Jack Daniels - Casebook

by John Holt

  Drake wasn’t convinced. Neither was I. I was still floundering, and still short of any real evidence, and with far too many possible suspects. The fact that everything happened some time ago didn’t help either, any evidence there might have been had long since gone. Even the stupid damaged ladder had been thrown away.

  “Well whoever it was,” I continued. “That same somebody would also have known all about the security latch to the paddock gate.”

  “Do you have anyone in mind?” asked Drake.

  I shook my head. I had nobody in mind, not yet. It was too soon. I mean it was only a short while ago that I had begun to think that all of the accidents could have been actually deliberate. Of course another drink might have helped, but ….

  “No, no one yet,” I replied. “Too early to say, but I believe that all of the things that happened, have been carried out by someone who works for you, right here and now.”

  Drake suddenly noticed the empty glass. “Care for another?” he asked.

  I thought he’d never ask. Now don’t get me wrong, I could live without a drink. I can take it or leave it. At that precise moment I just happened to prefer to take it. I thanked him and handed him the glass.

  “I’m also beginning to think that maybe Blue Boy’s death wasn’t a natural event after all,” I continued. “Did you get a second opinion, about Blue Boy I mean?”

  Drake shook his head. He then poured the drinks and returned to his seat. “No I didn’t,” he replied as he handed me my drink. “I never thought that it was necessary.”

  “What do you know about Mr. Probert?” I asked. “I mean he is he your regular veterinary isn’t he?”

  Drake nodded. “He is. I think we’ve known him for a little over three years. He took over from old man Wickes. He was the surviving partner of Hughes and Wickes. Hughes had died about fifteen years ago, and left the business to Wickes. Then he retired and John took over the practice. Since then he’s added a hospital facility, and taken on three new staff. He’s a good surgeon, and he looks after us. I’ve no complaints.”

  I still needed to know more about the death of Blue Boy, a lot more. Maybe a talk with John Probert might prove useful. “I think I’d like to meet with Mr. Probert,” I said, draining my glass. “Could you arrange it?”

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  John Probert

  The following day, having received the directions, and having made an appointment to see Mr. John Probert, I made my way to the premises of Hughes and Wicks. It was just a short drive into the village of Rivenhall. The surgery was located just outside the village, in Oak Road.

  Inside there were several people waiting to be seen. Clearly Hughes and Wickes was a popular practice. I was a little early for my appointment, but I made myself known to the receptionist.

  “Yes Mr. Daniels,” she said. “We were expecting you.” She paused and looked down at her computer screen. “Mr. Probert is with someone right now, but if you would care to take a seat over there he shouldn’t be too long.” She pointed to a waiting area.

  I walked over to where she had indicated and sat down next to a Black Labrador that was wearing one of those lamp shades thingys. You know the type. The ones intended to stop him from biting his stitches. He didn’t look happy. Whether it was from wearing the lamp shade or the fact that he was due to see the veterinary, or it was me sitting next to him, I wasn’t sure.

  * * *

  I hadn’t been kept waiting too long when the receptionist called my name. “Mr. Probert will see you now,” she announced. “Consultation Room three. Just through there.” She pointed down the corridor.

  I knocked on the door, opened it and went in.

  “Ah, Mr. Daniels, do come in,” Probert said. “Take a seat.”

  “It’s good of you to see me like this, Mr. Probert,” I said. “I see that you are a very busy man.” I pointed back towards the waiting area.

  He smiled, and nodded his head. “Mr. Drake said that you had some questions to ask about Blue Boy.”

  I nodded. “That’s right.”

  “I’m happy to help if I can,” Probert replied. “So what exactly can I do for you?”

  “I understand that you had been treating Blue Boy,” I said.

  Probert nodded, and heaved a sigh. “Yes I had. He was suffering with colic.”

  “Colic,” I repeated. “Isn’t that something that babies have?”

  Probert smiled. “Colic is actually not one condition; it is a catchall name for several different serious digestive problems that commonly afflict horses,” he started to explain. “Make no mistake you must deal with suspected colic immediately, as all forms can be fatal. That’s why it is imperative to seek care at the first signs of colic.”

  “So why did Blue Boy die?” I asked. It was a simple question, perhaps too simple. I wondered if I would get a simple answer.

  “To be absolutely honest with you, Mr. Daniels, I have no idea,” Probert replied. “I was utterly devastated. Heart failure, I just couldn’t believe it. I mean I’d checked his heart just a few days before. It was fine, a bit fast but nothing to be concerned about.”

  “So what went wrong?” I pressed.

  “As I said I don’t really know. The treatment for colic should be simple and straightforward,” he replied. “Blue Boy should have made a complete recovery after a few days. We changed the medication several times, but there was no improvement.” He paused for a moment, and heaved another sigh. “You know it’s almost as though the treatment that I recommended, just wasn’t being administered.”

  “Did you carry out an examination of Blue Boy, after he had died?” I asked.

  “Yes we did,” he replied. “We carried out a thorough post mortem. Mr. Drake had requested it.”

  “Do you know why?” I asked.

  “Mr. Drake was convinced that Blue Boy had been deliberately killed,” replied Probert. “He actually suggested that the horse had been poisoned.”

  “So what did you discover?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Probert replied. “That is to say we found no reason for the death, but also we found no evidence of the medication we had prescribed.”

  “What about poison?”

  Probert shook his head, and shrugged. “No, no sign of any poison.”

  Although not entirely surprised by the answer, I was disappointed. I had hoped that maybe I would learn something definite, some evidence of wrong-doing.

  “I have, what might be considered to be, a silly question,” I said. “But I’m going to ask it anyway.”

  Probert looked puzzled. “Go ahead, please.”

  I took a deep breath. “Is it possible, and please do not take offence. Is it possible that the horse did not have colic at all, but just the general symptoms?”

  Probert shook his head. “I’m not sure that I understand.”

  I’m not sure I fully understood myself, but I had started on this road, so I decided to continue as far as I could. “All I’m asking is would it be possible for someone to give the horse something, I don’t know what, to bring on similar symptoms, to give the appearance of colic?”

  Probert thought for a few moments. “Oh I see,” he replied. “I suppose that is possible, but why would anyone do that?”

  “If someone wanted the horse dead it’s not very likely that they would stand around waiting for the horse to get sick,” I replied, thinking out my theory as I went along, hoping that it wasn’t complete nonsense. “So to make sure that the horse was unwell when it suited them, they gave the horse something.”

  “Do you agree with Mr. Drake then?” Probert asked. “I mean do you believe that Blue Boy’s death was planned?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure that the horse was meant to die,” I replied. “But certainly the plan was to put the horse out of action for a while.”

  “To keep him from Hyland Park, and the Chantry Stakes,” Probert suggested.

  “Precisely,” I agreed.

  “We
ll as I said it’s possible,” Probert continued. “Anything is possible, but I wouldn’t like to say what they would use.”

  It was a good point, but if my theory was correct I guessed that whoever carried out the act would have received detailed instructions.

  “What about Kansas Lad?” I asked.

  Mr Probert nodded. “That’s a good question,” he replied. “History repeating itself, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Same thing as Blue Boy,” he started to explain. “The same symptoms and the same problem, I just don’t understand it. I’ve just checked on him. He should have been fully recovered long ago.” He paused for a moment. “For some reason he hasn’t been responding to the medication.”

  “So who should have been giving him the medication?” I asked.

  “The stable boys of course,” Probert replied off hand. “Terry, or maybe Ben.”

  Suddenly there was loud barking from outside. “That sounds like your next patient,” I said. “Getting very impatient.”

  “Oh that’s Charlie, he’s come to have his stitches removed.”

  Sooner Charlie than me, I thought “I better go then,” I said. “Thanks for your help, I’m much obliged.”

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Jenny Taylor

  It was late afternoon by the time I got back to the stables. As I drove up I saw Mr. Drake outside one of the stables. Michael Purcell was with him. I stopped, switched off the engine, and got out. I walked towards them, and called out.

  “Jason, I’m ….”

  Something suddenly caught my eye. I stopped calling. Lying on the ground was one of the stable girls, I couldn’t see which one. Jason and Purcell were bending down over the figure. As I drew nearer I could see that they were just outside Kansas Lad’s stable. The person lying on the ground was Jenny Taylor. She was beginning to stir as I arrived.

  “What’s happened?” I asked.

  “Ah, Jack,” said Drake, turning to face me. “We’ve just found her.”

  “It looks like she tripped on something and fell,” added Purcell.

  I looked down at the figure, her face was a deathly white color, and her breathing was shallow, labored. On the back of her neck was a small gash, and she was bleeding. I bent down to take a closer look.

  “She didn’t trip and fall,” I said. “She was knocked down by something, or someone.” I stood up and glanced around. I couldn’t see anything obvious. “She’s been hit from behind. You can see the mark.” I pointed to the spot.

  “You mean a deliberate attack?” said Drake.

  I nodded. “That’s right,” I replied. “Someone struck her from behind, and knocked her down. Hopefully when she comes around she might be able to tell us something.”

  “In the meantime I think we should get her up to the house,” suggested Purcell. “And we should call a doctor.”

  Drake nodded. I stepped forward and put my hands under her shoulders, and Purcell lifted her feet, and we carried up to the house.

  * * *

  An hour later the doctor had been and gone. Her wound cleaned, and treated, Jenny was now sitting up, and looked much better. Her color had started to come back, and her breathing had returned to normal. I was anxious to get some information.

  “How are you feeling now?” I asked, as I placed a hot drink beside her. “Drink that, don’t let it get cold.”

  She smiled. “Much better thank you,” she said. “I still have a headache though. What hit me?”

  I shook my head. “I was hoping you could tell me,” I replied. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “It was all so quick,” she replied. “I’m not really sure.”

  In my line of work I often get replies like that. It was all so quick; it was dark; it was too hot; it was raining; I didn’t see anything. I don’t know why but people immediately grab hold of the negatives in life, they always forget the positives.

  “I understand,” I said. “But let’s take it slow shall we. Let’s start at the beginning, and tell me everything, no matter how petty you think. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Right, so you’re at Kansas Lad’s stable,” I said. “But where were you before that?”

  “I had been in tack room three,” she said. “That’s my tack room you see, and I had just taken a saddle back.”

  I nodded. “Go on.”

  “I was making my way back to Mr. Purcell’s office,” she continued. “As I got near to the Lad’s stable I thought I heard a noise.”

  “A noise,” I repeated. “What kind of a noise?”

  She thought for a few moments. “It was coming from inside the stable. It sounded like there was someone inside.”

  Someone working inside a stable didn’t actually sound that strange to me, taking into account where we were. In fact it sounded quite normal, and something to be expected.

  “So was that anything unusual?” I asked.

  She agreed that it wasn’t unusual. “Oh no, not at all, I just wondered who it was, that was all,” she explained. “So I stopped at the gate and peered inside. It was dark and I couldn’t see anything. Then I must have been hit. The next thing I remember was being here, and the doctor giving me some tablets.”

  “Tylenol,” I replied helpfully. “They are painkillers, for the headache.” I pointed to her head, just in case she wasn’t sure what, or where, it was.

  She smiled. “They haven’t worked yet.”

  “They will,” I replied, as though I knew about such things. “So you’ve no idea who was in the stable?”

  She shook her head.

  “Or why they were there?”

  Once again she shook her head.

  “Have your coffee,” I said offering her the cup. “Do you know who found you?”

  She took a drink, and then handed the cup back to me. “I don’t really want it,” she said. “I think it was Terry, but Mr. Drake would know better than me.”

  I placed the cup back on to the side table. Terry I murmured. His name kept cropping up. Co-incidence, I wondered, or something more. Wasn’t Kansas Lad one of his horses? Or was I getting confused? It wouldn’t have been the first time. It had happened before, so why not now.

  * * *

  “So Jack, how did you get on with Probert?” Drake asked, as he poured me a drink.

  I had forgotten all about Mr. Probert. The attack on Jenny had completely driven it from my mind. I took a drink, and shrugged. “Okay I guess,” I replied. “A lot of medical jargon that I didn’t understand, but I guess that he’s as much surprised about Blue Boy’s death as you were.”

  “So he’s not involved then?” Drake asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think he’s involved,” I replied. “He prescribed drugs that should have helped. They didn’t.” I paused for a moment and took another drink.

  “There are a couple of possibilities he says. One, the drug just didn’t work. But then he prescribed other drugs, all to no effect. He couldn’t understand it.”

  “And the second possibility?” Drake asked.

  I heaved a sigh. “The drug was never administered in the first place. The drug was deliberately withheld.”

  Clearly Drake was not surprised at this last suggestion. “I suspected as much.”

  “So who would have been responsible for giving Blue Boy the treatment?” I asked.

  Drake sighed, shook his head and drained his glass. “Terry,” he replied quite simply.

  That name again.

  “Can you get me the files on every one who works for you, and details of their pay checks?” I asked. “If you could bring them to my room, that would be appreciated.”

  “The personnel files,” Drake replied. “Why on earth do you want them?”

  That was a good question. Why did I want them? I wasn’t altogether sure. Don’t ask me what I expected to find, because at that moment I had no idea. I was merely clutching at straws. Of course I could have be
en on the wrong track anyway, no pun intended, but I didn’t think so. I was convinced that it was someone here, at the stables, and I had a pretty good idea who it was, Terry. But it was still all guesswork, and I didn’t have a shred of evidence or proof. Hopefully the files might produce something. Anything.

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Starting Prices

  Ten buff colored files were waiting for me when I returned to my room later that day, each one with a neat blue label on the top right hand corner containing the name of a member of staff. Inside was all of their personal details. Their family background, education, their previous employment; and any criminal record. In other words, their pedigree, and their form. How this was going to help me though, I wasn’t sure.

  I glanced at each one. Michael Purcell, trainer; Derek Chambers, Head Stable Boy; Terry Woods, Stable Boy; Ron Chamberlain, Stable Boy; Jenny Taylor, Stable Girl; Ben White, Stable Boy; Sue Turner, Stable Girl; Graham Berry, Stable boy; Christine Bryant, Secretary; and last, but by no means least, Pete Haart, the bookkeeper.

  Where to start I wondered. They were just names after all. What was I looking for anyway? A signed confession would have been good, but not very likely. Or maybe a note from someone, stating that they knew who the guilty person was. Also highly unlikely I thought. Nonetheless, I was convinced that one of those ten people was responsible.

  I was now convinced that they were deliberate acts, but apart from that revelation, and the obvious connection to Tack Room two, I was still very much in the dark. But at least the field had been cut down to ten possible runners. Did you notice what I did there …. Sorry.

  I looked out of the window. After yesterday overcast day, it was another beautiful sunny day. Did I really want to spend hours shut in here with only ten old files to keep me company? Short answer was no I didn’t, but we can’t always have what we want can we? But now that I was convinced that the so-called accidents were nothing of the kind, I needed to find out who was responsible. I needed to try to get some answers before any more accidents happened.