by Joe McNally
I opened the door. Dil stood up, ‘Eddie!’
I went out. Dil followed me into the thickly-carpeted corridor, ‘Eddie!’
I went through the double doors and skipped downstairs, my reflection in the huge windows reminding me of old black and white movies where the leading man danced down the central staircase. I was as light of heart as he’d have been, even if the footwork didn’t match.
Unburdened.
Unemployed too, perhaps, but it didn’t matter. It would free me from crazy horses and crazier people.
As I got in the car, Dil rang me. I didn’t answer.
Driving the last mile up to the farm from the floor of the valley, the sky got steadily bigger. The clouds had gone, letting all the heat out of the earth and exposing the starry blackness. I parked by the farmhouse so I could walk toward the light burning in the window.
Mave was at her dark alcove desk and she called as I closed the door. ‘You survived another day, then?’
I dropped my bag in the hall and answered, ’Survived the riding, not so sure I survived my meeting with Bonnie and Clyde.’ I told her what had happened. She came and sat with me in The Snug and we stayed silent by the stove until the ice in my whiskey cracked. Mave said, ‘You’re getting grumpy.’
‘Life’s too short.’
‘Think she’ll sack you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And you don’t care.’
I shrugged, ‘Not much. Up until now I could handle Dil and I could handle Vita, but not both at the same time.’
‘Last night you seemed quite amused at her playing detective.’
‘I don’t mind when it’s the pie in the sky stuff, but she’s coming over all officious now, like she was the sheriff of sin city. She made a clumsy attempt at prodding me into at least saving my own skin by helping find these people. That annoyed me. As if I don’t care about anyone else.’
’Sounds like she wants you to eschew those ornery old brown horses and mount your white charger.’
I smiled and sipped whiskey and turned to her, ‘Eschew. I like that. You and Mac are the only ones I know who use it. Mac told me once he was eschewing lunch, which tickled me.’
She drew her right leg up and tucked her foot under her left thigh. I said, ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘If you walk away, you’re out of danger, assuming it is Dil’s horses they’re targeting. But then you’re back freelancing and hoping to get lucky. You said Vita’s looking to buy some more good horses.’
‘You want me to prostitute myself for the sake of winning a couple of grade ones?’
‘Yep.’
I laughed. Mave got up and stood with her back to the stove, feet apart, her legs forming a spindly arch. She watched me, ‘You know you’re free to do whatever you want? You needn’t worry about money.’
I nodded. Mave had won millions from betting, using software she’d spent years developing. ‘I know,’ I said.
‘Sounds to me like Vita’s already trying to shuffle this problem off onto either the BHA or you. Why don’t you go back to your earlier idea and see if she’ll pay Ben to do his investigative journalist stuff?’
I sighed and laid my head back. Mave’s long thin shadow loomed over me, ‘Look how tall you are in your shadow life,’ I said.
She glanced up, ‘First eschew, now shadows. You keep trying to change the subject Mister Malloy.’
‘I know.’
‘You already said Ben would be up for it.’
‘I’m not ringing Vita or Dil to beg for favours.’
She opened her arms, casting shadows like rails either side of me. She said, ‘Who’s asking you to beg? You said Dil’s called you three times since you left. He’ll be on the phone first thing in the morning. If Ben wants the job, tell Dil you’re making it a condition of coming back.’
I pulled out my phone and found Ben’s number, and just before I pressed dial, I had an odd sense of resistance. Foreboding would be too strong a word, it was a sort of sniff of suspicion rather than a lungful. I hesitated then put my reaction down to tiredness and frustration, and whiskey, so I made the call.
22
At six-thirty next morning I phoned Dil Grant.
‘You’re sharp,’ he said.
‘Thought I’d best find out early if I’m in for a good day or a bad one.’
‘Well, you still have a job if you want it. I told Vita she just has to accept your quirks. Nobody’s perfect.’
‘Ain’t that the truth. And what did Vita say?’
‘She’s happy to go with my judgement’
I smiled. Dil seemed to believe I hadn’t noticed how cowed he was around her. ‘And what about this investigation she’s so hot on?’
‘Well, she’s not lying down on that, and I don’t think you’d want her to.’
‘I never said I wanted her to. She just needs to decide who’s doing what because it’s not a show she’s capable of running. And the BHA aren’t up to it. I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking no orders from her or anyone else. If she wants to play a part she can put the money up for Ben Searcey to do some legwork.’
‘Who’s Ben Searcey?’
‘An old friend. Investigative journalist. Before your time. He’s good.’
’She’d want to meet him.’
‘That’s fine, so long as she realizes it’s not some cattle call. She won’t be giving Ben any orders.’
‘What about the old “he who pays the piper” you used to quote at me, Eddie?’
‘Dil, I’m not debating this with you, or with Vita. I’m seeing Ben tomorrow, and I think he will be interested in doing this. Best I can do is bring him to your place on Sunday if Vita will be there.’
‘I’ll speak to her and we can talk at Carlisle this afternoon.’
We left it at that, and I called Ben.
’Sunday would be fine for me, Eddie, but I don’t want to leave Alice behind.’
‘Of course, I hadn’t meant for you to leave her. I should have made that clearer. Everyone at Dil’s place will be happy to see her.’
When I hung up, I cursed myself for forgetting about Alice. I’d need to make sure she got a warm welcome at Dil’s place.
On Sunday morning I picked Ben and Alice up outside ‘our’ pub. They were in the doorway, sheltering from cold rain. Ben got in the front. I turned to greet Alice as she slid into the back seat, ‘Blame your dad for you getting wet. I offered to come to your house, but he won’t let me over the borders of Deadwood.’
She smiled, ‘You’re not missing anything.’
Ben said, ‘It’s for our good as well as yours, Eddie. The curtain twitchers are on twenty-four-seven duty. The less they have to talk about, the better it suits us,’ he glanced over his shoulder, ‘Doesn’t it, Alice?’
‘I don’t care what they say about me.’
Ben smiled and raised his eyes, and shrugged, ‘Well, we’ll be looking for somewhere else soon, now that DJ’s gone.’
Alice said, ‘As soon as we leave, he’ll show up again.’
‘Then I’ll have another quiet word with Bruno,’ Ben said.
Alice shifted forward quickly in her seat, just as I drove off, toppling her back, ‘Oops,’ I said, ‘sorry.’
She leaned forward once more to speak to her father, ‘Who is this Bruno fella anyway?’
‘One of the good guys,’ Ben said, ‘I’ll introduce you to him next weekend at the National.’
‘Do you think he’d answer my questions?’
‘Depends what they are.’
‘Like, what did you do with DJ?’
‘I think he’ll blank you on that one,’ Ben said, ‘ask him if he can make sure DJ stays away once we leave.’
We drove past Aintree racecourse, and I was getting more of a sense of what Ben had been facing in letting Alice have her head while trying to protect her. I butted in, hoping to take some of the heat out of things, ‘You got your eye on some place else, Ben?’
‘
Not yet, but we don’t want to stay there forever.’
Alice said, ‘Wherever DJ is, Dad, he’ll likely be doing what he was doing in Deadwood.’
‘And that’s why I keep telling you that you can’t solve the world’s problems. You can’t follow even one bad guy, never mind all of them. You do what you can, and beyond that, you’ve just got to leave it to the next person.’
‘What if there is no next person?’
He turned and spoke softly, reaching for her with his right hand, ‘I’m the last one that needs to tell you that shit happens…you’ve probably seen more of it than I have.’
‘And I’ve seen more people explain it all away by saying shit happens’
Ben said nothing, just turned and settled into the seat, put his head back and folded his arms. I heard Alice slide slowly backwards, too and recognized the family ritual of a silent truce, one without rancour, where a social conscience had grown used to subduing a guilty conscience.
We left the northern suburbs of Liverpool behind as I steered onto the M58 motorway into a heavier swathe of rain, and that seemed to kind of close the curtain on the debate.
Alice said, ‘Is it okay if I listen to music on my headphones?’
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘feel free.’
Ben turned, ‘Not too loud, eh?’
I glanced at him and saw from his smile that she had made a face.
When the tinny sound of pop reached a negotiated level between Ben and his daughter, he said to me, ‘If I get this gig, do you think your pal, McCarthy will help?’
‘Yes. Definitely. It’ll suit him.’
‘Could he get all the data on those four betting accounts?’
’Such as it is, I’m sure he could. But they were bogus. Whoever opened them closed them again the same day they collected on Spalpeen.’
‘What do you know about Vince McCrory?’
‘Very little, other than he’s better at staying on a crazy runaway than I am.’
‘What about Spalpeen’s trainer?’
‘Sean Quinlynn. Champion Irish trainer…after your time. He has no need to be pulling stunts for money.’
‘He won’t be enemy-free if he’s that successful, Eddie. Who knows what about him, and how quiet might he want something kept?’
’Sounds like you’ve started this job already. Save it until Vita starts paying.’
‘What’s she like?’
’Smart. And cruel.’ I told him about Prim and her relationship with Dil and about what she’d done to embarrass Vita at Uttoxeter.
‘Prim by name. but not by nature,’ he said.
‘Primarolo Romanic. Hell of a name, isn’t it?’
‘Certainly rolls off the tongue, though it takes a fair time to reach the tip of it. Where does she hail from?’
‘Born in Spain. Says her mother was a gypsy queen, and her father was a bullfighter. Prim ends up with Dil. A bullfighter at one end of her life and a bullshitter at the other.’
Ben laughed, ‘What about Dil? Who’d be his enemy number one?’
‘Easy. The bookies.’
‘They’re hardly going to be spiking his horses, though. He sounds like somebody you’d love or hate.’
I went through Dil’s long history.
Ben said, ’From would-be James Dean to widow-hunting on cruise liners. Sounds like old Dil could write a book.’
‘No doubt.’
‘You sure he restricted himself to widows on the ships?’
‘I wouldn’t be sure about anything with Dil Grant.’
‘Could he have pissed off some poor husband enough to end up a target?’
‘Every chance. But if his horses are being got at, why wouldn’t this husband make some money from it?’
‘It would be a purer form of revenge, don’t you think? He crocks Dil’s horses just for the satisfaction of screwing him. Maybe he’s sold the recipe to the people who pulled the Spalpeen coup.’
‘Maybe. Aintree starts on Thursday. Spalpeen’s due to run again there.’
‘Dil got anything between now and then that you’d expect to win? Or anything at Aintree?’
‘He’s got the Supreme winner, Stevedore turning out against Spalpeen.’
‘The one Vita Brodie owns?’
‘Well, she owns a few, but Stevedore is her best horse.’
‘That could be interesting. Spalpeen would be favourite again, eh?’
‘He will be.’
‘I’ll do some digging between now and then.’
I put a hand on his shoulder, ‘Best wait and hear your terms of employment.’
‘I’d do it for expenses, Eddie. Better than writing about tractors.’
‘Don’t tell Vita. She can afford to pay you,’ I smiled across at him, ‘she might even run to the price of some high class dental work.’
He smiled extra wide, showing the battlefield ridges in his mouth, ‘Nah. The price I paid for these was close to the highest you can get. It’s good that I only need to look in a mirror to be reminded of that.’
I reached to put a hand on his shoulder, ‘Ben, I’m sorry, that was in poor taste, my comment.’
The music grew louder as Alice leaned forward, ‘You’re getting implants when we get the money, Dad. You’ve got enough old memories to hang your guilt on.’
He turned, smiling, ‘I thought you were lost in music?’
‘The bad news for you is my ears can multi-task. The worse news is I’ve got two of them.’
Ben laughed, ‘You’ll be keen to meet this fella, Dil Grant, then?’
‘I’m keen to meet the vamp with the long name.’
‘Primarolo Romanic,’ I said, ‘you’ll get on well together.’
Alice said, ‘I bet she gets a big kick out of being called Prim.’
I said, ‘Your Dad said Dil Grant could write a book. The one I’d really want to read is Prim’s. And you’re in luck, because Dil told me he’s arranged for Prim to show you around.’
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Alice’s grey eyes had that faraway look you see only in the young, when life is still long and most of the questions are yet to be answered.
23
On the approach to Dil’s, Alice leaned forward from her seat in the back and pointed to the wooden building dominating the skyline, ‘What’s that, a church?’
I said, ‘That’s Dil’s American horse barn.’
‘He brought it from America?’ Alice asked.
I smiled, ‘No, that’s what they call that style of barn. A lot of the British stable yards have individual boxes in stone buildings. The American barns are kind of open plan, one building with lots of stalls in it.’
‘So all the horses can watch each other?’
‘Pretty much. Well, at least their closest neighbours. You’ll soon see, anyway.’
Prim greeted us as we walked into the yard. She wasn’t quite in her Sunday best, but she was geared up well beyond the limitations of jeans and loose sweaters. She wore tight jodhpurs and a black silky top under a shaped waistcoat of blue quilted stitching. Her black leather boots shone.
‘Alice!’ she said, reaching for Alice’s hand, ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Alice put on a deliberate knowing smile, glanced at her father and me and said, ‘And I’ve heard quite a lot about you, too,’ and Prim looked at us and laughed.
Dil came out of the back door of the main house and strode toward us, smiling, holding out his hand to Ben before he’d reached him, ‘Ben! Good to meet you!’ He turned then to Alice, held her lightly by the shoulders and kissed her cheek, ‘You’ll be Alice!’
‘I am,’ and I could see her biting back a remark as her natural guardedness took over. He said, ‘Prim has been so looking forward to showing you around. After that, we can have lunch, if you’re all hungry that is?’
Alice gave a single nod, keeping her eyes on him, unblinking.
‘Enjoy yourselves!’ Dil said, giving Prim a light push, touching her just above her hip with an ope
n hand, a habitual action for him, but one which gave away their relationship as effectively as Ben and Alice finding them in bed.
Dil turned toward the house only to see Vita watching from the window, her dark eyes nailing him with the message that she’d seen that intimate touch with Prim.
Vita was cool with Dil, and overly warm with Ben, holding onto his hand too long then walking with him toward the big oak table in the dining room.
We clustered at the window end of the table, and Dil tipped coffee from an elegant white pot.
Vita offered milk to Ben and poured it for him. ‘Eddie tells me you’re a hardened investigative reporter, Ben.’
‘Natural curiosity, Miss Brodie, I could never keep my nose out of anything.’
‘Call me Vita.’
Ben smiled and nodded. Vita said, ‘Eddie will have filled you in on the situation here, with the horses?’
‘He did.’
‘And is it something you feel you could help with?’
‘I’m always happy to give it a try, though I’m not big on miracles.’
‘As in?’ Vita said.
‘As in quick results…any results, really. It tends to be a slow trudge with stuff like this. So long as you’re okay with that, I’m happy to have a go.’
Vita said, ‘Eddie was keen that I emphasize to you that no chances should be taken with your own safety.’
Ben looked at me and his eyes twinkled. He turned back to Vita and said, ‘Eddie thinks there’s not much holding my body together these days.’
Vita said, ’Sometimes it can be an advantage to look not quite what you are.’
Ben gazed at her as though awaiting a revolving target coming back round, then nailed her, ‘I can understand that,’ he said, and Vita smiled in acknowledgement that Ben was much smarter than she had assumed.