Under Orders (33 page)

Huw had told Kate it was more about power than money.

Juliet was almost gabbling now. Now she had started there was no stopping her. ‘Lord Enstone liked his horses to run up at Newcastle or Kelso and at the other northern tracks when
he was up there at home for the weekends. I couldn’t go up there with them, but Peter was specially keen that the horses should be stopped when he knew his father was going to be at the races with all his mates – so he would be shown up when the horse lost. So he paid Huw Walker to stop some. I told him it was stupid to get someone else involved, but he was absolutely determined. He said he needed Huw to get at the horses in the north.

I wondered how long it would take Juliet to work out that Peter had probably only bedded her to get at the horses in the south.

‘Then it all started to go wrong,’ she said. ‘Huw Walker said he was afraid that people would say that he was fixing races. He wanted out, but Peter told him that if he didn’t do as he was told then he would fix him good and proper, so much so he would get warned off by the Jockey Club.’

‘But surely that would have been the same for Peter?’ I said.

‘As you know, professional jockeys are not allowed to bet but Peter placed bets on the other horses in the races that Huw was going to fix and used an account that could be traced back to Huw. Peter had it as a hold over him. Unless Huw did as he was told, Peter said he would anonymously tell the Jockey Club where to look to see Huw’s name on the account.’

‘Why didn’t Huw report Peter to the Jockey Club himself?’ I asked.

‘When Huw threatened just that, Peter said that no one would believe him, that they would just see it as an attempt to shift the blame, and they would be more likely to warn him off for life. I don’t know whether they would have, but it frightened Huw enough.’

‘How many races did Huw fix?’ I asked.

‘Only a few,’ she said. ‘Maybe eight or ten, all in the north.’

A little greed had been his undoing.

‘He had wanted out after only two,’ said Juliet.

A very little greed, indeed.

‘Then Huw said he would tell Peter’s father what we were doing if we didn’t stop, or at least stop involving him. Peter went mad and threatened to kill him. I didn’t think he meant it, but…’ She stopped.

‘Peter shot Huw at Cheltenham,’ I said.

She nodded. ‘I didn’t know anything about it at the time, I swear, but Peter told me afterwards that it was during the Gold Cup when everyone was watching the race either live or on the big screens near the paddock. He said no one noticed him and Huw going off for a chat.’

And some shooting practice, I thought.

‘And I suppose the crowd noise at the end of the race would have drowned out the noise of the shots,’ I said, ‘but it was still a hell of a chance.’ Perhaps he’d used a silencer, I thought.

‘I know,’ she said, ‘but Peter was desperate. He’s terrified that his father would find out about the race fixing and go and change his will just before he drops off the perch.’

‘Is he likely to drop off the perch?’ I asked.

‘He’s got cancer,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you know? It’s prostate cancer and he’s had some treatment but it isn’t working. Peter doesn’t think he’ll last much longer, a year maybe, and he’s shitting himself in case the old man cuts him off without a bean for fiddling with his horses.’

So it was about money, after all. It usually was.

‘And how about Bill?’ I said.

‘Peter started a rumour some time ago that Bill Burton was involved in race fixing.’

‘Why?’ I asked her.

‘He said that it would keep the heat away from us if anyone started asking too many questions.’

Seemed to me to be like waving a red flag, bringing needless attention.

‘Peter was so excited when Bill got arrested,’ she said. ‘He reckoned that the only thing better than getting away with something was to have someone else convicted for it.’

Peter Enstone wasn’t the nicest of people.

‘He was annoyed when the police released Bill. He said that it meant that they didn’t really think he’d done it.’

‘But why did Peter kill Bill?’ I asked. ‘He’d done nothing to deserve that.’

‘He wanted to get the police to think that Bill had killed himself after killing Huw. So they would stop looking for Huw’s murderer.’ She looked at me. ‘And it would have worked, too, if you hadn’t stuck your damn nose in.’

‘Did you see him do it?’ I asked her.

‘No, absolutely not,’ she cried, ‘I didn’t know that he was going to kill him. I’m not a murderer.’

I still wasn’t sure about that.

‘So what happened that night?’ I asked her.

‘Peter rang me to say that he had to talk to Bill urgently,’ she said, ‘about his father’s horses going to another trainer.’

‘But the horses had already gone to Andrew Woodward,’ I said.

‘I know, but Peter told me that he was going to help Bill get them back.’

I wasn’t sure I believed her.

‘So what happened?’ I asked again.

‘I tried to get Bill on the phone but he’d gone out,’ she said.

To see Kate, I thought, at Daphne Rogers’ place.

‘Peter picked me up from home,’ she continued, ‘and we spent ages in the driveway waiting for Bill to come back, which he finally did at about half past ten.’

‘Then what did you do?’ I asked.

‘Bill was a bit surprised to see us, I can tell you. “What on earth are you doing here at this time of night?” That’s what he said. He was all smiling and joking. He asked us in for a drink so we went into the den. Bill poured himself a Scotch and Peter asked me to go and make him a coffee in the kitchen as he was driving.

To get her out of the way, I thought.

‘I was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil,’ she said, ‘and there was a loud bang and the next thing I know Peter comes out to the kitchen all frantic like and hyper. He said that would sort out the police. I asked him what he’d done.’

She began to breathe more quickly at the memory.

‘He didn’t reply,’ she went on. ‘He just stood there laughing and saying that that would show them. So I went into the den and saw Bill.’

Or what was left of him, I thought. She glanced up at the faint stain on the wall.

‘I couldn’t believe that he had killed him.’ She held her head in her hands. ‘I was bloody mad with Peter. I didn’t want Bill dead and I had absolutely nothing to do with it. It wasn’t my idea and I’m not taking the bloody blame for it.’

‘Why didn’t you go to the police?’ I asked her.

‘I wanted to, I wanted to,’ she said. ‘I told Peter that I was going to call the police right there and then but he said the same thing would happen to me if I did. I thought he was joking but I didn’t do it. I was really frightened of him that night.’

With good reason, I thought. I also wondered if that was the first ounce of truth she had told for a while. I wasn’t at all sure that I believed her account of how Bill died.

‘Did Peter say how he managed to shoot Bill in the mouth?’ I asked.

‘Peter said that when he pulled out the gun Bill was absolutely terrified of him,’ she said. ‘He was pleased about that and he has talked about it over and over again since. Peter says Bill was scared shitless. Apparently Bill just sat there shaking with his mouth open, so Peter just shot him through it.’

‘So what happened next?’ I prompted.

‘I was in a complete panic but Peter was dead calm,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why but he kept saying he wanted to fire another shot so that it looked like Bill had killed himself but there had to be no second bullet found. He wanted to fire it out the window but I thought he might hit one of the horses in the stables.’

Her love of the horses was clearly deeper than her love for her boss.

‘I suggested firing it into one of the fire buckets,’ she went on, ‘so I went to get one from the yard.’ She looked up at me almost with pleading eyes. ‘I know I shouldn’t have done that. I am really sorry…’ She tailed off and began to cry. ‘I didn’t mean for Bill to get killed, I promise.’

Did I believe her? Did it matter? It was a jury who would ultimately decide if she were telling the truth or not.

‘So what did you do then?’ I asked.

‘Peter drove himself home and I just sat here in the kitchen all night,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking I should call the police but I was worried they would want to know why I had been at the house in the middle of the night,
in order to find Bill, so I waited until it was the time I usually came to work in the mornings and then I phoned them.’

I remembered the shocked condition that Juliet had been in when I’d arrived at the house that morning. She had clearly been working herself up into that state for quite a while. I also remembered her saying, ‘How could he have done such a thing?’ At the time, I had thought she had meant Bill; now I knew she had been talking about Peter.

‘But why did you target Marina?’ I said.

‘Peter said it was no good attacking you to get you to stop. He said that you wouldn’t be put off by a bit of violence. I said that perhaps he should kill you.’

Thanks, I thought. For that I would not try too hard to keep her out of prison.

‘Why didn’t he?’ I said.

‘Peter said that would defeat the object. Then the police would know for sure that Bill’s death wasn’t suicide.’

Good old Peter.

‘He said the way to you was through your girlfriend.’

It nearly was.

‘Peter is not very bright,’ I said.

‘He’s cleverer than you,’ she said, loyal to the last.

‘If he was,’ I said, ‘he would have killed you before you had the chance to tell me what you have.’

‘But he loves me,’ said Juliet. ‘He wouldn’t harm me.’

She wasn’t very bright either.

‘As you like,’ I said, ‘but if I were you, I’d watch your back. You can’t testify against him if you’re dead.’

She sat there looking at me. I don’t know if she believed me or not, but I had sown a seed of doubt.

I jerked my head at Chris to come out with me into the hall.
I removed the key from my pocket and unlocked the door. Juliet remained sitting in the chair looking at her hands. I wondered if she was beginning to regret talking to us. As an afterthought, I took the video camera and the tapes out into the hall with me.

‘I simply can’t believe this!’ exclaimed Chris as I shut the door of the den behind us. ‘How the hell did you work it all out? And what now?’

‘First you had better get on and write your piece,’ I said. ‘If Juliet is charged, you won’t be able to publish. It will be
sub judice
.’

‘Blimey,’ said Chris, ‘you’re so right. What will you do with her now?’

‘I’d like to strangle the little bitch,’ I said.

‘You can’t,’ he said. ‘You’ve only got one hand.’

I smiled at him. It had broken the tension.

‘I suppose I’ll give these to the police,’ I said, indicating the tapes. ‘Then I’ll let them get on with it.’

‘What’s on those tapes will surely be inadmissible in a court,’ he said.

‘Probably, but I reckon the police will be able to get the same information from Juliet as I have done. Even if they don’t do the same deal.’

‘Well, don’t give it to them until my piece has appeared in print,’ he said.

‘Your article might prejudice a court case,’ I said.

‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I want to expose Peter Enstone as the bastard he is. And I also want to make his upstart father squirm with front-page headlines.’

I wanted it, too.

In the end, Juliet accepted an invitation from Chris Beecher to be put up in a swish hotel for a night or two. He made out that it was for her own safety, but he and I both knew that really it was to allow time for him to write his piece and get it published before the police or the courts stuck their noses in and put a stop on the story.

I went back to London to relieve Charles from his guard duties in Ebury Street and found him snoring on the sofa.

‘Right little Cerberus, aren’t we?’ I said to him, shaking his foot. I was not best pleased. ‘I thought I left you on guard and you’re bloody asleep.’

‘What?’ he said, rubbing his eyes.

‘Never mind.’

All appeared well, however, and there was no point in making a fuss. And I had offered him my bottle of single malt for lunch, so what did I expect?

Marina was in the bedroom resting her leg as instructed and watching an afternoon game show on the television. A huge basket arrangement of pink and white carnations sat on her dressing table.

‘Lovely flowers,’ I said.

‘Yes, aren’t they? Colleagues at the Institute sent them,’ she said. ‘Rosie probably organised it.’

‘And how do you feel?’ I asked.

‘Bored, but mending,’ she said. ‘Did your plan work well?’

‘Yes,’ I said, and told her all about my little chat with Juliet.

‘So, Peter Enstone shot me,’ Marina said finally.

‘Yes, I think he did. Unless he organised someone else to do it and that’s very unlikely.’

‘And where exactly is the little swine now?’ she asked.

‘According to the
Racing Post
, he was in Scotland, riding at Kelso races this afternoon. That’s why I was so keen to talk to Juliet today, while he was out of the way. I don’t know where he will go from there. I think he lives in London somewhere.’

Marina shivered. ‘I don’t want him coming here.’

‘He won’t get past Security downstairs, even if he does,’ I said. ‘And I’m not having you left alone anyway.’

‘Sid,’ Charles called from the hallway. He put his head round the door. ‘I think I’ll go back to my club now, if that’s all right.’

I felt guilty for having been angry with him.

‘Of course, Charles,’ I said. ‘And thank you so much for coming over and spending the time with Marina this afternoon.’

‘Humph,’ he muttered. He was not greatly soothed. ‘See you then.’

His head disappeared for a moment but then came back round the door. ‘I forgot,’ he said. ‘Jenny asked me to ask you, Marina, if you would be up to going out for lunch with her tomorrow? If yes, she said that she’d pick you up from here at twelve thirty in the car.’