Detective Ruby Baker series Box Set

by Daisy White

  “Why? Because I don’t want him to get into any trouble. I know my daughter told him to go to the police when Rita died, but he says he hasn’t got anything that would help. In fact, he won’t talk about it at all.”

  I consider this carefully. I don’t know this client particularly well, but she is a regular, so she will know all about the investigations I’ve done in the past. “The thing is, Mrs Clare, there are some people, really good friends of Rita’s, who aren’t sure that she did commit suicide.”

  She thinks about this as I release the towel and start combing out her long hair. She has strong features and wonderfully thick, shiny hair. In truth, she looks about ten years younger than eighty-two, and her eyes, watching me in the mirror, are sharp and alert.

  “He isn’t on the telephone. I could speak to him, and ask if you could pop round. It’s a long ride on the bus, though, all the way to Eastbourne just for a chat.”

  “It could be really important and I promise he won’t get into any trouble. I’m just trying to help a friend.”

  “I suppose so. I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises. Right, I want a bit off my fringe, and my usual at the back, please. And I’d love another cup of tea if you’ve got the kettle on.”

  Clearly our conversation is finished, so I pass her a magazine and go out the back to make the tea. While the kettle boils, I take a pencil and add ‘Paul’ to my list. The boyfriend who was beaten up by, I assume, Josh and Derek. Or was Sammy there too, and that’s why he didn’t mention it? Bev mentioned Paul as well. I wonder if she and Joanna are still arguing about Rita’s death, and again, why Bev is so adamant that it must be suicide.

  I circle another name. Tommy’s wife, Maria, is still pretty high on my suspect list. There was a whole world of bitterness in her voice when she spoke about her husband and his horses on the night of the fire. Perhaps Paul might know if Rita had another boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. I make a note to myself to look into this and if Mrs Clare won’t help, I’ll try and track him down myself.

  Just before lunch, the phone rings and Sammy gives me a quick update. His dad still won’t see me, and is in a permanent rage that the police keep questioning him. Josh and Derek have gone up to Newcastle for the end of May race meetings. “We make a lot off the northern crowds, but we have to be careful because that’s not our territory.”

  “Sammy, do you remember if Rita had a boyfriend called Paul? It would have been a while ago, because it was just after she left school. They may even have been at the same school.”

  “Don’t know. The name doesn’t ring any bells.” His voice is cautious, and he speaks slowly, as though choosing his words.

  “Come on, Sammy, I’m working really hard on this. Secondly, do you know if Rita has any ex-boyfriends that might have been angry with her, or who might have been jealous when she started seeing someone else?”

  “There was a few. Off the top of my head, it would have been Alex Davies, he’s a jockey at Moses’s yard, and some reporter fellow she saw a couple of times. A London boy he was, originally, but I can’t think of his name . . . Oh I know, Harley something.”

  I chew a thumbnail, remembering the snide little pieces that read like gossip columns, but my mind is on the new name. “Alex Davies? She was seeing a rival jockey as well? And I know about Benjy Harley.”

  “Yeah. But those are old boyfriends, and they wouldn’t want to hurt her. She usually stayed friendly with everyone.”

  “Even if she ditched them for someone new?” I say doubtfully, “Anyway, I can look into that. Roger Harper has been arrested, and you will obviously know that Seaboy was apparently doped at Sandown yesterday.”

  There is a long pause, and he’s doing that heavy breathing thing again. It’s really annoying me. “Sammy?”

  “We’ve got nothing to do with it.”

  “The doping? I didn’t say you had. Look, Sammy, I’ll lay it on the line. You and Joanna are the only people who believe Rita didn’t commit suicide. Everyone else who was close to her, or knew her, seems to think she killed herself. I’ve got my doubts but you are the one driving this. If you can’t be completely honest, then I can drop the investigation and let the police carry on their own enquiries.”

  “But she didn’t kill herself!” He sounds close to tears now, and I feel a bit remorseful. After, all it isn’t my sister who has just died.

  “For the record, I don't believe she did either, but we need to work together, okay? Here’s another question for you. Did Rita ever bet on the horses?”

  “No! She liked them, and she knew what she was talking about when it came to them, but she never did bet. Not that the old man would have wanted her to join the family business, would he?”

  “I suppose not.” Well that’s another theory disposed of. Rita wasn’t in debt. I think back to what Mary said, about the horse thieves, and the gang. Had Rita been in love with one of them? If so, which one? Joey Castle? Would he risk his career as a jockey to steal a Derby favourite?

  “I’ve got to go now, Sammy. I know you said your dad is mad at the moment, but I do need to talk to him.” I try a softer approach. “Say it’s because your family knows all about racing, and you must see a lot of stuff. It could be that just talking through what’s happened might jog his memory.”

  “Yeah, alright.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

  Johnnie gets back late afternoon, with a smug expression on his face. He just smiles, and shakes his head when we ask what happened, but he tells us Roger has gone home, pending further investigations. “They don’t have enough to charge him, and DC Little is actually quite a decent chap, for a policeman. He apparently asked Roger if he could think of anyone who would want to frame him for Simon’s murder. Of course they couldn’t tell me anything, and Roger refused to get his family solicitor involved. He says Sophie is furious with him, and his parents have just gone off to their place in London to avoid the scandal. His father is talking about cutting him out of his will, poor chap.”

  “What about the signet ring at the fire?” Mary asks.

  “Roger says he lost it a while ago, he thinks he might have dropped it on the racecourse, so anyone could have picked it up. Or someone could easily have taken it to frame him.” Johnnie winks at us, picks up Eve’s cup of tea and sips carefully. “How much sugar do you take in this, darling?”

  Eve rolls her eyes. “I’ll make you one of your own. Honestly, Johnnie, you are such a child sometimes.”

  Mary giggles at this, but catches a look from Johnnie, and hastily gets back to washing the combs in a bowl of soapy water.

  Catherine comes over to check the appointment book, and gives me a nudge. “Penny for them?”

  “I was just thinking . . . My mum or sister haven’t rung while I’ve been on a break, have they?”

  “No, sorry, love, it’s been all clients. You got some trouble at home?” Catherine has her sympathetic look on, and she pats my arm in a maternal fashion.

  “I’m not sure. You know I told you my sister might be coming to stay for a weekend? She was supposed to ring and fix a date . . .” My voice trails off. Perhaps Garnet is quite happy in Croydon, and coming down to Brighton was Mum’s idea. I shove my worries away and concentrate on the Rita Stonehill case. Gut instinct still tells me we are all missing something — me, the police, everyone. Are we missing something that connects the whole thing — something or someone? If Mrs Clare can be persuaded to give out her grandson’s address, it will certainly be worth the bus ride to Eastbourne.

  Johnnie rolls up his sleeves and takes over the cut on Mrs Evans, who is busy reading Tatler, but is obviously madly interested in our conversation. “I might come up to the Black Jug tonight, if you’re going?”

  “You hate pubs,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you up to something?”

  “I don’t hate pubs, I just generally prefer my entertainment a little more civilised. Shall I pick everyone up at eight?”

  “Victoria is on the night shift, an
d Kenny said he’d drive me.”

  “Alright, I’ll see you up there. What are you looking at? I like horses. I had a grandfather who bred a few winners, so I’m sure we’ll all get along famously.”

  Johnnie definitely has a hidden agenda, but then he’s never been one to avoid a fuss. If there’s drama, he’ll be right in the middle of it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’m telling you, Tommy’s right. That horse was going backwards right from the start, and then he actually tried to lie down.”

  “He could have had colic, or a twisted muscle . . .”

  “No way! This was a doping, and whoever did it gave the poor bloody animal too much.”

  Things at the pub are getting heated. The tables are all full, and there are people leaning against the wall, sitting on the wooden floor, and spilling out into the garden. Donovan is sitting with the Tegdown Stables crowd, and Pearl is on his knee. I recognise Joey, their other stable jockey, downing a pint. On the other side of the pub, a dark-haired boy shouts across the bar to his friends. I don’t hear the reply but there is a rumble of annoyance from the Freers Farm lads, so I guess it was something derogatory about Moses.

  Kenny offers me a cigarette, and yawns as he fumbles for matches. The reporters are working long days at the moment, and at every stage, the police are fighting them for the story. “I don’t know anything about doping, but surely to give a horse enough of anything to slow it down, it would be obvious? I mean, wouldn’t you need a bucket of feed or something?”

  Donovan shakes his head. “No. It would be easy if you’ve got the right stuff. A horse weighs maybe six times a human, but you could flick a match end of something up its nostril, and that would do the trick. Whoever did this wasn’t messing around. He’d know we’ve been on our guard since the fire. That DC Little even gave us a couple of coppers for the week after the fire. They stayed the night, just to make sure nobody sabotaged the new building.” He looks meaningfully around the table, and there are some dipped heads and mutters.

  “Do you mean someone on the inside is responsible?” Johnnie says, leaning back, long legs crossed, head on one side. He looks charming, and very out of place. But, being Johnnie, he doesn’t care. He’s also drawing admiring looks from some of the girls on Moses’s table.

  “Could be. Or someone who knows us well.” Donovan shoots an evil look at the rival table, and gets a few boos and some jeering. “It’s not gone well for Tommy recently, but nobody really suggested it was anything to do with Moses. Now more owners are taking their horses away and we’re getting worried. Roger Harper’s family has some connection with one of our owners, and he took his two colts away yesterday.”

  “You know that Roger Harper, don’t you?” Joey Castle points a shaky finger at Johnnie.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s a poncy bastard, isn’t he?” Joey is clearly drunk, and he waits for a response, safe amongst his cronies. “If he’d kept his nose out, we’d still have South Bridge and Flower of Devon in the yard.”

  He’s picked the wrong person to fight with. Johnnie may look slightly effeminate, with his playboy good looks and expensive clothes, but he’s as tough as old boots when it comes to a fight. “No. He isn’t. A little bit of a dreamer when it comes to the girls, but he’s a genuine chap.”

  “I heard your genuine chap had been arrested!” Someone mimics Johnnie’s upper class accent, and it comes out rather odd with a strong Irish lilt. There are cheers at this, and raised glasses from the Freers Farm lot.

  “He was released without charge earlier today,” Johnnie tells them, meeting the stares with equanimity.

  “I heard that Tommy’s going to be run out of business by the end of the season. This isn’t just ordinary bad luck, this is personal,” says another boy. “Moses has the sense to keep his mind off the girls and on the track, so he’ll get all Tommy’s horses soon.”

  “Bloody won’t.”

  “At least Moses doesn’t rely on his wife for backing.”

  Donovan sighs. “Knock it off, you lot. This isn’t Tommy’s fault.”

  Surprisingly, they do, and the bitchy sparring settles into normal conversation. Until one of the girls’ from Moses’s table approaches Johnnie. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”

  He smiles kindly at her. “No. I fancied a change.”

  “Are you going to buy me a drink?”

  It’s a bold move, and the girl is clearly drunk. She’s very pretty, with long dark hair and delicate features, but her lipstick is smudged, and she staggers slightly and bumps against the table.

  “No, but I think your boyfriend over on the other table is desperate to do just that.” Johnnie beams at Alex Davies, Moses’s stable jockey, who is scowling at him.

  “Ellen, come back here and stop making a show of yourself,” he orders.

  The girl flounces off, winking at Johnnie as she goes. I can hear her rowing with Alex as she sits back down.

  Barney edges up to me as I come back from the toilet, and I smile at him. “Who’s that bloke?” he asks, staring at Johnnie as a rat might eye a snake.

  “A friend of mine. He owns the hairdressing salon where I work.”

  “Oh. Listen, what happened to your lead on Pridey?” His hand is on my arm, the contact seems to be as natural to him as breathing.

  I’d forgotten about my fictional lead on the missing racehorse. “No good. It was a dead end. You got any ideas about this doping?”

  “No. It’s a damn shame that things are still going wrong for Tommy. He’s a good boss.” Barney is still watching Johnnie, but I can’t see why he might think he recognises him.

  Johnnie sees us talking and smiles, raising his bottle in a toast.

  “Barney, did you hear anything else about Simon or the fire?”

  “No. Stop asking all these questions and find Pridey. It’s cutting me up to think of that horse suffering.” He seems edgy tonight, not his usual friendly self, but this is a tough time for everyone involved. I imagine the Tegdown Stables gang are all worried about their jobs if Tommy’s yard does fold. And someone is certainly nudging things in that direction. “Sorry, Ruby, I’m just worried. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but his hand slides gently down my arm to my wrist. “Why don’t you come to the stables tomorrow evening? We could have a drink in my room, and I might be able to help with your investigation.”

  “Thanks, but I’m busy tomorrow night.” I move away, amused at his brazenness.

  “Okay, well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  I head back to our table, and Kenny reaches out to pull me closer. “What was all that about?”

  “I don’t know. He’s really upset that Pridey’s still missing. I suppose they’re all nervy after everything that’s happened.”

  “Perhaps it’s just the shock of meeting Johnnie. He is pretty terrifying,” Ken says, grinning at his friend.

  Johnnie gives him a friendly shove. Before we leave, I go to the toilet and on my way back I bump into Barney again. His face is crumpled with worry, and he steps quickly into a doorway, beckoning me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I heard something last night, and I’m not sure who to tell. No way am I going near the coppers, so it has to be you.” His voice is low and our heads are close together.

  “You can tell me anything you like,” I reassure him.

  “Alright. I was doing a last check after evening stables. The boss makes us do checks up until midnight, and then we have someone get up at four to do an early walk round. Thank God he’s calmed down a bit now. After the fire it was night shifts for everyone. I expect we’ll go back to that after Seaboy . . .”

  “Barney, what did you want to tell me?” I cut impatiently through his chat.

  “I heard voices behind the tack room after I checked the locks. There is a way down the fields and out to the hacking stables behind the building, so I was a bit worried. I wanted to hear wha
t they were saying first though. And . . . I recognised their voices.”

  “Go on.”

  “It was Joey and Alex. They were saying how soon it would be over, and how they’ve both been offered jobs in a yard at Lambourne. They’re planning to leave!” He’s indignant, but I can’t work out if this has any significance on the case.

  “Did they actually say it will be over soon?”

  He screws up his face, thinking. “Yes. Joey was the one who said it first. He said how Tommy wouldn’t mind because they’d have no choice, and Alex laughed and said when it was all over Tommy wouldn’t have a choice either.”

  “Did they say anything else? Barney, did they mention Rita?”

  “No. I carried on doing the checks. I went a bit quicker, so I could walk round the back of the tack room and see if they were still there. But they’d gone by the time I got there.”

  “Are you sure it was Joey and Alex?”

  “Positive.” His green eyes are wide, full lips slightly parted, and he chews his lower lip anxiously.

  Do I trust him? Two rival jockeys. Two rival lovers. Could this be the missing piece of the puzzle?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It’s gorgeous, Mary! You look beautiful,” I say, wiping tears away. I really am a soppy cow sometimes. Despite the revelations of last night, which caused me to lie awake until the first light of dawn, trying to force my brain to finish the puzzle and solve the mystery, I need to focus on what is really important. My best friend is getting married.

  She does a twirl in her pink lace, and stops in front of the mirror. “I think that’s it. Victoria did a great job with the alterations. I’m ready to sign that register now!”

  “Perfect. I’ll do your hair with the flowers in, obviously, although I think I’m still going to have to fight Eve, Catherine and Johnnie for the privilege. Let’s see it with the jewellery again?”

  Summer crows from her position by the window. She’s gone from being a fractious baby to a placid, happy child.