The Iron Horse

by Edward Marston

  ‘It has to be him, Inspector.’

  ‘I’d doubt that, sir. Victor and I have both met the gentleman and one thing was clear to both of us. Mr Dowd loves racehorses. I can’t believe that he would deliberately harm one of them, whatever his feelings about its owner.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Leeming. ‘I saw Mr Dowd at his stables. He lives and breathes racehorses. Why should he pay someone to attack Merry Legs when he’s so convinced that Limerick Lad can beat her easily in the Derby?’

  ‘If you two don’t tackle him,’ warned Stenton, ‘then I will.’

  ‘You’d never get close to him, sir. He has a bodyguard called Seamus who carries a loaded shotgun. I don’t think he’d need much excuse to use it.’

  ‘Besides,’ said Colbeck, ‘we don’t want you trying to do our job for us, Mr Stenton. We’ll be speaking to Brian Dowd very soon.’

  ‘Make sure that you do.’

  ‘Before that, I’d like to talk to the groom who actually found your dog in here. With your permission, Victor and I will then take a look around to see if we can find the most likely place of access for any intruder.’

  ‘When you’ve done that, put the handcuffs on Brian Dowd.’

  ‘He’ll have to wait his turn in the queue, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘It was Mr Fido who called on us and I feel duty bound to report to him. No need to ask where he’ll be at this moment.’

  ‘No, Inspector,’ said Stenton. ‘He’s at Epsom.’

  Derby Week was a gambling extravaganza. Betting was brisk on all the races on the various cards but it was the Derby itself that commanded most attention. Sums ranging from the spectacular to the paltry had already been waged though wiser heads were reserving their options by delaying any decision until much nearer the event. Caught up in the frenzy of betting, Hamilton Fido was working at full tilt all morning and only allowed himself a small break for luncheon. He was annoyed to see Marcus Johnson heading in his direction.

  ‘Stop right there!’ he ordered, holding up a palm. ‘I’ve told you a hundred times, Marcus. I’m not giving you any advice.’

  ‘You don’t need to, Hamilton. I’ve got some for you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘This is personal,’ said Johnson.

  ‘How personal?’

  ‘It concerns Kitty. We need to talk in private.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I can’t tell you here.’

  Fido got up from his chair and the two men left the refreshment room. They found a quiet corner behind the grandstand. Johnson’s face was grim. His normal ebullience had deserted him.

  ‘Before we go any further,’ he said, ‘I must tell you that Kitty doesn’t know I’m here. In fact, she begged me not to talk to you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’ll soon understand why.’

  ‘Is she in trouble of some kind?’ asked Fido.

  ‘A small problem has arisen, Hamilton.’

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘It goes by the name of Lord Hendry,’ said Johnson. ‘I’m sure that you’re aware he once took an interest in Kitty.’

  ‘In my eyes,’ said the other, ‘it added to her attraction – not that she needed any additional appeal, mark you. I rather relished the idea of snatching her away from Lord Hendry. I can’t wait to dangle Kitty in front of him. It will be the first of two humiliations for the old goat.’

  ‘What’s the other one?’

  ‘Having to watch Odysseus being beaten by Merry Legs.’

  ‘Any other time,’ said Johnson with a half-smile, ‘I’d seize on that as reliable advice about where to place my bets. As it is, Kitty’s welfare comes first.’

  ‘Why – what’s happened to her?’

  Johnson told him about his visit to the house the previous day and how he had sensed that his half-sister was trying to hide something from him. Once he had forced the truth out of her, she had gone on to explain the circumstances of the assault in more detail. He passed them on to Hamilton Fido. Simmering with fury throughout, the bookmaker at last erupted.

  ‘He actually struck Kitty?’ he said in horror.

  ‘Across the side of her head with his cane,’ replied Johnson.

  ‘The bastard!’

  ‘He went there to bully her into going to the police and ended up attacking her. Apparently, it was the mention of your name that really set him off. Lord Hendry went berserk.’

  ‘I’ll go berserk when I catch up with him,’ growled Fido.

  ‘My first instinct was to charge off to confront him but I thought that you ought to know what was going on.’

  ‘Thank you, Marcus – I’m very grateful.’

  ‘Lord Hendry’s assault was utterly unforgivable.’

  ‘Cruel, undeserved and unbecoming a gentleman.’

  ‘Kitty said that the pain was excruciating.’

  ‘The old fool will pay for this!’ said Fido.

  ‘There’s only one thing to decide,’ said Johnson solemnly.

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Who challenges him to a duel first – you or me?’

  Brian Dowd had brought a number of horses from Ireland with him and he had moved all of them to the racecourse over the weekend. Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming found him at the stables allocated to him. He gave them a cheery welcome.

  ‘The two of you have come this time, have you?’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t want to get shot at by Seamus,’ joked Leeming, ‘so I made the inspector come with me in order to draw his fire.’

  ‘Oh, Seamus won’t bother you.’

  ‘It looks as if you got here safely, Mr Dowd,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘Yes, the journey was entirely without incident, I’m glad to say. Limerick Lad and the rest of my horses are all safely locked up.’

  ‘You might consider looking to your own safety, sir.’

  ‘Why is that, Inspector?’

  ‘Because you may get an unwelcome visitor,’ said Colbeck. ‘When we left Alfred Stenton a while ago, he was breathing fire through his nostrils.’

  Dowd cackled. ‘That’s nothing new for Alfred!’

  ‘He blames you for what happened at his stables.’

  Colbeck went on to tell him about the poisoned water that killed Sidney and how the trainer had immediately identified Dowd as the likely culprit. The Irishman was offended.

  ‘Accuse me, did he?’ he said indignantly. ‘I haven’t been anywhere near his stables and I certainly didn’t try to get his horse poisoned. Jesus – that’s a terrible crime, to be sure! Horses are wonderful animals. I’d never let one of them suffer like that.’

  ‘That’s what we told Mr Stenton, sir.’

  ‘Alfred wants to watch that loud mouth of his.’

  ‘You and he have often tussled in the past, I believe.’

  ‘I’ve taken on every trainer in England,’ boasted Dowd, ‘and, as often as not, I’ve put them to shame. When he was a two-year-old, Limerick Lad won the Champagne Stakes at Doncaster. Merry Legs, trained by Alfred Stenton, came in fourth. My horse went on to win the Criterion Stakes at Newmarket and Merry Legs was three lengths behind him. That’s why he’s throwing these foul accusations at me, Inspector. It’s pure spite.’

  ‘He still reckons that his filly will win the Derby,’ said Leeming.

  ‘You need three things to do that, Sergeant – the best horse, the best jockey and the best trainer. I have the first two of those things and I happen to be the third.’

  ‘Thing could still go wrong, sir.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘I watched the Derby one year and a horse ran amok at the start, unsaddling his jockey and causing mayhem among the other runners.’

  ‘Tim Maguire knows how to keep Limerick Lad out of trouble.’

  ‘Is there no horse in the field that you fear?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘What about Odysseus?’

  ‘The odds have shortened on the favourite,’ said Leeming. ‘Lord Hendry is so convinced that he’ll win that he�
�s had Odysseus’s portrait painted. We saw it hanging on the wall of his library.’

  Dowd grinned. ‘Then he’ll soon have to take it down,’ he said. ‘As luck happens, I chanced to meet Lord Hendry myself. He’s as bad as Alfred Stenton – he accused me of trying to injure his horse. The nerve of it!’ he went on. ‘I want Odysseus and Merry Legs in this race so that Limerick Lad can show them a clean pair of heels.’

  ‘Have any more approaches been made to your jockey?’

  ‘I’ll say they have, Sergeant Leeming. Two ruffians called on Tim the other night to cudgel him out of the race. We saw them off with a shotgun. I keep my leading jockey well guarded.’

  ‘Why didn’t you report the attack to us?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘We took care of it ourselves.’

  ‘A serious crime might have been committed. A record should be made of that, Mr Dowd. As soon as there was trouble at Mr Fido’s stables, he sent for us at once.’

  ‘I think that’s rich,’ said Dowd, laughing derisively. ‘A black-hearted crook like Hamilton Fido, calling on the police – now I’ve heard everything!’

  ‘We’ve just been looking for him but Mr Fido has disappeared for some reason. His assistants are taking bets in his stead. That being the case, we thought we’d talk to you first.’

  ‘Always nice to see the friendly face of the law.’

  ‘There aren’t many who think that,’ said Leeming.

  ‘Other people don’t have clear consciences, Sergeant.’

  ‘Do you, sir?’

  ‘My mind is entirely free of guilt.’

  ‘Really, sir?’ said Colbeck. ‘Didn’t you feel even the tiniest twinge of guilt when you lied to me about John Feeny?’

  Dowd stiffened. ‘I did nothing of the kind, Inspector.’

  ‘You told me that you’d parted on good terms.’

  ‘That’s true. I held no grudges.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you give him his full wages? According to you, before he left Dublin, you handed him some extra money to help him on his way.’ Colbeck watched him closely. ‘Do you remember telling me that, Mr Dowd, or do you think I’m misrepresenting you?’

  ‘That’s what I said and that’s what I stand by.’

  ‘Feeny left your stables after a violent row with you.’

  ‘A few hot words were exchanged, maybe, but that was all.’

  ‘You held back all of the money you owed him.’

  ‘Who’s been telling you all this baloney?’ said Dowd truculently, ‘That’s what it is, Inspector. I was there with the lad so I know what happened. Nobody can gainsay it.’

  ‘One person can,’ rejoined Colbeck, ‘and that’s Feeny himself. He found himself a sweetheart when he was here and told her his story. It was she who wrote those letters to Jerry Doyle. I’ve spoken to the girl and her version of events is very different to yours.’

  ‘Who is this creature?’

  ‘She’s a barmaid at an inn that Feeny frequented.’

  ‘A barmaid!’ Dowd was contemptuous. ‘You’d take the word of a barmaid against that of someone like me? Thank you very much!’ Arms akimbo, he spoke with feeling. ‘John Feeny left my stables under a cloud because he made the mistake of answering back to me. I don’t allow that in my yard, Inspector. When I told him that he didn’t have the talent to become a jockey, he lost his temper and swore at me. I threw him out there and then but had second thoughts later on. I liked the lad and didn’t want us to part like that. I made my peace with him and gave him some cash.’

  ‘If he had money in his pocket,’ said Colbeck, ‘why did he have to stow away on a boat?’

  ‘Because he probably spent what I gave him on drink,’ retorted Dowd. ‘That’s what he’d always done in the past. He had a streak of wildness in him, did John Feeny, or maybe the barmaid forgot to mention that? Good day, gentlemen,’ he said pointedly. ‘Instead of making false allegations against me, why don’t you spend your time hunting for the man who sent me Feeny’s head in a hatbox? Then you might actually be doing something useful. Excuse me,’ he added, turning on his heel to walk away. ‘I have work to do.’

  ‘I think you upset him, sir,’ said Leeming.

  ‘I must have caught him on a raw spot.’

  ‘I didn’t see any sign of guilt in him.’

  ‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘You wouldn’t, I’m afraid. Whatever he’s done, I don’t think that Brian Dowd would have one iota of guilt.’

  ‘Is it something to do with being Irish, sir?’

  ‘No, Victor, it’s something to do with being involved in the world of horseracing. It’s a hard, cold, strange, unforgiving, venal world that operates by its own peculiar rules. Let’s see if we can find another of its denizens,’ he suggested. ‘The elusive Mr Hamilton Fido.’

  Hamilton Fido maintained his surface bonhomie but he was seething inside. After being told about the way that Kitty Lavender had been treated, he was determined to strike back at Lord Hendry. He was glad that Marcus Johnson had informed him about an incident that his half-sister would have tried to conceal out of embarrassment. Fido not only felt an urge to leap to her defence, he realised how fond he had become of her during their short time together.

  When they had first met, he had no illusions about the sort of woman that Kitty was and he accepted her on those terms. Their relationship was only the latest in a long series of amours that he had enjoyed over the years and none of them had lasted very long. Kitty Lavender was somehow different to the other women. She had a vivacity and intelligence that set her apart. The news that someone had hit her with his cane had awakened feelings in him that he had not believed were there. He experienced a new intensity. Hamilton Fido was hurt, proprietorial, bent on revenge.

  The bookmaker knew where to find Lord Hendry but he did not want to accost him in public. Causing a scene would be foolish and unnecessary. Instead, he bided his time. Lord Hendry was surrounded by acquaintances in the grand salon, discussing the prospects of Odysseus and making predictions about other races during the week. It was over an hour before he broke away and headed for the door. As the older man came through it, Fido was waiting for him in the narrow passageway, blocking his path.

  ‘Out of my way, man!’ snapped Lord Hendry.

  ‘I want a word with you first.’

  ‘I’ve nothing to say to people of your ilk.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do,’ said Fido, squaring up to him. ‘It concerns a young lady named Kitty Lavender. I believe you paid her a visit recently.’

  ‘Stand aside,’ ordered Lord Hendry, ‘or I’ll report you to the Jockey Club for menacing conduct.’

  ‘It was you who resorted to menacing conduct with Kitty. Is it true that you struck her across the face?’

  ‘That’s my affair.’

  ‘And mine,’ said Fido, holding his ground. ‘I’ve come to exact retribution on her behalf.’

  Lord Hendry sniggered. ‘Retribution – for a whore?’

  ‘Show more respect or you’ll regret it.’

  ‘It’s you who needs to show respect. Do you know who I am?’

  ‘Only too well,’ said Fido, looking him up and down. ‘I know who you are and what you are, Hendry – a coward, a bully and a damn rogue. You’re not fit to be called a gentleman. You’re a disgrace to the title you bear and it’s high time somebody told you.’

  ‘What happened to Kitty was long overdue.’

  ‘Do you have no remorse at all?’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ said the other, roused by the verbal attack on him. ‘I’d do exactly the same again. I’d never apologise to her or to you, for that matter. You’re two of a pair – loathsome, uneducated creatures who’ve dragged yourselves up from the gutter and learnt a few airs and graces. You’ll never be accepted in society. The stink of inferiority remains on both of you and always will.’

  Fido had heard enough. Snatching the older man’s cane from him, he used it to knock off his top hat then he prodded him hard in the chest. Lord Hendry was frothing
with outrage.

  ‘I’ll have the law on you for that!’ he cried.

  ‘If we’re talking about litigation,’ said Fido, tossing the cane aside, ‘then Kitty could bring an action against you for assault and battery. But this is a matter that can be settled out of court.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I demand satisfaction,’ he went on, waving a fist. ‘Meet me at a time of your convenience and have the choice of weapons.’

  Lord Hendry gasped. ‘You’re challenging me to a duel?’

  ‘I want to see if you have the courage to turn up.’

  ‘I’d never lower myself to fight with you.’

  ‘You’ll have to – I insist upon it.’

  ‘This is absurd!’

  ‘Select the time and place, Lord Hendry. Remember one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You won’t be up against a defenceless young woman this time,’ said Fido warningly. ‘You’ll be facing another man.’

  Lord Hendry was dumbstruck. Rooted to the spot, he could not hide the trepidation in his eyes. As he walked away, Hamilton Fido deliberately trod on the top hat as a signal of his future intent. The challenge had been issued. He wanted blood.

  Travelling by cab, it had taken Kitty Lavender a long time to reach Epsom because of the huge volume of traffic on the road. She was staying in rooms that had been rented for her by Hamilton Fido and the first thing that she did when she got to the house was to change into her dressing gown and lie down for a rest. After a while, there was a knock on her door. Fearing that it might be Fido, she got up and hurried across to the mirror to adjust her hair so that it covered the bruise on her temple. There was a second knock.

  ‘Just a moment!’ she called.

  She examined herself in the mirror until she was satisfied that her injury was all but invisible then she opened the door. Instead of the bookmaker, it was Marcus Johnson. Kitty was disappointed.

  ‘Oh!’ she sighed. ‘It’s you.’

  ‘I’ve had better welcomes than that,’ he complained.

  ‘I’m sorry, Marcus – come on in.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He entered the room and weighed it up at a glance. ‘This is quite luxurious. Hamilton has spared no expense. Prices for accommodation shoot up like rockets in Derby Week so he must love you.’ He took off his hat with a flourish and studied her face. ‘It hardly shows at all now, Kitty. It’s only your heart that’s still bruised.’