard dog, kept the place free of vermin and made a nuisance of himself whenever the yard was full of horses. The rest of the time, he liked to curl up in the straw in one of the stalls and sleep. That was exactly where the groom found the dog when he brought Merry Legs back from her morning gallop. As he led the animal into the stall, he gave Sidney a friendly kick to get rid of him but there was no response. A harder kick made the dog roll over limply.
The groom was alarmed. Sidney was clearly dead. In the corner of the stall was a pail of water from which the dog might well have drunk. Realising that, the groom flew into a panic. He led the filly quickly back into the yard and called to the trainer.
'Mr Stenton!' he yelled at the top of his voice. 'Come quickly, sir. I think someone tried to poison Merry Legs.'