A Racing Murder (The Ham Hill Murder Mysteries)

by Frances Evesham

  She stood, unmoving, focused. He followed the direction of her gaze. In a corner, their heads together, were John Harris and Callum. Adam wished he could hear what they were saying, but the noise level in the bar rose as the first race was announced.

  Adam shouldered through the crowd, to Steph’s side. ‘What’s going on?’

  She turned to him, her soft brown eyes bright with excitement. ‘Adam? I didn’t see you. Look at those two. What are they up to, do you think?’

  ‘Probably nothing.’ Adam said. ‘They’re old friends chatting about the races.’

  Steph scoffed. ‘Nonsense. My journalist antennae tell me they’re up to no good. And Harris never came back to me, although he said he’d let me have any gossip he picked up. Oh, look—’

  Callum shot a quick glance round the room, snatched something from his pocket and thrust it into Harris’s hand. Harris barely glanced at it, but dropped it into his own jacket pocket.

  ‘Got him,’ Steph said. Quick as a flash, she ran across the ten metres separating her from Harris, Adam in close pursuit. ‘Hello John. Fancy meeting you here.’ Her tone was friendly, bland, but Harris jumped, his face as pink as a baby’s, guilt written all over it.

  Callum slipped away, quickly losing himself in the crowd. Adam hesitated, ready to give chase, but on second thoughts, let him go. He could find him later. Just now, he wanted to hear what Harris had to say.

  Harris had recovered quickly, and was smiling at Steph. Leering, Adam would call it.

  Steph took Harris’s arm. ‘I hoped you’d be here,’ she said, her smile bright, ‘but I thought I might not see you in such a crowd. The place is heaving.’ Harris grinned complacently. ‘Steph. What a surprise. Doing more research? Can I buy you a drink?’ Adam imagined punching him. Just there, on the point of that weak jaw.

  ‘No thanks,’ Steph said. ‘Oh, look. Isn’t that Leo Murphy over there?’ She pointed. Harris’s head jerked to the right, suddenly wary. Steph, with one smooth movement, slipped her hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded scrap of paper.

  ‘Hey,’ Harris made a grab for it, but Steph was too quick.

  ‘Let’s have a look at this.’ She backed away.

  Harris took a step forward, menacing. ‘Give me that—‘

  Adam blocked his path. For a second, he thought Harris was going to hit him. He rather hoped he would. Harris might be tall but Adam was stocky.

  Steph unfolded the paper. ‘I don’t understand this,’ she said. ‘It’s just a list of horses?’

  She waved it at Adam.

  Harris shrugged. ‘It’s nothing to do with me. I picked it up from the floor – someone must have dropped it…’

  Adam said, ‘Don’t bother. We both saw Callum give it to you. Witnesses, you see.’

  He moved closer, keeping Harris from moving past him. ‘It seems our Callum’s passing on information – a few facts and figures about today’s horses. If you’ll pardon the expression, we have you bang to rights.’

  ‘I think,’ Steph said, grinning broadly, ‘you should go now, John. We’ll pass this on to the police. I’m sure they’ll be in touch with you about it, soon.’

  Adam put out a hand to keep Harris close. ‘There’s one more thing. What did you have to do with Alex’s death? You were one of the last people to talk to her and you know your way around the racecourse. Everyone recognises you. It would be the easiest thing in the world for you to creep up behind her and push her head under water.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Harris’s face blanched white. ‘You can’t pin that on me. Why would I? You used to be a cop. You know you need a motive.’ He was gabbling. ‘I don’t gain anything by her death – in fact, quite the opposite. I made plenty of money writing about her.’

  ‘And using her as another source of insider information?’

  Harris bit his lip. ‘Look, I’m no saint, and if I can make a few bob from under-the-radar information from my contacts, I will. There’s nothing illegal in that.’

  ‘Unethical, though,’ Steph pointed out. Harris glared at her, his lip curling. He seemed to have lost interest in her charms. She went on, ‘You can forget any collaboration with me.’

  Harris muttered something Adam couldn’t catch. It didn’t sound complimentary.

  Adam said, ‘Did you pay Alex for tips on Ann Clarkson’s yard, and Callum for info on Leo’s horses? Playing both against the middle, I think that’s called. Had Ann found out Alex was selling info?’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ He was blustering now, ready to admit everything and throw the blame on his niece if he could. ‘Alex made a nice income on the side, selling information. She wasn’t earning much yet from riding.’

  Adam nodded. Buying information wasn’t a crime unless the courts decided Harris knew the information had been come by illegally.

  Harris saw Adam’s hesitation. Encouraged, he said, ‘Besides, I never saw Alex again after taking that photograph of her and Belinda. I went home to write my piece and she went off with that bloke; her new boyfriend. Not that he’s exactly a boy,’ he sniggered, relaxing.

  Steph said, ‘You know who the boyfriend is?’

  ‘Don’t know the name, but he’s one of that bunch of owners. You know, Belinda Sandford’s crew. Always hanging around the young girl jockeys, that one. Smooth old goat.’

  Adam pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found photos of Henry Oxon and Magnus Wilson. ‘One of these two?’ he asked, showing them to Harris.

  Harris didn’t hesitate. ‘That one,’ he pointed.

  Adam looked at Steph. ‘Magnus Wilson,’ he said. ‘The doctor.’

  ‘Now, if that’s all, I need to be somewhere else,’ and Harris was gone.

  They watched him disappear. ‘Do you think Magnus Wilson’s the killer?’ Steph breathed.

  Adam shook his head. ‘Not necessarily, but he’s moved a space or two up the list of suspects.’

  ‘Above Harris, or even Callum?’

  ‘I think Harris told us the truth. Paying for information’s not against the law. Alex and Callum were breaking the terms of their employment, I’m quite sure, and I’ll be talking to Leo about it. Callum will be out of a job, you mark my words. But Harris is just a small-time chancer with the morals of an alley cat. He’s right – his niece was valuable to him while she was alive. We’d better decide what we do with this bit of paper.’

  Steph held it so he could see it. ‘Roving Dawn,’ he read. ‘Underweight, losing power on the uphill gallops.’ She looked up. ‘Is that the best Callum could do? Not worth much, that. I don’t think the police will care, but I’m glad we gave Harris a shock.’

  She broke into a laugh. ‘He didn’t look too pleased, did he? I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of him around Somerset for a while.’

  Adam met her eyes and she fell silent. Their gaze held.

  ‘Well,’ she said at last.

  Adam cleared his throat. ‘Maybe we’d better – um…’ He was lost for words. Then, in a rush, afraid that if he didn’t say it now he never would, he said, ‘You’re not interested in John Harris, then?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘You’re joking. He’s a creep. Oh—’

  She stood a little closer. ‘Is that why you’ve been funny lately?’

  ‘Have I?’ His heart lurched.

  ‘Distant. Remote.’

  His head swam, as though he were perched on a high diving board, screwing up his courage to jump. ‘I didn’t want to get in the way. You know, if you liked him.’

  ‘Like him? Do me a favour. He’s the slimiest toad I’ve met for a long time. I was after information, that’s why I’ve been hanging around with him. I knew he was up to no good.’

  ‘In that case—’

  ‘Yes?’

  Adam hesitated for a split second, then swallowed hard and dived. ‘In that case, I’ll buy you that drink he offered you. And then, let’s go out and eat somewhere.’

  Steph’s eyes twinkled. ‘Adam Hennessy, I do believe you’re
asking me out on a date at last. I thought you never would.’

  30

  Spring Fair

  The sky was grey, and a light drizzle dampened the bunting-decorated stalls. Imogen peered into the hotel gardens. ‘Is it going to rain all day? It’s been like this since I woke.’

  Emily pointed to the wall clock. ‘It’s not ten o’clock, yet. My granny used to say, ‘Rain before seven, fine by eleven.’

  ‘I hope she’s right. I love these country forecasts – did you know Oswald hangs a piece of string on the potting shed wall? He says if the string’s dry it’s about to rain, and if the string’s wet it’s already raining.’

  Emily frowned. ‘But that’s nonsense. It means – oh, that was a joke, wasn’t it?’

  Poor girl, Imogen thought, she’s losing her sense of humour.

  Already, the stallholders from the village were arriving. Helen, juggling bags of jumble for the Church bring-and-buy table, grinned through the window.

  ‘I’ll go out and help,’ Imogen said. ‘You relax – have a cup of coffee. You’ve been running yourself ragged these past few days, organising everything. Today’s going to be fabulous and I’m sure the weather will improve. Michael’s dying to show us how efficient he is. He’s hoping to be acting manager, when you go on your summer holidays.’

  As though he’d heard, Michael’s voice exploded from the sound system. ‘One, two, three, testing,’ he announced, tapping the microphone. It screeched. A nearby gang of schoolboys shrieked and covered their ears.

  Emily said, ‘I’ll just show him how to work the thing.’ A determined look on her face, she strode through the lounge, and out of the French doors. Imogen sighed. Emily was a control freak. There was no doubt about it.

  She followed, joining Helen. ‘Well, I’m liking the look of Edwina Topsham’s cake stall,’ Helen said. ‘I think your chef may have contributed a few items – French patisserie, no less. Just look at those strawberry tarts.’

  ‘Early strawberries from the fruit tunnels in the walled garden. The tunnels are a bit of an eyesore, to be honest, but we hide them right at the back, surrounded by bushes. We’re hoping to grow most of the fruit and veg for the hotel from now on,’ Imogen held up crossed fingers. ‘Oswald’s taken charge of the flower stall today. He won’t let anyone else touch his precious tulips. They’re the last of the season, and his pride and joy. He may refuse to sell them. He’s a bit stressed anyway, with all these people tramping on his cherished lawns.’

  ‘It’s amazing, what you’ve done with this garden,’ Helen said. ‘I’m afraid your father let it go in recent years, but you’ve got it back to its best – maybe even better than in the old days. Are you getting many visitors, since it opened to the public last month?’

  ‘Quite a few. I’m pleased so far, although I have to stop Oswald following them around, checking they’re not stealing cuttings.’

  A burst of music echoed through the garden as Emily helped Michael, who fancied himself as a DJ, gain control of the sound system. Edwina Topsham danced a jig, wobbling cheerfully, an enormous raincoat knotted tightly around her waist and a bright red headscarf protecting her hair from the drizzle.

  Adam and Steph arrived together. Adam looked ready to burst with happiness. Imogen grinned. His contentment was infectious, now that he and Steph had finally got together.

  Steph said, ‘Is Dan on his way?’

  Imogen groaned. ‘He’s coming. He promised me – promised faithfully – he’d be here for the Grand Opening, but you know how he is when he’s painting…’

  Adam grunted. ‘Have you seen the prison young Alfie Croft and his mates have set up? They’re planning to lock the headmaster inside.’

  ‘Last year, they chained him in a pillory and threw wet sponges at his head,’ Helen said. ‘Luckily, he’s a good sport.’

  Adam looked around. ‘Things are going well here, apart from the drizzle.’

  Imogen put in, ‘Emily says it will stop soon.’

  ‘Does she? I’ll take her word for it.’ He turned. ‘I’d better go. Here are the members of the Butterfly Charm syndicate. Hooray Henry and his friends have taken quite a fancy to Lower Hembrow.’

  Sure enough, Ling Oxon waved madly at Adam, and Henry ushered Diane Sandford across the grass to shake his hand. ‘Magnus and Laura will be here in a few minutes.’

  ‘Good of you to come,’ Adam said.

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Ling smiled. ‘And the weather’s clearing nicely, isn’t it?’ She twinkled at Imogen. ‘I’ve learned how to talk about the weather since coming to England. We don’t bother in Thailand. It’s always either hot and dry or hot and wet.’

  Helen, as ever the perfect vicar, engaged the newcomers in conversation, and Imogen drew Adam to one side. ‘I didn’t know you’d invited the syndicate,’ she hissed.

  He smiled, blandly, but his eyes glittered behind his spectacles.

  She said, ‘I hope nothing’s going to ruin the Spring Fair.’

  ‘Everything will be fine,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’

  By half past eleven, Dan had still not arrived. Imogen sent a text message. He replied,

  Sorry, got stuck into something. On my way…

  So, he was letting her down. Today of all days, when the hotel was hosting Lower Hembrow’s biggest annual event, he couldn’t put her first.

  Well, at least she knew where she stood in Dan’s priorities – always some distance behind his work.

  But she wasn’t going to let Dan ruin the day. Her head high, she dropped the phone in her pocket and accosted Michael. ‘Are you ready for the ribbon cutting?’

  ‘You bet. I’ve got my autograph book handy.’

  Imogen rolled her eyes. ‘Leo Murphy is an honoured guest – one of the top trainers in Somerset. We’re lucky he’s agreed to come, so please, don’t annoy him or his wife.’

  ‘As if I would, Mrs Bishop.’ Michael opened his eyes innocently wide, unsettling Imogen. He was good at his job, but he could do with a spot more training in tactfulness if he wanted promotion.

  Just then, a horsebox drew into the hotel car park. ‘Has Leo brought Butterfly Charm?’ Michael gasped.

  ‘Not likely. That horse is far too grand for our Spring Fair. I don’t know what—’ Imogen stopped talking, suddenly lost for words. ‘Well, I never,’ she managed as Dan jumped down from the driver’s seat, let down the ramp at the back of the box and led one of the donkeys through the gate. ‘I thought some of the kids might like a donkey ride.’ He thrust the reins at a speechless Imogen. ‘Here, you hold Smash while I fetch Grab.’

  Harley bounded across the field. Imogen slipped her spare hand into his collar but Smash nosed at him, snuffling happily, Harley’s tail thrashed from side to side and Imogen let him go.

  Dan returned with Grab. ‘There, I knew they’d be friends.’

  Imogen, bewildered, shook her head. ‘Why didn’t you say you’d be bringing the donkeys? Where are we going to put them?’

  ‘No problem.’ Steph was at her shoulder. ‘It’s all arranged. It’s a surprise. Dan’s idea.’

  Imogen fanned herself with her free hand. Just when she’d made up her mind she couldn’t trust Dan to keep his promises, he’d arranged this. The donkeys were going to be the biggest attraction of the day. Already, a babble of excited children surrounded them. One of the Trevillian children clapped his hands, shrieking, ‘This is the best fete, ever.’

  Imogen murmured, faintly, ‘I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Dan said. ‘Oswald’s cleared out the potting shed, and there’s water and hay there, so they have somewhere to go when they need a rest. He said as the whole of Somerset would be ruining his lawn, he might as well let the donkeys finish the job, and I’ve promised to keep them down near the stream, where the grass is tougher.’

  Leaving Steph and Dan to set up the donkey rides, Imogen walked back to the gate, where Adam was waiting to greet Leo Murph
y.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘You look as though you’ve had a shock.’

  ‘I have – but a nice one.’

  ‘The donkeys?’ Adam’s eyes twinkled. ‘Steph was in on the plan. She told me yesterday, but swore me to secrecy.’ In companionable silence they watched Dan and Steph patiently sort the rabble of squabbling children into a tidy queue. Imogen felt an unfamiliar, warm feeling steal through her. Happiness? Contentment?

  Before she could put a name to it, Adam exclaimed, ‘James? What are you doing here?’

  ‘How could I resist a day in Lower Hembrow, with the promise of a large beer tent serving, I hope, plenty of best Butcombe.’

  But Adam was greeting the woman at James’ side. ‘Elinor?’ he said. ‘So nice to see you.’

  As his wife pecked Adam’s cheek, James grinned. ‘We’re thinking of making a move to this part of the world. Elinor’s had enough of Birmingham, and of me working all hours.’

  Imogen shared a glance with Adam. Since Oswald told her he’d seen Elinor at the hotel, they’d wondered who she’d been with.

  A move to Somerset suggested some kind of heart-to-heart between the pair. With a wide smile, Imogen showed them to the beer tent, leaving Adam to greet the guest of honour.

  Leo arrived accompanied by his wife, a doughty woman with a kind face and hair like a grey haystack. ‘Good to see you, Adam. Let’s get this Spring Fair open before the sun goes in again. Then we can enjoy ourselves.’

  They walked across to the tent Michael called the Sound Studio, situated alongside a blue ribbon that stretched between two beflagged tables.

  Michael called for attention over the tannoy. ‘I’m sure everyone knows Leo Murphy, our foremost National Hunt trainer, fresh from another tremendous season. He’s kindly agreed to open our Spring Fair. So, with no more ado, Mr Murphy, I’ll ask you to say a few words and then cut the ribbon.’

  Leo said, ‘Well the weather’s looking fine, the going’s fair, and it’s a good crowd, today, so I’ll declare the Lower Hembrow Spring Fair well and truly open.’ With a flourish, he cut the ribbon. ‘Welcome everyone. Have a wonderful afternoon and raise plenty of money for your village hall.’