The Iron Horse

by Edward Marston

  ‘Ah,’ Leeming blurted out. ‘That’s another way of saying that Merry Legs is destined to win. Thank you, Mr Fido. You’ve given me the hint I was after.’ He saw the reproach in the superintendent’s gleaming eyes. ‘Not that I’d ever think of betting on the race, of course,’ he said sheepishly. ‘That would be quite wrong.’

  There was only one place where Lord Hendry would be that morning and that is where Robert Colbeck went to find him. The beleaguered owner of Odysseus had called at the stables to see his horse and to be told by the trainer that the acknowledged favourite would win the Derby comfortably. Emotionally and financially, Lord Hendry had invested so much in the race that he dare not even think about the consequences of failure.

  Colbeck had seen the portrait of Odysseus and he was thrilled to view him in the flesh as the horse was walked around the yard. The colt looked magnificent. His coat was glistening, his movement fluid and his fitness self-evident. Knowing that his big moment was near, Odysseus pranced eagerly and tossed his head with equine pride. He was ready for action.

  ‘He looks to be in superb condition,’ remarked Colbeck as he came to stand beside Lord Hendry. ‘You must be delighted.’

  ‘He’s the best colt I’ve ever owned, Inspector,’ said the other fondly. ‘I bought him as a yearling for two hundred guineas with a Derby contingency of five hundred. Odysseus’s first race was at Goodwood where he won the Ham Stakes. A fortnight later, he won a £100 Plate at Brighton and never looked back. What you see before you are fifteen hands, two inches of pure magic.’

  ‘I can see why you wanted to capture him on canvas.’

  Lord Hendry gulped. ‘Don’t remind me,’ he said. ‘The loss of that painting was like a knife through the heart. You were right, Inspector.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I’ve been given the chance to buy it back,’ said the older man, extracting the letter from his pocket. ‘For £3000.’

  Colbeck examined the note. ‘When did you receive this?’

  ‘Yesterday. It was left at the offices of the Jockey Club for me.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Nobody knows – it was slipped under the door.’

  ‘The thief didn’t waste much time,’ said Colbeck, returning the note. ‘He’ll probably make contact again very soon, Lord Hendry, and tell you where to deliver the money. That’s when you call me in. Our best chance of catching him is when the painting is handed over.’

  ‘I don’t have £3000, Inspector.’

  ‘But you have the appearance of a man who does and that’s all that matters. Besides, your horse is the Derby favourite. You’re seen as a person with excellent prospects.’

  ‘Whatever happened to them?’ Lord Hendry murmured.

  ‘When we discussed the matter before,’ recalled Colbeck, ‘you felt that Miss Lavender might be party to the theft. Do you still believe that or have you thought of any other possible suspects?’

  ‘Kitty Lavender and Hamilton Fido are the obvious ones.’

  ‘What about the less obvious?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘You must tell me, Lord Hendry. How many people, outside your immediate family, knew of the existence of that painting?’

  ‘Very few,’ came the reply. ‘I wanted to guard against derision. If certain people were aware that I had had the portrait of Odysseus painted before the Derby had even taken place, they would have mocked and sniggered. To obviate that, I swore the artist to silence and told only my most trusted friends.’

  ‘Including Miss Lavender.’

  ‘She was a friend at the time, alas.’

  ‘I’m very anxious to meet the lady,’ said Colbeck, ‘but she’s proving reluctant to come forward. When someone does that, it usually means they have something to hide.’

  ‘Kitty is here, Inspector.’

  ‘Do you know where I could find her?’

  ‘Close to that unspeakable bookmaker.’

  ‘Mr Fido is also a racehorse owner.’

  ‘Not in my opinion,’ rejoined Lord Hendry. ‘His stables were bought with the fruits of illegal gambling and extortion. Talk to anyone of distinction on the Turf and they’ll tell you that Hamilton Fido has lied and cheated his way to the position he now holds. I’ve seen him at racecourses all over the country,’ he continued. ‘He practises the black arts of bookmaking and travels with a group of ruffians he describes as his bodyguards. I can’t think what Kitty sees in such a deplorable character but that’s where she’ll be, Inspector – in the vicinity of Hamilton Fido.’

  It had been Marcus Johnson’s idea to visit the Judge and Jury Show. It was held in a marquee and was a grotesque parody of the judicial system. Presided over by a self-styled Lord Chief Baron, it consisted of the mock trial of a man for seduction and criminal conspiracy. Witnesses were called and Kitty Lavender saw immediately that the females who gave evidence were all men in women’s clothing. It was lively drama. The unholy trinity of comedy, obscenity and blasphemy made the audience roar with laughter and Marcus Johnson relished every moment. Kitty found it crude and distasteful. When the first trial was over, she was eager to leave but Johnson detained her.

  ‘Watch what happens next,’ he said, nudging her.

  ‘I’ve seen enough, Marcus.’

  ‘This is the bit I really like.’

  Through a gauze curtain, they saw a group of shapely young women in flesh-coloured tights, forming a tableau before bursting into song. At the height of their rendition, the curtain was drawn back to expose the elegant attitudes in which they were standing. Kitty was dismayed at the way the male spectators hooted and clapped but she was even more upset to hear some of the foul language coming from the lips of women in the audience. Marcus Johnson had joined in the chorus of vulgar approval and was disappointed when his half-sister got up the leave. He followed her out of the marquee.

  ‘I thought you might enjoy it,’ he said. ‘A little decadence helps to brighten anyone’s day.’

  ‘What offended me was the sight of those girls, being made to pose like that to arouse the audience. There was a time,’ she admitted with a shiver, ‘when I might have ended up in that kind of situation.’

  ‘No – you were always too clever to let men exploit you, Kitty. You learnt how to exploit them instead.’

  ‘It was a struggle at the start, Marcus.’

  ‘But look where you are now – adored by a wealthy man.’

  ‘How long will it last? That’s what troubles me.’

  ‘Hamilton is completely bewitched.’

  ‘At the moment,’ she said, ‘but I’d be foolish to think that my hold over him will last for ever. London is full of gorgeous women. It’s only a question of time before he replaces me with one of them.’

  ‘He loves you, Kitty.’

  ‘Love can easily cool.’

  ‘You know how to maintain his interest. I’ve seen you do it with other men. When I met you again after a long absence, you were doing it to Lord Hendry. You led the old libertine by his pizzle.’

  She was rueful. ‘And what thanks did I get?’

  ‘A blow across the face with his cane,’ he said angrily. ‘He won’t ever do that again, Kitty. I snapped his cane in two. Besides, by the end of the week, he’ll be dead.’ His braying laugh had a cruel edge. ‘What better proof could you have of Hamilton’s devotion to you than that he’s prepared to fight a duel on your behalf?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that cheered me.’

  They were standing in front of a garish poster advertising the Judge and Jury Show and they moved away so that passers-by could see it. Johnson unfolded the newspaper that was under his arm.

  ‘Haven’t you seen that enough times, Marcus?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘I still haven’t made up my mind.’

  ‘But you know the names of the horses off by heart.’

  ‘I’d rather study them in print.’

  ‘I’ve put money on Merry Legs,’ she said.

  ‘A fi
lly hasn’t won the Derby for over fifty years.’

  ‘One is due to break that sequence.’

  ‘I’d never risk a bet on Hamilton’s horse.’

  ‘Then which one will you pick?’

  ‘The race has to be between these six runners,’ he said, pointing to the paper. ‘The rest of the field will simply make up the numbers. Somewhere in that sextet is my chance to make a fortune.’

  Kitty looked over his shoulder at the list of betting odds.

  7–2 against - Lord Hendry’s Odysseus

  6–1 - Mr Dowd’s Limerick Lad

  9–1 - Mr Fido’s Merry Legs

  10–1 - Duke of Sefton’s Aleppo

  12–1 - Sir J Mallen’s Gladiator

  12–1 - Hon E Petre’s Royal Realm

  ‘You can’t shilly-shally any longer, Marcus,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll not be rushed. It’s the biggest bet I’ve ever made.’

  ‘Odysseus is the clear favourite.’

  ‘I’d never waste my money on anything belonging to Lord Hendry,’ he said, folding the newspaper up again. ‘Favourite or not, Odysseus can and will be beaten.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Limerick Lad,’ he decided. ‘I’ll entrust my future to Ireland.’

  Epsom racecourse was shaped like a horseshoe but it would not bring luck to all of the runners in the Derby. Only one could win and, years after the race, that was the name that would be remembered. No matter how close they had been to success, second- and third-placed horses would be consigned to obscurity. Everything depended on a fierce gallop that lasted less than three minutes. No horse could have a second chance to win the fabled race.

  Robert Colbeck had been reunited with Madeleine Andrews in time to share a light repast with her and his colleagues. She had met Victor Leeming before but now had the ambiguous pleasure of being introduced to Edward Tallis. Notwithstanding his trenchant views on the distraction caused to his officers by wives and female friends, the superintendent was uniformly charming to Madeleine and showed a side to his character that the other men had never seen before.

  The whole day had been built around the Derby and when the starting time drew closer, the excitement reached a new and more strident pitch. Much to his frustration, Leeming was ordered to take a seat beside Tallis in the grandstand. He would have preferred to accompany Colbeck and Madeleine to the paddock but was given no choice in the matter. The sergeant had managed to place a surreptitious bet but he would have liked to see his chosen horse at close quarters before the race.

  ‘Mr Tallis is not the ogre you described,’ observed Madeleine.

  ‘You caught him on one of his milder days,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘I thought that he disliked women.’

  ‘Only if they take the minds of his officers off their work.’

  She giggled. ‘Is that what I do, Robert?’

  ‘From time to time,’ he replied, squeezing her arm, ‘and I’m grateful for it. But you’ve also been able to assist me, as you’ve done in the present investigation.’

  ‘What does that make me?’

  ‘I suppose that I’d call you a useful diversion.’

  ‘Is that good or bad?’

  ‘You won’t ever hear me complaining, Madeleine.’

  The paddock was near the finish and a sizeable throng had gathered to watch the horses being paraded. Owners were having last-minute conversations with their trainers and jockeys. Lord Hendry was there, patting Odysseus nervously as a groom led him past. It was Madeleine’s first sight of the favourite and she marvelled at his lean head, longish neck and solid shoulders. She also took note of his massive ribs and powerful quarters. Merry Legs, though neat and beautifully proportioned, looked slight beside the favourite.

  ‘Father was going to bet on Aleppo,’ she confided.

  Colbeck pointed. ‘Here he comes,’ he said, ‘and he may yet cause an upset. So might Sir James Mallen’s Gladiator. I’ve been hearing good things about him all morning.’

  ‘It’s so confusing, Robert. How can anyone choose a winner?’

  ‘By a combination of luck and judgement.’

  ‘What’s your feeling?’

  ‘I’m just relieved that the Derby is about to be run without any horses having been eliminated unfairly. It’s not too late for any foul play at this stage, of course,’ he said. ‘To guard against that, I’ve placed some of my officers in strategic positions so that the horses will be watched all the way to the start.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Have you or have you not placed a bet?’

  Colbeck smiled. ‘It would be absurd not to, Madeleine.’

  There was mild commotion as Princess of Fire had a tantrum, bucking half a dozen times and scattering those who had got too near. The groom and the jockey soon calmed the filly. It was time for the horses to go to the starting post. Jockeys were helped up into the saddle and fitted their feet into the stirrups. Racing caps were adjusted. Silk tunics, bearing the owner’s colours, flapped in the breeze. Tensions that had built steadily up over months of preparation were finally on the point of release. There was no turning back now.

  When they saw the runners heading for the start, the spectators went into a frenzy of anticipation. Lining the course and covering the Downs like a vast human carpet, they roared and cheered and clapped. Six years earlier, the starting point had been altered so that it was more easily visible from the towering, three-tiered grandstand. That was the best place from which to watch the race and Colbeck conducted Madeleine there. While he was very interested in the outcome of the Derby, part of his mind was still concentrated firmly on the murder investigation. Leeming had told him that Kitty Lavender had agreed to meet him soon after the race. Colbeck looked forward to the encounter with her.

  They were all there. Lord Hendry was seated among his cronies, hiding his deep fears beneath friendly badinage. Brian Dowd sat nearer the front, dressed in his finery and using a telescope to get a better view. Hamilton Fido had vacated the betting room and stood at the rear of the grandstand, framed in a doorway and watching it all with wry amusement. He had taken an immense amount of money in bets. Whatever the result, he stood to reap a huge profit. He was already considering what he would buy Kitty Lavender by way of celebration.

  With the vast crowd baying for the race to start, there was a delay as three of the jockeys were unable to bring their horses in line. In spite of repeated warnings from the starter, it was minutes before the mettlesome thoroughbreds were brought under enough control. Twenty runners were eventually strung out in something resembling a line. The flag came down and the horses plunged forward on their dash into racing history. They were off.

  Royal Realm and Princess of Fire were the early leaders with the rest of the field fanned out behind them. They made the running all the way to Tattenham Corner, with over half the race behind them. As soon as they entered the straight, however, they fell back and it was a quartet of horses who surged to the front. Below the distance, with just over a furlong to go, they split into two groups. Limerick Lad and Aleppo were involved in a ferocious battle on the rails while Odysseus and Merry Legs fought for supremacy on the stand side. There was little to choose between any of them.

  The Irish horse seemed to be pulling slowly away, then it was the favourite who put in a finishing spurt. Aleppo stayed in touch with both of them but Merry Legs began to falter and lose ground. The race was only between three horses now. Using their whips and yelling their commands, the jockeys sought to pull every last ounce of speed out of their mounts. As they thundered towards the post, Odysseus made a supreme effort and Limerick Lad strained to match it.

  The noise reached the level of hysteria and the whole of the stand was on its feet to cheer the horses home. With Limerick Lad and Odysseus riding neck and neck, it looked as if it might be a dead heat. Then Aleppo showed perfect racing temperament by saving his spurt until the critical moment, edging past
the others over the last twenty yards to win by a half a length. Another Derby had delivered a shock. In the massive explosion of sound that followed, it was minutes before most people were aware of the full result.

  Aleppo was the winner, Limerick Lad was second and the favourite was pushed into third place. Gladiator had stolen up to take fourth place from Merry Legs but that did not appease those who had backed him. The Derby was over for another year and the murder investigation could be resumed.

  When the hordes descended on the bookmakers, it was difficult for the detectives to reach Hamilton Fido. They had to force a way through the crowd. Madeleine Andrews had been left with the superintendent so that Colbeck and Leeming could go about their work. In the sustained clamour, they could hardly make themselves heard. When they finally got to the betting room, they caught a glimpse of Hamilton Fido over the heads of the people in front of them. Beside the bookmaker was a beautiful young woman. Certain that it was Kitty Lavender, Colbeck redoubled his efforts to move through the crowd.

  But he was not the only person eager to get close to the woman. Lord Hendry had an even more urgent appointment with her. Crazed by the failure of Odysseus, knowing that he faced financial ruin and enraged by the sight of Kitty Lavender and Fido together, he rushed towards them, using his cane indiscriminately to beat a way through. Panting for breath, he confronted them.

  ‘You’re a harlot, Kitty Lavender!’ he shouted. ‘I won’t fight a duel over you because you have no honour to defend.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ yelled Fido, stepping between the two of them. ‘I’ve told you before, Hendry. If you dare to insult Kitty, you answer to me.’

  ‘This is all I have to say to you!’

  Pulling out a pistol from beneath his coat, he fired at point-blank range and sent a bullet burrowing into Fido’s forehead. There was a moment of abrupt silence and everyone instinctively drew back. The whole atmosphere in the room had changed in a flash. Then the bookmaker fell backwards into Kitty’s arms and she let out a scream of absolute terror. The detectives were the first to recover. All decorum was abandoned now as they shoved people aside to get to the killer.