‘Yes?’ he asked. ‘Who is it?’
‘Someone did threaten me, that’s all.’
‘In what way?’
‘He told me that if I didn’t stay away from his wife, he’d kill me. But I don’t really believe that he meant he would actually kill me. It was just a figure of speech.’
‘And when was this?’
I worked it out. ‘Eight days ago, at Newmarket.’
‘And have you stayed away from his wife since then?’ asked the policeman in a deadpan voice.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well... I bumped into her on Tuesday but it was an accident. We didn’t do anything, if that’s what you mean. We hardly even spoke.’
‘And does the lady’s husband know you saw her on Tuesday?’
I thought back to my encounter with Mitchell in the Stratford races car park. ‘Yes. He knows all right. He was there.’
‘I’ll need his name, sir.’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have done it,’ I said. But someone had. My throat still had the bruises to prove it.
‘His name?’ The chief inspector persisted.
‘Mitchell Stacey,’ I said. ‘He’s a racehorse trainer. He and his wife live in East Ilsley, near Newbury.’
I gave him the full address and he wrote it down in his notebook.
‘And is he the only irate husband who has threatened you recently?’
‘There’s no need for irony, Chief Inspector,’ I said. ‘And, yes, he’s the only one.’
‘I also need your full name and address. For the record.’
‘Mark Joseph Shillingford,’ I said, and I gave him the address of my flat in Edenbridge. He wrote it down.
‘Shillingford?’ he said. ‘Unusual name. Not related to that girl that killed herself, are you?’
‘She was my sister,’ I said. ‘My twin sister.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Do you follow horse racing at all, Chief Inspector?’
‘Not really my thing,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m a football man myself. Hornets fan.’
‘Hornets?’
‘Watford,’ he said.
We were interrupted by a nurse who came into the cubicle to take my pulse and my blood pressure, and also to look into my eyes with a torch.
‘When can I go home?’ I croaked at her.
‘The doctor will do his round soon,’ she said. ‘You can ask him then.’
The nurse went out again.
‘Right,’ said the chief inspector, closing his notebook and standing up. ‘I’m going home to my bed.’
‘Is that it?’ I asked, surprised.
‘You’ll have to give a full witness statement, of course, but that can be done in the morning. Call me around ten to fix it.’ He handed me a printed card with his details.
‘How about Mitchell Stacey?’
‘I’ll interview Mr Stacey after you’ve done your witness statement and after the forensic boys have examined your car. That will also take place in the morning.’
‘But what if he tries again?’ I asked.
‘Do you think he might?’
‘I’m not sure it was even him,’ I said. ‘But don’t I get police protection or something, just in case?’
‘I think you should be safe enough in here,’ he said rather dismissively.
‘But how about if I go home?’
‘Then I’d advise you not to get into a car without first checking the back seat.’
‘Oh, thanks a lot,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Why do I get the impression you’re not taking me seriously?’
‘I am taking you seriously, Mr Shillingford, very seriously, but I simply don’t have the resources to provide you with a personal bodyguard. Anyway, I believe that the person who tried to kill you is long gone. And I doubt that they’ll try again. I’ve studied a few criminals in my time and I think it’s highly likely that this was a one-off attack and the perpetrator will have second thoughts before trying anything like it again.’
A policeman who fancied himself as an amateur criminal psychologist was all I needed.
‘No,’ he said, ‘I think you’ll be perfectly safe from now on. I reckon if he’d really wanted to kill you then you’d have been in a morgue, not a hospital.’
I damn nearly had been.
14
I had just closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep when I was awakened again by the nurse to do her half-hourly check.
‘There are two people outside in the waiting room who want to see you,’ the nurse said as she listed the latest results on a chart. ‘That policeman said we weren’t to let anyone in, but they’ve been here for ages and they say they absolutely won’t go home without seeing you first.’
‘Who are they?’ I asked.
‘Two women,’ said the nurse. ‘One of them says she’s your sister.’
Clare, I immediately thought. But, of course, it couldn’t be Clare. It had to be Angela.
‘Would you please ask them to come in,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘I don’t think that policeman meant to keep my family out.’
‘If you’re sure,’ she said.
‘Perfectly sure,’ I replied. ‘And I won’t tell him if you don’t.’
She smiled back at me. ‘All right, then. I’ll go and get them.’
Indeed, it was Angela, and she had Emily with her, both of them looking worried, and tired.
‘You should both still be at Tatiana’s party,’ I said to them in my croaky voice.
‘That finished hours ago,’ said Angela. ‘In fact, it pretty much finished when you hit the gatepost.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I croaked.
‘Don’t be.’ Angela laughed. ‘At least it stopped everyone drinking.’
‘I wasn’t drunk,’ I said. And that was now official. I’d been breathalysed when I’d first arrived at the hospital and had passed with ease.
‘So what happened?’ asked Emily. ‘Nick told us something about you being strangled.’ I could tell from the tone of her voice that she clearly thought that Nick had been mistaken.
I wondered how much I should tell them. And how much they would believe. Attempted murders in rural Hertfordshire were hardly common, but I couldn’t really lie to them, especially as I assumed the police would soon be round asking them questions.
‘There was someone waiting for me in the car,’ I croaked, ‘in the back seat. He tried to strangle me.’
The two women looked suitably shocked.
‘Was he trying to rob you?’ Angela asked.
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Although it was a funny way to do it if he was. I actually think he was trying to kill me.’
‘But why would anyone want to do that?’ Emily asked.
I decided against mentioning anything to them about Mitchell Stacey or my affair with his wife. Clare had been the only member of the Shillingford family privy to that information, and I rather hoped to keep it that way.
‘I’ve no idea,’ I said. ‘The police are investigating. They told me they’ll search my car for fingerprints.’
‘It was all wrapped up in blue plastic,’ Angela said, nodding. ‘And then it was taken away on a lorry. It took them ages and it didn’t please the caterers, I can tell you.’ She smiled. ‘They couldn’t get their van out of the drive. There was a flaming row between them and the police.’
‘So what happens now?’ Emily asked. ‘How much longer are you going to be stuck here?’
‘I don’t really know. I’m waiting for the doctor to do his round.’
‘I’ll go and find someone,’ Emily said, and she disappeared through the curtains.
‘God, you gave us all such a fright,’ said Angela, taking my hand. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose you as well.’ She was crying and she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ I said.
Clare’s death was still very raw for all of us. Our emotions were on a knife-edge. One minute we could weep or laugh, and the next moment we could fly into a rage.