Murder in Mind

by Lyndon Stacey

  ‘That sounds like your father talking,’ Matt said, the knowledge that she was right giving his voice a bitter edge. ‘Anyway, they just caught me by surprise yesterday. I’ll be more careful in future.’

  ‘Oh, and that’ll be all right then, will it? From what Casey said, they were big powerful men. Just how do you propose to deal with them if they come looking for you again?’

  ‘She’s right, Matt.’ Unseen by either of them, Jamie had come to stand in the kitchen doorway. ‘God knows I’m grateful for what you’ve been trying to do, but I don’t want you to muck up your career on my account. Bad enough that one of us is on the breadline. And I don’t want you guys falling out over me, either. I’ve been thinking it might be better if I head off back to Cambridge.’

  ‘Oh? And what are you going to use for rent money up there?’ Matt enquired. ‘You’re skint, remember?’

  ‘I dunno – get myself a paper round or something. Anyway, I think you two deserve a bit of space. Or should I say, you three – sorry, I kind of overheard you last night. Congratulations, by the way!’

  Matt wasn’t keen on the idea of Jamie being so remote while he was still see-sawing on the edge of depression. Who would watch out for him if he drank himself into a stupor again?

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘But I think you going up to Cambridge is a bad idea. Besides, you haven’t worked off what you owe us for rent yet.’

  He didn’t pitch it any stronger, unsure of how Kendra would view the situation, but she rose to the occasion as he’d hoped she would.

  ‘And I call it bloody ungrateful to waltz off just when I need a bloke around the house to do the heavy lifting for me when Matt’s not here.’

  She didn’t say just what heavy lifting she had in mind and nor did either of the others question it.

  ‘Well, if you put it like that,’ Jamie said, glancing at each of them in turn. ‘Of course I’ll stay.’

  It being a Sunday, early evening found Matt and Kendra heading for Birchwood Hall and the family dinner. There was still some tension between them, but Kendra hadn’t returned to the contentious matter of Matt’s extracurricular activities, and he certainly wasn’t about to.

  At the Brewer home, the atmosphere wasn’t much better. Deacon was still indisposed and missing from the pre-dinner gathering, as was Charlie, who – Joy told them, as she greeted Matt with a kiss – was in his office dealing with a matter of business.

  ‘Oh dear. You look as though you’ve been in the wars,’ she remarked, stepping back to arm’s length and taking a good look at him.

  ‘Been fighting with the horses again?’ Grace enquired from the sofa, where she was sitting within the circle of Rupert’s arm. ‘Or has my sister been beating you up?’

  ‘Oh Grace, you’re so not funny,’ Frances told her.

  ‘How long do you think Charlie will be?’ Matt asked. ‘I was hoping to have a word with him.’

  ‘Well, he said ten minutes or so, but that was half an hour ago,’ Joy told him, consulting her watch. ‘So you could go and see. Only don’t keep him too long or dinner will spoil.’

  ‘And I’m hungry,’ Grace added in a plaintive tone.

  ‘Oh well – that’ll certainly make me hurry,’ Matt said, sending a private wink Frances’s way as he headed for the door.

  Charlie Brewer’s study was on the first floor, at the end of an impressive corridor flanked on both sides by items of antique furniture bearing numerous objets d’art. On the deep-red walls hung an extensive collection of portraits – amongst them, one each of the Brewer family in sumptuous evening wear and painted in the old style. The door stood slightly ajar and, as Matt approached, the noise of his footfalls lost in the dense pile of the carpet, he could hear voices emanating from within the room. He hesitated – Charlie wasn’t alone, and, by the sound of it, there was some pretty significant business being conducted.

  Matt was debating whether to postpone his own business with Kendra’s father or whether to cough loudly, knock on the door, and go in, when the sound of Charlie’s angrily raised voice temporarily distracted him from either course.

  ‘I don’t care how politically incorrect it is; in my house, I make the rules, and I say get rid of him.’

  ‘You’re overreacting. He’s never been here – and never would have.’ The second voice was calmer and sounded familiar to Matt, although he couldn’t immediately put a name to it.

  ‘It’s not up for discussion. If you want to keep your job, you know what to do.’

  Matt started to turn away. This quite plainly wasn’t any of his business and it just as plainly wasn’t an auspicious moment to raise his own point of contention with Kendra’s father.

  The other voice came again.

  ‘That’s an empty threat, you know you’re not going to fire me.’

  ‘And you know you can’t talk,’ came the response. ‘Not now.’

  There was a long silence, during which Matt leaned closer, etiquette forgotten in the face of this fascinating exchange. He’d recognised the second voice now. It was Niall Delafield, Charlie’s security man.

  ‘Well, just make sure you keep your end of the bargain, or we’ll all be fucked!’ It was Delafield who eventually spoke, and so much nearer to the door that Matt was shocked into swift retreat.

  The corridor was way too long to traverse in the second or two he might have, so, to be spared the ignominy of being caught eavesdropping – albeit accidentally – he waited until he saw the door open, and then began to walk forward.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ he exclaimed, on coming face to face with Delafield.

  Delafield glowered, nodded briefly, and stood back to let him pass.

  Charlie was sitting staring at his desk when Matt knocked on the open door. He looked up.

  ‘Oh, hello, Matt. I didn’t realise it was that late.’ He glanced at the ornate Regency carriage clock on the mantelpiece and got to his feet. ‘I’d better come down. Er … did you want something?’

  ‘No. Just to say the meal’s ready,’ Matt told him, and Brewer, his mind clearly distracted, seemed to find nothing odd in this.

  *

  The mood at the dinner table that evening was edgy and uncomfortable, a state of affairs which Grace did nothing to improve. It was clear to Matt that he and Kendra were not the only ones wrestling with problems; even had he not overheard the exchange in the office, he would have guessed that something was bothering Kendra’s father, because he spoke little and his usually prodigious appetite had apparently deserted him. Joy, too, seemed tense and unhappy, displaying dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well.

  With conversation floundering, it was left to Grace to hold the floor, which she did by regaling the company with the details of her visit to Rupert’s father’s jewellery showrooms. Since, for her, the most memorable aspect of the tour seemed to have been the extravagant prices of the various sumptuous pieces on show, Matt very quickly grew bored, but Joy and Kendra exhibited the requisite wonderment – whether real or feigned – so Grace was encouraged to continue. When she had exhausted that topic, though, she reverted to her usual pastime of stirring up trouble and, as was often the case, Matt was her target.

  It was as the dessert was being served that she casually dropped the most unwelcome nugget of information into the silence.

  ‘So, Matt, Kendra tells us you’ve been tangling with thugs.’

  Surprised and disappointed, Matt looked across at Kendra, who coloured up, saying, ‘I didn’t! I was talking to Mum. You shouldn’t have been listening, Grace. You bitch!’

  ‘Should have kept your voice down then, shouldn’t you, little sister?’ Grace replied, and Matt saw Rupert looking a little uncomfortable, as though for the first time he were seeing another side to her. For his own part, he couldn’t imagine what had taken the man so long.

  ‘Girls, please!’ Joy pleaded.

  ‘That’s enough!’ Charlie thundered from the head of the table. It was the
first time he’d involved himself in the conversation, and it produced instant silence. ‘I don’t much care who said what and who shouldn’t have been listening, but I do want to know why I wasn’t told about this. Matt? What’s this all about?’

  Matt hesitated, wondering how little he could get away with, and Grace answered for him.

  ‘A couple of men attacked him in the car park after the races. That’s where he got those bruises.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Charlie frowned heavily at Matt, who had no option but to give an affirmative.

  ‘Well, what did they want? Did you report it? Why wasn’t I told?’

  ‘It was a private matter,’ Matt stated. ‘No real damage done. Everyone’s making a mountain out of a molehill.’

  Across the table Kendra looked intensely unhappy and he gave her a quick reassuring smile.

  Her father paused, regarding Matt thoughtfully through narrowed eyes, and, for a moment, he thought he might just have got away with it, but Grace hadn’t finished yet.

  ‘It wasn’t anything to do with Matt Shepherd – Private Eye, then?’ she asked, her face the picture of innocence.

  ‘Was it?’ Charlie demanded.

  ‘Like I said a minute ago, it’s private.’

  ‘Not when it affects your riding, it isn’t!’

  ‘It hasn’t affected my riding. It happened last night, after the meeting. Look, can we just drop this?’

  ‘This whole damn thing is affecting your riding,’ Charlie argued. ‘Look at the way you rode Kenning’s horse the other day, and what about Temperance Bob yesterday?’

  ‘I don’t know what was the matter with Bob – but it certainly wasn’t down to me,’ Matt protested.

  ‘Not what the stewards thought, was it? And what about the others, huh? Not exactly the performance we’ve come to expect from you, was it?’

  Matt stared, a little hurt. Surely this wasn’t still fallout from the upset about the sponsorship deal. Charlie was brusque by nature, but he knew what an up-and-down business racing was, and he was normally very supportive.

  ‘Well, what about Woodcutter? Nothing wrong with my riding there, was there?’ he asked, forced to defend himself and, as he said it, remembering that he still hadn’t contacted Doogie about the horse. Events had put it right out of his head.

  There was a sudden scraping noise as Kendra pushed her chair back and got to her feet. She mumbled something with her hand half covering her mouth and hurried from the room.

  ‘Excuse me.’ Matt rose to follow her, glad of the chance to escape, and, as he rounded the end of the table, Joy looked up and put out a sympathetic hand to touch his arm.

  ‘We’ll talk about this another time,’ Charlie promised grimly.

  From the corner of his eye, Matt could see Grace smirking quietly and, for the first time in his life, he contemplated doing violence to a woman. He’d liked to have rammed her face firmly into her bowl of apple pie and custard.

  10

  Matt arrived at Rockfield bright and early the following morning to ride out, determined not to give anyone fuel to criticise either his fitness or commitment. In truth, although his muscles were still extremely sore, it was the kind of tenderness that you grit your teeth and work through, rather than a sharp pain that causes weakness and disability. He was confident that his performance wouldn’t be in any way affected.

  When he’d run Kendra to ground the previous evening, he found she’d taken refuge in the kitchen with the family cook and a cup of hot chocolate. Although Matt didn’t take her to task over spreading the tale of his beating, she was clearly feeling wretched for having brought the wrath of her father down on him, and wouldn’t rest until she was sure she was forgiven. This was so out of character for her that Matt returned to the dining room to make their excuses and then took her home.

  This morning she had seemed much more composed when Matt took her a cup of tea in bed and kissed her goodbye, and he had experienced a surge of optimism that perhaps she had come to terms with the situation and everything would be all right.

  As he turned into the yard at the stables, his lifting spirits suffered a knock-back. To his surprise, alongside John Leonard’s grubby Volvo and Charlie’s spotless Land Rover was parked a red hatchback he didn’t recognise. The first thing he saw, when he got out of his car, was Brewer himself, standing in the open doorway of Secundo’s box, in company with a slight figure in navy jodhpurs and a fleece jacket. They both glanced over their shoulders and, with a shock, Matt recognised Ray Landon, a young jockey who some were predicting to be the next hotshot. Landon raised a hand to Matt, looking a little sheepish, and Matt had a sharp premonition of trouble ahead.

  The trainer hurried across to Matt, who nodded towards the visitor.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘Er … Charlie wants him to put Secundo over a few fences,’ Leonard said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a newcomer to take over the schooling of one of the best young horses in the yard from the stable jockey.

  ‘So when was this decided?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s only just told me.’

  ‘And did he say why?’

  ‘Er … Something about it paying to keep our options open,’ Leonard said, adding quickly, ‘Look, can you do me a favour and go and see where Harry’s got to? He hasn’t appeared yet and the Guv was asking where he was.’

  ‘But Secundo’s my ride!’ Matt protested. ‘Apart from the last time, when Jamie took over, I’ve always ridden him.’

  Leonard nodded unhappily.

  ‘I know. You’ll have to take it up with the Guv, but please Matt … Harry?’

  Even though he was sure it was a diversionary tactic, Matt assented, turning his back on the yard and going down the cinder path to the farm cottage where Harry lived.

  He found the door unlocked and opened it, calling, ‘Harry? You up?’

  ‘Yeah. Just coming.’ The voice came from the bedroom at the back of the house.

  ‘You OK? Anything I can do for you? Brewer has graced us with his presence and your pa requests your immediate appearance. In other words, shift your butt!’

  He heard Harry laugh, just as, on the kitchen table, his mobile started to play the James Bond theme.

  Matt chuckled.

  ‘Your phone, Mr Bond!’

  ‘Oh, shit! Can you get it for me?’

  ‘Righty ho.’ Matt picked it up. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Harry, it’s Toby,’ a voice said immediately. ‘Look, I’m sorry but I can’t make our session today. We’ve got a mare coming in with a possible twisted gut, any minute now, and I’m in surgery this arvo. I’m afraid I’ll have to postpone …’

  ‘Actually, it’s not Harry,’ Matt said, when he got the chance. ‘But I can pass the message on for you or pass you over, if you like.’

  ‘Shit! Look, the mare’s here – can you pass on the message? Must go.’

  The phone clicked and went dead, and Matt wasn’t sure if Toby’s exclamation of annoyance was due to finding that he’d been talking to the wrong man or because his patient had arrived before he was ready for her.

  ‘Who was it?’ Harry came wheeling into the kitchen just as Matt put the phone back on the table.

  ‘Toby Potter. Said he can’t make it today, he’s got an emergency.’

  ‘Oh.’ Harry looked momentarily disconcerted. ‘Er … thanks.’

  ‘Trouble with one of the horses?’ Matt enquired. ‘He’s not your usual vet, is he?’

  ‘Er – no, he’s not, but he’s a bloody good physio and he was going to have a look at Bob’s back for us.’

  ‘Temperance Bob?’ Matt asked, his interest sharpening. ‘You think that’s the problem? Charlie was trying to tell me it was my fault, but I knew damn well it wasn’t.’

  ‘Yeah, well – it’s a possibility. He didn’t look 100 per cent comfortable yesterday when he walked out of his box.’ He retrieved his phone from the table and a coat from a low hook by the
door. ‘I like your jacket. Is that the new sponsor?’

  ‘Yeah. Quite striking, isn’t it?’

  The navy blue, fleece-lined canvas jacket had arrived the day before and was decorated with the distinctive red and white rings that formed the logo of Q&S Holdings.

  ‘Very snazzy! So, what happened to your face? That wasn’t all from Tulip Time the other day, was it?’

  ‘No …’ Matt hesitated, but Harry was bound to hear the story sooner or later. ‘I had a spot of bother on the way home Saturday night.’

  ‘Oh? What sort of bother? You didn’t crash the car?’

  ‘No. I was late leaving the course and a couple of charmers were waiting for me in the car park. It seems someone is taking my efforts on Jamie’s behalf seriously and they want me to stop.’

  ‘You’re kidding! So, what happened?’ They had started down the path to the yard, but now Harry stopped the chair and looked up at him.

  Matt looked away.

  ‘Oh, just a bit of rough stuff and some threats. No lasting damage, but it’s not something I’d care to repeat in a hurry. Look, we should get on – they’ll be waiting.’

  He took a couple of steps, then glanced back at Harry and found him still watching intently, his eyes screwed up against the sun.

  ‘A bit of rough stuff, eh?’ he said. ‘No, I think it was a bit more than that. I know you, my friend, and you’re really rattled. This has got to you, hasn’t it? How bad was it?’

  ‘All right, I admit for a moment or two I thought I’d had it, but I don’t think that was the plan,’ Matt said, reluctantly. ‘I don’t think I was expected to fight back.’

  ‘They didn’t know who they were picking on.’ Harry’s chair began to roll again. ‘But this has got to be good for Jamie’s case, hasn’t it? What did the police say? You did report it, I hope.’

  Matt grimaced.

  ‘I will do. It’s just such a palaver, and the last thing you feel like when you’ve just had a drubbing like that.’

  Matt had no opportunity to speak to Charlie till the horses had all been worked and were being settled back in their stables. Even then, the businessman stood talking to Ray Landon for several minutes before the jockey waved a cheery goodbye and headed for his car. Charlie then showed every sign of doing the same until Matt called out, ‘Charlie! Have you got a minute?’