by Brian Cain
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jodi pushed on, time passed and her husband returned ensuing the bliss they had always hoped for.
Cadiche left the police force and became a consultant only to reenlist when marrying Kay his partner, they disliked the separation.
Terry Whistler lost weight, became an expert in undercover reporting and stuck with the horse racing industry writing many a revealing column for the Gazette, out of the blue he excitedly attended Jodi’s office. “Do you have a moment Jodi?” he asked at the door.
Jodi looked up studying information on her laptop deciphered from the Middle East and some interesting reports on goings on in the International Monetary Fund. “Oh Terry, yes always for our sports reporter.”
Whistler looked around outside, stepped into the office closing the door behind him. He took a seat and explained, Jodi listened intensely.”
“Reichmann, I picked up on a comment he made yesterday at Flemington talking to Theo Delores.”
“Delores is in serious financial trouble.”
“Yes, pretty bluntly obvious to everyone in the industry. Reichmann mentioned a horse to Delores, sired in Australia’s Hunter Valley, born in Ireland, trained in the UK and back on Australian soil.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“The horse is owned by a retired English merchant banker from the Hornswaddle and Fothrington camp.”
“Money is no issue then.”
“You better believe it, now get this. Yesterday Jimmy Cotton got to see the horse run at the Gail Flametower complex here in the Hunter.”
“I don’t see the news.”
“The horse ran three seconds under the fastest time ever recorded for three thousand two hundred metres.”
“The distance for the Melbourne Cup.”
“Exactly.”
“How sure are you this information is true, knowing Reichmann he could have been overheard on purpose for there own means.”
“I took a punt on them using the usual cubicle at the jockeys club and bugged it, they were alone.”
“I’m not sure that I approve.”
“They began to talk about taking position of this horse by stealing it but left the cubicle whilst in mid conversation.”
“Stealing someone’s horse I absolutely do not approve of that. When did Reichmann arrive in the country again?”
“He just rolled up out of nowhere yesterday, haven’t seen him for months.”
“Does this horse have a name?”
“Yes, the horse Reichmann was referring to was a black stallion called Flaxmead.”
For some reason the hair on the back of Jodi’s neck stood up and a shiver of appeal ran down her back, she put it down to divine providence. “Really, visit and stake out the Flametower property and see what you find out.”
“Kingston Rule won the cup on 1990 in a time of three minutes sixteen seconds, which means this horse would have run three minutes thirteen, that’s impossible, I would have to see it before believing it.”
“You mentioned Jimmy Cotton, the trainer embroiled in controversy years back now proved to be innocent of the allegations.”
“Yes, Cotton rang Reichmann with the information and Reichmann relayed it to Delores immediately.”
“I studied the Cotton case when it was on the front page, everything Cotton said eventuated to be true and his statements and predictions are always accurate.”
“Agreed, but I went further, Sinead Courtney Irish jockey was on an Irish horse racing at Flemington yesterday. She took the horse to a win and I interviewed her for a story. Out of the blue I threw the name Flaxmead at her and she said and quote; ‘Give me that horse and I’ll give you the world.’ I asked how she had formed such an opinion and she said she rode the horse at a trial in Flax Burton England not long ago. A black stallion owned by a retired merchant banker.”
“Good god, knowing the horse racing industry anything could happen to this Flaxmead if indeed it can run that fast. Keep me informed please Terry.”
“I don’t mind spending my own time on this.”
“You’ll do no such thing, overtime and as much as you need to do is approved. If I let anything happen to a black horse or any other horse my husband would never forgive me, to say nothing of myself.”
“I’ve had it up to the hilt with the horse racing establishment, Delores is a crook, I’m sure he’s dealing in drugs to make up the shortfall in his finances, it’s the topic of the week on the grapevine. He’s do anything to get his hands on a horse nothing could beat. They’ll be no overtime Mrs Stanton.”
Jodi smiled with a nod. “Okay Terry, I know how you feel, thank you for backing up my faith in you.”
Terry jumped to his feet, “I’ll keep you informed.” He left in haste closing the door behind him.
Jodi lent back in her chair looking at the ceiling with her hands behind her head mumbling. “Flaxmead, why have I heard that name, why would my inner self respond to the name, all I currently have is why. Okay, so I have why, now just what, when, where and who need to be addressed.”
She pushed her chair backwards with her knees away from her desk, the castors ran over her hair flowing down the back to the floor pulling her head backwards overbalancing the chair and she fell backwards in a heap on the carpet. She chuckled uncontrollably thinking it was a hell of a joke, she got to her feet carefully untangling her hair from the castors. Some of the ends of her hair were damaged, she muttered again. “Oh shit.” She put her hands over her mouth looking round to see if anyone had heard, she chuckled again when she made sure she was in the clear.