Dead Reckoning

by Glenis Wilson

  Alice had deserved a normal lifespan and a dignified end.

  ‘Please.’ Mousey reached for my hand and gripped it fiercely. ‘It’s the last thing I can do for her after all she’s done for me. You will do it for me, Harry, won’t you?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. No, I won’t.’

  He released his grip as though my skin had suddenly burnt him.

  ‘But … I will do it, for Alice.’

  A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. ‘Harry, lad, our Jackie is a lass out on her own but, by God, you’re up there alongside her.’ This time he grasped my hand and shook it vigorously.

  ‘One thing, though …’

  ‘Anything, Harry, just ask.’

  ‘You don’t pay me, right?’

  ‘Nay, lad, I must.’ He pulled me towards him. ‘It’s a matter of honour … I must.’

  ‘Look, Mousey, it’s the one condition. I’ll do the job. I won’t drop my hands. But whether I get the bastard who killed Alice or not, and I hope to God I do, you’re not paying me.’

  As a trainer, Mousey would know exactly what I meant when I said I won’t drop my hands. It’s a trainer’s instructions to a jockey not to stop trying until he passes the winning post.

  ‘I’m a Yorkshire man, lad, I pay my debts.’

  We faced each other off across the table.

  ‘Look at it this way, Mousey: any debts you owe, you’ve paid time and time again in the love you gave to Clara. Right?’

  He sucked a breath in. ‘Damn nigh killed me an’ all, it did.’

  ‘I know that, and so does everybody else. Sometimes it isn’t money that pays debts, and this is one of those times.’

  ‘It’ll cut into your racing time, lad.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ll lose money.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘An’ you’re not bothered?’

  ‘Nobody likes to lose money but this is something different. Let me be honest with you: I’m damn sure there’s more to Alice’s murder than the police or anybody else is aware of. But the two prisoners on remand that got finished off, they’re tied in to her death as well somehow, I think. And it goes back a very long way. Can I ask you, did you know if there was any other man, like yourself, who was a long-standing client of Alice’s?’

  ‘Well, obviously, it was her way of earning a living. Even though she is – was – married to Darren Goode, he’s in and out of jug so much she hardly sees him.’

  ‘Yes, I know about the casual clients but what I’m asking you is do you know of any other, shall we say, “special” client, from years back?’

  ‘I don’t know how to answer that. It wasn’t something we talked about really. Well, you don’t, not in those circumstances.’ He pushed his empty coffee cup around in the saucer. I could see the embarrassment but I could also see he was holding something in reserve.

  ‘Come on, Mousey, this is me, right? How do you expect me to nail the bastard if I don’t have anything to go on?’

  Fishing in my pocket, I pulled out the piece of paper that Jake Smith had written on.

  ‘Here, have a look at this, then tell me what you know.’

  He took his time, his face screwing up with the effort to understand what he was reading.

  ‘It’s a riddle, for sure. Can’t make much of it, to be honest.’

  I looked him squarely in the face. ‘Was it you who said the first quotation?’

  ‘Me?’ His face was pure bewilderment. ‘Nay, lad, it certainly wasn’t me.’ He reread the note. ‘But I reckon you were right – looks like she had another long-term horse in her stable, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I believed him that he wasn’t the man who had said the words. They were far too flowery for Mousey. But I was disappointed he didn’t know the other man. However, looking at it positively, I had actually found out the identity of one of the two mice – Mousey himself. That meant two out of the four people were definitely identified. It was a start.

  ‘Where did you get this from?’ He flicked the note with a fingernail.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you just now.’

  ‘But it’s referring to Alice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’ll leave it to you, Harry.’

  ‘Just one more thing: did you know if Alice had any children?’

  ‘Not with Darren, she didn’t.’

  It was the way Mousey said the words that made me hold my breath and wait for what came next.

  ‘Not sure I should say anything, promised Alice I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Mousey, it’s for Alice’s sake I’m doing this. I need a bit of help here.’ There was a long, ongoing silence and I began to think he was stonewalling.

  Then he said, ‘I think she had a baby … something about it being adopted.’

  ‘Do you know what sex it was?’

  ‘Rumour going round it was a girl. But I don’t know.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Shouldn’t have said but … circumstances being as they are …’

  ‘Do you know who the father was?’

  ‘Not exactly, except he was in racing, an’ he was probably married.’

  We sat and stared at each other for a long moment, then I asked the big question.

  ‘Were you the father, Mousey?’

  He held my gaze. ‘For my sins, I’m not sure. It kind of slipped out at a … delicate moment. Alice didn’t really mean to tell me she’d got pregnant. She wouldn’t say any more than that. I did ask her but …’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know whether she herself knew who the father was.’

  ‘How long ago was it?’

  ‘God, years.’ He wiped a hand across his forehead. ‘Years and years back. When I first knew her.’

  ‘So, what are we talking, twenty-five years or so?’

  ‘More like thirty, I reckon.’

  ‘Do you know what happened to the baby, who adopted her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was there anything different about Alice that last time you went to see her?’

  ‘Now you mention it, there was. She was kind of nervous and excited. I asked if she’d won the lottery or something and she said, “Sort of.” When I asked what she meant, she said something on the lines of how strange that the bloodstock was returning. Then she said she was expecting the passport of the filly soon. Damned odd, if you ask me. I have no idea what she meant. Does it make any sense to you?’

  ‘Hmmm …’ I didn’t want to say any more to Mousey but I was beginning to see the picture on the jigsaw. ‘How long ago did you see her?’

  ‘Couple of days or so before … before she died.’

  As far as I knew, that meant Jake Smith was still the last person to have spoken with Alice. Apart from the killer himself, of course.

  ‘That’s all I can tell you, Harry. Don’t know if any of it helps.’

  ‘Oh, it does, Mousey. Thanks.’

  ‘Best be getting back, lad. Our Jackie will start fretting soon about where I am.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  I stood up and together we left The Cat and Fiddle.

  We drove back to his house and I dropped him off.

  ‘Can’t tell you what it means to me, knowing you’ll be working on it. I feel I’m giving back to her. It’s all I can do now. I wasn’t like the other lads, after all the skirts. Alice was the only one, apart from Clara.’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t level with you just now, Mousey. But if we can come up with the man’s name and string him up in court, I’ll tell you the whole tale. How’s that?’

  ‘Good enough for me, lad. Take care of yourself.’ He raised a hand and walked on up to his front door.

  I watched him safely inside, then gunned the Mazda back to Nottinghamshire.

  TWELVE

  I didn’t go back to Harlequin Cottage. If the police had my home under surveillance, they were going to be unlucky. Coming off the A1 at Ollerton roun
dabout, I took the road past Rufford.

  In the days when Annabel still lived with me, we’d often gone to visit Rufford, walked round the old abbey with the original bath-house and orangery. We also, on some occasions, took my half-sister, Silvie, in her specially adapted wheelchair. She, like us, loved the walk through the bluebell-carpeted woods.

  At the far end, the massive lake was home to an astonishing number of wild birds, including Canada Geese, Ruddy Ducks and Kingfishers. There was also a booth by the lakeside walkway that sold fabulous ice creams. Silvie had loved those, too.

  The memories spooled through my head as I passed the impressive entrance gates leading to Rufford Park but I held down the emotion that accompanied them and drove on. If I could have foreseen how my life was going to pan out, I would have embraced and enjoyed each precious minute even more. But one certainty was life didn’t stop, ever changing from one breath to the next, flowing on inexorably. Life was like a horse race – you couldn’t ever go back.

  Coming to Gunthorpe Bridge, spanning the Trent, I swooped over and followed the road into Bingham.

  It was barely evening but several eating places were already open and doing business. I dived into the fish-and-chip shop, queued and ordered two jacket potatoes with baked beans and salad – one I had doused liberally with mayonnaise and one, abstemiously, without. I would always be weight-watching while ever I wore jockey silks. Two bottles of Coke for Jake completed my order and I made my way back to the car park. The potatoes were covered in foil inside polystyrene containers with a double wrapping of paper. They wouldn’t be piping hot by the time I reached Burton Lazars but they’d be hot enough to enjoy.

  It was dark by the time I turned into the lane leading to Nathaniel’s place but I wasn’t taking any chances and had driven the last quarter mile with only the sidelights working. It was a reasonable bet that by now most commuters would be safely back behind their own front doors. But it only needed one person to spot us and the future was going to be very constrained.

  Pushing away the thought of life behind bars, I pulled up between the now-familiar tall holly hedges either side of the drive, doused my sidelights and simply sat and waited. If someone eagle-eyed had noticed, it wasn’t going to take long before they appeared. Nobody would stand around for long in the dark with the temperature plummeting.

  On the other hand, two rapidly cooling dinners said there’d been enough hanging about.

  I put a hand on the door handle then bit back a startled yell as my heart went into overdrive. A face suddenly appeared on the other side of the glass and two eyes looked straight into mine.

  Then the face smiled.

  I flung myself out of the car and leaned against the wing. ‘Bloody hell! You trying to send me to my grave?’ I hissed.

  The smile widened. ‘Steady on, Harry boy, don’t piss your pants. And if that’s grub you’ve brought, hand it over. I’m fucking starving.’

  I reached in, thrust the parcel of food into his hands and we proceeded down the garden path to the studio. Although I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, his smile was almost tangible.

  ‘You think that was funny, you bloody idiot?’ Angrily, I rounded on him when we were safely inside with the studio door closed. ‘I was waiting to see if anybody had seen me arrive.’

  ‘And somebody had … me.’

  ‘I should have locked you in.’

  ‘I’d have smashed the window again.’ He was still grinning as he ripped off the protective layers from the takeaway and the delicious smell of food seeped out and filled the room.

  ‘Not all for me, then?’ He’d seen the two portions.

  ‘You reckon you could eat all that much?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t see why not.’

  ‘Tough,’ I swiped one from under his nose, ‘this is mine.’

  We shared the one knife for cutting up and I allowed him the fork while I made do with a spoon. He finished first and I chewed the last of mine while he glugged down a bottle of Coke.

  ‘So,’ I said and licked some bean juice from my finger. ‘Two men dead …’

  ‘Ah, you’ve seen a newspaper.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not worth a tear, either of the fuckers.’

  ‘The law would have taken care of them. There was no need for you to order them killed.’

  ‘And just who says it was me?’

  ‘Now, come on, we both know it was.’

  ‘And if … if … it was, it’s saved the system the trouble, and forking out a packet, so I’d say that’s a result.’

  ‘You’re not above the law, Jake.’

  He shrugged and reached for the second bottle of Coke. ‘Has the fuzz been round yet, then?’

  ‘Haven’t been home to find out.’

  He chuckled softly. ‘Can’t fault you, Harry boy.’

  ‘But I have been to someone else’s …’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ He eyed me. ‘Like who?’

  ‘Someone who knew Alice.’

  ‘One of her punters?’

  ‘A bit more than that, I’d say.’

  ‘A mate, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes, definitely a friend, a long-standing friend. As in about thirty years standing.’ I screwed up the sticky wrapping paper. ‘To be more accurate, though’ – I pitched the balled paper into the waste bin – ‘it was probably lying down.’

  He gave a dirty laugh. ‘OK, Harry boy, who was it?’

  ‘Mousey, you know, Mousey Brown, trainer as was?’

  ‘Boozy Brown … right.’

  ‘Did you know about him and Alice?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hmmm … That piece of paper you gave me, with the quotes on it—’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’ve worked out some of the meaning.’

  ‘Helped then, did it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, have you found out who killed her?’

  ‘No, but I’m working on it.’

  Jake sighed. ‘I’m fucking bored stiff stuck here, lost my bloody mobile …’

  ‘What do you want me to do, Jake, pack it in?’

  ‘What I want is for you to find the bastard, hand him in to the coppers on a spit and let them roast his balls.’

  ‘Elegantly put.’

  ‘Anyway, where’s this Brown come into the frame?’

  ‘Alice mentioned two mice … he’s definitely one of them.’

  ‘And the other?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not worked that out yet.’

  ‘But you will, Harry boy, every confidence.’ He drained the last of the Coke and, following my example, aimed it at the wastepaper bin.

  ‘That last time you, er … visited Alice, did you happen to see a photograph lying around at all? It would have been one of a young woman.’

  He gave me a wary, sideways glance. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s important.’

  ‘Might have done.’

  ‘Look,’ I said, getting exasperated, ‘I need some help here or I pack in trying. Did you or not?’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly “lying” around.’ I waited. ‘Alice went to the bogs, y’know, after—’

  ‘Yes, I don’t want the full SP.’

  ‘Well, you’re getting it. I was there all night, right? We had sex in her bed.’

  ‘Jake—’

  ‘Shurrup. You asked and I’m tellin’ you. Like I said, after we had sex, Alice went to the bogs. While she was there, I put some money out for her. You know how it goes in her business – a raid’s on the cards at any time. An’ I wanted to make sure she got paid, like, not leave it till morning, you with me?’ I nodded. ‘But I didn’t want her seeing the money just then. I mean,’ he leered at me, ‘there was hours to go yet, before dawn, an’ o’ course I’d just got out of stir …’

  ‘Yes,’ I said hastily, ‘you’ve made your point.’

  ‘Anyway, she’d left her bag on the dressing table so—’

  ‘You put the money in there?’

  ‘S’r
ight. An’ that’s when I saw the photo.’

  My heart beat a little faster. This time we were getting somewhere.

  ‘Nice bit of skirt, she was.’ He pursed his lips and nodded. ‘Could have done her some damage.’

  ‘Did you see a name at all? Maybe on the back?’

  ‘The photo was sticking out a bit from an envelope addressed to Alice, postmarked three days before.’

  ‘Go on,’ I urged him.

  ‘Well, I turned the photo over and it had 2016 printed at the top, followed by some handwriting.’

  I felt familiar prickles down the back of my neck. ‘What did it say?’

  ‘It said, Me, at Barbara’s.’

  I stared at him. ‘No name?’

  He shook his head. ‘No name.’

  Disappointment obliterated my prick of excitement and I slumped in the chair. ‘No help there, then.’

  ‘Except …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The photo had been taken in a stable yard.’

  ‘What?’ I jumped up. ‘Did you recognize whose stables?’

  ‘’Course I fucking didn’t. Not a jockey, am I?’

  ‘No, sorry … wait a minute, though.’ I ran through what he had just told me. ‘The writing on the back of the photo said at Barbara’s. There’s only one trainer I know who’s called Barbara.’

  ‘Right, then, y’reckon it’s her?’

  ‘Can’t be sure, I didn’t see the stable yard in the photograph.’

  ‘But I did, Harry boy.’ We sat in silence, looking at each other. ‘If you drive me to this Barbara’s, I could tell you if it was the same stables.’

  I nodded slowly. ‘But it would be very tricky. Neither of us could risk being seen.’

  ‘You said this photo was important. Do y’mean it could lead us to the killer?’

  ‘Not directly, no, but if I find out who the woman in the photo is, I stand a fair chance of tracking down who her father was. Now that would certainly help.’

  ‘Come on then, what you waiting for? Get your arse in gear and drive me over there.’ He was up and at the door before he’d finished speaking.

  I shook my head. ‘It’s too bloody dangerous. If we’re seen we’ll both be sharing a cell.’

  He squared his shoulders and very slowly began walking back towards me, his eyes cold, emotionless. Gripping my shirt collar, he thrust his face to within an inch of mine. ‘And if we don’t, I’m still in deepest shit.’ He shook me violently. ‘How’s this helping your concussion?’