by Joe McNally
But telling Mister Sherrick what Mave had told me meant giving him information someone wanted kept quiet. I needed to know who that someone was, and I needed to know how dangerous he was. Assuming it was a he, as Mave would have reminded me.
I’d assume that. Most murderers were men.
But why had he killed Jimmy?
I found the recorded file and listened again to Jimmy’s voice:
"Every day I hurt from old injuries and from old memories. Something happens to a man when he turns forty. I’ve seen too many sad people. I don’t want to be one of them. I want to make extra sure. That’s why I did it this way. Hanging? It’s no certainty. Goodbye."
Mave was right, there was a slightly different tone to each sentence, a bit like the shading in a pencil drawing; tiny subtle changes. I ran it three times more. Each of those sentences, on their own, could have been taken from any conversation. “It’s no certainty.” That could easily have been a response to a question about the chances of a horse he was riding. “Hanging.” That was a term in common use in racing. Horses would hang during races as their balance was affected by tiredness or attitude.
What if this guy has been bugging Jimmy’s phone and recording the conversations? He’d need to have a few to pick from, so it was reasonable to believe he knew Jimmy, maybe knew him quite well. Well enough to have a set of keys for Jimmy’s house? Or did he have access to Jimmy’s gear to grab the keys and get copies cut? Was it another jockey taking advantage in the changing room when Jimmy was riding in a race? Was it a valet?
Whoever it was, why had he done it? What did Jimmy have on him? What could be serious enough to kill for? I sketched and doodled until daybreak then did what I usually do when I’m trying to figure something out, I got my running gear on and headed into the woods.
I’d gone a hundred yards through the thawing snow when I turned back. Routine can be comforting, but it makes you predictable. It had been a while since I’d had to watch my back. That, and moving in here to this silent hideaway had made me complacent. I went inside, logged off my PC and put Jimmy’s laptop in the floor safe.
I tucked my phone into the small zipper pocket in my jacket and, for the first time since moving in, locked my front door to go out running. A final check before leaving the driveway was to stand and listen for anything in the woods. All I could hear was the irregular plop as the thaw released slabs of snow from branches.
I set out with the feeling I was being watched.
13
In the last two hundred yards of my usual four mile circuit, I could see my house appear and disappear through the dense trees as the path snaked toward its end. I slowed to a walk to cool down. My phone beeped.
It was a text from Bayley Watt: "If Taunton passes inspec, will u ride 1 in the 1st". I knew a couple of racecourses were planning inspections in the afternoon with an optimistic view of staging meetings tomorrow.
I showered, changed and rang Bayley Watt. ‘Thanks for the text. What have you got in the first?’
‘Newcomer called Spiritless Fun. Doesn’t show much at home but he’s a lazy bastard and he’s probably good enough to get placed. ‘
‘Fine, happy to ride him. The ground’ll be a mess if they do race.’
‘That won’t bother him.’
‘Okay. See you there if it’s on.’
‘Eddie, I’ve another runner there. I’ve booked Barry Copland. No offence but you remember what I said to you.’
‘Oh, yes. The Indians.’
‘You taking the piss?’
‘Not at all. That’s what your theory was based on, wasn’t it? Different riders each time. The Comanches did it.’
‘Comanche. Plural.’
‘Bayley, you’re getting touchy, my friend. I like riding for you but I don’t want to be tiptoeing around you every time we talk.’
He paused and I got the impression he was trying to calm himself. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I need to get out more. Should be better when the thaw comes.’
‘No worries. See you tomorrow.’
I sat in what I called the Snug. I like small cozy rooms. The only thing big about the Snug was my picture window showing the garden at the rear of the house, the lawn stretching fenceless into the dark wood. Staring out of the big window at the garden, I saw small maps of green emerging through the snow as the temperature climbed.
I’d almost stopped myself having a go at Bayley Watt but he would have expected me to do it. If I’d kept quiet he would have been uneasy and I didn’t want him thinking I had him under suspicion.
Watt had failed to ask me why I’d gone to the police about Jimmy. He’d been close enough to him these past few months to have access to his house keys. He said he’d sacked Jimmy and maybe he had. Jimmy might have been trying to shore up his pride telling me he was packing the job in. That wouldn’t be unnatural for anyone. But Jimmy might have been telling the truth, which made Bayley Watt a liar. And he’d been very jumpy lately. And patronizing…Comanche. Plural. Cheeky bastard.
I googled "Comanche or Comanches?" An online dictionary told me either was acceptable. So Watt was a patronizing, wrong bastard. Five years ago I’d have been grabbing the phone to correct him, but I told myself I’d mellowed.
Among the search results were links to a few articles on the Comanches. I decided to find out just how effective these rider changes had been for them back in the old cowboy days. Half an hour later I had not come across a single reference to this theory of Watt’s.
Maybe it was another tribe? I spent an hour trawling and querying without finding anything to support Watt’s claim.
Either Bayley Watt had found some great secret document that had never been catalogued online or he’d been lying. If he’d lied about it, what was the real reason behind him wanting different jockeys for each horse? What had Jimmy Sherrick found out from riding Watt’s horses? Something that cost him his job? Something that had made him decide he wanted out? Something that had got him killed?
But if the trainer was running a scam, why ask me to ride for him again?
It made no sense. If Bayley was crooked, he knew I was not only straight but that I was also suspicious enough about Jimmy’s death to go to the cops about it. Logically, he should have wanted to keep me as far away from his yard as possible. Unless he thought he’d be better having me inside the tent pissing out than outside pissing in.
My mobile rang, startling me. Jimmy’s dad. I answered, ‘How are you Jim?’
‘I’m all right, Eddie, thanks. You?’
‘Fine, thanks. Racing should be back tomorrow.’
‘So I hear. Listen, Sergeant Middleton has just come back from Jimmy’s place. He called by for the keys earlier. He wanted to check that what he’d said about the chain having been taken by police at the time was right and it wasn’t still there.’
That seemed odd. Why couldn’t he check at the station? Someone must have signed it in. Unless … ‘Was it still there?’
‘No, they’d picked it up as he thought.’
‘Listen, do you mind if I drop by?’
‘You’re welcome. You’re always welcome. When suits?’
‘Now?’
14
Mister Sherrick’s old kettle was whistling over the gas flame. He made tea and brought it to the fireside. He said, ‘I’m going to push the boat out and turn this fire on for a bit. Rarely light it through the day but I was thinking I could pay the bill when I sell the house.’ He bent and clicked it on.
‘You’re a wizard with that ignition button.’ I said.
He smiled and settled in the easy chair, reaching for the yellow mug from the small table between us.
I drank some tea and we watched the reddening racks of elements in the fire. ‘Jim, I’ve been wondering whether to tell you some things. I don’t want you put in any kind of danger. But I don’t want to treat you like a fool either.’
‘Well if it’s about Jimmy, I’ve got a responsibility to know, haven’t I? Don’t worry about
what might happen.’
‘I will worry. And I’ve got a responsibility too, to do the right thing. Well, I should say, the safest thing.’
‘Ahh, your responsibility is to your conscience then?’
I sighed. ‘I suppose it is.’
‘I absolve thee.’
We smiled at each other. ‘In advance,’ he added.
I told him what Mave had found out. ‘So I was right about the screen being broken?’
‘Looks that way.’ I said.
‘At least that makes me feel a bit better.’
‘But it also means that Jimmy might not have committed suicide.’
He nodded, staring at the fire in silence for what seemed a long time, before he looked up at me. ‘Eddie, will you read the letter Jimmy left for me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Jimmy asked me in it not to tell anyone about it, but I think you’re getting yourself deep into this. If you know what happened with Jimmy, it gives you a chance to walk away. You’ve no commitment to me or anyone else.’
I nodded. Mister Sherrick went to another room and came back with the letter.
I opened it.
Dear Dad,
Where do I start? You’re reading this because things didn’t work out for me. I was hoping they would, and I’ve done some stupid things to try and make everything better. Last month the doctor told me I had pancreatic cancer and that it was too far gone. I didn’t want to tell you at the time because all it would do was cause you worry. Worry about something you couldn’t do anything about. You had enough trying to cope with Mum’s illness.
Anyway, I tried a new treatment that I was told had a good chance of working. That was another reason I never told you. If it had worked, you’d never have needed to know because I’d have got better. Well, it didn’t work, but at least I didn’t give up without a fight.
I don’t know what else will have come out by the time you’re reading this, and I’m not all that bothered about what others think. But I wanted to tell you that whatever I did, it was for Amanda and me. It was to try and give us a real chance of making everything work. You’ll be in no doubt how I felt about her, God knows, I was like a kid blabbing it all out to you. But she came into my life at a time when everything was going downhill. I realize now that a lot of the way I was feeling was to do with the cancer, and I wish I’d gone for a check up sooner. But I was too scared of being stood down. Anyway, Amanda gave me something to live for again. Except I didn’t. That’s how the cookie crumbles as Ma used to say.
The one good thing is that by the time you’re reading this, I’ll be with Ma again. If she’s forgiven me. I’ll give her your love.
Please don’t tell anybody about this letter or what I’ve said in it. Those who judge me won’t be changed by any of it. They don’t matter anyway, and I’ll soon be forgotten by the outside world.
There was never anything you did that made me unhappy, Dad. The older I got and the more people I met, the more I realized how rare men like you are. Decent, good, honest, no sides or angles to you - a fine man and a fine father and I loved you always and I know you loved me. I wish I could say I was like you and that nothing I did was for myself. But in the past couple of years, everything I did was for myself. Everything. But the more you want something, the further away it seems to move. I tried to reach it and pull it back. It just didn’t work. Forgive me.
Love, Jimmy.
I folded the letter and looked across at Mister Sherrick. ‘Jim, I don’t know what to say to you. You didn’t fail Jimmy in any way. He doesn’t mention suicide. He could have expected to die from the cancer. That’s the impression I get.’
He reached for the letter. ‘That’s what I thought. That’s why I asked you if he mentioned suicide in his letter to you.’
‘He didn’t. Only hints of what he seemed to be trying to get across there. That he was doing something others wouldn’t approve of, but that could have been anything. Complementary medicine, hypnotists, some kind of off the wall treatment. Have you spoken to his doctor?’
‘I didn’t see much use in it.’
‘Maybe you should. Maybe he’ll have some idea what it was Jimmy was trying.’
‘The main thing for you, Eddie, is that it looks like it might not all have been above board. It could have been costing a lot and he was having to…to duck and dive a bit to get the money.’
‘Even if he was, there’s somebody else involved in his death, isn’t there? There has to be.’
He looked at me. ‘At least it wasn’t me. I didn’t fail him. It must sound awful to you to hear a father saying he’d rather his son was murdered than he committed suicide.’
I reached to clasp his arm. ‘I know what you mean. I’d feel exactly the same in your position.’ He put his hand on mine and held it, staring once more into the fire.
‘Did Jimmy ever talk to you about Bayley Watt?’ I asked.
‘Not in any detail. Nothing outside of the fact he was riding regularly for him.’
‘What do you think of him?’
‘Watt? I only met him at the funeral, then again when I dropped Jimmy’s letter off.’
‘Any idea if he might have had access to Jimmy’s house?’
‘Keys, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘I haven’t a clue. Do you think Watt’s been in the house?’
‘Somebody has. No forced entry, so whoever it was had a key. Watt probably saw Jimmy more often than anyone else so I’m just putting two and two together and probably getting five. I need to do some more digging.’
‘Watt had some stuff of Jimmy’s. He gave it to me at the funeral.’
‘Stuff from Jimmy’s house?’
‘Well…I’m not sure. He had a coat Jimmy had left at his place, so he said, and a pair of riding gloves. And this.’ He held his left arm up and pushed his shirt cuff down to reveal a stainless steel watch. ‘It was in a gift box. Jimmy had bought it for me as a Christmas present from one of the market stalls at Cheltenham, and left it in Watt’s car … A Christmas present.’
His voice went shaky and I looked at him. But he was smiling. He said. ‘Watt was actually quite apologetic that Jimmy hadn’t had a chance to wrap it and write a card. He said he’d been tempted to do it after … afterward, but he didn’t think it was right. ‘
‘At least you got it.’
‘Better late than never, and all that.’ He pushed the bracelet round. It looked too big for him.
He sipped tea and watched me over the rim of the mug. ‘Eddie, listen, you owe me nothing. However Jimmy died, he’s gone and I can’t get him back. Leave it to the sergeant now. I don’t expect you to be investigating what happened. It’s important to me that you’re clear about that. I don’t want you to feel even the smallest obligation to me. You have none.’
‘I know. I’m just a pig-headed bastard. Jimmy was going to tell me something that night and I’d like to find out what it was. He might have been trying to help me and if that’s what got him killed then I owe him. I owe Jimmy. It sounds a bit like a sentimental old movie script but he saved my life too when he barely knew me, when it was hardly worth saving, I was so much of a dick at the time.’
He smiled. ‘An honest dick, though.’
I laughed, ‘You’re supposed to say, "Oh don’t be so hard on yourself, you were a fine young man"‘.
‘I’ve been around a fair few years and I’ve yet to meet a mature nineteen-year-old. Listen, Jimmy would have done that for anybody. He wouldn’t have held you to anything or expected a favour.’
‘I know he wouldn’t. Maybe, if I can’t come up with a concrete reason to carry on, I’ll let it go.’
He nodded slowly, looking at me. ‘Maybe pigs’ll fly.’
15
I followed Sergeant Middleton upstairs to his office. Bright lights overhead and the deepening dusk made mirrors of the windows and I watched our climbing reflections, the sergeant looking weary. He’d been very patient with me and it made u
p for some of the arrogant, stupid cops I’d come across in the past.
We settled at his desk and he leant back and ran his fingers through his grey hair.
‘Another long day?’ I said.
‘They’re supposed to be short, aren’t they? January. Anyway, what can I do for you?’
‘This time.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You forgot to add "this time" through gritted teeth.’
He chuckled and seemed to relax a bit. ‘When does your shift finish?’ I asked.
‘Eight.’
‘I’ll buy you a drink if you fancy?’
‘That’s kind of you but I’ve got to get home.’
‘Maybe some other time? You’ve been very patient with me.’
‘That’s my job.’
‘Patience?’
‘Partly. Mister Sherrick told you I’d visited?’
‘He did.’
‘Standard procedure.’
I looked at him. His cap was on the table, He reached for it, fiddling with the rim. ‘Checking for something that should have been here in the station?’ I asked.
He pushed the cap to the side and looked at me. ‘Listen, we ballsed it up. A Detective Sergeant should have visited within twenty four hours, ideally. Any suicide, even one that looked as obvious as that, is treated as a suspicious death, which means a detective should attend. Also, I passed on the information you gave me when you were last here about Mister Sherrick being a technophobe. I thought everything was in hand, and when I left you last night, I checked, just in case, and found that no detective had attended. My report had slipped through the net and nobody could find the chain. There’ll be a Soco team out there within the next day or two and we’ll get things back on track. Apologies. And the chain and my report have now been found.’
I nodded. ‘Are you planning to tell Jimmy’s dad about this?’