by Ali Carter
Vicky absorbed my compliment of her pet with pride, me thoroughly well practised in the art of getting an owner on side.
‘Yes,’ she said moving back into the hall, ‘this is Lance.’
‘Good boysies,’ I said as I bent down to pat him. ‘Fine choice to have a name that doesn’t sound fierce when you shout it.’
‘We called him after my husband’s regiment.’
I looked up. Vicky turned her head away and at the same time a ray of sunshine cast its lengthy span through the front door and across the floor, sparkling off an object on the chair by my side.
‘Wow,’ I said reaching for whatever it was without a thought.
Vicky’s head turned, her hand grasping for what was now in mine, a tortoiseshell photograph frame – no time for me to look at the picture inside.
‘That’s personal!’ she snapped and placed it face down on the chair.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, now shaking. ‘That was incredibly rude of me. I’m an artist and the play of light got me so excited. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘My husband’s dead,’ said Vicky plaintively. ‘That’s a picture of him and it makes me very sad to look at it.’
‘Oh gosh, how terrible, I’m so sorry. I’m such a fool. Here…’ I handed her the gilet, ‘I only came to return this.’
‘Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you but really, you shouldn’t have.’
‘It was no trouble for me to bring it back.’
Vicky stood holding the door wide open and I got the message, time to leave.
‘Thank you,’ she said as I said ‘Bye’.
The heavy door banged behind me, its big brass knocker reverberating as I dilly-dallied reading the stickers cluttered on her Volvo bumper: CLA, Fight the Ban, Help for Heroes and then last, a jockey silk decal, purple and yellow quarter no less. Archie’s slogan rolled off my tongue, ‘purple and yellow he’s our speedy fellow’.
Then… it hit me. I don’t know much about racing but I do know colours relate to owners and not trainers, and therefore if this sticker has been put on a Ramsbottom car by a Ramsbottom, then it’s highly likely Vicky’s deceased husband was the same person Archie co-owned a horse with.
I jumped into the driving seat. Finally I was getting to the crux of Archie’s close relationship with his cook.
I drove slowly, back to Pluton Farm Stables, ruminating on the tortoiseshell photograph frame. It was exactly like the ones I’d seen at Fontaburn Hall… could this mean Archie’s nostalgic collection was a table of homage to dead friends? And if Vicky’s husband’s photograph was as good a mugshot as the others, did she nick it on Saturday night? Is that why she was upstairs or had she spotted it when she was already upstairs supposedly turning down the beds?
I don’t want to accuse her of stealing, she really didn’t seem the type, but, her sudden waspish reaction when I picked up the frame definitely had connotations of shame and guilt.
I paused the car at Canny’s electric gates and, as they swung open, my emotions swung back, leaving me feeling incredibly sorry again (about time too) for Vicky having lost her husband. Suddenly I despised myself for thinking I could, without any evidence whatsoever, accuse a woman in such a vulnerable state. Of course, I wasn’t going to call DCI Reynolds and share my theory with him just yet, as that would be incredibly cruel.
I was back by nine o’clock and it was no surprise Toby was still in bed. He’ll have a thick head today if his and Lucy’s late-night giggles coming through my floorboards are anything to go by.
I carried a strong cup of black coffee outside and sat on the bench, my head against the wall, eyes shut, the summer sun warming my face. Procrastinating, that’s what I was up to. Using Lucy not being here to help get High Maintenance into the field as reason enough to take things a bit slower than normal. I breathed in a deep breath of early morning Norfolk air and opened my eyes.
Where on earth was Lucy? It was very unlike her not to be here at this time of day and I could hardly bear to let myself think she and Toby might be curled up together. The thought made me feel sick. I wanted Toby to like me. Like me properly. But I knew, if it’s a fling he’s after, I stood no chance with Lucy around.
I took a furious sip of hot coffee and Ow! I burnt my tongue. I laughed at myself. Nothing like reality to snap one out of indulgent self-pity and I made a mental note not to be jealous of Lucy, it’s a terrible sin. James, Chapter 4, Verse 2. You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight.
I know this verse, and many more from the Bible, off by heart. Detention at school (which I was given at least twice a term for minor tomfoolery) involved writing out the same verse fifty times. I spent hours in the library, my hand cramping up but this punishment had no effect on me. The fun in breaking rules, whether that be passing notes in class, fumbling around with boys on Lover’s Lane or waking up very early and climbing over the AstroTurf caging for a spot of dawn tennis, always outdid detention, which wasn’t so bad with a friend there too.
Bzzzz. My telephone vibrated in my pocket, bzzzzz, bzzzzz. I recognised it, it was the same number from yesterday.
‘Hello.’
‘Susie, Detective Chief Inspector Reynolds here.’
‘Hello, Inspector.’ My voice sounded as thrilled as I was to receive his call.
‘Are you alone and can I have a word?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wanted to let you know that your name has been cleared.’ My stomach plummeted with relief, an overreaction but one that happened nonetheless. ‘Evidence proves that whatever Miss Dune ingested you can’t have been the one who gave it to her.’
‘Oh?’ I sounded surprised, in the hopes he would continue talking.
‘Are you there Susie?’
It hadn’t worked. I’d have to take the direct approach instead… ‘Yes Inspector, I was just wondering what it was that killed her?’
‘We suspect it was a toxin and as you were neither involved in the cooking or the serving we can safely remove you from the list of suspects.’
This is crazy. Hadn’t anyone mentioned I’d mixed the gin and tonics with Hailey? I wasn’t going to bring it up but it did make me think two things. Best-case scenario: DCI Reynolds was looking for a reason to get me off the hook. Worst-case scenario: his investigation had gaps in it and I couldn’t rely on anything he said.
‘Have others’ names been cleared?’
‘Not for the time being. The duration of everyone else’s stay has put them in the kitchen at one time or another.’ DCI Reynolds took a breath. ‘Susie?’
‘Yes, Inspector?’
‘Sergeant Ayari has been carrying out some background checks and there’s one thing on you I’d like to confirm.’
‘Yes, Inspector?’
‘Are you the Susie Mahl?’ he asked.
I smiled so hard I nearly let an inappropriate sound travel down the telephone.
‘Possibly, I haven’t met another.’
‘Was it you who had a part to play in the unravelling of that murder in Spire? The Earl of Greengrass?’
‘Yes, that was me.’
‘Well, aren’t we lucky to have you on board. Quite a reputation you’ve made for yourself.’
‘That’s so nice of you to say.’
‘Well, regarding Miss Dune’s case, if there’s anything you’ve picked up on or want to draw our attention to, my door is always open.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. Do you think Hailey was poisoned?’
‘Not by those mushrooms, none of my team came across a single deadly webcap amongst the ceps in the parkland and the pathologists didn’t find any orellanine toxin in her body.’
I really had won his trust!
‘What do you think it was?’
‘We’re looking into it.’
I didn’t push my luck to get an answer.
‘Keep in touch Susie,’ said DCI Reynolds.
‘Of course. Thank you for your cal
l, Inspector.’ I hung up.
I’d walked the distance to the yard and I can’t tell you how happy I was to see Lucy sitting on a bale next to Jim. As soon as she saw me she jumped up. Jim pinched her bottom and in turn she gave him a swift slap on his hand.
‘Susie, are you ready? If so I’ll get High Maintenance now.’ Lucy bounced towards me eager to help.
‘You must’ve been up early,’ I said.
‘Rob ain’t here today so I had to give Jim a hand.’ She turned to smile at him but he’d scampered. ‘Thanks for taking Vicky’s thingy back.’
‘That’s okay. She has a very nice house.’
‘I ain’t ever been.’
‘Also, I saw a jockey silk sticker on her car bumper and I wondered whose colours quartered purple and yellow are.’
‘You’re joking right?’
‘No. Why?’
‘There are thousands and thousands of registered silks, I wouldn’t ’ave a clue which colours belonged to which owners.’
‘But if it was Norfolk I thought you might know?’
‘Norfolk’s probably got the most silks of all,’ Lucy laughed. ‘I’d know if it was one of the very best racers but nope, purple and yellow quarters, I ’ain’t ever seen them. Can’t tell you the stable neither. Do you have to know?’
‘No, I’d just like to because Archie Wellingham had the same silks in his house so I assume they must be connected?’
‘Definitely connected, the pair of them could’ve been in the same syndicate or co-owned a horse but you can’t be sure they owned it at the same time.’
‘Are owners very rich?’
‘Not always, but usually the more money they have the better the horse. Makes sense don’t it!’
‘Yup.’
‘Say they did share a horse and Archie sold his half when Mr Ramsbottom died.’ Lucy’s small cogs were turning. ‘It means either the horse weren’t any good or it’s so good Archie’s not wealthy enough to buy the other end. But,’ Lucy shook her head, ‘I don’t recognise purple and yellow so it can’t be a real star.’
‘Right,’ I was wasting precious drawing time on this silk tangent, ‘I must get to work.’ It was so hot I knew I’d have to stop during the midday sun.
‘What would you like me to do with your last and final model?’
‘Yeah! We’re almost done. If you could cordon her off while I get my stuff, that would be brilliant.’
‘Sure thing. I can stay with you and walk her round if you want?’
‘Nah not today but thank you.’
‘Well if you do need me just shout as I’ll be in the yard mucking about but only until midday. Jim and me are going to test-drive a lorry this afternoon.’
‘Okay will do. Thanks so much.’
Lucy had gone by the time I got back and High Maintenance was a legs-collapsed panting lump on the ground. I softly nudged her back haunch with my foot, which got her up alright, but after a brief wobble on all fours maddeningly she was straight back down again, hooves tucked under her.
I let out a fed-up cry and stared glumly across the paddock, which stretched for acres in front of me. It was the most luscious, largest field you could imagine, brushed blades of green grass and broken swathes of buttercups.
Annoyingly, I’d been working so hard this last week I hadn’t yet found time to fully explore the estate, but as far as the eye could see it left one in no doubt that Pluton Farm Stables was beautifully maintained. Five hundred acres in total, a grid system of dusty tracks, wide enough for livestock lorries, fenced off by chestnut post and rail (a popular choice for those with deep enough pockets).
There were window boxes on Lucy’s cottage but no other domestic garden arrangements. As for Canny’s house, it was out of sight, encased within a beech copse to one side of the gallops. I was longing to sniff it out but Lucy’s warning of security cameras had stopped me prying.
Grrrr, my patience was running out. High Maintenance’s reluctance to stay up for any length of time was driving me mad so I gave up on drawing and got my camera out instead. This motionless collapsed lump made it easy to photograph her features, something that would come in handy for the final picture.
My favourite thing about photography is, unlike with drawing or painting, you can think of two things at once and for the rest of the morning my mind wandered over Hailey’s death. If the pathologists hadn’t found any orella-nine toxin in her system, yet they think she’s been poisoned, then what was it the investigators were now looking for?
‘Susie!’ cried out Toby.
I panicked and ran towards him. ‘What is it?’
I stopped short of the paddock fence, realising in his swagger that it wasn’t an emergency.
‘It’s only the phone for you, no need to look so frightened.’
‘Sorry, I was alarmed by your shout.’
‘Well the chap,’ said Toby with a hint of irritation, ‘didn’t want to give me his number, said he’d hold on. Lucky for him I’ve found you. The telephone’s off the hook in the kitchen.’
Toby took my drawing things and I ran to the house and picked up the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘Good morning Susie, it’s Daniel Furr Egrant. Would you like a moment to catch your breath?’
‘No, I’m fine thanks,’ I said trying not to let on how surprised I was to hear from him. ‘How are things?’ I asked, realising maybe he’d just rung for a chit-chat; he was the person I’d got on best with at the weekend.
‘Things?’ reiterated Daniel.
‘I was just wondering how you are?’
He remained silent. What on earth was Daniel playing at? He rang me.
‘What can I do for you?’ I asked.
‘I know this call is out of the blue but you’re the only one of us not a suspect in Hailey’s death.’
‘How do you know?’
‘DCI Reynolds told me and therefore you’re the only person I feel I can confide in right now.’
Surely the only reason DCI Reynolds told Daniel was in the hope a call like this might come my way.
‘Did he suggest you get in touch?’
‘No, no. That would be out of the question but I need to tell this thing to someone and you appear to be the safest bet.’
‘Okay…’
‘You seem a good egg Susie, and taking into account your profession, what I’m about to say shouldn’t come as a shock.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I’m trusting you implicitly.’
‘Yes, of course.’
I was now in a muddle… Should I appear easy going and unshockable? Or, serious, which in turn may well stop him talking?
But, I had no need to worry, Daniel’s confession, ‘Archie wasn’t in his bed the night of Hailey’s death’, came in one sharp shot of breath down the telephone as if he was glad to be rid of it.
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, I, …I …I …I,’ he stuttered, ‘I …I …I.’
‘Don’t worry Daniel it’s okay, just tell me.’
‘I went to his room and he wasn’t there.’
‘What time did you go to his room?’
‘Shortly after I went to bed.’
‘Did you and Archie go upstairs at the same time?’
‘Archie put the dogs in the kennel first.’
‘So, he may have been yet to come upstairs?’
‘He’d definitely come upstairs but he wasn’t in his room.’
‘How can you be certain he ever came upstairs?’
‘His clothes were in a pile on the floor.’
Of course they were, I should have jumped to this conclusion. I’d seen Archie in his PJs, which obviously proved he’d been upstairs.
‘Maybe Archie was in the bathroom when you went to his room.’
‘Not possible. He has an en-suite.’
The brevity of Daniel’s words gave the impression he was trying to catch me out. This was immensely aggravating.
‘Maybe he came back
to his room once you’d left.’
‘That’s exactly it Susie, he didn’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I slept in Archie’s bed. He wasn’t there when I drifted off or when I woke to the alarm.’
‘Why are you telling me this? Surely you’ve told the police?’
‘No!’ he said firmly. ‘Amongst you arty types,’ – I hate this expression – ‘no one bats an eyelid but in the circles I move in people simply don’t accept being homosexual isn’t a choice. I’d never survive if this got out.’
Even though Daniel was overreacting I did feel sorry for him, knowing there are still some posh gay men who to this day marry a woman to follow form and have an heir. Nevertheless, far more prominent in my mind than Daniel’s sexual orientation was whether he was suggesting Archie had something to do with Hailey’s death.
‘Just to be clear,’ I said. ‘You went into Archie’s room soon after you’d gone upstairs to your bed. You got into his bed and were there until the alarm went off?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
Daniel then told me, ‘It wasn’t Archie who killed her,’ which was an odd thing to say considering I’d never accused Archie.
‘Did you see him?’ I provoked.
‘See him what?’ Daniel’s voice was panicked.
‘You said Archie didn’t kill Hailey, I don’t think he did either but I wondered how you knew.’
‘I know Archie and he didn’t do it.’
I took charge of the conversation. ‘You have to tell DCI Reynolds what you know. Keeping quiet to protect a friend may incriminate you.’
‘But I told them I was in bed when the alarm went off.’
‘A half-truth’s a lie. You must say whose bed you were in and be prepared to answer why.’
‘Heavens above, what about…’ his voice died out.
‘I wouldn’t think twice about that. They’ll be pleased to have the other information.’ I knew now all Daniel needed from me was reassurance and encouragement.
‘Susie, you’re marvellous.’ He sounded giddy and I could picture him flicking his floppy fringe off his brow with relief. ‘It was quite the right thing to call you, thank you kindly for your sound advice, I shall ring DCI Reynolds right away.’