‘I prefer to forget that it ever happened,’ she said.
‘Well, I don’t – and neither does Hamilton.’
Kitty tensed. ‘You’ve told him?’
‘I felt obliged to do so,’ he replied. ‘If someone had assaulted a woman I adored, then I’d want to know about it.’
‘But I told you to keep it from him.’
‘That would have been unfair on Hamilton. It would also have let Lord Hendry off the hook and I was not going to allow that.’
‘How did he receive the news?’
‘With the same horror and disgust that I did.’
‘Oh, dear!’
‘I mean to confront Lord Hendry myself but I fancy that Hamilton will get there first. He was absolutely furious.’
She was alarmed. ‘What’s he going to do?’
‘I know what he ought to do,’ said Johnson savagely, ‘and that’s to horsewhip him ten times around the Derby course. The very least he’ll demand is an apology and some kind of reparation.’
‘He won’t get a penny from George,’ she said. ‘Nor an apology.’
‘Then the old roué will have to suffer the consequences.’
‘Consequences?’
‘If I know Hamilton Fido, he’ll challenge him to a duel.’
‘He mustn’t do that, Marcus!’ she protested.
‘It’s a matter of honour.’
‘Duelling is illegal. I don’t want Hamilton arrested.’
‘I’m sure they’ll find a venue that’s well hidden from the prying eyes of the police. Lord Hendry will be shaking in his shoes.’
‘I don’t care about him,’ said Kitty anxiously. ‘It’s Hamilton that I fear for. What weapons will they use?’
‘Pistols, most probably.’
‘Then I must warn him that George was in the army. He knows how to handle guns of all kinds. Shooting is one of his hobbies.’
‘Hamilton is much younger than he is,’ said Johnson. ‘His eyesight is better, his aim straighter and he’ll be the first to pull the trigger. Put your money on him.’
‘I don’t wish to put it on anyone. I want this duel stopped.’
‘But he’ll be protecting your honour, Kitty.’
‘That makes no difference,’ she said. ‘If he’s not killed, Hamilton could be wounded. And if he kills George, then he’ll be liable to arrest on a charge of murder. I don’t want him hanged.’
‘It will never come to that,’ he assured her. ‘A duel carries its own code. Whatever the outcome, nobody will be reported to the police. Have no qualms about Hamilton. He’s perfectly safe.’
‘Unless he’s shot dead by George.’
‘There’s no danger of that.’
‘But suppose that he was, Marcus,’ she said, trying to envisage the situation. ‘I’d lose Hamilton and George would get away scot-free.’
‘I could never allow that to happen.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re my half-sister, Kitty. We may spend most of our time apart but I’m devoted to you and I’ll not have you maltreated by anyone. There’s only one course of action for me to follow,’ he said, straightening his shoulders. ‘If Hamilton Fido doesn’t kill that aristocratic bastard – then I will.’
It was not until late afternoon that they ran the bookmaker to ground. They found it difficult to move in the swirling crowds. There were too many distractions. Left to himself, Victor Leeming would have explored the fairground and sampled some of the food and drink that was on sale. He was particularly interested in seeing the tattoed Polynesian lady, a woman of massive proportions, whose nude portrait was painted in lurid colours on a board outside one of the booths. But he and Robert Colbeck were there on duty and there was no time for entertainment. Making their way through the mass of people, they visited the betting office for the third time in a row and found that Hamilton Fido had at last returned.
When he saw the detectives approach, Fido excused himself from the man to whom he was talking and came over to them. Since the crowded room was no place for a private conversation, he led them out of the grandstand altogether and stood in the shadows at the rear.
‘You’re a difficult man to find,’ said Colbeck.
‘I’ve been very busy,’ explained Fido.
‘We came in response to your message. We spoke to Mr Stenton and he gave us the details of the crime. There’s no doubt that an attempt was made on the life of your filly.’
‘Someone should swing for this, Inspector.’
‘The least he can expect is a very long prison sentence.’
‘I want more than that.’
‘The law does not exist for the personal gratification of those, like yourself, who’ve been victims of a particular offence. Punishment is designed to fit the crime.’
‘Otherwise,’ said Leeming, ‘everybody we arrested would be dangling at the end of a rope, however minor his or her offence. The judge is there to impose the appropriate sentence.’
‘There’s only one thing appropriate for this villain,’ said Fido with vehemence, ‘and that’s a visit to the hangman. Do you know how much Merry Legs cost me? Do you know how much I’ve invested in training her? Do you realise how much I’d stand to lose if anything untoward happened to her?’
‘A lot of money, I suspect, sir.’
‘A fortune, Sergeant.’
‘That’s why we must look at those who’d stand to gain at your expense,’ said Colbeck. ‘Your trainer had no hesitation in singling out the man who instigated the attempted poisoning – Brian Dowd.’
‘That was the first name that popped into my mind.’
‘Has Mr Dowd ever done anything like this before?’
‘No,’ admitted Fido.
‘Have you ever known him injure a horse on purpose?’
‘I can’t say that I do.’
‘Then why do you assume that he must be behind this crime?’
‘Past experience,’ said Fido. ‘Every time our horses have been pitted against each other, we’ve had trouble from Dowd. If he can stoop to putting a spy in my stables, you can see how desperate he is.’
‘You’re wrong, sir,’ Colbeck told him. ‘John Feeny was no spy. My belief is that the killer wanted him to act as spy against Brian Dowd. We spoke to Mr Dowd earlier. He’s a shrewd man.’
‘Shrewd and slimy.’
‘There seem to be a lot of slimy individuals on the Turf, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘Our superintendent holds the view that horseracing is only a polite word for criminal activity.’
‘Yes,’ said Fido, ‘from people like Brian Dowd.’
‘Let’s put one myth to rest,’ said Colbeck, ‘because it’s patently clouding your judgement. When he worked at your stables, John Feeny developed an attachment to a young lady at a nearby inn. They even talked of marriage. She told me categorically that Feeny left Ireland after an argument with his employer and Mr Dowd now admits as much. Feeny was loyal to your stables, Mr Fido – he told the girl how much he’d love to see Merry Legs win the Derby instead of Limerick Lad.’
‘She will win, Inspector.’
Leeming grinned. ‘Do I have your word on that, sir?’
‘I wouldn’t put her in the race if I expected her to lose.’
‘That’s what you’re doing with Princess of Fire.’
‘She’s only in the Derby for experience. Merry Legs is there to wipe the smiles off the gloating faces of Brian Dowd and Lord Hendry.’
‘That’s in the lap of the gods at the moment,’ said Colbeck. ‘With regard to the poisoning of the dog, however, my own theory is that the person responsible is the same man who murdered John Feeny and who may also have tried to eliminate Odysseus from the Derby. Not content with those crimes, he’s made two attempts to ensure that Tim Maguire will not ride in Mr Dowd’s colours on Wednesday.’
‘Catch him before he causes any more damage,’ said Fido.
‘That’s our intention, sir,’ Colbeck promised. ‘Turning to another but not
unconnected matter, we’re still waiting for the young lady who owned that hatbox to come forward.’
‘I’ve advised her to do so.’
‘She seems disinclined to take your advice, Mr Fido.’
‘I can’t compel her, Inspector.’
‘Perhaps not but you could apply more pressure, I feel. Point out to her that it’s in her best interests to assist us. Her hatbox was stolen and used in the course of a heinous crime. Surely she would want the killer to be apprehended.’
‘She does – it would relieve her mind greatly.’
‘Relieve mine by making her cooperate with the police. If she persists in avoiding us,’ said Colbeck, ‘we are bound to think that the lady has something she prefers to keep hidden.’
‘That’s not the case at all.’
‘Then use your influence over her, Mr Fido.’
‘My hands are rather full at the moment,’ said the other. ‘This is the most frantic time of the year for me.’
‘We’re not exactly short of work ourselves, sir,’ Leeming put in.
Colbeck smiled wryly. ‘That’s an understatement, Victor,’ he said. ‘This year’s Derby is keeping us well and truly on our toes. I still have hopes of watching the race itself but I’ll not enjoy it if the killer is still at large. He’ll be here, Mr Fido, ready to create more chaos for all of us. We need every ounce of help we can get from every available source. Tell that to the young lady,’ he ordered. ‘Either she comes forward voluntarily or we go looking for her with a warrant.’
The first day of Derby Week had been a sustained ordeal for Lord Hendry. Outwardly, it was a story of gain. He gained respect, flattery and admiration. Everyone he knew sought his advice. All of them congratulated him on the position that Odysseus held in the betting. He should have sailed through the day on recurring waves of affection and goodwill. Inwardly, however, he was contemplating a story of loss. He had failed in his attempt to borrow money from various friends. Pleasant discussions over glasses of champagne had all ended in polite refusal. Even his brother-in-law had turned down his request. As a gambling man, Lord Hendry had endured serious losses in recent months and he needed to recoup them on the Derby but he could only do that if he had enough capital to place on his horse. Everything depended on that one headlong race.
Another loss that troubled him was that of Kitty Lavender. He had been shocked to learn that she had betrayed him by turning to the one man he detested above all others. Lord Hendry’s loss was accentuated by Hamilton Fido’s gain. It was the bookmaker who would now enjoy her luscious kisses, her soft caresses and all of her unparalleled skills as a lover. Rather than yield her up to Fido, he would have preferred to keep her as his mistress and allow her to be seen with him in public.
Overarching all the other losses was the imminent loss of his life. He was a good shot but, if he fought a duel against a younger man, there was no guarantee that he would come through it alive. Lord Hendry could see only two ways out of his predicament. He could try to appease Kitty by writing her a letter of abject apology, hoping that she would make Fido stay his hand. Or he would have to make sure that the duel never took place by having his opponent disabled beforehand. Of the two possibilities, the second had more attraction. He had never apologised to one of his mistresses and did not wish to set a precedent with Kitty Lavender. Causing pain to a disagreeable bookmaker, on the other hand, would be pleasurable.
Though he wore a benign smile and waved to acquaintances on all sides, he was glad to be leaving Epsom at the end of the day. His carriage was waiting for him and he clambered into it. No sooner had he settled back than a man appeared beside him.
‘Lord Hendry?’ he enquired.
‘I have that honour, sir.’
‘It’s a dishonourable name, in my opinion,’ said Marcus Johnson baldly. ‘Titles should be bestowed on those who deserve them and who learn to behave with the dignity commensurate with their station. You are unable to do that.’
‘Who the devil are you?’ demanded Lord Hendry.
‘My name is Marcus Johnson.’
‘Then I bid you good day, Mr Johnson.’
‘Not so fast,’ said Johnson, reaching into the carriage to grab his arm. ‘I haven’t introduced myself fully yet. I’m surprised that Kitty hasn’t mentioned me to you. I’m her half-brother.’
‘I don’t care who you are – take your hand off me.’
Johnson released him. ‘Kitty told me what you did to her.’
‘I’m done with the woman. She belongs to my past.’
‘You can’t shake her off like that, my lord. It’s unkind, ungrateful and monstrously unfair. Have you had a visit from Hamilton Fido yet?’ Johnson laughed at his startled reaction. ‘Yes, I see that you have. As a matter of record, I was the one who told him how you struck Kitty.’
‘It was a glancing blow – nothing more.’
‘If it were the slightest touch, it would be unpardonable and we both know that it was far more than that. You might have cut her face open or taken her eye out. Did that never occur to you?’
‘You heard what I said, Mr Johnson – good day to you.’
‘You’ll not escape me that easily,’ said Johnson, opening the door to jump into the carriage.
‘Get out or I’ll have you thrown out!’
‘I’ll leave when I’m ready, Lord Hendry.’
‘I’ll stand no more of this infernal impudence.’
‘What are you going to do?’ taunted Johnson, grabbing the cane from the other man. ‘Hit me with this?’ He snapped the cane across his knee and tossed both pieces onto the ground. ‘I just wanted to deliver a message,’ he went on, leaning over to whisper in Lord Hendry’s ear. ‘I know that Hamilton planned to challenge you to a duel. I hope you survive – then I can have the supreme pleasure of shooting you myself.’
It was mid-evening by the time that Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming returned by train to London. After sending the sergeant home to his family, Colbeck first delivered the bottle of poisoned water to a chemist for analysis then went off to give his report to Edward Tallis. The superintendent was not impressed with what he heard.
‘Is there no end to this?’ he grumbled. ‘One crime follows another in quick succession. As if a murder were not bad enough, we now have to investigate the attempted crippling of one racehorse, the attempted poisoning of another, a plot to suborn a jockey and, since that failed, a plan to beat him with cudgels. What’s next, Inspector?’
‘The arrest of the culprits, sir.’
‘I see no sign of that.’
‘We are getting closer all the time,’ said Colbeck. ‘And I doubt if there’ll be any more incidents involving the racehorses. Odysseus, Merry Legs and Limerick Lad are all being guarded with extreme care. Their respective owners will not let any unauthorised person near them. I’ve deployed some of our men to provide additional protection.’
‘I wish the Derby had never been invented!’ moaned Tallis.
‘Tens of thousands of people would disagree with that sentiment, sir. They’ll come from all over the country to see the race and there’ll be lots of people from abroad as well.’
‘Foreigners and Irish always bring trouble. The government should ban horseracing forthwith and keep out the riffraff from across the water altogether.’
‘I don’t think you’ll find a single Member of Parliament to support that idea,’ said Colbeck with amusement. ‘Derby Day is a national holiday. Parliament is suspended and many of the people who sit on its benches will be heading for Epsom. It’s a wonderful occasion, Superintendent. You’d enjoy it.’
‘I never enjoy uncontrolled revelry,’ said Tallis with distaste. ‘It leads to crime, drunkenness and fornication. It encourages the lower orders to take gross liberties. I’m surprised that someone as fastidious as you takes an interest in such a despicable event.’
‘There’s nothing deplorable about watching racehorses at full gallop, sir. It’s an inspiring sight. My interest in the Derby beg
an some years ago,’ explained Colbeck, ‘when I was first called to the Bar. You’ve no idea how much litigation surrounds the race. It may delight the spectators who flock to Epsom but it also enriches the lawyers who are involved in the countless bitter disputes. When the Derby is at hand, passions run high. That’s why the courts are always full.’
‘Don’t talk to me about passions, Inspector. We’re the victims of them. Were it not for someone’s passion to win the Derby, we wouldn’t have this daunting catalogue of crime to deal with.’
‘I can’t say that I feel daunted, sir.’
‘Well, I do.’
‘Never a day passes but we gather important information.’
‘But look where it comes from,’ said Tallis. ‘That’s what worries me. The most important information to date has come from a clerk at the Wyvern Hotel and a barmaid at some country inn. Neither of them has taken us any closer to apprehending the killer.’
‘That’s not true,’ argued Colbeck. ‘Because he was vigilant, Dacre Radley noted that the same young woman stayed at his hotel with both Lord Hendry and Hamilton Fido. That was significant.’
‘It might be if you were able to question the woman but you seem unable to do so. Why is that?’
‘I’m addressing that problem, sir.’
‘Address it more robustly.’
‘Yes, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck. ‘As for the barmaid at the Shepherd and Shepherdess, she supplied us with valuable insights into the character of John Feeny and she may yet do more for us.’
‘In what way?’
‘You must understand her state of mind. When I told her about Feeny’s death, Bonny Rimmer was all but knocked senseless. All of the plans she had made with Feeny disappeared in an instant. It left her hurt, bewildered and consumed by grief. Days later, the girl had still not recovered from the blow. What I learnt from her,’ said Colbeck, relaying what Madeleine Andrews had, in fact, discovered, ‘was only part of the story. There’s more to come. Bonny Rimmer promised to contact me when she could think more clearly. She talked of keepsakes that Feeny had given her, for instance.’
The Iron Horse Page 20