Murder in Mind

by Lyndon Stacey

  Charlie pushed back his sleeve to look at his watch.

  ‘Well, not really. Can’t it wait?’

  ‘No, it can’t. I want to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Going on?’

  ‘You know what I mean – with Secundo and Ray.’

  ‘Oh, not here, Matt. This isn’t the time.’

  ‘Yes, here. You owe me an explanation.’

  Charlie turned to face Matt and sighed.

  ‘All right – you asked; I’ll tell you. You know I’ve not been happy with the way you’ve been riding lately …’

  ‘Ever since Lord Kenning called you, in fact,’ Matt put in.

  ‘I’m well able to make up my own mind about it,’ the businessman retorted hotly. ‘But – since you mention it – yes, Lord Kenning is concerned, as are several other people.’

  ‘Name them,’ Matt said promptly, and had the satisfaction of seeing Charlie thrown off his stride briefly.

  He was swift to recover.

  ‘Certainly not; they spoke to me in confidence – and, anyway, it’s beside the point. The fact remains that, ever since this business with Jamie and that woman, you’ve not been giving your full attention to the job, and I expect anyone who works for me to be 100 per cent committed.’

  ‘I’ve never been less than 100 per cent,’ Matt said, in a low, furious voice.

  ‘Until lately, I would have agreed, but people are losing confidence in you.’

  ‘Again – these nameless people. So what are you planning to do? Jock me off and give my best rides to Landon? What sort of message does that give out?’

  ‘You were warned, Matt.’

  Matt was struggling to believe what he was hearing.

  ‘You can’t do this. I’m Rockfield’s jockey. It’s not just your horses.’

  ‘Yes, well the other owners are obviously free to do what they think fit, but, of course, John Leonard works for me. Ray’s a good jockey and very keen. I think we’ll find he’s a popular choice with all the owners.’

  ‘So, you’ve had this in mind for a while, have you?’

  ‘Actually, I rang him just last night. He said yes on the spot.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it. But I’m the stable jockey here. We have an agreement …’

  ‘I didn’t sign anything,’ Charlie pointed out. ‘And neither did you.’

  ‘You know that’s not how it works! You can’t just step out of the arrangement without a bloody good reason.’

  ‘Which I consider I have. Oh, I don’t doubt there’ll be some tongue-clicking and shaking heads, but they’ll get over it. It’s amazing how quickly people forget. Look Matt, I don’t like having to do this, because you’re family, but racing is a business, just like any other, and no business can afford to carry dead wood. Once something or someone ceases to be an asset, they must be cut loose. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way to survive.’

  ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. What are you saying? That you’re sacking me? Please tell me this hasn’t got anything to do with my sponsorship deal.’

  ‘No, of course not – though I see you’re parading their logo already. All I’m saying is that I can’t afford to have you ride my horses the way you have been. If you’d just given up this stupid crusade of yours when I told you to, and let the police do their job, then it wouldn’t have come to this. You have only yourself to blame.’ He looked at his watch once more. ‘Now, I really must go, I’ve got a busy day.’

  Matt stood and watched the Land Rover leave the yard, his head whirling with the massive injustice of Charlie Brewer’s words. His pointed observation that Leonard worked for him just about covered it all. However much the trainer disagreed with what Kendra’s father was doing, Matt doubted that he would risk sticking his neck out to say so. Having no written contract to safeguard his position as the Rockfield stable jockey was not unusual. Matt didn’t know of any of his contemporaries who had anything more than a verbal agreement, but it was generally regarded as solid. But maybe Brewer was right; given the negative spin he and Kenning were putting on his career, would anyone seriously blame him for long?

  Feeling slightly shell-shocked, Matt turned his steps towards the farmhouse.

  The kitchen enfolded him with its usual combination of warmth and mouth-watering cooking aromas, but, as Matt closed the door behind him and stripped off his padded jacket, it became clear that even this haven had been affected by the ripples of unease radiating out from the arrival of Ray Landon. The atmosphere was strained and it was obvious – from the way John Leonard was avoiding Matt’s gaze – that he’d been made privy to his boss’s intentions whilst he and Charlie had watched the horses work from the vantage point of the Land Rover.

  ‘Well, I suppose you’re up to speed on Charlie’s plans now,’ Matt said.

  Leonard looked even more uncomfortable.

  ‘I’m sorry, Matt. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what’s got into him.’

  ‘I do. Lord bloody Kenning!’ Matt said. ‘You know Charlie thinks the sun shines out of the arse of anyone with a title, and Kenning has had it in for me ever since I asked for his support for Jamie. Boy, was that a big mistake.’

  ‘But surely he can’t blame you for standing up for a friend,’ Reney declared, wrapping a dishcloth round her hand and bending to open the oven.

  ‘He can!’ Harry interjected. ‘I remember Kenning from my racing days. He regards jockeys as some form of low life, regrettably necessary, but not entitled to views and opinions of their own. If someone could devise a way of getting the horses to race on their own, no one would be happier than him.’

  ‘So, how is Jamie, anyway?’ Reney asked, coming across to the table as Matt settled into his usual seat and reached for the cafetière. ‘It’s ages since he’s been over. Never thought I’d miss having that cheeky monkey around, but I do.’

  Matt poured coffee.

  ‘He’s still pretty low – but not about to self-destruct at the moment,’ he said, as Reney slid a plate in front of him.

  Thanking her, his thoughts drifted back to Kenning. Why had he taken against Matt so completely? Was it really about his relationship with Sophie? He recalled his conversation about the man with Razor at Sedgefield. ‘You must be losin’ the fuckin’ plot if you think he murdered her!’ the other jockey had said, in his endearing way, and, at the time, Matt had agreed that it was unlikely, but now – for the first time – he seriously began to wonder. Why else would Kenning be going out of his way to discredit Matt, unless he had something to hide? Had he and Casey perhaps been on the right track when they had discovered the probability that Kenning was the sugar daddy Sophie’s flatmate had spoken of, who liked ‘dressing up’? Kenning was a well-respected man who occupied a number of influential positions. Had Sophie perhaps tried to blackmail him – threatening to reveal his secret activities? Reluctantly, Matt decided that maybe it was time he shared the idea with Bartholomew.

  For several minutes there was silence at the table apart from the chinking of cutlery on plates as they all busied themselves with the hot food.

  ‘So, Harry says old Temperance Bob is a bit stiff in his back,’ Matt said presently. ‘I gather Toby Potter is coming out to have a look at him sometime.’

  Leonard frowned at his son.

  ‘That’s news to me. When was that arranged?’

  ‘Oh, it was just an idea – nothing definite.’

  Matt regarded his friend thoughtfully, but made no further comment. On the phone, Toby had certainly sounded like someone breaking a fixed appointment, but Harry didn’t seem bothered, and Matt had more pressing matters occupying his mind.

  ‘Am I still on Cantablay tomorrow?’ he asked Leonard.

  The trainer nodded.

  ‘Yeah. I’ve already made the declarations for the next couple of days, so you should be safe.’

  ‘Thanks.’ It was something, he supposed. ‘How many of the owners will stick with me, do you think?’


  Leonard shrugged.

  ‘I’ve not had any complaints, as yet. But, if word gets round that the Guv has lost confidence in you – well, you saw what happened to Jamie.’

  ‘But Matt’s been riding for them a hell of a lot longer than Jamie had,’ Harry put in. ‘Doesn’t that count for anything?’

  ‘It should do,’ his father said. ‘I’ll do my best for you, Matt – you know that – but at the end of the day …’

  ‘Yeah, I know. It’s Brewer who pays your wages,’ Matt said. ‘Don’t worry, I know your hands are tied.’

  When he left Rockfield, Matt drove to Charlborough to see DI Bartholomew and, surprisingly, was shown into his office almost straight away. The reason was made clear to Matt immediately.

  ‘You just caught me. I can give you five minutes and then I have an appointment with a golf course,’ the detective said, waving his hand to suggest that Matt sit in the black leather-look chair in front of his desk. ‘So, have you come to reveal the identity of Sophie Bradford’s murderer?’

  Matt sat down. The office was smallish with black and chrome furniture, a grey Venetian blind at the window, and a bank of filing cabinets against one wall. A crime-fighting slogan bounced across the computer monitor as a screen saver and paperwork was piled on every flat surface. It had about as much warmth of character as Bartholomew himself.

  ‘I thought your computer was going to do that,’ he countered.

  ‘It takes time, and HOLMES is only as good as the information we feed it.’

  ‘Well, have you tried feeding it with Lord Kenning?’

  Bartholomew’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Of course, as one of Sophie Bradford relations.’

  ‘Well, how about as her lover? Her sugar daddy, to be more specific’

  ‘And exactly what makes you think that?’

  Matt explained what he’d found out from Tara Goodwin about the mysterious Mosie; from Casey about Kenning’s middle name and his ongoing love of Jaguars; and about the rumour that Razor had started about Sophie and Kenning.

  ‘Razor – that is, Geoff Hislop – swears he made a mistake, but I don’t believe him. Casey says she was warned off the subject in no uncertain manner by her editor. I think pressure was brought to bear. The man has a lot of clout.’

  ‘Well, I’m not surprised. Nobody wants that kind of publicity. It doesn’t prove there’s any truth in the rumour. Even if there was such a relationship – and, personally, I think your link is tenuous – Lord Kenning wasn’t at the party that night and he has a rock-solid alibi.’

  ‘But you will speak to him?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll have a word with him,’ Bartholomew said, nodding. ‘This very morning, in fact. I’m playing golf with him in half an hour.’ He stood up. ‘Was there anything else?’

  It had been Matt’s intention to tell the detective about the attack at Maiden Newton, but, in the face of this revelation, his resolve wavered. His original doubts resurfaced. With no evidence to present in support of his tale, except a partial registration plate, was it worth incurring a lashing from Bartholomew’s acid tongue over his failure to report the incident straight away?

  He hesitated. He hadn’t heard from Casey yet. Perhaps he should wait and see what she turned up.

  ‘Mr Shepherd?’

  ‘No, nothing,’ he heard himself say.

  Matt drove home fast, finding an outlet for his frustration in pushing the limits, but any hopes he had that the mood at Spinney Cottage would be an improvement on the one he had left behind at the yard were doomed to be dashed.

  He found Jamie and Kendra in the kitchen with the breakfast dishes still on the table, and the expressions on their faces warned him of a fresh catastrophe in store.

  ‘If it’s bad news – I don’t want to hear it,’ he said, straightening up from greeting the dogs.

  Mutely, Kendra held up a copy of the Daily Standard. It was open and folded back on the racing pages, which were dominated by a large photo of Matt’s fall in the last at Maiden Newton, with a superb action shot of the horse sprawling on his knees and Matt himself headed turfward. Above this masterpiece were the words ‘How Low Can Mojo Go?’

  Matt shrugged.

  ‘Very funny. Just some hack with a warped sense of humour and way too much time on his hands.’

  ‘No. Read it,’ Jamie said.

  Reluctantly, Matt held out his hand for the paper.

  The article opened with an account of the race leading up to the pictured fall, somehow managing to convey – without saying it outright – that it had been through some fault of Matt’s that the animal had fallen. Conveniently passing over his victory in the first, it described his poor results in the other three races of the day, making it sound as though his two-day suspension for failing to ride out the finish on Temperance Bob was the just reward for a series of poor efforts.

  ‘But could there be a more sinister reason why such a capable jockey has suddenly started to lose races?’ it went on to ask. ‘Is there more to this than meets the eye? It hasn’t escaped our notice that Matt Shepherd has been singled out for two drug tests in the last month. What are we not being told? Regular readers will remember that Matt Shepherd is the jockey who famously claimed that he would beat the police to discovering the identity of socialite Sophie Bradford’s killer. We are still waiting – but, in the meantime, is Matt’s mind really on the day job?

  ‘We wouldn’t like to say, but rumour has it that trainer John Leonard is getting jittery, with several of his owners – most notably millionaire businessman Charlie Brewer – asking for another jockey to ride their horses. Is Mojo’s promising career going down the same drain that claimed that of his close friend, Jamie Mullin?’

  It was no surprise to find that the piece had been written by Dave Rossiter, the journalist Casey had told him was responsible for the damaging articles about Jamie.

  ‘How the bloody hell did they find out about the drug tests?’ Matt demanded. ‘That bastard Razor, I bet!’

  ‘But how can they say that about Daddy?’ Kendra asked, disregarding his remark to concentrate on the issue that concerned her most closely. ‘He wouldn’t do that to you.’

  Matt didn’t know quite what to say, so he said nothing, but Jamie was watching him closely and had no such reservations.

  ‘My God! He already has, hasn’t he? He’s pulled the rug out from under you, like he did me!’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Kendra’s blue eyes beseeched him to deny it. ‘Matt?’

  ‘He had Ray Landon try out Secundo this morning,’ Matt told her, loath to shatter her faith. ‘But they can’t have known that.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘He says he’s not happy with my riding anymore.’

  ‘Bollocks!’ Jamie said, explosively.

  ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ Kendra protested. ‘He’s always said you’d be champion jockey one day …’

  ‘Apparently he doesn’t believe I’m totally committed to my job,’ Matt told her, failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  ‘But Daddy wouldn’t do that to you,’ she repeated. ‘They must have got it wrong. You must have misunderstood. I’ll ring him.’

  She swung round, then paused as she found the base unit empty.

  ‘It’s in the new kitchen, on the windowsill,’ Jamie said. ‘I remember seeing it yesterday.’

  As Kendra disappeared in search of the handset, he turned to Matt.

  ‘This is all because of me. I know what you said yesterday, and I appreciate it, but I really should go. No –’ he said, forestalling Matt’s protest. ‘I won’t go to Cambridge. Pete, down at The White Bull, has offered me some bar work and there’s a room if I want it. I think I should take him up on it. You two need some space. But you have to leave this Sophie thing now and concentrate on your career.’

  ‘Jamie …’

  ‘No, Matt. I’m serious. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but there’s no se
nse in both of us fucking up our lives. You’ve got Kendra and the baby to think of. Maybe, if I go, you can get back on track with Brewer and, after all, I am innocent, so, sooner or later, they’ll find the bastard who really did kill Sophie and then maybe we can get back to where we were before this nightmare started.’

  Matt scanned Jamie’s face and saw that he was in earnest. He knew it was the sensible thing to do, but it went against the grain to back down and let Lord Kenning win. He moved to the window and looked out, common sense wrestling with inclination.

  ‘Come on, Matt. You know I’m right …’

  Matt sighed.

  ‘OK. Thanks. Just for a while, maybe. Until things settle down a bit. But I’ve got a horrible feeling I may just have made things worse.’ He told Jamie about his visit to the police station. ‘It’s entirely possible that Bartholomew is bringing up the subject of Kenning’s relationship with Sophie as we speak,’ he said ruefully. ‘And there are no prizes for guessing who Kenning will blame for that.’

  Jamie made a face.

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  The door swung open and Kendra reappeared with the phone in her hand and tears glistening in her eyes.

  ‘I can’t believe it! He just won’t listen. He says it’s down to you to prove yourself, but it’s like he’s already made up his mind. I just couldn’t get through to him.’

  Matt could see that her inability to win her father over was upsetting her almost as much as Brewer’s unfair treatment of him, and he went to her, wrapping her in an embrace.

  ‘It’s all right, love. We’ll sort it out.’

  ‘But it’s so unfair! I don’t know what’s got into him.’

  ‘Well, I may be wrong, but I think Kenning’s got a lot to do with this. I’m pretty sure he was behind that second drug test, and it could well have been him that tipped off the paper. In fact – I remember now – he hinted that it could happen.’