by Joe McNally
‘You want to be my agent?’
‘Gladly. You could get a job as an Indian tracker, you old fox. I’d take my fifteen percent.’
‘You would, too, wouldn’t you?’ Eddie could hear the smile back in Mac’s voice.
‘I would, Mac. I’d nail Lisle and Buley so high on the wall they’d have nosebleeds. Can I drop by tonight on the way home?’
‘If you promise not to harangue me like a harpy.’
‘I’ll be logical and analytical.’
‘That’ll be a first.’
Eddie cut the Bluetooth connection and smiled. Action, at last. How desperate must Lisle be? They had all the files for the case in the BHA’s office. He’d want Mac’s personal insights, maybe more. And what about Mac and that tyre track? That was something else…something else.
21
Eddie reached Worcester well before the first race, dumped his kitbag in the changing room and walked behind the main stands, where he sat on the concrete steps on the south bank of the River Severn and called Scolder again. Jockeys in the UK are not allowed to use mobile phones on the racecourse within a ‘restricted period’. Eddie had an hour before the restricted period began. He redialled Scolder’s number. It rang this time. Eddie watched the sun glint on the Severn. ‘Barney,’ he answered, all busyness and authority.
‘It’s Eddie Malloy.’
‘Who?’
‘Eddie Malloy. The guy who left you a message this morning. The guy you’ve got a hundred pictures of. The guy you’re planning to defame at the cost of a big lawsuit for your paper.’
‘And I’m the guy who has a shitload of work to do today without taking calls from cranks. Where’d you get my number?’
‘From Jonty Saroyan. Jonty who sold you the ten grand pup, remember?’
‘It barks awful loud for a pup, Eddie.’
‘And white elephants are the same size as grey ones.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want to save us both a lot of hassle.’
‘I like hassle.’
‘Not this kind, you won’t.’
‘No, no, no! I’ve never run into a breed of hassle I don’t like. I thrive on it. Thrive.’
‘That’s a relief. I won’t feel so guilty when you find yourself unemployable.’
‘Then we’re both happy, Mister Malloy. I’ll go now, if you don’t mind. Unless, that is, you want to do a full page confession?’
‘Goodbye, Barney. At least I tried.’ Eddie hung up and switched off the phone.
A man in a Canadian canoe came under the bridge away to Eddie’s left, his Panama hat bright in the sun. Eddie watched him stroke steadily up the middle of the river, through the morning peace. Come the rains, the Severn would rise here, as it always did, and spill across concrete onto the racecourse, a perfect flood plain. The water level would rise to cover the white rails and leave the top half of the winning post standing like some kind of dull red-bulbed lighthouse.
But now, toward the end of summer, the Severn was low and still, and the man in the Panama hat cleaved steadily through the water as though he’d been doing it for a thousand years. He looked up at Eddie and smiled and cried out ‘Good morning!’ with the delight of an aged Tom Sawyer. The man’s beard was long and white, his face wrinkled and tanned. Eddie waved. ‘Good morning to you. Where are you headed?’
‘Who knows?’ It echoed back at him from the high walls of the grandstand. Eddie nodded and smiled. The long canoe held several well-worn packs. Maybe he lived on the river. Eddie envied him his solitude, his simplicity and his appetite for adventure…he watched the boat’s slow wash settle and fade until no sign of its passing remained.
Eddie rose and walked slowly to the car to lock up his phone. Barney Scolder was a fine bluffer or a confident man. Strangely, Eddie felt better for confronting him, even though it had come to nothing. The battle was on.
Eddie finished second in the handicap hurdle. His other two mounts were well beaten. Though sweaty and grimy, Eddie decided to skip the clean-up. He could shower when he got home. His sole aim was to be off the racetrack when Sonny was moving among the rows of bookies, betting on Mave’s selection in the last. Eddie didn’t know the horse’s name, and didn’t want to know.
As those riding in the final race were getting ready, Eddie was stuffing gear in his kitbag. He opened the side zipper to get his car keys and realized he was going nowhere.
The main car park at Worcester is encircled by the track, and the crossing would already be closed for safety. Eddie went into rewind and pulled his towel and toilet bag out, then headed for the showers. He made a point of talking too much to the valets and the handful of jocks as he got dressed. On the TV, the last race was being shown. Eddie might just need someone to recall that he was safely inside the changing room as the race played out, with no opportunity to affect the result.
As the guys weighed in after the race, Eddie took his leave, congratulating Andrew Bellis, who’d ridden the winner, the five-to-two second favourite. There was every chance that had been Mave’s selection.
On the way out, Eddie had to pass the rows of bookmakers. Most were paying their customers while their clerks dismantled the ‘joints’ to pack them away.
Eddie saw Sonny Beltrami, looking stooped and aged beyond his sixty years. He moved slowly from bookie to bookie, collecting what Eddie knew would be bundles of cash. Sonny, head down, hadn’t seen Eddie. He wandered slowly away from the line of bookies toward the car park, pulling his deerskin bag from inside his jacket and working the notes into it as he walked.
Eddie knew Sonny was too smart to speak to him, but he stayed two hundred yards back just in case. As Sonny followed the stragglers toward the car park, he seemed steadily to straighten, to unstoop, to grow. His faltering gait eased and as he crossed the inside track toward the car park, he strode out, white-haired head high, straight-backed and confident.
Odd behaviour. When Eddie had been collecting cash from him, Sonny had been warned to play the old man at all times; unthreatening, quiet, anonymous. Now here he was, walking tall, and confident like a general about to accept surrender.
Then Eddie saw why, and he ducked in behind a white van to avoid being seen by Nina Raine, her red hair glinting as she raised her face to Sonny’s kiss.
22
Heading south on the M5 in the late afternoon sunshine, Eddie smiled and shook his head and said a silent well, well, well. Stockholm syndrome Plus. She was half his age and had seemed to Eddie manipulative from the start. Eddie thought her good looking in that chiselled, fine-boned way, but it was a professional prettiness, as though she’d worked on herself in the way a trainer would prepare a horse. There was no warmth in her. Mave came to his mind. Mave was real. Nina Raine was a robot in comparison.
But the choice was Sonny’s. So long as the relationship didn’t threaten Eddie’s future, or deceive Mave, then Eddie would leave him to it. He would keep it from Mave, for now. Eddie was glad in a way; Melancholy Baby would be deleted from Sonny’s repertoire for a while.
When Eddie got to Mac’s place, the big man looked sharp, clean and eager. They shook hands, and Mac returned to his laptop which lay open on a table in the corner. ‘Give me two minutes, Eddie, and I’ll make coffee.’
‘No hurry. You look like you’re on a mission.’
‘Just reminding myself of a few things before I see Lisle.’
‘Where are you meeting him?’
‘He’s coming here.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow. Noon. On his own. You want a coffee?’
‘Water would be fine.’
They went into the garden, to sit at the cast iron table, below darkening clouds. Mac moved with purpose. He’d been adrift since losing his job and now Lisle had thrown him a lifeline.
‘Mac, you’re getting back into the zone with this.’
He crossed his legs and looked at Eddie. ‘Is that good or bad?’
‘It depends on what you agree with Lisle.
Has he said what he wants?’
‘Just to talk.’
‘How well do you know him?’
‘I don’t.’
‘So how are you going to play it?’
‘I’ll wait and see what he has to say.’
Eddie pushed his water glass aside and leaned across the table. ‘Mac, I promised not to give you a hard time. It’s your choice if you want to work for free. But for all you know, Lisle might already be looking for a scapegoat.’
‘As in?’
‘As in you.’
‘I was the one who didn’t want the case brought to court this year, remember?’
‘And don’t you think Lisle and Buley will find a way of spinning that? Who else knows you opposed the prosecution?’
‘Nobody else. It was between me and Buley.’
‘Exactly.’
Mac crossed his arms, and his head went down.
‘Mac, look, I might be wrong. Maybe he’ll be begging for your help. Just be careful, that’s all. Things are bad enough for you just now and when your luck is out, it tends to stay that way for a long time.’
Back at home, Eddie pinged Mave and told her about his conversation with Barney Scolder.
‘Was he bluffing?’
‘If he was, he’s good at it.’
‘Well, everything’s building up nicely here, evidence-wise. With Nina and Jonty to speak for you, I think you can relax. What’s the chat on the Old Bailey case?’
‘BHA are struggling big time. They need to prove this guy Ivory was masterminding it, and nobody’s talking.’
‘Ivory? That his real name?’
‘Jordan Ivory. Precious, eh?’
‘Very funny. A mastermindish name though.’
‘Maybe, but a scary man by all accounts. Witnesses are hard to come by, and if they find any, they will not be the talkative type.’
‘Do you think those three were involved with him?’
‘If they were, that’s their business.’
Mave looked at her webcam. ‘I’m not trying to catch you out. I’m your friend, remember?’
‘Sorry, Mave. I just spent some time with Mac. Made me edgy.’
‘I thought he’d retired.’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Is he helping you out?’
‘I’m trying to help him out.’ Eddie told Mave about the Lisle meeting.
‘Mac would speak for you, though, wouldn’t he, if it comes down to it?’
‘Sure. But I doubt anyone would listen.’
‘Well, the way things are going, we’ll have enough ammunition anyway to blow Scolder away.’
‘Good. What about you? You going to stick with this now, once everything’s cleared up?’
‘With the betting programme?’
‘Yep.’
‘I don’t know yet. Sonny’s coming up tomorrow. I might talk to him about it.’
‘Social visit?’
‘I don’t know. He called earlier saying he needed to see me about something. Could be anything, knowing Sonny.’
‘Could be.’
‘What about you? You still planning to stay over Friday night?’
‘Unless the shit hits the fan before then.’
‘You expecting it to?’
‘I’m always expecting it to.’
‘I think things are going to get easier from now, you know.’
‘Don’t tempt fate, Mave.’
23
Broc Lisle got out of his car in Mac’s driveway and watched the big man walk toward him. Lisle saw that spark of recognition he was so used to, but he could not count it as Mister McCarthy knew who he was. They shook hands. ‘Welcome,’ Mac said, ‘How do you do?’
‘How do you do?’ Lisle shook his hand warmly then looked around. ‘Visibility is superb for September, eh? Most unusual.’
‘Last night’s rains cleared the haze,’ Mac said.
Lisle turned on one heel, a neat full circle, smiling and looking up. ‘A big sky. You have the precious privilege of a big sky, Mister McCarthy. Was that in your mind when you moved here?’
‘Well, not directly. We wanted privacy and a nice view down the valley. A large garden.’
‘Look up, is my advice to you, if you don’t mind me offering it. With such a big sky, complacency can creep in. Remember your London days. Remember them each time you walk out that door. How much of the sky did you see in London?’
‘Very little.’
‘Treasure this.’
Mac looked up. ‘I hadn’t thought of it that way.’ He watched Lisle spin again, smiling. Mac said, ‘You won’t mind if we hold our meeting in the garden, then, Mister Lisle?’
‘It will be a rare pleasure. I don’t care for offices. Do you?’
They walked. ‘Well, again, I never really thought about that. I’ve spent most of my years in an office job.’
‘May I congratulate you on the fact that it did not damage your judgement? It seems you left your job at the right time and for the right reasons. And I’m grateful you’ve agreed to see me, given the circumstances.’
‘I had a lot of time invested in the case. I’m curious, too.’
‘I’ll enlighten you as best I can, beneath the light of the sun.’
At Mave’s, on Friday evening, the log fire cast the only light as they ate supper and drank whiskey, Mave spearing black olives with a toothpick, said, ‘Sonny’s looking for a big favour.’
Eddie watched and waited.
‘He’s going to Turkey with Nina Raine to help look for her son. He wants to know if it’s okay to fly back whenever there’s a job on, bet the horse for Nina, and head back with the cash.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
She shrugged and made a face.
‘You agreed?’
‘I’d never deny him anything. I’m sad I won’t see him so often, and happy that he’s in love.’
‘He said that?’
‘He didn’t have to.’
‘What about Jonty Saroyan?’
‘Did a runner. He was betting the horses I was giving Nina, without her knowledge. Filled his boots then strapped them up and strode out.’
‘A most reliable witness then, if I ever need him.’
‘I doubt you’d find him anyway, and the judge would soon suss him. Better if he stays away.’
‘And when will Sonny suss Nina?’
She shrugged, ‘Who knows? But he’s bewitched, though not bothered or bewildered. Long may he enjoy it.’
‘She’s using him.’
‘Sonny will be sixty-one in a month. He’s thirty-one in his head, a head that holds a brain now fizzing with chemicals, making him certain of everything in the way that only the deluded can be. That’s love.’
‘Speaking from fond memory?’
‘Deep study.’
‘Deep longing?’
She hesitated, ‘Sometimes.’
‘Platonic’s underrated, you know.’
She looked at him over the rim of her glass, ‘It’s boring too.’
Eddie smiled. ‘So going back to the Sonny side, when’s the Turkey trip?’
‘They fly out tomorrow. He’s packing as we speak.’
‘Will Nina Raine come home and testify if I need her to?’
‘Sonny says they both will.’
‘Do you think you’ll have enough bets placed online to shore up that side of the evidence?’
‘Plenty. And I’ll carry on recording all the screen sessions with Nina, showing the system working.’
‘So how long will you keep it going?
‘Until Sonny and Nina have enough to find her son and pay whatever legal bills they’ll have to get him back home.’
Eddie nodded slowly. ‘Then you’ll quit?’
‘Then I’ll quit.’
‘Forever?’
‘Never say never, I suppose, but that’s the plan.’
‘And you’ll set off to see the world?’
She nodded slowly and sipped
whiskey, then said, ‘Well, I’ll start with Wales.’
‘Scaredy cat.’
She shrugged. ‘What’s that saying…a journey of ten thousand miles starts with a single step?’
‘Or in your case, a single car crash into the side of this house as you reverse.’
She smiled. ‘I’ve already booked a refresher course in driving.’
‘God help your instructor.’
Mave made a funny face. Eddie shuffled forward, the half inch of whiskey swilling in his glass, and he raised it in a toast: ‘May he, or she, rest in peace.’
Mave poured what was left in her glass over Eddie’s head.
24
On September 8th, Eddie had the choice of travelling north to Sedgefield for three rides, or east to Fakenham for two. Fakenham wasn’t that far from Newmarket and Kim had three days remaining of his summer holiday. Eddie decided to head east, ride at Fakenham, then spend the evening with Kim and Marie. He rang Marie to tell her he was planning to surprise Kim.
‘It must be something in our genes,’ Marie said, ‘thinking up surprises. I was planning to take him to Cumbria tomorrow for a couple of days.’
Kim had been raised on a farm in Cumbria by his adoptive parents. ‘Has he asked to go back to the farm?’ Eddie said.
‘No. He hasn’t asked specifically. But you can hear the longing in his voice the odd time he talks about it.’
‘I’ve offered, more than once. I got the impression he doesn’t want to go back in case he can’t drag himself away again. He told me that after his dad died, he’d planned to hide out at the farm until the authorities lost interest. Then he believed he could just run it as his dad had done. I know he loved the place.’
‘I think he still does. You’re making me wonder now whether it would be a bad idea to surprise him.’
‘It might be better asking him in advance, Marie. It’s your call, in the end. But, well, I don’t know…I’ll leave it to you.’
‘I was thinking of taking him to Greystoke.’ Marie had to stop herself from holding her breath.
‘To Kyrtlebank?’ Kyrtlebank had been the leasehold farm where Eddie and Marie had been raised. Eddie would never have referred to it as home. The nearest village was Greystoke.