Murder in Mind (18 page)

'Should have kept your voice down then, shouldn't you, little sister?' Grace replied, and Matt saw Rupert looking a little uncomfortable, as though for the first time he were seeing another side to her. For his own part, he couldn't imagine what had taken the man so long.

'Girls,
please!
' Joy pleaded.

'That's enough!' Charlie thundered from the head of the table. It was the first time he'd involved himself in the conversation, and it produced instant silence. 'I don't much care who said what and who shouldn't have been listening, but I do want to know why I wasn't told about this. Matt? What's this all about?'

Matt hesitated, wondering how little he could get away with, and Grace answered for him.

'A couple of men attacked him in the car park after the races. That's where he got those bruises.'

'Is that true?' Charlie frowned heavily at Matt, who had no option but to give an affirmative.

'Well, what did they want? Did you report it? Why wasn't I told?'

'It was a private matter,' Matt stated. 'No real damage done. Everyone's making a mountain out of a molehill.'

Across the table Kendra looked intensely unhappy and he gave her a quick reassuring smile.

Her father paused, regarding Matt thoughtfully through narrowed eyes, and, for a moment, he thought he might just have got away with it, but Grace hadn't finished yet.

'It wasn't anything to do with
Matt Shepherd
–
Private Eye
, then?' she asked, her face the picture of innocence.

'Was it?' Charlie demanded.

'Like I said a minute ago, it's private.'

'Not when it affects your riding, it isn't!'

'It hasn't affected my riding. It happened last night, after the meeting. Look, can we just drop this?'

'This whole damn thing is affecting your riding,' Charlie argued. 'Look at the way you rode Kenning's horse the other day, and what about Temperance Bob yesterday?'

'I don't know what was the matter with Bob – but it certainly wasn't down to me,' Matt protested.

'Not what the stewards thought, was it? And what about the others, huh? Not exactly the performance we've come to expect from you, was it?'

Matt stared, a little hurt. Surely this wasn't still fallout from the upset about the sponsorship deal. Charlie was brusque by nature, but he knew what an up-and-down business racing was, and he was normally very supportive.

'Well, what about Woodcutter? Nothing wrong with my riding there, was there?' he asked, forced to defend himself and, as he said it, remembering that he still hadn't contacted Doogie about the horse. Events had put it right out of his head.

There was a sudden scraping noise as Kendra pushed her chair back and got to her feet. She mumbled something with her hand half covering her mouth and hurried from the room.

'Excuse me.' Matt rose to follow her, glad of the chance to escape, and, as he rounded the end of the table, Joy looked up and put out a sympathetic hand to touch his arm.

'We'll talk about this another time,' Charlie promised grimly.

From the corner of his eye, Matt could see Grace smirking quietly and, for the first time in his life, he contemplated doing violence to a woman. He'd liked to have rammed her face firmly into her bowl of apple pie and custard.

Matt arrived at Rockfield bright and early the following morning to ride out, determined not to give anyone fuel to criticise either his fitness or commitment. In truth, although his muscles were still extremely sore, it was the kind of tenderness that you grit your teeth and work through, rather than a sharp pain that causes weakness and disability. He was confident that his performance wouldn't be in any way affected.

When he'd run Kendra to ground the previous evening, he found she'd taken refuge in the kitchen with the family cook and a cup of hot chocolate. Although Matt didn't take her to task over spreading the tale of his beating, she was clearly feeling wretched for having brought the wrath of her father down on him, and wouldn't rest until she was sure she was forgiven. This was so out of character for her that Matt returned to the dining room to make their excuses and then took her home.

This morning she had seemed much more composed when Matt took her a cup of tea in bed and kissed her goodbye, and he had experienced a surge of optimism that perhaps she had come to terms with the situation and everything would be all right.

As he turned into the yard at the stables, his lifting spirits suffered a knock-back. To his surprise, alongside John Leonard's grubby Volvo and Charlie's spotless Land Rover was parked a red hatchback he didn't recognise. The first thing he saw, when he got out of his car, was Brewer himself, standing in the open doorway of Secundo's box, in company with a slight figure in navy jodhpurs and a fleece jacket. They both glanced over their shoulders and, with a shock, Matt recognised Ray Landon, a young jockey who some were predicting to be the next hotshot. Landon raised a hand to Matt, looking a little sheepish, and Matt had a sharp premonition of trouble ahead.

The trainer hurried across to Matt, who nodded towards the visitor.

'What's he doing here?'

'Er . . . Charlie wants him to put Secundo over a few fences,' Leonard said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a newcomer to take over the schooling of one of the best young horses in the yard from the stable jockey.

'So when was this decided?'

'I don't know. He's only just told
me
.'

'And did he say why?'

'Er . . . Something about it paying to keep our options open,' Leonard said, adding quickly, 'Look, can you do me a favour and go and see where Harry's got to? He hasn't appeared yet and the Guv was asking where he was.'

'But Secundo's
my
ride!' Matt protested. 'Apart from the last time, when Jamie took over, I've always ridden him.'

Leonard nodded unhappily.

'I know. You'll have to take it up with the Guv, but please Matt . . . Harry?'

Even though he was sure it was a diversionary tactic, Matt assented, turning his back on the yard and going down the cinder path to the farm cottage where Harry lived.

He found the door unlocked and opened it, calling, 'Harry? You up?'

'Yeah. Just coming.' The voice came from the bedroom at the back of the house.

'You OK? Anything I can do for you? Brewer has graced us with his presence and your pa requests your immediate appearance. In other words,
shift your butt!
'

He heard Harry laugh, just as, on the kitchen table, his mobile started to play the James Bond theme.

Matt chuckled.

'Your phone, Mr Bond!'

'Oh, shit! Can you get it for me?'

'Righty ho.' Matt picked it up. 'Hello?'

'Harry, it's Toby,' a voice said immediately. 'Look, I'm sorry but I can't make our session today. We've got a mare coming in with a possible twisted gut, any minute now, and I'm in surgery this arvo. I'm afraid I'll have to postpone . . .'

'Actually, it's not Harry,' Matt said, when he got the chance. 'But I can pass the message on for you or pass you over, if you like.'

'Shit! Look, the mare's here – can you pass on the message? Must go.'

The phone clicked and went dead, and Matt wasn't sure if Toby's exclamation of annoyance was due to finding that he'd been talking to the wrong man or because his patient had arrived before he was ready for her.

'Who was it?' Harry came wheeling into the kitchen just as Matt put the phone back on the table.

'Toby Potter. Said he can't make it today, he's got an emergency.'

'Oh.' Harry looked momentarily disconcerted. 'Er . . . thanks.'

'Trouble with one of the horses?' Matt enquired. 'He's not your usual vet, is he?'

'Er – no, he's not, but he's a bloody good physio and he was going to have a look at Bob's back for us.'

'Temperance Bob?' Matt asked, his interest sharpening. 'You think that's the problem? Charlie was trying to tell me it was my fault, but I knew damn well it wasn't.'

'Yeah, well – it's a possibility. He didn't look 100 per cent comfortable yesterday when he walked out of his box.' He retrieved his phone from the table and a coat from a low hook by the door. 'I like your jacket. Is that the new sponsor?'

'Yeah. Quite striking, isn't it?'

The navy blue, fleece-lined canvas jacket had arrived the day before and was decorated with the distinctive red and white rings that formed the logo of Q&S Holdings.

'Very snazzy! So, what happened to your face?
That wasn't all from Tulip Time the other day, was it?'

'No . . .' Matt hesitated, but Harry was bound to hear the story sooner or later. 'I had a spot of bother on the way home Saturday night.'

'Oh? What sort of bother? You didn't crash the car?'

'No. I was late leaving the course and a couple of charmers were waiting for me in the car park. It seems someone is taking my efforts on Jamie's behalf seriously and they want me to stop.'

'You're kidding! So, what happened?' They had started down the path to the yard, but now Harry stopped the chair and looked up at him.

Matt looked away.

'Oh, just a bit of rough stuff and some threats. No lasting damage, but it's not something I'd care to repeat in a hurry. Look, we should get on – they'll be waiting.'

He took a couple of steps, then glanced back at Harry and found him still watching intently, his eyes screwed up against the sun.

'A bit of rough stuff, eh?' he said. 'No, I think it was a bit more than that. I know you, my friend, and you're really rattled. This has got to you, hasn't it? How bad was it?'

'All right, I admit for a moment or two I thought I'd had it, but I don't think that was the plan,' Matt said, reluctantly. 'I don't think I was expected to fight back.'

'They didn't know who they were picking on.' Harry's chair began to roll again. 'But this has got to be good for Jamie's case, hasn't it? What did the police say? You did report it, I hope.'

Matt grimaced.

'I will do. It's just such a palaver, and the last thing you feel like when you've just had a drubbing like that.'

Matt had no opportunity to speak to Charlie till the horses had all been worked and were being settled back in their stables. Even then, the businessman stood talking to Ray Landon for several minutes before the jockey waved a cheery goodbye and headed for his car. Charlie then showed every sign of doing the same until Matt called out, 'Charlie! Have you got a minute?'

Charlie pushed back his sleeve to look at his watch.

'Well, not really. Can't it wait?'

'No, it can't. I want to know what's going on.'

'Going on?'

'You know what I mean – with Secundo and Ray.'

'Oh, not here, Matt. This isn't the time.'

'
Yes
, here. You owe me an explanation.'

Charlie turned to face Matt and sighed.

'All right – you asked; I'll tell you. You know I've not been happy with the way you've been riding lately . . .'

'Ever since Lord Kenning called you, in fact,' Matt put in.

'I'm well able to make up my own mind about it,' the businessman retorted hotly. 'But – since you mention it – yes, Lord Kenning is concerned, as are several other people.'

'Name them,' Matt said promptly, and had the satisfaction of seeing Charlie thrown off his stride briefly.

He was swift to recover.

'Certainly not; they spoke to me in confidence – and, anyway, it's beside the point. The fact remains that, ever since this business with Jamie and that woman, you've not been giving your full attention to the job, and I expect anyone who works for me to be 100 per cent committed.'

'I've never been less than 100 per cent,' Matt said, in a low, furious voice.

'Until lately, I would have agreed, but people are losing confidence in you.'

'Again – these nameless people. So what are you planning to do? Jock me off and give my best rides to Landon? What sort of message does that give out?'

'You were warned, Matt.'

Matt was struggling to believe what he was hearing.

'You can't do this. I'm Rockfield's jockey. It's not just
your
horses.'

'Yes, well the other owners are obviously free to do what they think fit, but, of course, John Leonard works for me. Ray's a good jockey and very keen. I think we'll find he's a popular choice with all the owners.'

'So, you've had this in mind for a while, have you?'

'Actually, I rang him just last night. He said yes on the spot.'

'I don't doubt it. But I'm the stable jockey here. We have an agreement . . .'

'I didn't sign anything,' Charlie pointed out. 'And neither did you.'

'You know that's not how it works! You can't just step out of the arrangement without a bloody good reason.'

'Which I consider I have. Oh, I don't doubt there'll be some tongue-clicking and shaking heads, but they'll get over it. It's amazing how quickly people forget. Look Matt, I don't like having to do this, because you're family, but racing is a business, just like any other, and no business can afford to carry dead wood. Once something or someone ceases to be an asset, they must be cut loose. I'm sorry, but it's the only way to survive.'

'I don't believe I'm hearing this. What are you saying? That you're sacking me? Please tell me this hasn't got anything to do with my sponsorship deal.'

'No, of course not – though I see you're parading their logo already. All I'm saying is that I can't afford to have you ride my horses the way you have been. If you'd just given up this stupid crusade of yours when I told you to, and let the police do their job, then it wouldn't have come to this. You have only yourself to blame.' He looked at his watch once more. 'Now, I really must go, I've got a busy day.'

Matt stood and watched the Land Rover leave the yard, his head whirling with the massive injustice of Charlie Brewer's words. His pointed observation that Leonard worked for him just about covered it all. However much the trainer disagreed with what Kendra's father was doing,
Matt doubted that he would risk sticking his neck out to say so. Having no written contract to safeguard his position as the Rockfield stable jockey was not unusual. Matt didn't know of any of his contemporaries who had anything more than a verbal agreement, but it was generally regarded as solid. But maybe Brewer was right; given the negative spin he and Kenning were putting on his career, would anyone seriously blame him for long?

Feeling slightly shell-shocked, Matt turned his steps towards the farmhouse.

The kitchen enfolded him with its usual combination of warmth and mouth-watering cooking aromas, but, as Matt closed the door behind him and stripped off his padded jacket, it became clear that even this haven had been affected by the ripples of unease radiating out from the arrival of Ray Landon. The atmosphere was strained and it was obvious – from the way John Leonard was avoiding Matt's gaze – that he'd been made privy to his boss's intentions whilst he and Charlie had watched the horses work from the vantage point of the Land Rover.

'Well, I suppose you're up to speed on Charlie's plans now,' Matt said.

Leonard looked even more uncomfortable.

'I'm sorry, Matt. I don't know what to say. I don't know what's got into him.'

'I do. Lord bloody Kenning!' Matt said. 'You know Charlie thinks the sun shines out of the arse of anyone with a title, and Kenning has had it in for me ever since I asked for his support for Jamie. Boy, was that a big mistake.'

'But surely he can't blame you for standing up for a friend,' Reney declared, wrapping a dishcloth round her hand and bending to open the oven.

'He can!' Harry interjected. 'I remember Kenning from
my
racing days. He regards jockeys as some form of low life, regrettably necessary, but not entitled to views and opinions of their own. If someone could devise a way of getting the horses to race on their own, no one would be happier than him.'

'So, how is Jamie, anyway?' Reney asked, coming across to the table as Matt settled into his usual seat and reached for the cafetière. 'It's ages since he's been over. Never thought I'd miss having that cheeky monkey around, but I do.'

Matt poured coffee.

'He's still pretty low – but not about to self-destruct at the moment,' he said, as Reney slid a plate in front of him.

Thanking her, his thoughts drifted back to Kenning. Why
had
he taken against Matt so completely? Was it really about his relationship with Sophie? He recalled his conversation about the man with Razor at Sedgefield. 'You must be losin' the fuckin' plot if you think he murdered her!' the other jockey had said, in his endearing way, and, at the time, Matt had agreed that it was unlikely, but now – for the first time – he seriously began to wonder. Why else would Kenning be going out of his way to discredit Matt, unless he had something to hide? Had he and Casey perhaps been on the right track when they had discovered the probability that Kenning was the sugar daddy Sophie's flatmate had spoken of, who liked 'dressing up'? Kenning was a well-respected man who occupied a number of influential positions. Had Sophie perhaps tried to blackmail him – threatening to reveal his secret activities? Reluctantly, Matt decided that maybe it was time he shared the idea with Bartholomew.

For several minutes there was silence at the table apart from the chinking of cutlery on plates as they all busied themselves with the hot food.