Murder in Mind

by Lyndon Stacey

  Back in the winner’s unsaddling area, Jamie was magnanimous in defeat, seeming almost as excited as Matt was about the horse’s performance, and later, after the presentation, he accompanied Matt, Doogie, and Woodcutter’s new owner to the bar for a celebratory tonic water.

  When the race had been relived half a dozen times and ambitious plans mooted for the little horse’s future, the talk turned to the other hot topic of the day. It was rumoured that Lord Kenning had, citing ill health, stepped down from his position at the Jockey Club. No one was sure of the facts, but the peer was noticeably absent from what was one of his local meetings.

  Matt had his own ideas about Kenning’s sudden decision and when, as they left the bar, he spotted Stephen Naismith in a queue at the Tote kiosks, he excused himself from the company of the others and went across.

  ‘Matt, hi!’ Maple Tree’s owner smiled. ‘Caught in the act!’

  ‘Collecting on Woodcutter’s win, I hope,’ Matt said.

  ‘And placing a little sum on Maple in the last,’ he replied, nodding. ‘It’s all rather worryingly addictive. I see what my mother saw in it now.’ In a lower voice he added, ‘What do you know about a mare called Peacock Penny? I’m told she’d be a good investment.’

  ‘Is she for sale?’ Matt asked, surprised. He remembered the serious young man who had been in the paddock the day he’d ridden the mare.

  ‘Apparently. Her owner is rather put out by Westerby’s imminent retirement from training, and has decided to sell both his horses and buy dogs instead.’

  At this point he reached the kiosk and stepped forward to conduct his business, leaving Matt to digest the information he had imparted. Joining Matt again, minutes later, he folded a wad of cash into his back pocket with an evident air of satisfaction.

  ‘I hadn’t heard about Westerby,’ Matt said thoughtfully. ‘When did you hear?’

  ‘Last night, when I visited to finalise the arrangements for removing Maple to Mr McKenzie’s yard. The greedy sod tried to garner commission for putting me onto Peacock Penny!’

  ‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with Lord Kenning’s sudden retirement, would it? I’m assuming we have you to thank for that …’

  ‘Ill health, so I heard.’ Naismith assumed an expression of innocence.

  ‘And the rest!’

  ‘Well, all right, I might have pointed out to him the benefits of a dignified withdrawal from the public eye, but, actually, when the facts were presented to him, he didn’t really have much option. And I had a couple of aces to play.’

  ‘The photos?’

  ‘Those, and the little matter of a witness to his involvement with Westerby.’

  ‘Not Rick Smith?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Nice lad. He was very helpful and good enough to sign a statement indicating his willingness to testify in court, if the need arose.’

  ‘How on earth did you manage that?’ Remembering the head lad’s reticence with him, Matt could hardly believe it.

  ‘Merely by offering the services of a top-class lawyer, if it should transpire that he needed one – not that I thought he would for a minute. Any half-competent judge would easily recognise how he’d been manipulated.’

  ‘And how would a lad like Rick be able to afford this top-flight lawyer, may I ask?’

  Naismith looked a little sheepish.

  ‘Oh, well, there’s this one guy I know who has been known to take on the odd case for a pittance, now and then, in the interests of justice.’

  ‘A guy you know,’ Matt repeated, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Yes. Actually, it’s not as noble as it sounds. Often the mere threat of his involvement is enough to see the case settled amicably, as now,’ he observed.

  ‘And Kenning’s vendetta against me – all to hide his smutty little secrets?’

  ‘Ah, but, you see, he’d had word there could be honours in the offing,’ Naismith said. ‘Needless to say, he won’t be accepting – if the question does arise!’

  Matt shook his head, smiling, but his attention was caught by Jamie, who had apparently hooked up with Casey McKeegan, and who was now standing by the door to the premier stands, trying to convey, by way of hand signals, that they were going up to the Brewers’ box.

  ‘You’re wanted,’ Naismith said, following his gaze.

  ‘In a minute. Why don’t you come up for a drink?’

  The lawyer shook his head.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m here with a party – my wife and some colleagues. I’m trying to drum up some interest in forming a syndicate,’ he confided, with a smile.

  ‘OK. Well, I’ll let you get back to them,’ Matt said. ‘And thank you for what you’ve done. Racing can do without people like Kenning and Westerby’

  ‘The world can do without them, if you ask me!’ Naismith suggested, his eyes twinkling. ‘But I suppose we must be content with less drastic measures.’

  Matt laughed.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Oh, and Matt – I don’t have to ask you to keep this under your hat … ?’

  ‘Of course not, and I’ll look forward to seeing you at Doogie’s.’

  He waved a hand and, as he turned to follow Jamie and Casey, Woodcutter’s owner left Doogie McKenzie and fell in beside him.

  ‘Come up to the box,’ Matt invited. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’

  ‘Is this the best time? I mean – owner of the horse that beat theirs …’ The man was a couple of years older than Matt, and an inch or two taller. He was dressed smartly in a suit, his tie bearing the red and white logo of Q&S Holdings.

  ‘You’re my guest,’ Matt said, slapping him on the back. ‘Anyway, quite apart from anything else, you represent my sponsors. You’ve every right to be there. Come on, faint heart.’

  The box Charlie Brewer had hired was, predictably, the most expensive on the course, being both spacious and directly opposite the finishing post. In spite of its size, however, it was well peopled, hosting – at that moment – the whole Brewer clan, Rupert Beaufort, Jamie and Casey, John, Reney and Harry Leonard, and – somewhat surprisingly – Toby Potter and a redheaded woman, unknown to Matt, who was presumably his partner.

  Kendra spotted Matt first, weaving her way through the crowd to his side. He slipped his arm round her and gave her a kiss. Since his return to racing, ten days ago, she hadn’t missed a single meeting, knowledge of his deadly duel with Niall Delafield altering her attitude in a way even she was at a loss to understand.

  ‘Do you know – I actually enjoyed watching that last race,’ she told him, adding to his companion, ‘That’s the first time I’ve been able to watch the whole thing without hiding behind my hands. I’m getting better!’

  Matt laughed, kissing her again.

  ‘Luke, this – you will have gathered – is my fiancée, Kendra. Kendra, this is the head of Q&S Holdings UK Ltd, my brother Luke.’

  They leaned forward to exchange kisses, Kendra saying archly, ‘Ah, you must be the good-looking one of the family …’ for which she earned an indignant slap on the behind from Matt.

  Just then, someone rapped on one of the tables with the handle of a knife, and they all turned to see Frances standing, a little pink-faced, beside Harry’s wheelchair. Harry himself appeared to be more interested in his hands, which he held clasped in his lap.

  ‘Er, Harry and I have something to tell you,’ she began, turning pinker under the interested scrutiny of family and friends.

  ‘Not another wedding to pay for!’ Charlie said, in horrified accents, and Joy frowned at him.

  ‘Is it, Frannie?’ she asked, looking more animated than Matt had seen her at any time since Deacon’s death.

  ‘Well, that’s part of it,’ Frances admitted, and, for a moment, any further revelations were drowned out by the mass of congratulations.

  Then Harry raised his voice.

  ‘Can we have some quiet, please? I have asked Fran to be my wife, and – for some reason kn
own only to herself – she has accepted.’ He paused while several disrespectful comments were passed. ‘But I was determined that I wouldn’t do so until I could do one thing …’

  Matt held his breath, almost certain he knew what was coming.

  Harry put his hands on the arms of his wheelchair and pushed himself upright, as he normally did when transferring to a chair or his car, but there was no other support within reach.

  Matt looked across at Harry’s parents and saw the bewilderment in their faces; he had obviously been successful in keeping his progress from them. Reney even took a step forward, as if to help her son, but John put a hand on her arm, watching Harry intently.

  ‘I told Fran that I would only marry her when I was able to walk down the aisle and stand by my best man for the ceremony,’ he said, breathing a little faster than normal. ‘Well, I’m not quite there yet, but we’ve booked the church for six months’ time,’ he added, and, fixing his gaze on the table, some eight feet away, walked six wavering steps through an anxious silence to reach it.

  Once there, he leaned thankfully on a chair back, breathing hard, and smiled radiantly. As if that was the signal, the assembled company broke into delighted applause, with the exception of Reney, who burst into tears.

  ‘But … but how? When did this happen?’ his father asked above the tumult. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘I wanted it to be a surprise,’ Harry said. ‘At first, when I thought there was an improvement, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure it would continue, and then – when it did – I decided I’d wait until I’d got something really impressive to show you.’

  Fran had moved to stand beside him now, clearly enjoying his moment of triumph just as much as he was, and Joy went over and hugged them both, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

  ‘But, hang on,’ Harry spoke up again. ‘There’s a very important person I have to thank for all this – besides Frannie, of course – Toby Potter, my craniosacral therapist. That’s spelt Q U A C K to you, Charlie,’ he added, laughing. ‘But, seriously, without his healing hands, I’d still be stuck inside my self-limiting circle of pain and fear – to quote his wise words. Toby – come forward and take a bow.’

  The vet went across, shaking his head and smiling.

  ‘I should be thanking this fella for taking a chance on a horse doctor, and letting me practise my new-found techniques on him,’ he remarked. ‘But his recovery was 10 per cent therapy and 90 per cent determination. He just needed the belief.’

  ‘Hey – you didn’t tell me you were just practising, I thought you were a pro!’ Harry exclaimed, and suddenly everyone was crowding round, talking and laughing, and wanting to hear about Toby Potter’s miracle-working.

  Having added his own congratulations and given Frances a hug, Matt squeezed out of the throng and made his way back to his brother’s side, arriving in the same moment as Charlie Brewer.

  ‘Ah, Charlie – this is Woodcutter’s new owner, my brother Luke.’

  Charlie raised an eyebrow and inclined his head.

  ‘Well, congratulations on an impressive win – even though you beat my horse.’

  ‘Thanks. Yes, sorry about that. I’m new to racing, but Matt told me Woodcutter was a good investment, and today I realised he was right. Even I could see that the horse is something special.’

  ‘Matt, you didn’t tell me your brother had bought the animal. I assumed it was your sponsors,’ Charlie said then.

  ‘Luke is Q&S Holdings,’ Matt told him. ‘At least, he’s the UK branch. It’s a family company.’

  Brewer’s face became very still as he took in this information.

  ‘Your family owns Q&S Holdings International?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Matt said lightly, enjoying the moment. ‘Queenbury and Shepherd – Q&S. My father is the managing director. Dick Queenbury died last year and we bought his widow out.’

  ‘We … ?’ Charlie asked faintly.

  ‘Yeah. Like I said, it’s a family company. Equal shares – though I don’t take a regular wage, being something of a sleeping partner, so to speak.’

  Charlie was looking at Matt as if seeing him properly for the first time, and it was Kendra who spoke up, linking her arm through Matt’s and laying her head on his shoulder.

  ‘So you see, your little girl didn’t do too badly for herself after all, did she?’

  ‘Why did you never tell me?’ her father asked.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she replied simply. ‘And, anyway, it’s never been about money for me. The guy I’m marrying is going to be the next Champion Jockey, and that’s far more exciting!’

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&nbs
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