A Racing Murder (The Ham Hill Murder Mysteries)

by Frances Evesham

  Imogen heaved a sigh of relief. All was going well, so far. Leo happily signed posters for a queue of star-struck village boys, while Dan and Steph led the donkeys up and down the field.

  Tim Booth and his friends leaned against the back of a garden seat, watching Smash and Grab plodding steadily backwards and forwards as though they would never tire of carrying bouncing, excited children.

  Imogen found Adam. ‘I take it we’ve got certificates and insurance and everything, in case one of those children fall off?’

  ‘Emily helped to sort it all out,’ Adam said. ‘We kept it secret because Dan wanted to surprise you. He said something about proving he wasn’t a selfish oaf.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you two getting along, then?’

  He shrugged. ‘We’re fine. I have a suspicion he was jealous of me and you,’ he chuckled. ‘Imagine. Ever since Steph and I got together, he’s been more friendly. And I’ve forgiven him for his talent with a brush. He’s offered to give me a few lessons.’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that. Anyway, perhaps you’ll make a human being of him yet.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘I need to start the auction for his painting—’ he broke off, his gaze slid past Imogen.

  ‘What is it?’ Alarmed, she spun round. What had Adam seen? Nearby, all the syndicate members stood laughing with a group of girls from Leo’s yard, clutching plastic mugs full of beer. ‘I can’t see anything wrong.’

  Adam growled, ‘Look at Magnus.’

  She looked. He stood with his back to Imogen and Adam, relaxed, laughing, with his wife, Laura, on one side and one of the stable girls on the other.

  Imogen gasped. Magnus Wilson’s free arm circled the stable girl’s waist, casually, like an old friend, but his hand had slipped inside her jacket. ‘What’s he up to?’ Imogen exclaimed.

  The girl leaned in a little closer to Magnus.

  Imogen said, ‘That’s a bit – you know…’

  ‘Unsettling,’ Adam suggested. ‘I agree. She’s half his age.’

  ‘Our public-spirited anaesthetist seems keen on young women. His own wife is twenty years younger than he is.’ But it was the disloyalty that upset her. The man was fondling a girl while his own wife stood barely two metres away. Did Laura know? Did the whole group? Imogen wasn’t close enough to see their faces.

  She turned to Adam. ‘So, we thought he might be the man having an affair with Alex, and we could be right. He seems to prefer younger women. Could that affair with Alex mean he’s our killer? If they had a row, perhaps?’

  Frown lines showed on Adam’s usually cheerful face. ‘I don’t know…’

  Imogen wasn’t listening. She shivered. ‘I don’t like to see him fawning over a young girl like that, let alone while his wife’s there. I’m going to do something. Follow me.’

  She marched across to Laura, Adam a short pace behind. ‘So glad you could come,’ she said to Laura. ‘Hello, Magnus.’ Briefly, their eyes met. Imogen let her gaze drop to his arm. With a lift of one eyebrow, Magnus moved away from the girl. Imogen turned away and chatted to Laura.

  Soon, the group broke up into ones and twos, wandering from one stall to another, laughing, as the Spring Fair gathered momentum and the sun shone.

  Adam auctioned Dan’s painting, raising several hundred pounds, the final bid coming from the owner of Haselbury House, the local stately home.

  Imogen visited every stall, squirting water at balloons balanced on bottles, buying jars of jam she didn’t need and watching Jenny Trevillian’s four-year-old trying to pin the tail on a paper donkey at Joe’s stall. ‘He’s going to have a ride on one of the real donkeys in a moment,’ Jenny said. ‘He hasn’t sat on a horse yet, but our eldest rode her first pony at his age, so it’s time he started. Just so long as that artist fellow brought a riding hat that fits a little one.’

  Fancy Dan being so thoughtful. Imogen wished she could relax. Her nerves felt raw, and there was a twinge in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t shake off, even though the sun had come out.

  Across the garden, people removed their coats, moved into the lunch tent and tucked into sausage rolls, bacon sandwiches and hot dogs. Adam’s chef, Wyatt, and Imogen’s own Gerald had made peace and were frying onions, flipping burgers and cracking jokes at the barbecue.

  She joined Dan, forgetting about Magnus and the stable girl. ‘Shall we take Smash and Grab for some refreshment?’ she suggested, stroking Grab’s nose and feeding him an apple. ‘A good drink of water and a rest?’ She looked at the sweat on Dan’s brow and added, ‘You should treat yourself to a beer, first. You look exhausted. I’ll take Grab, and you bring Smash along in a moment.’

  Such kind creatures, donkeys, Imogen thought, taking Grab’s reins. Still, ‘I’ve got a funny feeling,’ she confessed.

  ‘Fancy that.’ Dan grinned. ‘Care to be more specific?’

  She leaned against the donkey. ‘I can’t. It’s that feeling you have when you’re about to go into an exam and you haven’t done the work.’

  ‘Ouch.’ Dan winced. ‘I still have a dream like that.’

  ‘You do? Me too. Fancy that.’

  ‘We should have told each other when we were at school. A problem shared, you know.’ He disappeared towards the beer tent, leading Smash.

  Imogen hardly noticed. Something was horribly wrong. Was it just the sickening sight of Magnus Wilson with that girl, or was something else going on?

  She surveyed the garden. What could it be? Steph was deep in conversation with Ling Oxon, probably talking about pad thai and tom yum goong, Imogen thought. Steph adored food.

  Imogen scanned the stalls. There was Henry, or ‘Hooray’, as Adam called him. He’d buttonholed Leo Murphy and their heads were close together. Was that sinister in some way? Adam had told her Callum sold information to John Harris. Was Leo doing something similar? The two men suddenly roared with laughter and Henry took Leo’s arm to lead him towards the beer tent. Imogen relaxed. There was nothing shifty there, after all.

  Laura Wilson appeared by her side, stroking Grab’s neck. ‘It’s going well.’

  ‘I think it is.’

  ‘Look, can I have a word with you?’ Laura seemed to have aged several years. That might be due to her father’s sudden death, but more likely, Imogen thought, she was waking up to reality. She must have seen Magnus and that girl.

  Imogen groaned, silently. This was a tête-à-tête she could do without. Where was Michael with one of his silly questions, just when she needed him?

  Instead, she smiled. ‘Of course. I’ll just take Grab over to the potting shed for a rest. Dan’s going to follow with Smash.’

  31

  Potting Shed

  Adam caught up with Leo in the beer tent, where he’d retreated for a few moments respite from the never-ending stream of horse-mad teenagers wanting selfies and middle-aged punters begging for tips on upcoming races.

  Rex, behind the bar, broke off from flirting with Belinda, filled a foam cup and thrust it in Adam’s hand. ‘There you are, Boss. Enjoy.’

  Leo’s wife had drifted away to huddle with Helen, chat about their husbands and eat cake. Adam walked Leo to a quieter corner. ‘You’re a big hit, here,’ he said.

  Leo laughed. ‘Somerset folk love their racing. And that’s where it all starts—‘ He pointed through the tent entrance to Smash, waiting patiently while Dan downed a plastic mug of cider. ‘That chap’s painting a couple of my horses. Seems to like being around the yard.’

  Adam nodded. ‘I wanted to talk to you about your set-up.’

  ‘Still up for horse ownership?’

  ‘Oh. Yes, definitely. Well, probably. But, I was wondering about your grooms. Do you have any trouble with them?’

  Leo put his glass down. He peered, shrewdly, at Adam. ‘Sure we do. You saw that fight in the yard, back in the day. They don’t normally come to blows, mind. Tempers are a bit high at the moment, so they are. Everyone’s wondering how Alex Deacon really
died and no one seems any nearer to solving the mystery. While there’s a suspicion she was killed, the grooms are nervous. They watch each other like hawks.’

  Adam nodded. ‘Of course, that’s understandable. But there’s something you need to know.’ He told Leo about Harris’s confession.

  Leo’s lip curled. ‘So, Callum’s been spying on my yard. I’ve suspected someone was selling information but I couldn’t work out who it was. Luckily for Callum, he’s not here today.’ His enormous fists were clenched in fury and his voice, loud with anger, rose above the babble of voices in the tent. His wife looked round and glared. He unclenched his fists. ‘He’ll be out of my yard first thing tomorrow,’ he said, more quietly, ‘and Harris won’t set foot there ever again.’

  He took a breath. ‘I won’t be sorry to lose Callum. He’s a bad influence. Good-looking – too much so, I reckon, and with the morals of an alley cat. I’ve had to warn him off the girl grooms more than once and I told him if I saw him pawing at them once more in my yard, he’d be finished.’

  Adam nodded, barely listening, remembering something Dan and Imogen had said about their visit to the yard. What was it?

  ‘The trouble is,’ Leo went on, ‘he’s popular with the owners, especially the ones that like to think they’re one of the lads. I should have got rid of him, long ago.’

  ‘Any owners he was especially friendly with?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Well, there’s Magnus Wilson. He’s another one for the ladies.’ Adam hid a sigh. He’d been right. ‘I’ve seen the two of them gossiping together in corners, like best mates in the pub. Mind you, he was good to Diane Sandford when her husband was ill. She was in a state, poor woman. All the owners rallied round her.’

  Adam told Leo he’d seen Magnus with his arm around one of the stable girls. ‘And it was more than a comforting squeeze.’

  Leo’s lip curled. ‘That makes me sick to the stomach.’

  ‘I suspect Magnus was Alex Deacon’s “mystery man”,’ Adam said.

  ‘You do? Could be right. I hear she liked men almost as much as Callum likes women.’

  Adam nodded. ‘All the boys seem to have been partial to Alex. She went through them like a dose of salts. First there was Belinda’s old friend, Tim, and then your Callum, and finally, Magnus.’

  Leo drank the last of his beer. ‘Do you think one of them killed Alex? After a quarrel or something?’

  Adam was silent. Parts of the jigsaw were finally clicking into place. He ran through them in his head; Alex and men, Alex and Belinda in competition, Magnus and Callum moving from one woman to another. He thought about Ed Collins’ heart attack, the theft of Dan’s laptop, Magnus cheating on his wife, Alex beating Belinda in the race…

  He stood up, his mind clear. At last he knew what had happened.

  While Adam and Leo talked, Imogen and Laura set off towards the potting shed. ‘Let me lead Grab?’ Laura begged, and Imogen handed over the rein. Laura brushed a hand across her eyes, as though dashing away tears.

  Imogen sighed. This was going to be a difficult chat. She waited, patiently. Laura would talk when she was ready.

  Above the hubbub of the fair rose a different noise.

  A shout. Sudden. Sharp.

  It came from the shed. Some of the boys must have broken in. Imogen burst into a run. ‘I don’t want the village kids hurting themselves.’

  The shed door hung on its hinges, swinging half open. She pushed inside and stopped in the doorway.

  Diane Sandford’s back was turned to Imogen, but sunlight from the windows on the sides of the shed glinted on the garden shears in her hand.

  Slumped against the far wall, gripping his chest, gasping for air, lay Magnus Wilson.

  Imogen stopped and with a cry, Laura pushed past. Diane swung round to face her, the shears raised. ‘Stay there,’ she shrieked. ‘Don’t come any closer.’

  Her face was ugly, her features twisted with fury.

  Imogen grabbed Laura’s arm. ‘Keep still.’

  Laura pulled her arm away. ‘Diane? What have you done?’ she gasped. ‘Magnus – Magnus—’ She took a step towards her husband, but Diane barred the way. ‘Don’t come any closer.’

  Magnus groaned.

  He was alive, his body crumpled against the old weathered brick of the potting shed wall, dark blood seeping through his green jacket. Laura’s eyes were dark pools of horror, her hand outstretched.

  Somewhere, miles away it seemed to Imogen, a child laughed. Another screeched with excitement. In a parallel reality, the Spring Fair continued.

  In the potting shed, the only world that mattered at that moment, no one spoke.

  Imogen licked dry lips. She must stay calm, talk to Diane, try to take the shears. She held out a hand that trembled. She drew a shaky breath and spoke quietly, trying to sound calm, soothing. ‘Give the shears to me, Diane. There’s no need to make things worse. We can sort this all out. Just pass them to me.’

  ‘Sort it out?’ Diane cried. ‘You can’t sort it out. He’s a monster – a beast – and he deserves to die.’ She shuddered. ‘I saw him, touching that girl.’

  Magnus roused a little. ‘It wasn’t anything.’ His voice was faint, hard to hear.

  If only there were another entrance to the building – but this was a potting shed, almost emptied for the day, still smelling of compost, just a couple of spades on the wall next to a space where the shears had hung.

  Imogen said, still calm, ‘There’s time to put this right. Magnus needs a doctor. Give me the shears and this will all be over.’

  The shears wavered. Diane bit her lip. ‘It won’t,’ she gasped. ‘Never. It will never be over.’

  Imogen’s heart thudded. Diane seemed almost ready to let go of the weapon.

  As she stretched out a hand to take the shears, Magnus grunted.

  The sound broke the spell. Diane sidestepped, her eyes on Imogen and Laura, the shears at chest height. Now she was leaning against the side wall, and Magnus, Imogen and Laura were all in her sights.

  Through clenched teeth, she snarled at Magnus. ‘You lied to me. You told me you loved me and you were lying. You said I was the one you wanted, and you lied again. Lies after lies after lies.’

  Her voice rose to a shriek. ‘I cheated on my dying husband for you, but you betrayed me – and,’ the shriek turned to laughter, ‘you cheated on your own wife – your very own pretty little wife, with her blonde hair and her perfect teeth.’

  As her laughter faded to a whine, she jerked the shears at Laura. ‘Didn’t do you much good, did they, those glamour-girl looks? You didn’t know, did you? You thought you had it all, but for years, your precious husband loved me. Not you. Me.’

  She gasped. ‘Didn’t you wonder why the hospital called him in so often? Didn’t you ask why he spent so much time away from home – from you? Didn’t you see you could never be enough for a man like him?’

  Imogen stole a glance at Laura. She looked green and sick. She muttered, ‘But, I—’

  ‘Shut your stupid face,’ Diane snapped. She waved the shears and Laura fell silent.

  Diane grinned, in control, enjoying the moment. She leaned back against the wall, as relaxed as though they were chatting outside at the fair. ‘You’re just a fool. A pretty, stupid fool, but he’s a monster.’

  She pointed the shears towards Magnus. ‘And then he took up with that little slut, Alex Deacon.’ She almost spat the name. ‘A spoilt, selfish little twister.’

  Imogen’s breath caught in her throat. Adam had been right. Magnus was Alex’s mystery man. Had he killed her?

  Diane made a noise in her throat, like an animal. She was sick, crazy – hovering on the brink of madness, and Imogen knew the truth.

  She gulped. ‘You killed Alex Deacon. Not Magnus – you?’

  Laura whimpered. Magnus groaned.

  Diane pushed herself away from the wall. ‘Alex Deacon stole my man. And she cheated my daughter out of that race. She deserved what she got.’

  S
he took a step forward. The points of the shears hovered inches from Imogen’s face. Diane and Imogen faced each other, their eyes locked. Silence fell.

  Meanwhile, in the beer tent on the other side of the garden, unaware of events in the potting shed, Adam bought Leo another pint. He left him venting his fury at Callum’s betrayal to his wife and Helen as Adam made his way through the throng towards Henry and Ling. They were arguing amicably over the rival merits of the few remaining baskets at Maria’s stall.

  Harley appeared, fresh from an exhibition of his jumping skills over a set of jumps Michael had constructed near the stream. He leaped at Adam, still full of energy.

  Gently, Adam pushed him away. ‘Not just now, Harley.’

  ‘Have you seen Magnus?’ he asked.

  ‘Not for ages,’ Henry boomed. ‘Probably been called away again. Happens all the time. I reckon he has a secret lover—’ He chortled.

  ‘But where is he?’ Adam insisted. ‘And Laura? And Diane?’

  Ling said, ‘Laura’s with Imogen. I think they were taking one of the donkeys for a rest in the potting shed. I don’t know where Diane went. Why?’ With mounting tension. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Adam didn’t wait to answer. Magnus and Diane, both missing at the same time. If his theory was right, he had no time to lose.

  ‘Come on, Harley.’ He set off at a run towards the potting shed, Harley galloping at his heels, with Henry, Ling and Belinda close behind.

  Grab was quietly grazing outside as Adam reached the shed. He looked from the donkey, unaccountably deserted, to the shed and stopped dead. The door hung awkwardly on its hinges.

  Adam raised his hands, warning the others to be quiet, tiptoed forward, and looked inside.

  Diane’s shears hovered close to Imogen’s face. Diane, focused on Imogen, hadn’t seen Adam. He stepped back, out of sight, thinking fast. There was no other entrance to the shed. No handy door at the back.