‘No,’ said Tallis.
‘You’re preventing the legitimate exercise of my business.’
‘There’s nothing legitimate about bookmaking, sir, so let’s not pretend there is. What I want to know is this, Mr Fido.’ Tallis thrust is face close to him. ‘How will Inspector Colbeck be able to find this woman?’
‘Kitty will come to me after the race to celebrate.’
‘Ah,’ Leeming blurted out. ‘That’s another way of saying that Merry Legs is destined to win. Thank you, Mr Fido. You’ve given me the hint I was after.’ He saw the reproach in the superintendent’s gleaming eyes. ‘Not that I’d ever think of betting on the race, of course,’ he said sheepishly. ‘That would be quite wrong.’
There was only one place where Lord Hendry would be that morning and that is where Robert Colbeck went to find him. The beleaguered owner of Odysseus had called at the stables to see his horse and to be told by the trainer that the acknowledged favourite would win the Derby comfortably. Emotionally and financially, Lord Hendry had invested so much in the race that he dare not even think about the consequences of failure.
Colbeck had seen the portrait of Odysseus and he was thrilled to view him in the flesh as the horse was walked around the yard. The colt looked magnificent. His coat was glistening, his movement fluid and his fitness self-evident. Knowing that his big moment was near, Odysseus pranced eagerly and tossed his head with equine pride. He was ready for action.
‘He looks to be in superb condition,’ remarked Colbeck as he came to stand beside Lord Hendry. ‘You must be delighted.’
‘He’s the best colt I’ve ever owned, Inspector,’ said the other fondly. ‘I bought him as a yearling for two hundred guineas with a Derby contingency of five hundred. Odysseus’s first race was at Goodwood where he won the Ham Stakes. A fortnight later, he won a £100 Plate at Brighton and never looked back. What you see before you are fifteen hands, two inches of pure magic.’
‘I can see why you wanted to capture him on canvas.’
Lord Hendry gulped. ‘Don’t remind me,’ he said. ‘The loss of that painting was like a knife through the heart. You were right, Inspector.’
‘About what?’
‘I’ve been given the chance to buy it back,’ said the older man, extracting the letter from his pocket. ‘For £3000.’
Colbeck examined the note. ‘When did you receive this?’
‘Yesterday. It was left at the offices of the Jockey Club for me.’
‘By whom?’
‘Nobody knows – it was slipped under the door.’
‘The thief didn’t waste much time,’ said Colbeck, returning the note. ‘He’ll probably make contact again very soon, Lord Hendry, and tell you where to deliver the money. That’s when you call me in. Our best chance of catching him is when the painting is handed over.’
‘I don’t have £3000, Inspector.’
‘But you have the appearance of a man who does and that’s all that matters. Besides, your horse is the Derby favourite. You’re seen as a person with excellent prospects.’
‘Whatever happened to them?’ Lord Hendry murmured.
‘When we discussed the matter before,’ recalled Colbeck, ‘you felt that Miss Lavender might be party to the theft. Do you still believe that or have you thought of any other possible suspects?’
‘Kitty Lavender and Hamilton Fido are the obvious ones.’
‘What about the less obvious?’
‘Such as?’
‘You must tell me, Lord Hendry. How many people, outside your immediate family, knew of the existence of that painting?’
‘Very few,’ came the reply. ‘I wanted to guard against derision. If certain people were aware that I had had the portrait of Odysseus painted before the Derby had even taken place, they would have mocked and sniggered. To obviate that, I swore the artist to silence and told only my most trusted friends.’
‘Including Miss Lavender.’
‘She was a friend at the time, alas.’
‘I’m very anxious to meet the lady,’ said Colbeck, ‘but she’s proving reluctant to come forward. When someone does that, it usually means they have something to hide.’
‘Kitty is here, Inspector.’
‘Do you know where I could find her?’
‘Close to that unspeakable bookmaker.’
‘Mr Fido is also a racehorse owner.’
‘Not in my opinion,’ rejoined Lord Hendry. ‘His stables were bought with the fruits of illegal gambling and extortion. Talk to anyone of distinction on the Turf and they’ll tell you that Hamilton Fido has lied and cheated his way to the position he now holds. I’ve seen him at racecourses all over the country,’ he continued. ‘He practises the black arts of bookmaking and travels with a group of ruffians he describes as his bodyguards. I can’t think what Kitty sees in such a deplorable character but that’s where she’ll be, Inspector – in the vicinity of Hamilton Fido.’
It had been Marcus Johnson’s idea to visit the Judge and Jury Show. It was held in a marquee and was a grotesque parody of the judicial system. Presided over by a self-styled Lord Chief Baron, it consisted of the mock trial of a man for seduction and criminal conspiracy. Witnesses were called and Kitty Lavender saw immediately that the females who gave evidence were all men in women’s clothing. It was lively drama. The unholy trinity of comedy, obscenity and blasphemy made the audience roar with laughter and Marcus Johnson relished every moment. Kitty found it crude and distasteful. When the first trial was over, she was eager to leave but Johnson detained her.
‘Watch what happens next,’ he said, nudging her.
‘I’ve seen enough, Marcus.’
‘This is the bit I really like.’
Through a gauze curtain, they saw a group of shapely young women in flesh-coloured tights, forming a tableau before bursting into song. At the height of their rendition, the curtain was drawn back to expose the elegant attitudes in which they were standing. Kitty was dismayed at the way the male spectators hooted and clapped but she was even more upset to hear some of the foul language coming from the lips of women in the audience. Marcus Johnson had joined in the chorus of vulgar approval and was disappointed when his half-sister got up the leave. He followed her out of the marquee.
‘I thought you might enjoy it,’ he said. ‘A little decadence helps to brighten anyone’s day.’
‘What offended me was the sight of those girls, being made to pose like that to arouse the audience. There was a time,’ she admitted with a shiver, ‘when I might have ended up in that kind of situation.’
‘No – you were always too clever to let men exploit you, Kitty. You learnt how to exploit them instead.’
‘It was a struggle at the start, Marcus.’
‘But look where you are now – adored by a wealthy man.’
‘How long will it last? That’s what troubles me.’
‘Hamilton is completely bewitched.’
‘At the moment,’ she said, ‘but I’d be foolish to think that my hold over him will last for ever. London is full of gorgeous women. It’s only a question of time before he replaces me with one of them.’
‘He loves you, Kitty.’
‘Love can easily cool.’
‘You know how to maintain his interest. I’ve seen you do it with other men. When I met you again after a long absence, you were doing it to Lord Hendry. You led the old libertine by his pizzle.’
She was rueful. ‘And what thanks did I get?’
‘A blow across the face with his cane,’ he said angrily. ‘He won’t ever do that again, Kitty. I snapped his cane in two. Besides, by the end of the week, he’ll be dead.’ His braying laugh had a cruel edge. ‘What better proof could you have of Hamilton’s devotion to you than that he’s prepared to fight a duel on your behalf?’