Both arms, both legs, all worked. The right kneecap would be sore for a while but would heal. Tried to bend the left knee – now that was a different story. I didn’t know how much damage had been inflicted. It was the kneecap that had copped it months ago at Huntingdon races following a fall. It had landed me in hospital for weeks on end, with a dire prognosis that it would never allow me to ride again. Undoubtedly fragile, how much hammer it could stand was debatable.
Locking and bolting the back door securely to repel any possible boarders, I dragged myself upstairs by dint of a backwards ascent of the staircase on my backside. With sweat heeling out of every pore, I stood in the bathroom, stripped all my bloody, saturated clothes off and stood under a very gentle, lukewarm shower. I wasn’t going to attempt a hot bath; I doubted I would be able to climb out again. Amazingly, there was only one deep wound where the skin had split along the edge of one of my ribs – I stuck a plaster over it and slapped arnica over the rest of my body. Wrapping a towel round me, I fished in the bathroom cabinet and came up with some powerful painkillers. I knocked three back.
My bedroom was still as I’d left it yesterday morning. Was it only yesterday? Good God, it felt like a lifetime. The bedside clock read almost ten past five. I drew the curtains, shutting out the pounding rain, and gratefully crawled under the duvet. For the next twelve hours – or more – the world could take care of itself.
I awoke to a painful bladder demanding to be emptied on Monday afternoon at two o’clock. Nature had been doing sterling work and repairing my battered body whilst I slept on unawares. I no longer felt sick, didn’t have a headache and, holding up one finger, that was all I could see – one finger. So my concussion was getting much better. If I didn’t bash my head again over the next couple of days, that was one problem gone. The rest of me was sore and hellishly stiff, but I could at least draw breath now without biting on pea gravel. So probably no cracked ribs.
I stood starkers in the bathroom. I was not a pretty sight – nearly the whole of my chest was covered in purpling bruises. This time I risked taking a bath, running it hot and high.
It must have been after three when I clambered out. But I felt better, considerably better. The right kneecap now just a dull ache, but working. The left one? The jury was still out. I swallowed another three strong painkillers and hobbled down to the kitchen.
Leo was there. He was not amused. I must have closed my bedroom door last night – I knew I’d made sure of the window – otherwise, he would have been in there on dawn patrol demanding food. He was demanding food now.
‘Please, Leo’ – I lifted a hand – ‘stop it, I’m feeling fragile.’
It cut no ice; the decibel level increased. I hastened to fill his dish.
Then I fixed a meal for myself: ham omelette with three eggs. It had been twenty-seven hours since I’d last eaten. I realized I was starving hungry. And that told me a great deal, too. I was mending fast. And I needed to. Today was Monday – tomorrow, Tuesday, I was riding for a different trainer, Clive Unwin. If I rode a winner, there’d be the chance of further rides.
I finished the food and poured a mug of strong tea. Then I sat and thought about the moment I’d arrived home yesterday. I’d not noticed a car parked up, but there must have been one. The man hadn’t simply walked up to my cottage. The man. My overall impression had been of an older man. Strong enough to give me a right pasting but … before he could finish the job, if that’s what he had intended, his strength had run out. It smacked of a lifetime of smoking because he’d been wheezing and struggling for breath at the end. A young man could have kept going.
But maybe the attacker thought he had finished the job. As far as I could recall, I’d been pretty much out of it, covered in blood … If the gravel hadn’t absorbed the blows, I would have been a goner.
So the big question was who was he? And the second question: why had he attacked me? And attacked me with such violence. It wasn’t simply a frightener; much more like personal revenge. Unless it was the golf course killer … but surely he couldn’t have worked out my identity and got here before me. Say it had been him, and he thought he’d done the job on me, who next? Next was Mike.
I snatched up my mobile. He answered from down the stable yard.
‘Hello, Harry, how you doing?’
‘I’ve been better. And you?’
‘Keeping busy. Best antidote for just about everything. Oh, and propping Samuel up.’
‘Samuel’s there, with you?’ I asked stupidly, mind going full gallop at the possible reasons why he might be there.
‘Harry, he’s feeling it because of Chloe.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’
‘Heard anything from North Shore – any developments?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘If the police had caught him, it would have been on the news.’
‘That’s true.’
I tried to avoid saying that news, whatever it was, had passed me by for the last twenty-four hours. No sense in telling Mike my state of health. But at the same time, I needed to warn him.
‘I’ve been thinking, Mike, the killer’s still free. It’s possible he saw me watching from the turret room. He could have worked out you and I were billeted in there.’
‘You’re saying, watch my back?’ Mike was ahead of me.
‘Exactly.’ I breathed with relief that the message had gone home without me letting on about my injuries.
‘By God, I’d like him to try,’ Mike growled.
I wondered what he’d say about my own sorry efforts to defend myself.
‘Just take care, Mike. He’s a dangerous bastard. Don’t let him take you by surprise.’
There was a long silence.
‘I hear you, Harry.’
‘Yeah, well, I can’t spare the time for hospital visiting right now. I’m riding for Clive Unwin tomorrow.’
‘D’you know, I’d forgotten. Huntingdon, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘At least you’ve broken your duck about riding that course.’
‘That’s not a problem. The problem’s winning.’
‘Pheeewww.’ He blew air disparagingly through pursed lips. ‘It’s a walkover.’
‘Such faith.’ I had to laugh. ‘Anyway, must go, let you get on with evening stables.’
I didn’t really think Samuel was in the frame as a suspect. And now I’d warned Mike, there was nothing more I could do. Except try to work out from the meagre pieces of jigsaw puzzle already in my possession what my next move should be.
I mashed another mug of tea and spread out Jake Smith’s list on the kitchen table. I’d already contacted Robson, the trainer. I drew a line through his name – one down.
Jake had put the names of people with a possible grudge or motive in the final paragraph. The first name was Goode, a misnomer if ever there was one: the man was in prison. Louis had given evidence in court that helped to get him banged up. I really didn’t fancy prison visiting.
I went to the next. Alice Goode – his wife. Edward Frame had been associating with an Alice found on DaddyDating. She had put Jo-Jo on to the website and subsequently on to Louis. Was it possible it could be the same woman?
Only one way to find out. And I’d better do it whilst the painkillers were still working. I’d be in trouble when they wore off. I tapped in the telephone number beside her name.
Half an hour or so later, I parked the Mazda at the kerb in Grenville Street, Newark. Thankfully, with the edge of pain dulled, I’d managed the clutch. However, I tried to disguise my hobble as I went up and knocked on the dirty, peeling paint on the front door. I’d seen the twitch of curtains and knew my approach had already been clocked. Any weakness was best disguised. There was no telling who the information might be passed on to.
The door was opened by a woman wearing a mini skirt. A very short miniskirt.
‘Bloody hell fire!’ she said.
‘As a greeting, that’s not very nice, is it?’
> ‘Have you seen your face, mate?’
‘I don’t need to, I can feel it.’
‘I’ll bet.’
‘You are Alice Goode?’
‘Oh, sure. And you’re Harry Radcliffe, ain’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can see he found you, then. Mind, I’m surprised you’re still with us.’
My heart started pounding. What information did she have? If I could persuade her to tell me, another piece of the jigsaw would fall into place. And given enough pieces, I could guess the full picture.
‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’
EIGHTEEN
‘Of course, I never turn a gentleman away.’ A sly, sexy smile spread over her face.
‘I’m not a customer.’
‘’Course you’re not.’ Her lips curved wider.
I contemplated making a run for it. Wouldn’t work. I could only manage a hobble. She stepped back into the tiny hall.
‘I don’t bite. That is, not unless you want me to …’ Her laughter lingered behind her as she walked away into the lounge.
I took a deep breath, closed the door behind me and followed her. She knew her trade. The swaying buttocks were enticing in the tight, black mini and would have got any man going. Well, almost. Not me. I was far more interested in finding out the identity of the man who had attacked me. Sad, really.
She spread herself out on the settee and patted the cushion next to her.
‘Have a seat. Tell me what you’re after.’
I ignored the settee, took a seat by the window: it was safer.
‘I’m after information.’
‘Well,’ she said and shrugged one shoulder, ‘we can start with that.’
‘Are you married to the man who’s doing time for fraud? Darren Goode.’
She opened her eyes wide. ‘I didn’t see that one coming.’
I waited.
‘I don’t see what it’s got to do with you, but yes, Darren’s banged up.’
‘And you’ve been seeing a chap called Edward whom you met on the DaddyDating website?’
‘A regular little Sherlock, ain’t you?’ Her smile had faded now. ‘Where’s all this leading?’
‘You haven’t answered the question.’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you. And you introduced a friend of yours to this same website. She clicked, if you’ll excuse the pun, with her contact, didn’t she?’
‘You talking about Jo-Jo?’
I nodded.
She slid off the settee, went over to the mantelpiece and helped herself to a cigarette. Taking a deep lungful of smoke, she swung round to face me. ‘You know a lot, don’t you?’
‘I’m over a barrel. I have to find answers or I’m for the chop.’
‘By who?’ Her eyes narrowed as she blew out a column of smoke. There didn’t seem any reason to withhold his name.
‘Jake Smith.’
‘It wasn’t Jake who worked you over.’ It was said as a statement.
‘No?’
‘Oh, Christ, no.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘If it was, you’d have been measured for a box by now. He doesn’t mess about.’
She knew what she was talking about. My heart dropped further than it had already regarding Jake and what he was capable of doing.
‘No, he doesn’t.’ I agreed. ‘I’ve found that out.’
‘Jo-Jo was Jake’s sister, did you know that?’
‘Yes. It’s the reason I’m over a barrel. Jake’s sure it was murder. I’m the patsy who’s got to find her killer, or join her on the other side.’
‘I don’t know who killed her – well, her and that sod she was seeing.’
‘Louis Frame.’
‘Yeah,’ she blew a plume of smoke, ‘him. He put the boot in for Darren, at his trial, y’know.’ She stared at me intently.
‘But he did embezzle the funds.’
She flapped a hand dismissively. ‘His sentence was increased. He won’t be out for a long time. Why do you think I went on DaddyDating, eh? A girl’s got to live, ain’t she?’
I thought the word ‘girl’ was stretching things a good deal. Alice was so much older than I’d thought.
‘Why did you encourage Jo-Jo to pick Louis, if you hated the bloke?’ At this point, I was taking a considered guess but I didn’t think it was a coincidence.
‘He was wealthy, very wealthy. Jo-Jo could take him for a packet. Serve the soddin’ man right. Only, it didn’t run quite like that.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Dozy cow fell for him, didn’t she?’
‘I see.’ And I did. The only way for an ongoing future with Louis would be for Jo-Jo to get herself pregnant. And she had. Alice scrubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.
‘So, that all you want to know?’
‘One more thing. You were talking about someone working me over. You know who it was, don’t you?’
She shrugged. ‘Might do.’
I took out my wallet and counted out some notes on to the coffee table. Her eyes followed my every move.
‘Will that improve your memory?’
‘I might be wrong, o’course, but he was shooting his mouth off about doin’ for you.’
‘Alice, who was he?’
‘Frank’s dad, John Dunston.’
I stared at her. Of course. I’d forgotten about the teeth on the doorstep. I nodded slowly.
‘Yes, I think you’re right.’
Her hand slid across the table with the speed of a striking cobra and the notes disappeared.
I threw a heavy at her. ‘Did you arrange for Louis’ accident?’
She snorted. ‘Don’t talk bullshit. Jo-Jo was my best mate. You didn’t know she was pregnant, did you?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Oh.’ She sat down suddenly. ‘I thought I was the only person who knew.’
‘I’m very sorry she’s dead, Alice, I really am. And I’m going to do my damnedest to find her killer.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. I know some of the picture already, but there’s somebody pulling the strings – he’s the one I’m after.’
‘If I can help you, I will.’ Her eyes were brimming over with tears now.
‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’
‘I cared about Jo-Jo, you know. We looked out for each other.’
I nodded. ‘It’s tough.’
She stood up, came close. ‘We could give each other a bit of comfort right now, if you like.’
I put my hands on her shoulders. ‘No, Alice, we couldn’t. Thanks for the offer but …’
‘I understand – a posh bloke like you doesn’t need a slapper like me. You can take your pick.’
‘I wish.’ I smiled at her. ‘If I find the killer, I’ll come and tell you, OK?’
‘OK.’
She saw me to the door. ‘Don’t forget.’
‘I won’t. But I’ve got to find him first.’
I drove home well satisfied with what I’d discovered. But I was glad to get back. The painkillers had done their job but they were wearing off now.
How the hell I was going to ride at Huntingdon tomorrow, I couldn’t imagine.
I didn’t drive straight in when I got to the cottage. Instead, I parked a short way up the lane and walked back. I didn’t intend being caught out again. Inching in, I pressed close to the hedge. At that point I realized Dunston must have done the same because I’d not been alerted by the scrunch of gravel prior to the attack. I did a recce of both front and back gardens and tried all the windows and doors. They were all secure. As far as I could see, no one had gained entry and I was certain there was no one lurking in the gardens. I returned to the car, drove it on to the gravel and parked.
Letting myself in, I hesitated, listening, but the cottage gave off the unmistakable air of an empty house. I heaved a big sigh. Although the rest of my body was healing fast, the left kneecap was complaining like hell. It wouldn’t stand any further harsh treatment
. I locked the door, mashed a mug of strong tea, took it through to the lounge and switched on the table lamp. It shed a soft, golden glow on the dark October evening.
Slumped on the settee with my leg propped up took a bit of the edge off the pain. Clearly, the way forward was to give the knee the rest it required. But there was tomorrow’s race to be ridden. I didn’t like admitting I’d been jumped and worked over, especially by a much older man, but if I wanted to ride, it had to be done. The X factor in my personal first-aid kit needed to be played.
I reached for my mobile and tapped in Annabel’s number. It went to answerphone. Swearing under my breath, I left a brief message asking her to phone me as soon as she could. I drank the tea, contemplated taking some more painkillers – and didn’t. They were best saved for tomorrow. Adjusting the cushions underneath my knee for maximum support, I settled back with another one behind my head.
The meeting with Alice had gone far better than I’d hoped. She could be crossed off Jake’s list. She had nothing to do with the deaths of Louis or Jo-Jo. I’d thought it safer not to let on that I’d already found out it was John Dunston driving the horsebox. Perhaps she already knew, but I’d bet the cottage she didn’t know he’d been instructed to cause the crash. I was keeping that to myself for the moment. I was after the man who gave the orders.
There was a noise in the kitchen and I sat bolt upright, tense, ready. The door opened a crack. My fists instinctively bunched. And then Leo shoved his whiskers through the gap. The relief was out of all proportion. Obviously, it had been the cat flap.
‘You young devil! You had me going there.’
He mewed loudly and stalked over to the settee. I didn’t need to pat the cushion. With one bound, he was on my knee and stretched out across my stomach. He made a very good impression of a hot water bottle.
I started thinking about the next name on Jake’s list – Benson McCavity. He seemed the next most likely contender. I needed to set up a meeting.
It was warm in the cottage; the tea was soothing and the settee likewise. Leo had stopped purring now and gone to sleep. Peace settled around me and, still mulling over my approach, I, too, must have drifted off to sleep.
Dead on Course Page 13
