by Ali Carter
‘Yes, Inspector,’ I said as I rose from my chair.
‘As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr Wellingham is quite the public figure in these parts and I ask you please, on his behalf, to keep this business under your hat whilst we carry out our investigation. It makes our job a lot easier if we can act in privacy without the press or busybodies spouting nonsense along the way.’
‘Of course, you have my word,’ I said as I slipped their cards into my handbag and left.
‘There you are Susie!’ Toby was lying on the small patch of grass outside Lucy’s cottage reading Delia Smith’s Summer Collection. ‘I thought I’d cook for you both tomorrow night.’
‘That would be excellent.’
He jumped up onto his feet and the earnest look in his eye as he came towards me suggested he was eager to know where I’d been.
‘Not here,’ I said. ‘I’ll fill you in in the paddock.’
‘Drawing-lesson time, hey?’
‘Yup. I’ll just change quickly and pick up my things.’
Toby and I walked up the fence line to Great Knockers, him carrying a spare canvas chair of Lucy’s.
‘Do you always sit down to work?’ he asked.
‘Not if I’m painting landscapes but always if I’m drawing big animals.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘You’ll see, but it’s important to have your eye line midway up the animal’s body. If you don’t, it makes it very difficult to draw them in proportion.’
‘I’ve been thinking you should draw Red-Rum for Lucy,’ said Toby in a particularly cheerful voice that aggravated me.
He was taking advantage of my profession (unless he was going to commission me – no – that would be even worse). And why was he thinking up such a thoughtful gift for Lucy?
‘I could do with the practice,’ I said flippantly.
But he took it literally. ‘Surely you’ve drawn lots of cats?’
‘For some reason few cat owners employ me.’
‘But people are mad about cats, I reckon I could get you a commission or two.’
I smiled at him, he was back in favour.
Once we were out of earshot, I told him he’d been right, ‘Hailey didn’t die of alcohol poisoning.’
‘I knew you were off to see the police.’
‘DCI Reynolds asked me to come in. You don’t think I would’ve gone voluntarily do you? I’m far more level-headed than that.’
‘I know, I know. I’m just teasing. Now though,’ he said unfolding his chair, ‘you can tell me all.’
Toby sat down, glued his eyes on me and didn’t once look away as I told him all about the forensic post-mortem and the police murder enquiry.
‘I thought something was up,’ I said, ‘but, I hadn’t wanted to believe it was murder.’
‘My goodness,’ Toby sounded excited, ‘Pet Detective strikes again.’
‘Shhh, Shhh. You never know who’s listening around here.’
He recoiled into his chair.
‘Just quickly,’ I said, ‘did you meet the woman Lucy was with this morning?’
‘I saw her with someone but I didn’t meet her. Why?’
‘I’ve never seen her here before, that’s all.’
Toby sat up. ‘So, what did the police tell you?’
‘Nothing. I was being interviewed formally.’
‘Oh, come on Susie, I know you, you must have got something out of them, you were there for at least half an hour.’
I gave a conceited smile, and repeated DCI Reynolds’s exact words in his formal voice, ‘Not enough alcohol showed up in her blood or her urine. In fact, unlike most inebriated patients, she had not urinated.’
Toby’s eyebrows raised and I knew he was impressed.
‘What do you think it is?’ I asked.
‘I’ve no idea. Let’s go through her symptoms.’
‘There weren’t any other than drunkenness.’
‘Still, talk me through them.’
‘First her speech became slurred, then she got energetic and keen to dance and at one point she fell over on her way upstairs.’
When Toby said, ‘We can pluck several possible symptoms out of all that’, I picked up my sketchbook to write them down.
‘Hey, let’s see that,’ he said, taking it out of my hands and flicking through the pages. ‘Of course, you’ve been recording it.’
‘Now,’ he handed it back to me. ‘Make a note of slurred speech, energetic, dizzy, thirsty…’
‘Thirsty?’
‘I know she was drunk, but maybe she drank a lot because she was thirsty.’
‘But DCI Reynolds said she hadn’t urinated.’
‘Surely, he meant she hadn’t urinated after death, not all evening.’
I blushed. ‘Yes, good point.’
‘Add it to your list, it’s an interesting one.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘It could be that Hailey’s kidneys weren’t working properly.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, and if the investigation is running along these lines then I think DCI Reynolds’s team will have gone on a hunt for poisonous mushrooms and the pathologists will be carrying out a post-mortem kidney biopsy testing for orellanine toxin.’
‘Orellanine toxin?’
‘You said the Russian Princess picked and cooked ceps didn’t you?’
‘Yes she did.’
‘The world’s most poisonous mushroom is deadly webcap and a small one of those can easily be mistaken for a cep. Deadly webcaps contain the highly toxic compound orellanine, which destroys our liver and kidneys.’
‘You know your stuff don’t you?’ I grinned at him. I love that Toby has a brain and, between you and me, I find it surprisingly attractive when he rabbits on in work mode.
‘Tatiana couldn’t possibly have made a mistake,’ I exclaimed, suddenly realising what Toby had been saying, ‘You didn’t hear her on mushrooms. She knew everything.’
‘Did she help in the kitchen?’
‘Yes…’ I went silent. It had struck me that Tatiana had carried the two remaining first-course plates into the garden, one for her and one for Hailey.
Toby said exactly what I was thinking, ‘In that case she could have picked and fed Hailey a webcap on purpose.’
‘No,’ I didn’t believe it, ‘Tatiana might have been jealous but, there’s no way she killed Hailey.’
Toby spoke softly, ‘Susie, if you think someone killed Hailey then why not Tatiana?’
‘Oh crumbs. When you put it like that I wouldn’t confidently say any of them killed her.’
‘Well that’s what you’re up against so you better take a deep breath before you dive back into another police investigation.’
This made me feel mildly guilty for indulging in Hailey’s death.
‘Listen,’ reassured Toby, ‘put it out of your mind. Don’t start looking for reasons to suspect any of these people until you hear if the pathologists have found orellanine toxin in Hailey’s system. I’m sorry for mentioning it.’
‘No, don’t be sorry. It’s wonderful you’re a doctor. I’d never get anywhere without you. And you could be right. Maybe Tatiana did do it,’ I sighed.
‘Honestly, it’s dangerous to stew over your thoughts before you have evidence to go on. Our minds are very good at tying the wrong ends together when we want to make sense of things.’ Toby smiled at me, ‘Time to start drawing.’
I rooted around in my basket, putting our drawing materials together and Toby got up to give Great Knockers a friendly pat.
He was struggling to make friends. Great Knockers’ ears were back, her head going whichever way his hand wasn’t and, giving up, his long face sauntered back towards me.
‘Time for drawing!’ I said, handing him a stiff board that he held flat as I taped a large piece of paper to it.
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll use this sketchbook, it has a hard back.’ I handed him a thin stick of charcoal, ‘You may want
a pencil but I’m not going to let you have one. Now, copy me.’
We both drew a large black rectangle an inch inside the edges of our paper.
‘This box helps you remember you’re doing a drawing not a sketch.’
‘I can’t draw. Maybe a sketch would be easier.’
‘Everyone can draw. It’s just another way of expressing ourselves.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, but you have to let go of your inhibitions and not worry about making it good immediately as this takes a lot of practice.’
‘Okay, I’ll try.’
‘Think of it like this: if I said stir a pot you wouldn’t jump the gun and say I can’t cook. It’s the same here, I said draw a box and you did it.’
‘But that part’s easy.’
‘Trust me, if you take the same unselfconscious approach we’ll get there.’
Toby raised his eyebrows.
‘You need to find a part of Great Knockers’s body that draws your eye and then put a mark on your paper, like this.’ I turned my sketchbook to him. ‘I like her underbelly so here’s its curve.’
Toby put a line on his paper for her tail.
‘Now look really hard and see what and where things intercept her body.’
I demonstrated on my drawing by putting in the fence post that I could see under her belly. ‘To understand the shape, you need to focus on the objects around her and draw your picture, starting at the tail and working across the frame.’
‘I’ll give it a go!’
‘You must look with your eyes twice as much as you draw with your hand and never let the process be interrupted. This intense engagement with the subject will bring out your best work.’
Toby had begun and taken my word for it. He was absolutely silent. Easy-peasy to teach.
What fun it was sitting side by side in our own worlds, the sun shining, butterflies fluttering past and the occasional dragonfly buzzing into sight.
‘Great Knockers looks like she’s floating,’ said Toby, upsetting the atmosphere and staring with frustration at his drawing. ‘How on earth did you manage to get such weight into your picture?’
‘Yours is great!’ I said, it being a reasonably good start.
‘No, it’s not. It looks nothing like her, or yours.’
‘I’m well practised.’
‘Help me!’ he pleaded.
‘You have to draw the shadows not the animal. Look where the light falls and see the way it gives definition in some places and not in others.’ I reached across and smudged the charcoal line beneath his horse’s jaw. ‘See, her face is now much lighter and pops out at us.’
‘That’s so clever.’
‘If you make her underbelly darker, it gives volume.’ I rubbed his picture with my mucky fingers. ‘Go on, you work your way down the legs.’
Toby went for it, his desire to finish getting the better of him.
‘Be careful,’ I said. ‘You mustn’t make it up. You have to look very closely and only put in the shade you see.’
I handed him a rubber, ‘Use this to make the outline of her back crisp. There’s no dark there.’ I pointed at his drawing. ‘Now you see, charcoal’s much easier to move around than pencil.’
‘Isn’t it just.’
‘Key thing is not to overwork it, so I think it’s time to call it a day.’
‘Thanks so much for my very first lesson,’ he said, clasping an arm around my shoulders. ‘Can I have another one tomorrow?’
‘Same time, same place if you’re keen?’
‘Mad keen!’ He gave me a squeeze and I felt my body tense. I haven’t been intimately touched since Geoffrey, my last failure of a relationship, and I felt nervous of letting someone else in. Although, deep down, beneath my reservations, I was longing for something to happen between Toby and me. He is pretty wonderful.
‘Susie!’ I heard called out above the crowd and swung around, wondering who on earth I knew in this rabble of people.
Toby and I were in the commoners’ enclosure of Ingle Racecourse. There were short men everywhere, which made me think if you can’t join the jockeys you back them. Retro IBM screens with neon blue and red columns of confusing names, numbers and symbols flashed above head height.
Toby had a cobbled-together-at-the-last-minute look, which I liked. The linen blazer he was wearing was blue, I suppose, but had that purplish shiny tinge of something that needs redying or replacing, and although crinkled it was clean (one thing I mind about).
I’d squeezed into a tight pair of, I thought, sexy black trousers and a too long to be a T-shirt, too short to be a dress, red top. My wedged espadrilles, aside from the fact they brought me to a perfect height to peck Toby on the lips if I should be so lucky, were chosen to stop me sinking into the soft ground as I walked.
‘Susie!’ came the call of my name again across the crowd and I spotted the frantically waving hand of a smartly dressed man standing at the bar. Oh, my goodness! ‘It’s Stanley Gerald, from the weekend,’ I whispered in Toby’s ear as we squeezed through the posse to join him.
‘Susie! What a marvellous surprise to see you.’ Stanley pecked me on both cheeks, which I guess is what these types do at occasions like this. Toby stood behind me, reticent, until Stanley’s right arm shot out above my shoulder and he announced ‘Stanley Gerald,’ with a pride only the upper classes can muster.
I moved to one side as they shook hands and I asked, ‘Is Primrose here too?’
‘She’s gone to the bathroom, shouldn’t be long. Would you both like a drink?’
‘That’s so kind,’ charm rolled off Toby’s tongue, ‘I’ll get ours.’
Stanley double-clicked his fingers in the air and lickety-split he’d summoned the bar lady.
Unfortunately for Toby, Taittinger was the only thing on offer up this end of the appropriately named ‘Long Bar’ and without the slightest flicker of a quandary he went ahead and spent a small fortune on two flutes. Champagne again, aren’t I lucky!
‘Darling,’ said Stanley raising his arm to his wife. ‘Look who I’ve found.’
‘Susie, how lovely to see you,’ she smiled, and I followed form, kissing her on both cheeks.
‘This is Toby Cropper,’ I introduced, and Primrose’s right hand shot out at the same speed at which her head withdrew. This put Toby firmly in his place.
Stanley, having forgotten the conversation we’d had in the early hours of Sunday morning, expressed his surprise at meeting us here, ‘I didn’t know you were from these parts.’
‘She’s not,’ corrected Primrose. ‘You’re here with work aren’t you Susie?’
‘She’s here with me,’ said Toby in a gentle tone that took the sting out of his words.
‘Are you local?’ asked Stanley as he handed his wife her glass.
‘No, just visiting.’
Then with a gift for the gab Toby asked how we all knew each other.
‘We were acquainted last weekend at Fontaburn,’ said Stanley. ‘Archibald’s a terribly generous and affable old friend of Primrose’s, isn’t he darling?’
‘My oldest and best,’ she grinned.
‘Is he here too?’ I asked.
‘No!’ said Primrose rather sharply.
‘It’s just I saw beautiful jockey silks in his boot room, so I thought he might be.’
Primrose turned to her husband. ‘I think the queue for the premier enclosure will have subsided by now.’
‘Come on then, let’s scoot,’ said Stanley with a silly wobble of his head.
‘Not us,’ I said, ‘we went for the course enclosure ticket instead.’
‘Oh well then, you’ll have to put up with the smell of hotdogs down there,’ smiled Stanley.
‘It’s Susie and my first time at the races, so, we thought we’d start at the bottom.’
‘Right then, I better set you straight,’ said Stanley, genuinely trying to be helpful. ‘In the parade ring you want to look for a lean horse that has good muscle definition, aler
t eyes, and a calm and relaxed walk.’
‘We often win,’ said Primrose. ‘Stanley knows what he’s talking about.’
‘Thank you,’ said Toby raising his glass, but Stanley recoiled so he turned to me instead, ‘Here’s to a winner!’ and our glasses clinked.
‘Darling,’ beckoned Primrose, ‘I think we must head to our enclosure now. It was lovely to see you again Susie and meet you Toby.’
‘Bon courage,’ said Stanley as Primrose pulled him through the hoi polloi.
‘Well, there you go.’ I turned to Toby. ‘My nickname for her is Snoberina.’
‘They seemed nice enough to me.’
‘Really? You liked them?’
‘People like that don’t mean to be condescending, they just can’t help it. I thought Stanley was a bit thick but a nice bloke and Primrose was pretty so I liked her.’
‘Oh, Toby!’
‘Not nearly as pretty as you though.’
I couldn’t help smiling.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get to grips with this racing malarkey.’
The racetrack curved in a big circle towards the horizon. The grass had been scorched by the summer sun and the white rails sparkled as if they’d been freshly painted. To our right was Stanley and Primrose’s stand, awash with pastel colours. Ladies in floaty dresses and tall men with quiffy hair. In our enclosure the crowd felt much more familiar. Flat caps that had seen better days on old-time racegoers with grumbling mouths looking as if they were yearning for rolled-up cigarettes in their corners. Bookmakers shooting out the tic-tac signals, and pairs of old ladies who’d been bitten by their husband’s gambling habits. Included in this mishmash were some marvellously dressed girls on the go. Stiletto heels shivering under enormous figures squeezed into strappy numbers. Perms, topknots, peroxide and buns – you name it every type of hairdo was here, accompanied by boys in shiny suits wearing pointy-toed shoes and laying claim on the souped-up vehicles in the car park.
Shut Up Boot Up Giddy Up, Ingle Park Racecourse EST. 1783 was on the front cover of the text-heavy programme. Neither of us could make head or tail of the contents and, thankfully, unlike some men I’ve known in similar situations, Toby didn’t object to me asking a fellow racegoer to help.