A Racing Murder (The Ham Hill Murder Mysteries) Read online

  Belinda pushed a small upturned lid towards him. ‘For the bag.’

  With a grimace, Adam picked up the string between finger and thumb, removed the teabag from the pale grey liquid, let it drip a while in the hope that the tea would turn brown, realised that was not going to happen, and laid it on the lid.

  He sipped. The tea was terrible. Like a police station brew. ‘At least it’s warm and wet,’ his sergeant would have said.

  Meanwhile, Belinda sat on the worn, saggy chair by his side, unwound her scarf, pulled off her hat and gloves and crossed her legs. ‘Fire away, then,’ she said.

  She was far more composed and in control than her mother had been. She looked at Adam without flinching. ‘I suppose you’re expecting me to tell you I didn't kill Alex?’

  ‘Well, I hope you didn’t, or I'll have some explaining to do to your mother.’ Adam’s joke fell flat. He thrust his hands in his pockets, wishing he’d brought his gloves from the car. The tiny house must be at least ten degrees colder than The Plough.

  Belinda heaved a sigh. ‘She's such a fusspot. Dad used to keep her under control, but now she’s like a nervous horse that’s eaten too many oats. She twitches at the slightest sound, worries about me all the time, and would wrap me up in cotton wool if she could and only let me out where she could see me.’

  ‘That's perfectly normal for a widow and her only child,’ Adam said, irritated. He’d expect more loyalty to a widowed mother. ‘It's not long since your father died, is it?’

  Belinda looked away, towards Harley. He’d crunched the biscuit she gave him within seconds, and was now lapping noisily and messily at the bowl of water in the corner of the room.

  She turned back to Adam. Her eyes gleamed, too bright. She’d taken his rebuke to heart. The cool exterior was an act, then, an attempt at self-defence.

  ‘Saturday,’ she said quietly, ‘was meant to be the most exciting day of my life. I thought if I could win that race and prove myself, it would stop Mum worrying about me.’ Her lip quivered.

  Adam said, more kindly, ‘If you tell me exactly what happened I may be able to help.’

  She gave a deep sigh. ‘Haven't you read it in the paper? Seen that photograph that made me look like an axe murderer about to strike?’

  ‘Of course, but photos don’t always tell the real story. The journalist made his opinion clear, but what does he know? I'd like to hear it from you. And I'd prefer the truth. It saves time.’

  The noise she made was half laugh, half sob. ‘The journalist who wrote that piece and took the photo is Alex's uncle.’

  ‘So not entirely unbiased, then?’

  She sniffed, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. She was trying to look relaxed, but her hands were busy, plucking at the edge of her sweater where a thread had come loose.

  ‘Everything was going so well during the race. I hadn’t expected to win, but I had a plan – I’d talked it over with Leo, the trainer, so many times. I stayed near the back, went over the jumps carefully, and gradually moved up the field until the final hurdle. Then I let Butterfly Charm go. She was so keen. Everything was going perfectly, but I suppose I got overexcited when we passed Alex’s horse.’ She looked Adam in the eye. ‘I’m convinced Butterfly Charm only moved a centimetre or two before I got her back in line.’

  She screwed her face up, looking like a child who’s discovered that life isn’t fair. ‘Alex made the most of it, and I'm sure she checked Season’s Greetings deliberately. That didn't really show in the video, of course.’

  Adam nodded. Her account matched everything he’d heard. ‘And afterwards?’

  ‘Alex and I had words. She’s such a snobby—’ Belinda gave a little gasp. ‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't speak ill of her, should I? I sort of forgot she's dead.’ Her voice broke a little on the last word.

  Adam said, ‘I want you to be honest. I won't hold your feelings against you. I'm not the police any more, and I won't judge you. But in order to help, I need all the facts in as much detail as you can remember.’

  ‘Well, she said I’d made a rookie mistake, so I asked her if she’d held her horse back deliberately, and she didn’t deny it. In fact, she laughed. I was so angry, and then her uncle took that photo—‘

  She bit her lip, but couldn’t prevent it from trembling. ‘I don’t think I can tell you anything else. I didn’t see Alex again, after that photo. To be honest, I was so angry, I could have punched her, but I didn’t.’

  Adam said, ‘Are you sure you didn’t see her at the – what do you call them – the stalls at the racecourse? If you did, was she with anyone else? Try to think back.’

  She closed her eyes. Adam watched, letting the silence draw on. In her mind, she was reliving the afternoon of the race.

  She kept her eyes closed. ‘No, after I talked to Alex, Leo found me. He was very kind. It surprised me – you know he’s often quite gruff. But he said not to worry, we’d talk about the race tomorrow and I hadn’t committed a crime. I felt a bit better, then. I’d thought he would be furious. I went back to the jockeys’ area to make sure Andy – that’s the lad acting as Butterfly Charm’s groom that day – had rubbed her down and given her water and so on, ready to load her back into the horsebox for the drive home.’

  She gave a little nod, as if confirming her movements to herself. ‘Then, I found my mother drinking coffee in the Owners & Trainers bar and she drove us back to the hotel. I didn’t see Alex again, although there were plenty of other people milling around when I left.’

  Adam would ask DCI Andrews who’d been at the races – his officers would have all the names and addresses.

  Belinda opened her eyes and blinked, as though returning to reality. ‘That’s truly all I remember. To be honest, I couldn’t think of anything except the race, and how disappointed Mum would be, and how I’d let Dad down.’ Her voice shook.

  Adam said, ‘Do you have any theories of your own about who might have attacked Alex?’

  She shrugged. ‘No idea. I mean, she wasn’t my favourite person, and she often upset people. She thought a lot of herself. Like, she was the best up-and-coming jockey, and the rest of us were rubbish. But being a pain doesn’t normally get people killed, does it?’

  ‘Not usually,’ Adam agreed. He paused, watching Harley as the dog wandered across and collapsed on his back at Belinda’s feet. She leaned over to scratch his stomach. Adam said, ‘Tell me about Alex’s private life. Did she have a boyfriend?’

  She kept her eyes on Harley. ‘You mean, was I jealous of her because boys liked her?’

  ‘Were you?’

  Belinda nodded to herself, as though considering her answer. ‘I would be lying if I didn't admit I envied her in some ways. Her looks, for one thing. She's – she was – good-looking. But, once people get to know her, they find she's not as nice as she looks – looked. Sorry.’

  Adam said, ‘Go on. Be honest. It’s just you and me.’

  ‘She could be a b—’ Belinda stopped. ‘She didn’t mind who she upset. Boys, I mean. Ask any of them at her stables. She’s been through them all.’

  ‘She doesn't work in the same yard as you, then?’

  ‘No, she’s with Ann Clarkson. Ann’s one of a handful of women trainers in the country and one of the best in the area. She took over the yard when it was losing money and she’s made a real go of it. She has some great up-and-coming horses, now.’

  Belinda's focus had soon returned to horses, stables, and racing.

  ‘These boyfriends?’ he reminded her.

  This time she was quiet for a long time. At last, she seemed to make up her mind. ‘I suppose there's no point in lying to you. Anyone will tell you that Alex’s boyfriend – or, one of them – used to go around with me.’

  Her cheeks were scarlet. Harley, as if in sympathy, sat up, laid his head on her knee and gazed soulfully into her face.

  Adam took the boyfriend’s name and address. ‘Tim Booth,' he repeated.

  ‘He's one of the lads at Ann Clar
kson’s yard. He and I were really just friends. No – well – no spark, I suppose. We’re more like brother and sister.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I don't expect you to believe me, but maybe Tim will back me up…’

  ‘Back you up, how?’

  ‘That there was nothing serious between us. You see, Alex thought there was. She went out of her way to take Tim from me.’

  Adam scratched his head. ‘How did she do that, exactly?’

  She gave a short laugh. ‘It happened a few weeks ago, at Exeter. I didn’t have a ride. I was there with one of the other horses, but Tim rode. He came in third on one of Ann’s older horses, one not really expected to do well. He was so pleased.’

  She grinned. ‘After he'd weighed in, he and I were chatting and Alex came along. She stood right in front of Tim, between him and me. You know, with her back to me? She gushed all over him. How that was one of the best rides she'd ever seen, how she wished she could ride like that…’

  Belinda giggled at the memory. ‘It was so blatant. Poor Tim isn't used to that kind of thing. He’s a bit on the small side, and thin, and not really much to look at. Alex only wanted him because she thought he liked me.’

  Adam sat in silence for a few moments, thinking this through. The racing world was small, but these two girls’ apprenticeships involved them in travel round the country to race meetings. They must know dozens of people – everyone at the races, all the staff at different yards. The racing world must be teeming with young people, all with complicated relationships, jealousies and love affairs. Maybe Imogen was right, and Alex’s murder was the direct consequence of someone’s broken heart.

  Belinda twitched, gasped and leapt to her feet. ‘I'm horribly late. I need to get back to the yard now. I had the morning off, but I should be there by now.’

  She wound the scarf around her neck, jammed her woolly hat on her head and made for the door. ‘I’ll have to throw you out, I’m afraid, before my housemates get back. They’ll have a fit if they arrive home and find you here alone. They'll be calling the police. Everyone’s on edge at the moment.’

  ‘I've never been to a racing yard,’ Adam stated, hopefully.

  She grinned. ‘You mean you'd like to come with me?’

  ‘Don't forget, I'm on your side.’

  ‘It's tricky. We’re not supposed to have visitors in the yard. But, maybe this once…’

  Adam said, ‘I've no intention of telling lies to your boss. I'll introduce myself and explain why I want to get a feel for his – er – yard. If he's a reasonable man, there should be no problem.’

  She shrugged. ‘Very well, then. Just don't touch anything. Especially the horses. They can be sensitive.’

  Adam held his hands up. ‘I shall keep as far away from them as possible, I promise you. What about Harley?’

  ‘Probably better left in the car. No, that's not fair. Put him on the lead at the yard and I’ll ask Leo. He's crazy about dogs. So long as Harley behaves, it should be fine.’

  Just then, a rattling of keys, a shuffling and stamping, heralded the arrival of her two housemates, who tumbled through the door, shouting, ‘Sandford, if you don't get your butt down to the yard pronto, you'll be in trouble. Leo’s on the warpath ‘cause Callum was late for work, and your name’s already mud down there. Oh—’

  The small wiry youth caught sight of Adam.

  ‘It's okay, Simon,’ Belinda said. ‘Mr Hennessy is – um – a friend of mine. I’m going to show him round the yard.’

  Simon sucked his teeth like a man twice his age. ‘Take it carefully. Leo wants everything perfect today, because he’s showing some of the Butterfly Charm syndicate around. Not your Mum, though, Sandford. I think Leo wants to cheer them up after Wincanton. Not that they need cheering up, from what I saw. That barrister fellow, Henry Oxon, is as keen as mustard, and his wife’s a looker, and no mistake.’

  Adam raised his eyebrows. The lad had the grace to blush. ‘Wait until you see her.

  ‘Nice dog, by the way. Me and Jane are starving. Any food in the house?’

  He wandered through into the kitchen in stockinged feet, one large toe peeking through a hole. Presumably, the commotion Adam had heard at the door had been him shedding his work boots.

  The other housemate, a girl just a few years older than Belinda, had a plain face but startlingly brilliant green eyes. She shot a glance at Adam, immediately looked away, and followed Simon in silence.

  Belinda whispered, ‘She’s very shy.’

  Adam and Harley followed her out of the house. ‘Want a lift?’ Adam suggested, but she shook her head. ‘No, the yard’s only half a mile away. I like to run. It’s part of my fitness training. Tell you what, give me ten minutes to get there before you and I can lay the groundwork. Make sure Leo’s happy. It sounds like he’s on edge today.’

  With a wave she jogged down the lane and disappeared around the corner.

  ‘Well, Harley,’ Adam murmured. ‘It looks like we've got a quarter of an hour or so to kill. How about a stroll to work off some of your energy? Can't have you nipping at the heels of these valuable racehorses. It seems to me they're pampered like rock stars.’

  11

  Racing Yard

  The cold air made Adam shiver. He pulled his padded jacket closer and led Harley down the lane, away from the direction of the yard. They were only a couple of miles from Lower Hembrow and he was curious to explore.

  But after a ten minute walk along lanes lined with hazel, beech and brambles, and lit by the sun sloping through bare branches, he'd discovered only one lone farmhouse, set well back from the road.

  He squinted through the gate that divided the farmland from the public road, but there seemed to be no activity. The fields were empty, presumably because any livestock – cattle perhaps– were indoors for the winter, living the high life on hay and silage.

  Adam flapped his arms to keep warm. This must be the most expensive time of the year for a farmer, keeping the animals going while the grass lay dormant and the winter fodder supply dwindled; worrying about feed costs leaping up and animal prices dropping. He’d heard the locals in The Plough on the subject, many times.

  He leaned on the gate, Harley scrabbling through the hedge hopefully, although the noise he made would have scared away any nearby rabbits, mice or shrews.

  He pulled out his phone and called the police station, planning to request an interview with DCI Andrews. A young lad took his call. ‘DCI Andrews left a note for me to call you. He says please would you make an appointment to meet him.’

  Not, Adam supposed, because he was a suspect, which meant Phil Andrews must want to pick his brain. Great minds think alike, he reflected, relieved to know he was no longer going behind the DCI’s back. As he was making an appointment, a huge four-by-four SUV shot past, far cleaner and shinier than any of the farm vehicles around Lower Hembrow. Wheels squealing, it rounded the corner and disappeared, racing in the direction Adam had been heading – travelling too fast for him to do more than register the fact that there was a single person at the wheel.

  ‘I’m losing my touch,’ Adam said to Harley. ‘I didn’t get the number. I wonder if it came from the racing stables? There don’t seem to be that many other places around here. Let’s put in our appearance at the yard and find out. I’m hoping it’s warmer there.’ But he doubted it. Judging from Belinda’s house, horsey folk were tougher than pub owners. ‘Time to go. You’re on your best behaviour, now.’

  Harley turned and trotted back up the lane towards the car parked outside Belinda’s cottage.

  They drove up the lane and soon arrived at the racing yard.

  Everything about the place shouted of horses and purposeful activity; the distant clatter of hooves, the bawled commands, the sweet, meaty smell of horses, manure and hay, and the subdued dog-barking. Adam had a distant view of a string of horses setting off up the hill behind the stables, in single file, watched by a short man in a flat cap. The man raised a pair of binoculars to his face as the horses br
oke into a steady gallop.

  Belinda was waiting, grinning with pride.

  ‘They make it look easy, don’t they?’ Adam remarked. ‘Is it all right for me to be here?’

  ‘Leo agreed.’

  ‘Is that him?’ Adam jerked his head towards the watcher.

  ‘No, that’s the head man, who runs the yard. Leo’s over there.’ She pointed to a burly man. ‘He’s agreed to see you, because the syndicate’s here and I asked if I could bring a friend, also keen to own a part of a horse – that's you by the way, sorry.’

  Clever girl, Adam thought. Maybe a touch devious?

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘Leo says you're very welcome, and you can bring Harley, but he'll have to stay in one of the kennels.’

  ‘Hear that, Harley? I’m about to buy part of a horse, apparently.’

  Belinda led the way to the source of the barking. Harley’s ears pricked up and his tail whipped from side to side as they drew near to a row of low buildings.

  ‘Harley looks as though this is his spiritual home,’ Belinda remarked.

  ‘He’s a fine fellow, he loves other animals, people, gardens – everything really. He doesn't like being cooped up for long.’ Adam winced at the memory of the mess Harley had made when left alone for an hour or two at The Plough. This was a dog who needed company and space, and as much of both as possible.

  ‘He’ll be fine. He can talk to the others. Everyone at the yard keeps dogs, but Leo won’t let them all near the horses. Some of the young ones are easily spooked.’

  With Harley installed in the kennels and happily nosing through the partition at a delicate-featured Dalmatian, Adam followed Belinda through a brick archway into the yard. A row of horses’ heads, hanging over the stable doors, regarded him with a mix of suspicion, curiosity and boredom. He mirrored the suspicion; at least they were all safely locked away. He mused on a series of jokes about bolting stable doors, and decided now was not the time. Belinda would have heard them all, anyway.