Jack Daniels - Casebook

by John Holt

  I was still in the dark. I wasn’t even sure that these guys really meant what they were saying. I’m not one for poker, but I wondered if they were just bluffing.

  I kept thinking of my conversation with Michael Purcell. He had accepted that they were all accidents, pure and simple. No question about it. He accepted the horse’s death as nothing more than unfortunate. Did he really believe that, or was there something else, something he wasn’t saying? Did he really believe the exact opposite, but was trying to deal me a fixed hand. Was he just saying that because in reality they weren’t accidents, but he wanted me to think that they were, and that he was actually the one responsible?

  What about Chambers, he was convinced that they were all deliberate? Was he saying that to try to look good, an attempt to divert attention from himself? You know the kind of thing. It wasn’t me you understand because if it was me I’d be saying that they were nothing but accidents to throw you off the scent. In other words, it was a double bluff. No wonder I never played poker.

  By the way I’ve just found out that the right term is ‘stacked deck’, and not ‘fixed hand’. Okay, but I’m still none the wiser.

  * * *

  “Is everything alright, Mr. Daniels?” a voice called over. “You look worried.”

  I looked up. It was Graham Berry, one of the stable boys. “Oh I’m just thinking,” I replied.

  “Having problems with your investigation?” he asked.

  “You could say that,” I replied.

  “I’m just taking Grenadier back to his paddock,” Graham explained. “Care to come along?”

  It sounded like a good idea to me, so I agreed. Couldn’t do any harm at least. It was a warm day, and the paddock looked so green. I smiled as I thought of my apartment block on Lincoln back in town, and the Chinese takeaway on the corner. It was so different. Here it was so fresh.

  “Is Grenadier one of your horses then?” I asked sounding quite knowledgeable.

  “He is, and so is Grey Lady,” Graham replied. “He’s a two year old. He’ll be running at Matlock in a couple of weeks. He should win.”

  Somehow I wished he hadn’t said that. I suddenly had visions of Grenadier joining with Blue Boy, ad Kansas Lad. “You best look after him then,” I said. “Don’t want him getting sick do we?”

  Graham nodded his agreement. “Oh I’ll look after alright, sir, you can be sure of that.”

  “Have you been here long?” I asked. “Working for Mr. Drake?”

  “Nearly two years,” Graham replied. “I really want to be a jockey.”

  “So what’s the chances of that happening?” I asked.

  “I’m really hoping,” Graham replied. “Mr. Drake is in favor, so it looks promising.”

  “I wish you well,” I said, and meant it. “So which is your tack room?”

  He smiled. “Numero uno,” he replied. “Room number one, it’s at the north end of the stable block.” He pointed over to his right.

  I nodded. “What do you think of all of these accidents?” I asked.

  Graham started to laugh, I wondered why. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “Nothing’s funny, not really,” he replied. “But anyone who tells you that they were accidents has got to be short of a few brain cells,” he replied.

  Michael Purcell didn’t strike me as someone short of a few brain cells. “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “The fire was deliberate, there’s no two ways about it,” Graham continued. “And the ladder, well that was nearly me coming down with it.”

  I was puzzled. “What do you mean nearly you?”

  “Mr. Purcell had wanted something from tack room two,” Graham started to explain. “It was a particular bridle, and it was on the top shelf. I said that I had to go past the room so I offered to get it.” He paused for a moment. “I’m just about to go, when Terry, Terry Wood, do you know him?”

  I nodded, I knew him.

  “Well Terry pushes past and says to leave it to him, it was his tack room after all. So he goes off. The next thing we hear is that the ladder breaks, and Terry is almost thrown to the ground.”

  “Almost,” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “He managed to grab hold, and save himself,” Graham explained. “It could have been nasty though, but he managed to get down safely.”

  “Did anyone see the accident?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” replied Graham. “Ben did I think. You should check with him.”

  Thanks for that Graham. What a great idea, wish I had thought of that. Perhaps I should just pack up my things, go home, and leave the whole investigation to you. There again, perhaps not. Either way Ben would be receiving a visit from me the first opportunity I got.

  “Sounds like a straight forward accident to me,” I said. “Was it an old ladder?”

  “Yes, it was.” Graham agreed. “But it was no accident.”

  “Well I’m guessing that it must have been well used, and probably getting quite worn,” I suggested. “I guess the rung just snapped with age, that’s all.”

  Graham shook his head. “The rung had been partly cut through, with a saw.”

  No accident then, I thought. “Which tack room did you say it was?”

  “Tack Room two,” he replied.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  The Odds Increase

  Okay so now we had odds at three to one, and although everything was pointing to tack room number two, I still didn’t know who was carrying out these incidents. I didn’t even have any suspects. It was time to get all of the stable boys and girls together and see what they had to say. So I arranged with Derek Chambers to get them all together in his office.

  “Ten o’clock tomorrow,” Chambers had suggested. It was fine by me.

  Okay so the arrangements were made, and I was due to meet with the six stable guys. I have to tell you that I wasn’t really looking forward to it. Oh yes it had been my idea alright, so who’s saying different. But it was all Drake’s fault. Get to know the people, he had said; get to know what they think, he had said.

  I just knew where that would lead me. I mean what was I going to get out of it anyway? There would be more opinions certainly, no end of them, but still without any proof whatsoever. So what value would they be? Did I really need a half a dozen more differing opinions? Would they be of any help?

  No need to comment on that last question, I could already guess what the answer would be.

  * * *

  The following morning, day three of my little holiday, was dull, overcast, and rain was forecast for the afternoon. It matched my mood. Ten o’clock on the dot I walked into Chambers’ office. The six stable guys stood up as I arrived.

  “Okay guys, sit down.” I looked at the six guys sitting there, and that whole thing about twenty people came back to me. You remember that one don’t you? I started to smile wondering what effect this little meeting was going to have anyway.

  “The name’s Daniels,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Jack Daniels, and I’m a private detective.” I paused for a moment. “You all know why I’m here.” At least I imagined that they all knew. “I’m here to investigate certain things that have happened in the past few weeks,” I continued. “Some people say that they were accidents, others say they were deliberate. Me, well I’m supposed to investigate, and come to a decision.” I paused for a moment. “Who thinks that they were accidents?”

  “I’ve already told you what I think,” said a voice. “Graham Berry, remember, we spoke yesterday.”

  I nodded in agreement. So someone was paying attention. That was a good sign. “Okay so what about the rest of you,” I said. “Which one of you is Jenny Taylor?”

  A young lady held up her hand. “I’m Jenny.”

  “I understand that you were the one that stopped Candy Cane when she got lose, a few days ago, and returned her to her paddock. Is that right?”

  “She hadn’t got far before I stopped her,
” Jenny replied. “It wasn’t anything really.”

  “So you took her back to the paddock,” I continued. “Did you look at the gate?”

  She nodded. “It had been opened deliberately,” she said. “Someone wanted Candy to get out.”

  The odds were now four to one.

  “Did anyone else see the gate?” I asked.

  “I did,” a voice called out. It was Terry Wood. “It had definitely been opened deliberately, it was not an accident.”

  The odds were going up.

  “Okay, so how about the fire,” I continued. “Did anyone see that?”

  “I saw it,” came a reply. “I’m Ron Chamberlain.”

  “Go on, Ron,” I said. “What happened?”

  “Well we were just coming back, from the gallops,” Ron continued. “As we passed the tack room I could smell smoke, and then we saw the flames through the window. Mr. Chambers rushed inside, and put the flames out with an extinguisher.”

  “Right, so what did you think?” I asked. “Did you think it was an accident?”

  Chamberlain shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I never actually went inside the room. They said it was a faulty wire, or something. I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was probably an accident I guess.”

  He didn’t sound convinced, but I now put the odds at five to two.

  “Alright, we’ll leave that for the time being,” I continued. “What about Blue Boy? Does anyone think that his death was natural?”

  “He was deliberately killed,” called out Terry.

  “That’s right,” agreed Ben. “There’s no doubt about that. He was poisoned.”

  “What makes you say that,” I asked.

  “Simple,” replied Terry. “He was one of our horses.”

  “One of the horses that used tack room two you mean?” I said.

  “That’s right,” replied Ben.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how valuable this session had been, but Drake had said talk to the people and get to know their thoughts. Well that’s exactly what I was doing. “One last question then,” I said. “Put up your hand if you think the actions that have happened over the past few weeks, were accidents, or that they had been deliberately carried out.”

  Four hands shot up. Ron Chamberlain’s hand, and that of Sue Turner, remained by their side. Either they actually thought they had been accidents, or they really didn’t know. Nonetheless, for what it was worth, it was becoming increasingly clear that most people did not accept the idea that they were accidents.

  Six people thought the actions were deliberate, and three either didn’t know, or believed that they were accidents. The odds were now two to one. Although how helpful that had all been was debatable, I was still no nearer to knowing who had carried out the actions.

  The only thing that seemed certain was that everything that had happened was somehow connected to tack room two. Co-incidence maybe, or something more? I needed to do some thinking. I decided to take a walk.

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Someone Nearer To Home

  It was getting late by the time I arrived back at the house. I was cold, and looking forward to dinner. Although the rain had held off, it was overcast and dull. Just about summed up how I felt. I had had a good walk, and seen a lot of Drake’s Stables. I wasn’t a lot wiser as far as my investigation was going, but at least I had worked up an appetite.

  Mr. Drake greeted me at the hallway. “Ah, Mr. Daniels, you look tired. Had a hard day?”

  Hard didn’t come close. I was beginning to wonder if I was just wasting my time. I mean just what was I doing anyway? Asking a lot of fool questions and getting a lot of differing answers, putting two and two together and getting I don’t know what. I was never good at adding up anyway. I had spoken to everyone except for Christine Bryant, the Secretary, and Pete Haart, the bookkeeper. Although employees, they were only part timers, and I guessed that they wouldn’t have had the opportunity to carry out any of the so called accidents.

  Sure I’d got lots of comments, but did any of them mean anything, really? Did they offer any proof? Did they put up a sign saying ‘this guy did it’; or ‘look no further, he’s your man’? No they didn’t.

  * * *

  “Dinner won’t be long,” Drake said. “How about a drink before hand and you can tell me how you got on.”

  A drink sounded good. As for the rest that was a bit more problematic. I mean how had I got on exactly? What did I actually have to tell him? I simply nodded, and followed him into the living room.

  “Have a seat, and make yourself comfortable,” Drake said. “Scotch suit you?”

  Once again I simply nodded, and hoped that he’d make it a double. I felt that I could use one.

  Drake started to pour the drinks. “How’s the investigation going?” he asked.

  “Mr. Drake, why …” I started to say.

  “Jason, remember” Drake interrupted.

  “Fine, Jason,” I replied. “Why didn’t you tell me about Candy Cane?”

  “Candy Cane?” Drake repeated puzzled, coming over with the drinks. “Getting out of her paddock, you mean.” He handed me my drink, and sat down. “Who told you?”

  “Does it matter who told me,” I replied. “Why didn’t …. It was Derek Chambers, he told me. But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “That’s simple,” Drake explained taking a drink. “To date you haven’t exactly embraced my opinions have you?”

  If he meant that I didn’t go along with him, then I guess he was right. I hadn’t been convinced about a single thing. But after speaking to Chambers, I was slowly beginning to come around to Drake’s way of thinking. I still had a long way to go, but at least I was heading in the same direction.

  “In fact I would go so far as to say that you thought me paranoiac. You probably still do,” Drake continued. “Would you consider that fair?”

  I shook my head. Certainly, originally I did have a lot of doubts, but no, that wasn’t entirely fair. “No, Jason, that isn’t fair. I don’t think that at all. I’ve never thought that. I just didn’t go along with your ideas. That was all.”

  “That’s why I wanted you to hear about Candy Cane from someone else,” Drake continued. “I thought you might be more willing to believe them than me.”

  I smiled and nodded. I took a drink. I needed it. “Well your Mr. Chambers was very persuasive,” I said. “He gave me the full details. I can imagine how you must have felt with all of the visitors that day, including the school kids, and the possibility of a major accident happening with a loose horse running around.”

  “Jack, what effect do you think an accident like that would have on the visitors, the tourists?” he asked.

  I had to admit that I didn’t precisely know what effect it would have, but I guessed that there would be no prizes going to Drake Stables, or them being voted number one tourist attraction anytime soon.

  “Apart from the obvious injury to anyone, which would be catastrophic, such an event, even if no one were hurt, would be a disaster. The Racing Board would close us down so fast we wouldn’t have time to pack.”

  “So who do you think is behind all of this?” I asked.

  Drake said nothing for a while. “As I told you at your office I have many competitors,” he began. “Many of them are simply business rivals who act in what might be called a normal, civilized way. Healthy competition you know, no problem, I can handle that. Welcome it in fact, keeps us on our toes.” He paused once again. “But like any barrel of apples there are always the rotten ones, the rivals who, perhaps, would stop at nothing to destroy us, to close our business down.”

  “Do you have a name?” I asked.

  Drake shook his head. “No, I don’t I’m afraid. Wish I did,” he replied. “There are a few that would fit the bill, but I’m not prepared to name one in particular, not yet. Nonetheless, I’m sure that it is one of them.”

  I shook my head. “You might be right,” I s
aid draining my glass. “But I actually think it’s someone nearer to home. Someone here, right now, possibly being paid by one of your rivals no doubt.

  “You really think it’s someone here, at the stables?” Drake asked, clearly disbelieving. He shook his head. “I know every one of them. We are like a family here.”

  What did they say about families? You can choose your friends, but not your family. Just because they were family, that did not guarantee they had your best interest at heart.

  “Yes I do think that,” I replied. “But you’re right. At first I thought it was just a series of everyday accidents, you know things that could be explained away quite easily.”

  “And what do you think now?” Drake asked.

  I smiled and nodded my head. “I’m beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, the accidents weren’t accidents after all.” I replied. “I’ve spoken to everyone working here, except for your secretary, and the book-keeper.”

  “And your conclusion is?” Drake asked.

  “My conclusion is that I now think that they were deliberate acts.”

  “So what made you change your mind?” Drake asked.

  “I suppose it was Chambers really, when we were talking about the fire.”

  “Go on,” said Drake. “What about the fire?”

  I looked at my empty glass. Any chance of a refill I wondered. “He told me that Ben had locked the door to the tack room, about an hour and a half before the fire was discovered,” I started to explain. “Somebody must have had a key to get in, or knew where the key was kept.”

  “Makes sense,” said Drake. “So who had a key?”

  “Only four people actually had keys,” I replied. “Terry, and Ben, Mike Purcell and Chambers himself.”

  “It would hardly be Derek,” Drake said. “He actually put the fire out didn’t he?”

  I agreed. “Yes that’s right, but he could have deliberately started the fire just for effect you know, rather than to cause actual damage. And then put the fire out himself.”