by R B Marshall
She sniggered at that.
“—who wins the election,” I continued, “then I’ll investigate them too. When are you seeing him next?”
“Not till next weekend. I said we’d be at that show, an’ he’s going to meet us there.”
“If they’re only voting on Friday night, I guess that’s as soon as we can expect any news.”
My flatmate yawned, and stretched her arms above her head. “Me brain needs a break. How about some CSI? Maybe that new Cyber Crime spinoff. Might give us some ideas.”
“Anything’s worth a try,” I said, going over to switch on the television. “I think I’ve pretty much hit a dead end with my own cyber investigations for now.”
Chapter Fifteen
When I woke the next morning, I remembered with dismay that Francine and Jason were due to jump Darcy, in preparation for the show at the weekend.
“Then we get more chance to spy on them,” Trinity said, when I reminded her at breakfast. One of the things I liked best about my friend was that she usually looked on the bright side. “Why don’t we set a course of jumps out before they arrive? Then I can stay and put them back up when he knocks them down, and you can do some snooping?”
“Good plan,” I said, scarfing down the last piece of toast. “I’ll just brush my teeth, then go get started.”
Much to my surprise, our plan worked. I offered Francine a cup of coffee while Jason and Trinity took Darcy round to the school, and when she came in to the tack room with me, she left her copious handbag on the floor by the table, before disappearing outside, clutching her steaming mug in both hands.
I stood looking at it, my heart hammering. Could I? It was dishonest—would I be able to live with myself? What if I got caught? But… I clenched my jaw. It might be enough to rule Francine in or out for Pat’s murder.
Going outside, I tiptoed to the corner to check that Francine really was watching Jason ride, and wouldn’t suddenly appear back at the tack room. But she was standing primly by the fence, talking with Trinity.
Good, I thought, and beckoned to Jorja to join me. She would be the perfect excuse.
“What’s in here, girl?” I said, pointing at Francine’s bag. Dutifully, Jorja came over to sniff at it, giving me the chance to root about inside it. Almost the first thing I found was Mrs Mac’s phone. Bingo! Making sure my back was to the door, I had it open within a few seconds, and started scrolling through her messages.
Very quickly, it became evident that she and Jason were more than just employer and employee, much as I’d suspected. I swallowed. Giving myself a moment to think, I patted Jorja, who was sniffing at a pack of paper tissues in the depths of the leather receptacle.
It was then I heard a noise somewhere behind me, and I quickly closed the message app and dropped the phone back into the bag, at the same time as saying, “Bad dog!” to Jorja and pulling her away with my other hand.
I pointed her at her basket, then straightened and turned round. It was Francine, like I’d suspected, but fortunately she didn’t seem to have rumbled me. “I’m really sorry about my dog,” I said, sure my cheeks were flaming, “she was a stray and she isn’t the best trained yet.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s my fault.” Francine’s fingers fluttered in a ‘no matter’ way. “I keep some polo mints in there. For my Darcy, you know. I just came to get them.” Picking up her bag, she wafted away again.
Ruffling Jorja’s fur, I whispered to her, “I’m sorry for shouting at you. You were a good dog, really. And you might have helped me solve a murder!”
To make up for being mean to Jorja, I took her on a quick walk around Glengowrie House estate, ending up at the jumping paddock, where Jason was finishing his ride.
As he had last time, he handed the reins to me. But this time he had an excuse, although it was Francine that explained why. “I’m afraid we have to get away in a hurry today—poor Jason is getting a wisdom tooth extracted.”
Jason turned green. “Do I really have to?” he whined.
“You know what the dentist said.” At this point, Francine sounded more like his mother than his lover. “It’s infected. It needs to come out.”
Shoulders slumped, and feet dragging, Jason followed her to their car. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him. But then I remembered the sleazy messages on Francine’s phone, and my heart hardened.
“What did you find out?” Trinity asked. “Anything?”
Clicking my tongue to get him to walk on, I led Darcy back to the stables. “Yes,” I said, keeping my voice low in case it would carry. “I checked her phone. I didn’t get to see much, but enough to prove Francine was cheating on Pat, with Jason.”
“And she has the cheek to go about all la-di-da like she’s the lady of the manor!” Her eyes narrowed. “So whatcha think? Did they kill Pat?”
“Probably. But we’ve no evidence. The police might be able to get some though. I think I should maybe tell Dean.”
“Like an anonymous tip off?”
“Yeah.” I watched the grey Freelander as it drew out of our car park. “Something like that.”
Dean answered on the second ring. “Izzy,” he hissed, “we’re not supposed to be talking right now.”
“I’m not Izzy,” I countered. “I’m an anonymous informant with information pertaining to a recent murder.”
“Ah,” he said, his voice stronger. “Thank you for phoning. What do you want to share with us?”
“I—uh—happened to get a glimpse of Francine McDade’s phone today. And from what I saw in her texts, she and Jason Cotton are much more than just employer and employee. Perhaps the police can get a warrant to search their phones?”
There was a brief pause. “Thank you. I’ll look into it. Thanks very much for contacting Highland Police. Goodbye.”
I stared in disbelief at the screen of my mobile, which was now sounding the disconnected tone.
Trinity stepped into the tack room. “That’s me put Darcy out to the field, and I got Eagle in.” Then she noticed my face. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just phoned Dean. He obviously had company, and couldn’t speak properly.”
“At least you got to talk to him.”
“Yeah. Hopefully it’ll let them get enough evidence so they can pin the murder on someone else, not me.”
“Sounds good to me. Does that mean you’re going to stop the investigation, and call Dev off?”
I considered that for a moment. “I’ll leave the financial side with Dev for now—that might provide something useful for the police. But, yeah, I think we’ve done enough for now. Hopefully that’s it all sewn up.”
Like I’ve said before, I’m ever the optimist…
Chapter Sixteen
Trinity and I were debating whether Francine and Jason would turn up for their Thursday jumping session.
“Perhaps they’ll be in jail,” my housemate said.
I screwed up my nose. “More likely they’ll still be getting questioned. We’d better get Darcy tacked up anyway. I’ll ride him if they don’t appear.”
But it turned out that both of us were wrong. At nine o’clock, as usual, Francine’s grey SUV drove into the car park. “Be polite,” I hissed at Trinity, once I’d picked my jaw up from the floor. “There must be some delay with the police investigation.”
Nodding, Trinity led Darcy out of his stable, ready for Jason.
Except, Jason didn’t get out of the car, just Francine. “Good morning my dears, it’s only me today!”
I looked in confusion at her attire. As usual, she wore a floaty skirt outfit with inappropriate shoes—in black, as a concession to her widow-hood. “Do you want to get changed before you ride?”
“No, no, I’m not riding.” My confusion must’ve registered, because she carried on, “Jason has terrible pain from his wisdom tooth operation, poor thing. So I thought you could jump the boy instead.”
My jaw hit the floor again. Jumping? I was a dressage rider. I’d hardly done a
ny jumping since I was a teenager. Would I even remember how?
Stirrups two holes shorter than normal, to put me into the correct balance for leaping through the air on the back of an earthbound animal, I sat astride Darcy and gazed in trepidation at the course of show jumps Trinity had set out for me.
“I’ll keep ’em small to start with,” she’d whispered when Francine wasn’t listening, “till you get your eye in.”
However, it wasn’t just my eye I needed to get in. I needed a complete confidence transplant.
The obstacles had me distracted so much that, without thinking, I put a hand on Darcy’s neck. But the vision he gave me this time was different. He seemed excited about the idea of jumping, remembering himself flying over the poles in the past, as if he had wings like a bird.
For the first time, perhaps because there were no negative images involved, this connection from the horse didn’t leave me reeling. Instead, I almost felt invigorated.
As I trotted him toward the first jump, I held that image in my mind’s eye, of Darcy flying like a bird. Before I knew it, we were at the other side, and cantering towards the next, a small spread.
Darcy cleared it easily, and took me round to the double, which he popped over as if it was hardly there. “Good boy,” I said, scratching his neck. “You really do fly.”
“Come at this first one again,” Trinity called from the other side of the arena.
It was only when we were on the approach—and past the point of no return—that I realised she’d put the jump up by at least six inches. But Darcy took charge, and, half a heartbeat later, we were in the air, and sailing over the top like it was nothing.
“Now the other way,” she said, ignoring the dirty look I was giving her.
From the other direction, the upright looked like it was at an angle. And then I realised that it was, because Trin had only had time to put one side up. “Sneaky,” I called as we passed her. But by this time, I was starting to settle into it, and to trust my mount. No wonder the McDades wanted to enter him for the Future Star class. He really was special!
By the end of our session, Trinity had the jumps at a similar height to what Jason had been clearing the other day—and way higher than I’d ever jumped in my life before. But, somehow, it seemed easy on Darcy.
Dismounting, I stood on the far side of the gelding, so I was hidden from Francine, and put my forehead on his shoulder. “Thank you,” I whispered, “thank you for looking after me.” A wave of gratitude and warmth swept over me, which I’m sure came from this wonderful horse.
I gazed around us, searing the image on my brain of the colourful jumps, the wood pigeons cooing from a tree nearby, and the warm breeze on my face. I might never do this again, but at least I’d have a wonderful memory to take with me into the future.
Chapter Seventeen
Friday had been a relatively quiet day, and we decided we deserved another ‘girls’ night’ at the cinema. After some discussion, we plumped for the recently released biopic about Elton John, and made it to the cinema in Dundee quickly enough that we had time to stand in line for refreshments before we took our seats.
The entrance area was double-height and spacious, but it still smelled of over-cooked hot dogs and had a frantic, busy air that set my teeth on edge. I’d obviously got too used to the more relaxed pace of life we enjoyed in the country.
“Izzy!”
I turned in surprise, to see Mum’s neighbour’s son. “Michael! What’re you doing here?” And then I blushed, realising what a stupid question that was. “Presumably to see a film?” Hopefully that would cover up my idiocy, at least a little.
Dressed in skinny jeans with a grey waistcoat over a crisp, open-necked shirt, his eye-roll outdid even my best efforts. “We’re here to see Rocketman. You?”
“The same.” I frowned at him and looked over his shoulder to see who he was with. “We?”
He pointed at a tall guy with close-cut, dark hair who was over at the box office. Wearing dark jeans and a navy shirt with the collar turned up, he somehow exuded style. “My friend Grayson. I’ll introduce you in a minute.”
Trinity appeared, clutching a large box of popcorn, then did a double-take when she spotted the anaesthetist. “How ya doing?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Is you joining us? I’ll go get some more.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael replied, patting his stomach, “we’ve just eaten.”
“Michael’s here with a friend,” I said, just as Grayson joined us, holding two tickets in one hand as he slipped his wallet into a back pocket with the other. Closer up, he looked slightly older than Michael, with high cheekbones, a wide mouth and a five-o’clock shadow dusting a chiselled chin.
Needless to say, we ended up sharing the box of popcorn with the guys, passing the box between us as the movie, with its toe-tapping music and flamboyant characters, unrolled before us.
Afterwards, Grayson was full of enthusiasm as we made our way through the dark-carpeted corridors, back to the foyer. “Tell me, why has no-one ever enlightened me before on how amazing Elton’s music was?” He turned to Michael, his eyes alight. “We’ll have to do a version of I’m Still Standing for the next show.”
“The next show?” I questioned.
Michael hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat. “We raise money for charity by putting on a revue a couple of times a year at the hospital. Grayson is a radiologist,” he added.
“Be sure and invite us to the next one,” Trinity said, as we stepped through the automatic doors into the car park.
Compared to the overheated building, it seemed chilly outside, and I buttoned up my jacket. “Yeah, I’ll bet you’re the star turn, Michael.”
Overhead, the sky was velvet black, and the neon light from the cinema sign illuminated his face with an eerie purple glow. He chuckled. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe how many gifted people work at the hospital. It’s like Britain’s Got Talent on steroids. Now,” he changed the subject, and pointed down the street, “are you ladies going to join us for a nightcap? There’s a new cocktail bar opened not far from here and I hear tell it’s the place to see and be seen.”
Catching Trinity’s eye to make sure she was in agreement, I made a face. “Can we rain check on that? We’ve got a show tomorrow—a horse show,” I clarified, “so it’s an early start with the horses.”
“But of course! Well, goodnight then.” Leaning in, he air-kissed both cheeks in the continental way. “Ciao, bella.”
Trinity got the same treatment from Grayson, and then, with a final wave, they strode off towards the centre of town, talking animatedly as they went.
I stared after them. Michael was quite the force of nature, and Grayson seemed to be cut from a slightly quieter pattern of the same cloth. An evening with the pair of them would be entertaining, to be sure, but I wasn’t convinced I could cope with so much extrovert-ing all at one time. Not without at least a week to psych myself up for it.
Saturday—Glendoig Show day—dawned grey and overcast. In the stable yard, all was a flurry of activity. Even Jimmy the handyman had been roped in, loading stuff into the lorry for us as we primped and preened the three horses who were going to the show.
Eagle, in my opinion, looked splendid, his coat glowing like burnished copper, his mane and tail sooty black and lustrous. Allegra, similarly, gleamed like polished walnut as she munched contentedly from a hay net.
Across from us, Trinity had Darcy looking amazing, shining bright like gold, his mane plaited neatly, and his hooves sparkling.
Bang on eight thirty, the McDade-mobile arrived, with Jason at the helm.
“So they’re still not in jail,” I commented to my flatmate as he reversed the lorry into position. “The police must know something we don’t.”
“You might be right.” She scratched her head. “But if Jason’s here, at least you won’t have to jump Darcy.”
“Thank goodness for that,” I said, as Jason climbed down from t
he cab and pressed the button to open the ramp.
“But you’d better load him, he goes best for you,” Trinity whispered, handing me the lead rope.
Ten minutes later, Darcy and all his gear were stowed on the silver dream machine, and it purred out of the yard, leaving us able to focus on Eagle and Allegra.
I checked inside the lorry and ticked items off on my fingers: saddle, bridle, spare girth and reins in case of mishaps, grooming kit, hat, boots and show gear for me, food and water for us and the horses… “I think we’ve got everything,” I said, just as Trin approached the ramp with the mare.
“Have to say, I dunno why they didn’t take our two as well,” she said as they clattered on board. “Seems right stupid taking two vehicles. Waste of diesel.”
She had a point there. “We’d only have messed up their nice, clean lorry. Plus, we’d have had to make small talk with them.”
Her face screwed up in disgust. “And maybe they’d have got all kissy-kissy. Talking of which—do you think Dean didn’t pass your tip-off on?”
“I’ve no idea. But I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t.”
That earned me a keen look. “Be sure and ask him at salsa tonight.”
Despite us leaving slightly later, Allegra’s class was actually earlier than Darcy’s, so once we arrived at the show ground, we hustled to get ready.
Set on some old sheep grazing on a large farm near Dundee, there were three roped off showing rings, a showjumping ring, and the vehicle parking on a raised section at the back of the field. In between, there were a couple of marquee tents, and a van selling hot food, which sent tantalising aromas wafting over the show ground.
“I’ll give Allegra a quick groom, if you get yourself togged up,” Trinity suggested.
“Thanks.” Using the back of the lorry as a changing room, I pulled on the creamy-yellow jodhpurs, black leather boots, yellow shirt, tweed jacket and red tie that comprised my ‘showing’ outfit, topping it off with a black velvet riding hat.
