Jack Daniels - Casebook

by John Holt

  So, where to start? Whoever was doing these things was clearly doing it for an outside party, and clearly doing it for money. It seemed to me that would more than likely rule out both Purcell and Chambers. They were both long term employees of the Drake Stables, and likely to be loyal. It also occurred to me that they were both well paid, and not really in need of extra money. Besides if found out they would have a lot to lose. Alright, it was a gamble, but I decided to eliminate the two of them.

  Now this next part is tricky, so don’t get me wrong. I’m no sexist, and I have nothing against the ladies. But somehow I just couldn’t see these accidents being set up by any of the stable girls. The fire certainly sounded more likely done by a male. Okay so there it is, I’ve done it. I’ve eliminated Sue, Jenny, and Christine.

  Another gamble, I hear you say. For a non-betting guy I was certainly taking some chances. But that’s how I saw it. I figured that in view of the recent attack on her, Jenny was in the clear at the very least. Besides it wasn’t set in stone was it? I mean if anything happened to prove me wrong, to change my mind, well I could just add people back again couldn’t I? I could always un-eliminate them, and whose to stop me?

  In the meantime I now had five runners. I wondered what their starting prices would be. What their form was, if they had any. According to their files two of the stable boys had criminal records of sorts. It was nothing too serious maybe, but it was a record nonetheless.

  Terry Wood had been involved in an attempted break in, about a year ago and had received a suspended sentence. Ben White had received a suspended two year sentence for stealing a car. That was eighteen months ago. Since that time both had, apparently gone straight, or at least they hadn’t been caught.

  Quite a co-incidence, I thought, that the two of them would end up here at the Drake Stables, and even more of a co-incidence that they ended up working together. Oh, by the way, they both worked in Tack Room two. Was that just another co-incidence maybe?

  I started to consider the staring price angle once again. It seemed to me that one major factor to consider was the length of time each person had spent working for Drake. How much loyalty they would have to Jason Drake? Terry had been with the stables the least amount of time, just over six months. Ron came next with fourteen months, and then it was Ben with sixteen, and Graham with twenty months. On that basis Terry was odds on favorite; Ron was probably two to one; Ben came in at five to two; and Graham at three to one. Peter, the bookkeeper was only a part timer. I decided that he was probably a rank outsider.

  Okay, so I now had my runners, and their starting prices. All I needed now was some form, oh, and some evidence as proof. Although circumstantial, all the evidence seemed to point to one person. There was now no doubt in my mind. It was Terry Wood, he was the one responsible.

  * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  A Dead Certainty

  The early morning sun was slowly dispersing the morning mist, as I walked to the window of my room and peered out. It had been another restless night, and I had slept badly. Too much on my mind I guess. Sure I had my guilty party, but I still lacked proof, some way of nailing the guy. Maybe a search of the tack room might show something. A look at his bank statements might also be worthwhile. Or perhaps I could set some kind of a trap. I needed to give that some thought. Of course I could just confront the guy. That sometimes works.

  Below me were Drake’s race horses returning to the stables from their exercise run. First in line was Candy Cane, a four year old out of Candy Floss. You see I’m learning the terms. Next there came Grenadier, a useful two year old being groomed for the Haydock Stakes. Last but by no means least came Grey Lady, the four year old favorite for the three thirty at the Lees track later in the week.

  I turned away from the window. I looked at my watch it was just six o’clock. It was still the middle of the night as far as I was concerned, and yet it looked like Times Square out there. Alright a slight exaggeration I admit, but just what were all these people doing up at this hour. Perhaps they couldn’t sleep, just like me.

  Suddenly I heard somebody yelling, and people were running. I looked back out of the window. Mr. Drake suddenly appeared, still in his dressing gown. Then somebody ran back towards the house.

  “Call the police” somebody yelled.

  Call the police? What was going on? I dressed quickly and ran down the stairs just as Drake came in the main door. His face was white, and he was shaking. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  He looked at me for a few moments. “It’s Terry,” he said eventually. “Terry Woods.”

  “What about him?” I asked.

  “He’s dead,” Drake replied. “In the tack room.”

  Dead, he can’t be dead, I thought. He is, was, my prime suspect. How can he be dead, it didn’t make sense.

  I ran to the tack room. Several people were milling about outside when I arrived. “You haven’t been inside have you?” I asked.

  “I have,” said one person. “I found him.” It was Ron Chamberlain. Clearly he was in shock, and tears were running down his face.

  I nodded and heaved a sigh. I looked at the others. “Don’t go in there. None of you,” I said. “The police will be here soon, and nothing must be touched.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I had only met the guy a couple of days ago. More to the point I had only just decided that he was the one we were looking for. Who would want to kill him, I wondered.

  I walked into the room and stopped four or five feet from the body. Terry was lying face down, there was blood staining at the back of his neck. Clearly there had been a struggle. Bridles and riding boots had been knocked to the ground. It seemed to me that he had been struck from behind, with something sharp. Then I noticed that he had a piece of paper in his hand. I moved closer, and bent down. I could see a date, and part of a name. It didn’t mean anything to me.

  I stood up. I could hear the police sirens getting closer. I walked back out of the room, and joined the others outside.

  Two police patrol cars arrived as I came out of the building. At the same time Mr. Drake came over. Two uniformed officers emerged from one of the cars. Two more got out of the other car. Two detectives got out, one of them glanced around.

  “Seal this area off,” he instructed. “All you people get back.”

  “I’m Jason Drake,” he said walking over to the officer. “I’m the stables owner.”

  “Detective Johnson,” the man replied. “Adrian Johnson. So what happened here?”

  Time for me to declare my interest I decided. They would almost certainly need my help. “The name’s Daniels,” I said. “Jack Daniels. I’m a private detective.” I showed him my badge.

  Judging by the single “Umm,” from Detective Johnson, he was clearly impressed. “Is that supposed to convey something to me?” he asked.

  “Just that I’m here should you need my help,” I explained.

  Johnson smiled and shook his head. “I guess I should be eternally grateful for that,” he replied. “And you can start by giving me your story. So what is a private detective, from the big city, doing here anyway?”

  I was not feeling disposed to tell him the whole story. I told him that I was a friend of the family, and that I was just having a few days break. I’m not sure that he believed me, but I didn’t care, and I wasn’t troubled any further.

  * * *

  Suddenly, with a dead guy on my hands, this whole affair had changed. Suddenly it was serious. Now I hear you, don’t take me up the wrong way. Sure the death – the deliberate killing – of a horse wasn’t something to be taken lightly. It was serious enough, and I’m not saying anything different. It was shocking I grant you, but the death of a human being, well that certainly put things into perspective. Gates being left open, and damaged ladders, certainly faded into insignificance. Even the tack room fire didn’t seem that important any more. But a murder, right here, right now, and right in front of me. That was something else. Even more import
antly it was the murder of my prime suspect.

  * * *

  I kept out of Detective Johnson’s way. Eventually Johnson’s men finished their investigation. Forensics had covered every square foot, and had come up with nothing significant. The body was taken away.

  It was concluded that Terry’s death was as a result of a robbery gone wrong. It was also concluded that he was killed between four and six. Mr. Drake was disappointed with the result, but had to accept it. Me, well I was just pleased to see the back of Johnson, so that I could get on with my own work.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  Photo Finish

  So my odds-on favorite was dead, murdered. Not a great start I thought. I was so sure. But I already told you that I’m not a gambling man. And on that basis it’s probably just as well.

  But now I was more in the dark than ever. Kansas Lad was Terry’s responsibility, and Blue Boy had been his responsibility, but Terry himself was lying dead. And yet everything had pointed to him. That theory had completely evaporated with his death. But why was he murdered? Had he seen something maybe or perhaps because he knew something? Did he know his killer?

  Clearly Terry’s death was nothing to do with robbery. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to come up with that. Alright so I did have the advantage of having the details of those other events that Johnson knew nothing about.

  “It wasn’t robbery,” Drake said.

  I shook my head. “Not at all,” I replied. “That detective Johnson hasn’t got a clue.”

  Drake nodded. “I didn’t think so.” He replied. “So why was he killed?”

  That wasn’t so easy to answer. “At present I’m only guessing, but either he knew something, or he saw something, and he had to be silenced.”

  “So who do you think killed him?” Drake asked.

  I wasn’t prepared to name names, not right then. I needed to be sure, or I should say surer than I was. I needed to be not 100 percent, but 110 percent correct. After all my idea about Terry had been wrong, perhaps I was wrong once again. “I would guess the same person who killed Blue Boy, and started the fire,” I said.

  “I would say that was a pretty good guess,” replied Drake.

  “What can you tell me about Terry Wood, and Ben White?” I asked.

  Drake looked puzzled. “Why them in particular?” he asked.

  I shook my head, and started to laugh. “Why those two,” I repeated. “Because they both have police records, that’s why. I mean you did know about that didn’t you?”

  Drake smiled and nodded. “I knew Mr. Daniels,” he replied.

  “But I’m sure that you will agree that in neither case was it that serious.”

  “In both case they broke the law,” I said. “They committed crime. It doesn’t matter how petty it was, it was still against the law. It’s still serious.”

  “Yes I appreciate that Mr. Daniels, and I’m not disagreeing with you.” He paused for a moment. “You know I wonder how many of us have gone astray sometime. You know, not declared something on our tax return, or maybe taken a souvenir from a hotel, an ashtray, or perhaps a towel. How many of us have, on occasion, not paid for a ticket on the bus ….”

  “Sure I’ve done all of those things,” I agreed. “But I never went on to stealing cars, or attempted robbery.”

  “Mr. Daniels, I’m sure that you not as hard as you appear.”

  Now I have to tell you, I’m as soft as they come. I give to charity, especially animals and kids, and I help little old ladies cross the street. But I’m no pushover. Well there was just that one time, I guess. Anyone can make a mistake. Okay so I made a lot of mistakes that time. Let’s not talk about that one shall we.

  “I’m not hard, Mr. Drake, I’m as soft as a kitten,” I said. “I just have a healthy dislike of criminals.”

  “I never considered them as criminals,” Drake replied. “They were just a couple of youngsters who had taken a wrong turn in life. Anyone of us could easily have gone astray as they had.”

  Spare me the ‘they were just deprived children’ routine, I thought. “There but for the grace of God go I, is that it,” I said cynically.

  “Something like I guess,” replied Drake.

  “They were just unlucky, and got in with the wrong crowd,” I suggested.

  “Maybe,” Drake replied. “Sometimes people need a hand out.”

  “So you just thought you’d give them a chance,” I said. “Just keep them away from the family silver though, right?”

  “You may have a point Mr. Daniels, but up until now I have been very pleased with both young men. They have been no trouble, willing to learn, intelligent.”

  “But why put them together?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound very sensible to me.”

  “Maybe not, but you have to remember that Ben came here just over sixteen months ago,” Drake replied. “I put him in with Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy?” I asked.

  “Oh Jimmy Baker,” Drake explained. “He left here, oh about seven or eight months ago. He became a jockey, quite a good one by all accounts. Terry had come to us a few months before. Ben had been doing fine, and I thought that maybe it would be good if he took Terry under his wing. It certainly seemed to have worked just fine.”

  Oh sure things had certainly worked out fine, I thought. My field of runners was getting shorter and shorter. In fact I was now down to one. So I had been wrong, it wasn’t Terry, so it had to be Ben, Ben White. There was no doubt now, none at all. Ben’s starting price had shortened, and he was now odds on favorite. It had come right down to the wire, a photo finish, with Ben coming home by a nose.

  But I still had to prove it.

  “Doesn’t look so good now though, does it?” I said. “We have one of your trustees dead, murdered by all accounts, and probably killed by another of your trustees, who is now on the run.”

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben White

  So that was that then. Ben, my new odds on favorite, was on the run and running hard, a fugitive. Proof, if indeed proof were needed, of his guilt. I felt bad though, because although the person responsible had been identified, I hadn’t really solved anything. I hadn’t stopped Terry from getting killed had I? Oh sure I had my suspicions, but I had no proof, no evidence. Okay so it wasn’t my fault, but that’s how it had panned out. It didn’t make it any better. Certainly, it might have been different if Drake had come to me sooner. When there was still some evidence to be investigated, something to see. And not just a lot of talk about what had been. Guess I’ll never know now will I.

  “Ben, Ben,” I mumbled. “Where are you?”

  Of course I knew that he had no chance whatsoever. The odds were stacked against him. He couldn’t get away. Running like that only made things worse. After all the police only needed to be lucky once, he had to be lucky all the time. He would be picked up sooner or later. I just hoped that he would hand himself in, and soon.

  * * *

  It was two days later that Ben returned to the stables. He looked tired, cold and hungry. Clearly he had been living rough. A hot bath and a meal would do wonders.

  He walked over to me, his head hung down. As I approached him he looked up. It looked like he was crying. I wasn’t a bit surprised. I thought that I’d be crying to if I had just killed someone, and I knew that the police would be looking for me.

  “Everyone’s looking for you, Ben,” I said. “Especially the police.”

  Ben looked up at me. He was breathing hard, and tears were streaming down his face. “I never meant to kill him,” he said.

  I smiled and shook my head. They all say that, I thought. I never meant to kill him. The gun went off accidentally. I wasn’t even there at the time. It was two other guys. I had heard it all before, I guess I was expecting him to say something similar.

  “Ben I get that all the time.” I said. “It’s amazing how many guilty people actually protest their innocence. It gets to the stage that if a
nyone actually held up their hands and said, yes I did it, I probably wouldn’t believe them.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Ben continued to protest.

  “He’s dead,” I said quite slowly, and deliberately. “And you killed him. You might as well admit it. It’ll go better for you believe me.”

  Ben heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I never killed him,” he repeated once again.

  “You might as well come clean, everything points to you Ben,” I said. I raised a finger. “One, the fire in tack room two.” I raised a second finger. “The ladder accident, once again in tack room two.” Ben said nothing. I raised a third finger. “Candy Cane, a horse that is connected with Tack room two, getting out of her paddock.”

  “I had nothing to do with any of that,” Ben protested. “It was Terry. Everything you say, it was Terry.”

  “And then Blue Boy, deliberately killed,” I continued ignoring his protest. “And now Kansas Lad.”

  “I’m telling you, it was Terry,” Ben yelled. “You must believe me.”

  I shook my head. “It was you and Terry found out, and that’s why you had to kill him.”

  Ben shook his head violently. “You’ve got it all wrong,” he stammered. “It was an accident. It was Terry not me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Everything was Terry’s doing,” Ben started to explain. “He let Candy Cane out of her paddock. He pulled the latch up, and slid the bolt, so the gate slowly opened.”

  “Why would he do that?” I asked.

  “He was hoping that there would be an accident with one of the visitors,” Ben replied. “That would mean an enquiry, and the authorities would be down. There would be a lot of bad publicity you can imagine.”

  I had to agree that yes I could imagine. Safety aspects would be raised, security issues assessed.

  “The stables would be closed down,” Ben continued.

  “Closed down,” I repeated. “You mean shut down completely, just like that.”