Microsoft Word - John Francome - Inside Track.doc (15 page)

Ì could see that. But I thought it didn't matter how the horse performed.

Your company just wanted an entry on the card, remember?'

`That was my idea but Barney takes these things to heart. I mean, Adolf didn't just lose - he gave up. And the jockey didn't help either.' Malcolm was taken aback. `Jamie's a top rider.'

94

`Really?' She pulled away from him and sat up. `Two years ago on the Flat maybe. The only publicity we got out of yesterday's race was about an ex-con making a comeback and losing. I tell you, Malcolm, it's not good enough.'

He stared at her in surprise, realising that their moment of intimacy had turned into a company broadside - and he was on the receiving end. Those pale blue eyes, for once unscreened, blazed with cold fire and her chin jutted aggressively. She was quick to spoil for a fight. He'd bet her subordinates at the office got it in the neck on a regular basis.

Beverley's full bosom positively quivered with her discontent. It was the first time he'd been given a dressing down by a stark-naked woman. There was no denying it was a bit of a turn-on.

`The first run means nothing,' he said calmly. `Yesterday was good experience for Adolf. Next time he'll be used to race conditions. And we'll make sure the going isn't so heavy.'

The thin line of her mouth softened fractionally but she didn't look convinced. However, the belligerence had vanished from her voice when she spoke next.

Ì'm just worried Barney will decide to pull the plug on the whole operation. It was all my idea. If he suddenly decides to get rid of the horse I'll be left with egg on my face.'

Malcolm didn't like the sound of that. He didn't want Beaufort trying to recoup his money on the horse - he'd get a nasty surprise if he did. Ìt's far too early for all that, surely? Suppose I get Dad to give him a ring and talk up Adolf's potential? And you keep massaging his ego - or whatever it is of his you massage - ow!'

She had a pretty hefty backhander for a woman but she was laughing as she landed it. He scooped her into his arms and held her to his chest. That was better.

Ìt'll work out fine. Honestly, Bev.'

She lifted her face to his and he accepted the invitation. He knew how to take her mind off Adolf.

On reflection, he thought later, that was another reason why he couldn't pack her in at the moment, with her getting anxious about the horse. He'd just have to soldier on.

95

It was frustrating for Jane to come in so late on the November the Fifth investigation. On all her previous murder cases she'd been able to visit the crime scene within hours - on a couple of occasions within minutes - of the incident, usually with the body of the victim in situ. It made a hell of a difference to taste the sights and smells of the crime firsthand, shocking and repugnant as they usually were. Like most detectives, she'd always believed that the insights gained from standing on the spot were invaluable. It gave you a gut feel - and this time she had none. Though she'd visited the cottage, the trip told her little about what had taken place there on Bonfire Night. Possession of the fire-damaged premises had reverted to the owner at the end of the previous year and builders were hard at work. The word was that the owner, Pete's former landlord, was looking for a quick sale.

In any case, Jane realised that even if she had been on the case since day one, the on-the-spot insights she craved would have been denied her.

Because of the fire and the actions of the fire brigade, the crime scene had been unavoidably corrupted from the start. Not even Leighton Jones had had the advantage of viewing the bodies in the position the killer - or killers - had left them.

Simon took her through the sequence of events.

`Filthy Barrable says he left the cottage when ER came on the box.

Amanda wanted to watch it.'

`So he went?'

`Yes. He says he hates medical programmes - can't stand needles and blood. Bit rich coming from a junkie. Anyhow, that puts his departure at nine - we checked. The emergency operator took the call reporting the fire at ten fifty-two. It was a busy night, being November the fifth; all the same, the fire brigade arrived at two minutes past eleven. By then the front room was well away but the rest of the house wasn't too badly damaged.

The brigade managed to prevent the thatched roof from going up, fortunately.'

There was no doubt the firefighters had done a remarkable job but their approach had been of the no-nonsense kind - out with the hoses, on with the breathing apparatus and in they'd bravely gone, smashing down the front door. According to neighbours it was likely that the occupants were 96

at home as lights had been spotted earlier and their bone-shaker of a car was parked in the road outside. Within a couple of minutes the firefighters had discovered the bodies in the front room and hauled them out of the burning building. It was immediately obvious that the pair were past saving but only the subsequent examination revealed the true cause of their deaths.

The upshot of all that was the complete devastation of the crime scene.

Little had been salvaged from the front room, where it was apparent the fire had started. Fire brigade investigators surmised that an accelerant had been used - probably liquid floor polish. The cottage owner said that he'd recently had the oak floor renovated and had left a supply of polish in the hope that his new tenants might care for it.

Partially protected in the coal scuttle, a fragment of cord had survived the blaze. Its thickness and weave was consistent with marks on Pete's wrists which suggested the victims had been bound before their deaths.

`Right,' said Jane, trying to fix the sequence of events in her mind. `The killers arrived some time after Barrable left. Any sign of a forced entry?

Or wasn't it possible to tell?’

'The back of the cottage was relatively undamaged. The windows and kitchen door were secure as far as we could see. And the firefighters had to knock the front door down to get in.'

`So Pete or Amanda must have let them in. Then they tied the pair of them up, kicked and assaulted them with the poker-'

`Just Pete. There were no injuries to Amanda's body.'

ÒK, so they burned Pete to find the whereabouts of the money Barrable saw.'

`Which was hidden in the cistern upstairs. Looks like it, anyway.' `Then they strangled Pete and Amanda. With their hands.'

Simon nodded. The pathologist's report had been clear. No ropes or scarves or makeshift garrottes had been used, just hands - probably gloved, there being no marks of fingernails.

Jane considered the method of execution. It was a hard way to end someone's life, to grip them by the throat and hang on until they were dead. It wasn't like pulling a trigger from yards away, or even plunging a knife into the heart. This was visceral, in-your-face slaughter. You'd have 97

plenty of time to think about what you were doing as you pinned someone down and literally squeezed the life from their body. She'd never even wrung a chicken's neck, though she'd watch a grown man make a mess of it in a survival programme on TV To strangle a person in cold blood would require some nerve.

`Do drug-dealers have a history of throttling one another?' Ì haven't come across it before,' Simon conceded.

`What about these Albanians of yours? Is this a regular Eastern European method?'

He shrugged. `You've got me there. I've no idea.'

She pondered further. Ìt's a sex-crime method, isn't it? It's what Christie did to all those women. Strangled them and had intercourse with the corpses.'

Simon pulled a face. `Thanks, boss. This is bad enough without turning it into Rillington Place.'

She grinned. It was satisfying to ruffle his feathers. `You get my point though. If this was a drug killing they'd have been shot or stabbed or had their heads caved in with a baseball bat. Now, if Amanda had been raped, it would make much more sense.'

`But she wasn't. There was no semen, no genital bruising, no sign of sexual interference at all.'

Ì know.' She sighed.

`You women - you look for a sex motive everywhere.' This time he was grinning, pleased to get his own back.

Òne thing about strangling,' she continued, thinking out loud, ìt's clean.

Shoot or stab or batter someone and the odds are you'll get covered in blood. But cut off the air to the brain and you walk away without any sign of involvement. Maybe there's saliva on your hands or bits of fabric from the victim's clothes, but nothing obvious.'

Ànd our guys have had the best part of three months to clean up,' Simon added.

`You still like the drug-dealers, don't you?’ 'Yes.'

Èven though you've got nothing to link them to Pete beyond his trip to York? And all of them,' she'd reviewed the extensive witness statements 98

taken from a host of Eastern European suspects, `have alibis for November the fifth.'

`They're lying for each other, boss. We'll nail them for something else and they'll start ratting on each other - then the truth will come out about this.

You'll see.'

`Tell me again why you think they did it. I mean, Pete and Amanda were hardly much of a threat. Even if they could identify whoever robbed them, what could they do? We wouldn't have taken them seriously and they're not linked to any drug gangs, are they?'

`You must be joking.'

`Which is why you think it's the Albanian dealers.'

He nodded. `Life's a whole lot cheaper in Eastern Europe than in East Lanes. There's also been two other junkie murders in the last six months.

Leighton believed they were carried out by the boys from York.'

`Tell me.'

'Stabbings. Both victims were slow paying money. I bet there aren't too many slow payers on their books now.'

`But they weren't strangled like Pete and Amanda, were they?' Simon sighed. He was obviously irritated by her reluctance to accept the obvious.

And, she supposed, he had reason. She was reluctantly coming round to the drug rip-off theory. It wasn't exactly the fresh thinking the Superintendent had hoped for.

Àm I getting too old for horses, Doctor?' asked Ros as she lay on the bed in Lionel Gooding's consulting room. Yesterday, Spring Fever, a stubbornly earthbound gelding she'd been schooling as a favour for a friend, had got fed up with her and landed a surprise kick. She'd been trying to ignore the pain all morning but had finally decided to check it out.

Gooding's large hands moved along her swollen calf. He appeared not to have heard her question. Finally he spoke.

Ì hope you're not fishing for compliments, Ms Bradey. You're a woman in her prime and as fit as a fiddle. I'm sure horses are in some measure responsible for your condition.'

Èxcept when they're kicking lumps off me.' She winced as he continued to probe.

99

He stepped back from the couch and stripped his gloves from his fingers.

Às far as I can tell there's nothing broken. Of course, I can send you for an X-ray if you would prefer a machine to issue a diagnosis.'

She shook her head. `No, thank you, Doctor. I assume there's a chance you know what you're talking about.'

He peered at her gravely, as if deciding whether she was poking fun at him. It was a game they played whenever they ran into one another. Ros liked the doctor a lot.

Àssume nothing in this life, Ms Bradey,' he said as he took the seat behind his desk. `Thirty-five years of general practice may well have eroded my judgement.' His fingers hovered hesitantly over the keyboard of his computer. Ì'll give you a prescription for anti-inflammatory tablets and some painkillers.'

`Don't bother, Doctor. I avoid medicine unless it's essential. If it's just bruising it'll get better in its own time.'

Gooding looked at her gratefully. Èxcellent. You've spared me entering into battle with this computer. It's a new system I haven't yet mastered.'

Ros slipped her foot gingerly into her shoe and stood. Time for someone else to benefit from the doctor's wisdom. But the doctor, for once, did not seem in a hurry.

`Ms Bradey, I hope you won't mind my asking, but does your horse training establishment require many staff?'

Ìt's a schooling yard. I'm not a licensed trainer. But,' she added, aware that the distinction might be lost on the doctor, `there are four staff apart from me.'

Ànd volunteer workers?'

Òh yes, plenty of them. Horse-mad kids who'd probably pay me if I let them. It's how most of us start out.'

Àha.' He beamed. `So if I gave your name to a young lady I know who'd love to get back in the saddle, she wouldn't be turned away with a flea in her ear?'

`No, though she might have to take her place in the queue. There's a limit to the number of giggly schoolgirls I can put up with about the place.'

Ì see.' His pale grey eyes probed hers. `Marie's not exactly the giggly type and she left school last year. Her father is - well, let's just say she's had a 100

difficult home life recently. She used to be a bit of a rider and I believe it would be to her benefit to take it up again.'

`So you recommend her?'

Àbsolutely. She's helping us out here at the moment, just while we get our records sorted out. To be frank, she's got a much better grasp of the new computer than the rest of us.'

Ros was amused. If the rest of the practice staff were as technophobic as Dr Gooding that wouldn't be difficult.

ÒK,' she said. `Tell her I expect to see her tomorrow morning at six-thirty.'

Gooding nodded. `Thank you, Ms Bradey. She'll be there.'

Ros had no doubt she would be. It was whether she turned up the following morning that was the real test. Mucking out horses in the early morning darkness usually sorted the wheat from the chaff.

As Jane drove across the Pennines she hoped the journey would be worth it. Apart from her trip to view Pete and Amanda's cottage, she'd spent the past few days in the incident room, talking to the investigation team and immersing herself in the case documentation. In the days and weeks following the murders, the detectives had been diligent. The HOLMES

computer system had been fed with hundreds of witness statements, the product of house-to-house enquiries, close examination of phone records and background research into the lives of the two victims. Plus, of course, information gleaned from Leighton's network of drug informers across the county. Right now Jane couldn't see the wood from the trees. In fact, she doubted she'd recognise a tree if she bumped into it.