Ask Me No Questions

by Shelley Noble

  14

  “Shouldn’t we go into the house, then, where we can be more … private?” Phil said to Rico who hovered nervously in the shadows of the eaves.

  He was a small man and lightweight even for a jockey. It gave him the appearance of a child. And probably easily dismissed because of it.

  The stable boys and jockeys would probably be a wealth of information. More likely to be around when any plans or deals were going down and just as likely to be ignored.

  Another round of urgent whispers between Lily and Rico, in Spanish if Phil was correct.

  “He says he can’t speak in front of Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “Ah.” Phil considered telling them that Bev knew all about Reggie’s peccadilloes, but on the other hand, did she? And perhaps is wasn’t about not wanting to hurt her but that he didn’t trust her? Was there more to come, and was Bev a part of it?

  Phil held up a finger for them to wait and went into the kitchen, where Bev was unwrapping packages from the hamper. “I need to speak with Lily for a moment. Will you be here?”

  “Yes. I thought I would make us a bit of dinner, my culinary skills being what they are.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll just take her upstairs for a minute and join you as soon as we’re through.”

  “She hasn’t already gotten herself in trouble has she?”

  “No, nothing like that. I won’t be long,” Phil said breezily, and closed the door. She put a finger to her lips and motioned Lily and Rico to come inside. They tiptoed down the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom Lily would be using for the night.

  “Now,” Phil said, “we should be quite comfortable here. Rico, pull up that chair and sit down. Lily and I will sit on the bed.”

  He gave a jerky nod and pulled the chair over to face them. He sat down, elbows propped on his knees and his cap dangling from his hands. For several seconds, Phil and Lily were granted only a view of the top of his curly dark head.

  “Well, go on, then,” Lily finally prompted.

  He looked up. His eye was purple and his bottom lip was swollen. “There’s big trouble, miss—madam.”

  “Yes, don’t worry about that. What kind of big trouble?”

  “Eddie took the rail into town that day to drive for Mr. Reggie.”

  “Eddie? He works here?”

  Rico darted a glance at Lily. Nodded. “He’s a jockey; he is supposed to ride Devil’s Thunder in the big race.”

  “Pardon me, but it seems a long way to travel to serve as chauffeur for a drive to the docks.”

  “Mr. Reggie, he pays very well, extra. Jockeys don’t always make so much money. There are many jockeys but not so many people drive a motorcar.”

  “And did Eddie drive?”

  “No, he go all the way and then they tell him they don’t need him. Say there was a mistake and he should prepare himself for the race, not driving Mr. Reggie. But to leave his driving uniform. They pay him anyway, so he does, then he stays in town and—”

  Rico stopped to look quickly around. “He goes to a bar where jockeys go, has a few drinks, a little fun. He don’t know what happens to Mr. Reggie until he gets back here the next morning.

  “Then the police come. They pull us out into the yard, they’re not nice. We are all scared. Muy asustado.”

  Rico licked his lips. Ran the rim of his cap through nervous fingers. “They ask if anybody drove Mr. Reggie that day. Nobody says. We tell them we all work here all day.

  “We tell them to ask the people at the garage in town. Mr. Reggie uses them a lot. More than us.

  “But they don’t leave. The big cop—”

  “Detective Sergeant Atkins?” Phil asked.

  Rico shrugged. “The big one, he sends men inside to search everywhere in all our things, they’re in there a long time. Then he take us into the corral and we can’t see nothing of what the others are doing.

  “The big cop and another guy take us one by one away from the others and question us. They’re pretty rough.”

  “Is that how you got that split lip?”

  A jerk of his head. “Then someone shouts and the big man goes into the bunkhouse. He comes out with—” Rico took a slow breath. “They find Eddie’s coat all crumpled up and it’s got blood on the front.”

  Phil smiled reassuringly. “And did they arrest Eddie?”

  “Go on, Rico,” Lily said. “My mistress is okay. Confianza.”

  “No. When we see them come, Eddie runs ’cause we know how police work. They’ll say he was there and they’ll take him away until after the race, because the race is big money. And some people they don’t want Thunder to win.”

  Definitely turning into something more than a lovers’ triangle, Phil thought. “Then what happened?”

  Another jerk of Rico’s head. “Then Bobby and Mr. Beecham come running up the driveway. Bobby’s fighting mad. Mr. Beecham’s pretty upset, but he tries to talk to the big one. He says he can’t believe that Eddie would hurt Mr. Reynolds, but the big guy doesn’t listen. He says they got a tip.” Rico snorted. “Then he just rounds up his men and says we’ll all go to jail if we don’t turn Eddie in.

  “Then Bobby and Mr. Beecham get into it. And Mr. Beecham tell Bobby it’s his fault and he’s a big crook. And he’s gonna tell Henry not to let him around the horses no more. And they had to hold Bobby back to keep him from knocking him down.

  “But missus, Eddie didn’t kill nobody. When he came back he didn’t have his driving coat with him.”

  “That you saw,” Phil added.

  Rico’s fists clenched.

  Lily said something to him, and he let out a long breath. Looked at her. Ran the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “He didn’t have no coat when he came back. I saw him. We all did. There weren’t no coat in the stable. We clean it three times a week, Mr. Reggie makes us. And blood attracts flies and animals. We woulda known if it was there. If somebody put that coat there, it weren’t Eddie.”

  “Do you know where Eddie is?”

  Rico shrugged. “He’s lying low, afraid they’ll do him for the murder or worse.”

  “What could be worse than being arrested for murder?”

  “Make him do things like throw a race or hurt one of the horses. Then he won’t be able to get work, he’ll be a … paria.”

  “Pariah. I see.” And indeed she did. In America, gambling at the racetracks was notorious for corruption. Was it any surprise? Just look at people like Reggie.

  “He’s scared. He wants to run, but he’s supposed to ride Thunder in the big race over at Belmont. Nobody rides that horse like Eddie. Mr. Reggie promised him a bonus if he wins. Thunder ran real good last week at Jamaica. Eddie made a good bonus then. He’s got a girl.”

  He cut his eyes toward Lily.

  Lily rolled her eyes at Phil.

  “He’s saving up to marry her, he wants to buy a farm.” Rico shook his head. “Who would want to farm when he could be a jockey? Lily here says you will help Eddie. He didn’t kill Mr. Reggie. None of us did.”

  “Who do you think did murder him?”

  Rico lowered his head, bothered his cap. “Some men.”

  Ah, thought Phil. Now we begin to get somewhere.

  “What men?”

  “I don’t know, but they want him to do things. We hear things in the stables. Before and after races. They never mind us. Most of us don’t speak English so good; if we do, we keep our mouths shut.

  “They know we won’t squeal. We are … como si dice, olvidado?”

  “Forgotten,” Lily said, and her voice was so sad that for a moment Phil forgot about the murder and the jockeys while she contemplated her maid.

  “Do you think Mr. Reynolds wanted Eddie to lose the race?” That would be a good motive for murder, Phil thought. But she couldn’t see someone like Reggie offering to throw a race. Reggie reveled in the glory of winning or the admiration of his peers. Losers don’t get the limelight.

  Unless it was a matter of life and death.
Were they threatening him, or Bev?

  “I don’t know. But they say someone told him to make sure Thunder pulls up short. A…” A quick consultation with Lily.

  “Rumor,” she said

  “Well, Mrs. Reynolds is running things now,” Phil said. “I’m sure she won’t allow anything like that to happen.”

  “They powerful men, ma’am.”

  The door opened. “What are you two doing?” Bev looked from Lily to Phil and then her eyes came to rest on Rico.

  He popped out of the chair. “Sorry, missus. I didn’t mean to—” He danced past her and ran down the stairs.

  “What on earth is going on?”

  “Is dinner ready, Bev? Come downstairs and I’ll tell you all about it while we eat. Lily, stay in the house, please.”

  Lily frowned at her but didn’t argue. Just lightly touched the side of her skirt, letting Phil know she was prepared to protect herself and her mistress.

  Phil didn’t tell Bev all about it. But she did give enough information about “some men” being seen here talking to Reggie. And she wondered, innocently, for Bev’s sake, if there could be any side bets, or possibly, just possibly, maybe someone who wanted Reggie to throw the race.

  Bev seemed genuinely appalled by the idea and adamant that Reggie would never throw a race. He was all about winning. “But what are we to do about Eddie? If they find him, he’ll go to jail, and if they don’t, who will ride Devil’s Thunder?”

  “I’m sure Henry or Sid is working on contingency plans.”

  “That must have been why Freddy came out yesterday. I’ll give him a ring as soon as we get back to town.”

  “No.”

  Bev frowned. “Why not? He was Reggie’s business adviser.”

  “Because, dear friend, I think it’s best to keep our own counsel until we know more, and that includes your father.”

  “Father? What could he possibly have to do with Reggie’s murder? He didn’t like Reggie, but—Oh, Phil, you’re not implying that you think he might have murdered Reggie?”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m telling you to keep your head. Everything you say will get back to Detective Sergeant Atkins. Or”—Phil smiled—“the Fireplug. So just don’t say anything.”

  “You’re so clever, Phil.”

  Yes, she was. It was the only way she had survived the turbulent waters of high society. And she didn’t come to America to be thwarted by a bunch of ex-prizefighters and turf men.

  “Well, I’m off to bed,” Bev said. “Training starts in the early hours in the morning, and I want to see for myself what’s going on. Sleep in if you want.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” They walked upstairs arm in arm.

  “Don’t worry, Bev. We’ll get to the end of this.”

  “I know you will.”

  Phil left Bev at her bedroom door. How easily “we” had become “you.”

  No matter. Tonight she had something that took priority over Reggie’s death and Bev’s possible relation to it.

  While Lily brushed her hair, Phil asked, “How did you convince Rico to come talk to me?”

  Lily shrugged.

  “Lily, do I need to warn you about getting involved with men?”

  “No, madam.”

  Was that because she already had been involved with men, or was innocent, or had been warned before?

  “Excellent. Men can be quite wonderful in their way, but only if you are first, prepared, and second, can be discreet. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if by chance you find yourself in a predicament—of any kind—or if something makes you unhappy or afraid, you’ll come to me, no matter what it is. You won’t run off?”

  Lily stared at Phil’s reflection in the mirror. Then moved to kneel beside her so that Phil by necessity had to look down at her. “I will never leave you.”

  Phil laughed softly. “May it be so, if it makes you happy. But one day you may want a life totally your own.”

  “Oh, no, madam. If I were to go, who would torment Preswick?”

  Who, indeed? “Mr. Preswick to you, miss.”

  * * *

  Between the drive and the wine and Rico’s tale of the missing jockey, Phil expected to fall asleep right away. But her mind had other intentions. Bev was right, she did need to get to the end of this so she could get started on the rest of her life.

  But they seemed no closer to finding Reggie’s murderer than ever.

  Now, only a week into her American experience, what had originally appeared to be suicide or a lover’s quarrel had grown to include a jealous wife, an angry father, and horse racing, which added a whole new world of possibilities from gambling debts to missing jockeys.

  Bobby? Freddy? Henry? Bobby was Reggie’s “right-hand man,” at least according to Bobby. Freddy, his friend, business manager, and only relative. Henry, his trainer whose reputation depended on winning horses. It could be any of them or none of them.

  It just didn’t seem that anyone had anything to gain from Reggie’s death … except maybe Bev. But Bev, despite all good sense, seemed to have loved the man.

  Mimi? It might as well be Mrs. Tappington-Jones or the Austrian attaché. Phil smiled at the thought. The upcoming race had been a big topic of conversation at the Tappington-Jones dinner. Even the ladies seemed eager to attend.

  What could any of them have to gain by losing a race?

  Money, of course. Which tilted the suspect list toward those who gambled. The jockeys might be paid to pull a horse, but could they earn enough to live on if their reputation was wrecked? Or, in Eddie’s case, to buy a farm? But Reggie had already promised him a big bonus if he won.

  If he’d been approached by someone else to throw the race, and Reggie had found out about it and threatened to fire him, would he kill him? Perhaps, but that was taking a big chance and look where it landed him—on the run with no chance of affecting the outcome of the race.

  This was infuriating.

  Phil had been to Ascot and Epson Downs, but she’d sat in the clubhouse with the other elite ladies, who made their own discreet bets, while the gentleman disappeared to gamble their fortunes and their fate on favorites and long shots and sheer good or bad luck. Though she’d never witnessed it firsthand, she knew there was an enormous thriving community of bookmakers who ran the show from the cheap seats. Gambling was big business.

  She yawned. Turned over. Her last thought was … if Eddie often drove when Reggie was with Mimi, how could Mimi not recognize him? Unless they were in on it together …

  * * *

  The sun was just coming up when Phil awoke to the sound of neighing horses and the calls of stable boys. It took a few minutes to recall that she was at Holly Farm and this morning they were watching the training runs. She sat up and became aware of someone moving around her room.

  “Lily?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  My lady? Was this Lily feeling contrite? Because of Phil’s questions last night? Or had something else happened after she’d retired?

  Enough. It was like her mind was stuck in the center of a maze, so many paths to choose from. Only one led out to freedom … and a nice cup of coffee.

  She inhaled. Someone was brewing coffee.

  “If madam wishes to see the horses before they are finished, then madam should rouse herself.”

  “Madam” guffawed and sat up. “Something simple for watching the training run.”

  “You are a countess.”

  And becoming less so by the minute, Phil thought. She was enjoying it immensely.

  “True, but don’t take too long. I already hear Bev moving about downstairs, and coffee beckons. I think when we get back to town we should order those split skirts for both of us. Imagine the freedom of being able to stride down the sidewalks of Manhattan like any gentleman.”

  “I don’t think Mr. Preswick would approve.”

  “We will be discreet.”

  “Bah, discreet. Mrs. Re
ynolds is not discreet.”

  “No, she isn’t and she’s under suspicion of murder. The thing about discretion, my dear, is it’s like a magician’s screen. All calm and ordinary on the outside, while a world of incredible things thrives behind it.” Phil stood and faced Lily, who was holding out a white tucked shirtwaist for Phil to put on.

  “I think being discreet is a big bore.”

  Phil thrust her arms through the sleeves and turned to be buttoned up. “Yes, so do I. But it can’t be helped. And decorum is a perfect disguise.” Phil held on to Lily’s shoulders for balance as she stepped into her tweed skirt.

  “Ah, a perfect outfit for a day in the country,” Phil said, and went downstairs.

  Bev was in the kitchen pouring coffee into a thermos.

  “My, you’re industrious this morning,” Phil said.

  “I want to see them put Devil’s Thunder through his paces.” She was dressed in another split-skirt ensemble. “I forget that I love the stables. I think I should have been a man. I even ride astride sometimes. Do you?”

  “I’ve had occasion to.”

  “I haven’t ridden in ages. Maybe we’ll come out after the races. We keep a couple of hunters here, though neither of us ever hunted. Barbaric, if you ask me.”

  Phil nodded in agreement, but she wondered about this new Bev. Not only did she seem just as at home here as in the company of Reggie’s decadent friends, she seemed excited about taking over the enterprise.

  “I suppose I must follow you to the rail to get a cup of that?” Phil indicated the thermos.

  “Well, you could sit here like a slug and have Lily make you a fresh pot.”

  “And miss Devil’s Thunder? Never.”

  They walked up the road to the track, Lily following a step behind, carrying a hamper of thermos, cups, and condiments and a folding camp table. There was another touring car parked near the barn. And a man standing at the rail talking to Henry.

  “Freddy’s here,” Bev said, and strode toward them.

  Several horses were being led in and out of the stables. Others were being put through their paces in the paddocks. Rico was leading Carolina out of one of the paddocks. He saw them and tucked his head in acknowledgment.

  “Lily, why don’t you check on Carolina’s condition. If anyone asks, I sent you.”