‘The Levy Board is no fairy godmother,’ he interrupted. ‘But I’ll see what can be done. Less than half cleared, you say? Hmm. However, I understand that Captain Oxon assured Weatherbys that the course would be ready for the next meeting. Has he changed his mind?’
‘I didn’t see him, sir. He was away for the day.’
‘Oh.’ Lord Hagbourne’s voice grew a shade cooler. ‘Then he didn’t ask you to enlist my help?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t see that I can interfere then. As racecourse manager it is his responsibility to decide what can be done and what can’t, and I think it must be left like that. Mm, yes. And of course he will consult the Clerk of the Course if he needs advice.’
‘The Clerk of the Course is Mr Fotherton, who lives in Bristol. He is Clerk of the Course there, too, and he’s busy with the meetings there tomorrow and Monday.’
‘Er, yes, so he is.’
‘You could ring Captain Oxon up in an informal way and just ask how the work is getting on,’ I suggested.
‘I don’t know…’
‘Well, sir, you can take my word for it that if things dawdle on at the same rate down there, there won’t be any racing at Seabury next week-end. I don’t think Captain Oxon can realise just how slowly those men are digging.’
‘He must do,’ he protested. ‘He assured Weatherbys…’
‘Another last minute cancellation will kill Seabury off,’ I said with some force.
There was a moment’s pause. Then he said reluctantly, ‘Yes, I suppose it might. All right then. I’ll ask Captain Oxon and Mr Fotherton if they are both satisfied with the way things are going.’
And I couldn’t pin him down to any more direct action than that, which was certainly not going to be enough. Protocol would be the death of Seabury, I thought.
Monopolising Dolly’s telephone, I next rang up the Epping police and spoke to Chief-Inspector Cornish.
‘Any more news about Andrews?’ I asked.
‘I suppose you have a reasonable personal interest.’ His chuckle came down the wire. ‘We found he did have a sister after all. We called her at the inquest yesterday for identification purposes as she is a relative, but if you ask me she didn’t really know. She took one look at the bits in the mortuary and was sick on the floor.’
‘Poor girl, you couldn’t blame her.’
‘No. She didn’t look long enough though to identify anyone. But we had your identification for sure, so we hadn’t the heart to make her go in again.’
‘How did he die? Did you find out?’
‘Indeed we did. He was shot in the back. The bullet ricocheted off a rib and lodged in the sternum. We got the experts to compare it with the one they dug out of the wall of your office. Your bullet was a bit squashed by the hard plaster, but there’s no doubt that they are the same. He was killed with the gun he used on you.’
‘And was it there, underneath him?’
‘Not a sign of it. They brought in “murder by persons unknown”. And between you and me, that’s how it’s likely to stay. We haven’t a lead to speak of.’
‘What lead do you have?’ I asked.
His voice had a smile in it. ‘Only something his sister told us. She has a bedsitter in Islington, and he spent the evening there before breaking into your place. He showed her the gun. She says he was proud of having it; apparently he was a bit simple. All he told her was that a big chap had lent it to him to go out and fetch something, and he was to shoot anyone who got in his way. She didn’t believe him. She said he was always making things up, always had, all his life. So she didn’t ask him anything about the big chap, or about where he was going, or anything at all.’
‘A bit casual,’ I said. ‘With a loaded gun under her nose.’
‘According to the neighbours she was more interested in a stream of men friends than in anything her brother did.’
‘Sweet people, neighbours.’
‘You bet. Anyway we checked with anyone we could find who had seen Andrews the week he shot you, and he hadn’t said a word to any of them about a gun or a “big chap”, or an errand in Cromwell Road.’
‘He didn’t go back to his sister afterwards?’
‘No, she’d told him she had a guest coming.’
‘At one in the morning? The neighbours must be right. You tried the racecourses, of course? Andrews is quite well known there, as a sort of spivvy odd-job messenger boy.’
‘Yes, we mainly tried the racecourses. No results. Everyone seemed surprised that such a harmless person should have been murdered.’
‘Harmless!’
He laughed. ‘If you hadn’t thought him harmless, you’d have kept out of his way.’
‘You’re so right,’ I said with feeling. ‘But now I see a villain in every respectable citizen. It’s very disturbing.’
‘Most of them are villains, in one way or another,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Keeps us busy. By the way, what do you think of Sparkle’s chances this year in the Hennessy…?’
When eventually I put the telephone down Dolly grabbed it with a sarcastic ‘Do you mind?’ and asked the switchboard girl to get her three numbers in a row, ‘without interruptions from Halley’. I grinned, got the packet of photographs out of the plywood table drawer, and looked through them again. They didn’t tell me any more than before. Ellis Bolt’s letters to Kraye. Now you see it, now you don’t. A villain in every respectable citizen. Play it secretly, I thought, close to the chest, in case the eyes looking over your shoulder give you away. I wondered why I was so oppressed by a vague feeling of apprehension, and decided in irritation that a bullet in the stomach had made me nervous.
When Dolly finished her calls I took the receiver out of her hand and got through to my bank manager.
‘Mr Hopper? This is Sid Halley… yes, fine thanks, and you? Good. Now, would you tell me just how much I have in both my accounts, deposit and current?’
‘They’re quite healthy, actually,’ he said in his gravelly bass voice. ‘You’ve had several dividends in lately. Hang on a minute, and I’ll send for the exact figures.’ He spoke to someone in the background and then came back. ‘It’s time you re-invested some of it.’
‘I do have some investments in mind,’ I agreed. ‘That’s what I want to discuss with you. I’m planning to buy some shares this time from another stockbroker, not through the bank. Er… please don’t think that I’m dissatisfied; how could I be, when you’ve done so well for me. It’s something to do with my work at the agency.’
‘Say no more. What exactly do you want?’
‘Well, to give you as a reference,’ I said. ‘He’s sure to want one, but I would be very grateful if you would make it as impersonal and as strictly financial as possible. Don’t mention either my past occupation or my present one. That’s very important.’
‘I won’t, then. Anything else?’
‘Nothing… oh, yes. I’ve introduced myself to him as John Halley. Would you refer to me like that if he gets in touch with you?’
‘Right. I’ll look forward to hearing from you one day what it’s all about. Why don’t you come in and see me? I’ve some very good cigars.’ The deep voice was amused. ‘Ah, here are the figures…’ He told me the total, which for once was bigger than I expected. That happy state of affairs wouldn’t last very long, I reflected, if I had to live for two years without any salary from Radnor. And no one’s fault but my own.
Giving Dolly back her telephone with an ironic bow, I went upstairs to Bona Fides. Jack Copeland’s mud coloured jersey had a dark blue darn on the chest and a fraying stretch of ribbing on the hip. He was picking at a loose thread and making it worse.
‘Anything on Kraye yet?’ I asked. ‘Or is it too early?’