‘Yes, I suppose so. That policeman was here pretty quickly but no one else has arrived. I mean, there’s been no ambulance or anything.’
‘I expect the policeman will have called one.’
‘Suppose so.’ She appeared to be going into shock, staring straight ahead and hardly listening to what I said.
‘Juliet!’ I called loudly to her and she slowly turned her head. ‘Stay here in the car and I’ll be back in a minute and take you home.’ She nodded slightly.
I picked up my camera from the glove box, jumped out of the car and, avoiding the policeman by the back door, made my way round the house to one of the windows of the den and looked in.
Bill was indeed still there although I couldn’t see him very well as he was sitting in an armchair with its back towards the corner of the room between the two windows. I could, however, see his right hand hanging limply down. In the hand was a black revolver, now pointed harmlessly at the floor. I took some pictures.
I shifted round to the next window but it didn’t give me a much better view of Bill. However, it did allow me to see and photograph a large red stain on the wall above and behind his chair. The room was well lit by the early morning sunshine and I could see that the stain was dry and there were no shiny droplets in the rivulets running down the cream paint. Bill had killed himself some time ago.
But why? Why would he kill himself after all that he had said to me yesterday? He had seemed then to be so positive and determined. Had he been rejected by Kate? Did that tip him over the edge?
And where did he get the gun?
I went right round the outside of the house looking in all the ground-floor windows. Nothing seemed to be out of place or any different from what I remembered. Except, of course, everything in this house would now be different, the disaster in the den would see to that.
I stopped by the policeman standing guard at the back door and told him that I was taking Juliet Burns home and that his superiors could find her there.
‘Don’t know about that, sir,’ he said rather hesitantly. ‘I think she should stay here until the others arrive.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ I said. ‘She’s going into shock and needs a hot drink and a warmer place than sitting in my car. And since you won’t let us into the house, I’m taking her home.’
He thought for a moment and clearly decided that it was better to let her go home than into Bill’s house. But he wasn’t keen.
‘All right, sir,’ he said at last. ‘But I need your name and a telephone number where Miss Burns can be reached.’
I gave him my name and my mobile number and drove away. Just in time, too. As we went down the road, a convoy of police cars passed us going the other way. Violent death had roused a posse from their beds.
Juliet’s home was one of four identical little cottages standing in a line right up against the Baydon road on the south-western edge of Lambourn.
‘Number 2,’ she mumbled.
‘Give me your key,’ I said.
‘It’s under a stone in the window box,’ she said. ‘No pockets in my jodhpurs so I leave it there when I go to work.’
‘You should put it on a string round your neck,’ I said.
‘Tried that but I still lost it. String broke.’
Use stronger string, dear Liza, dear Liza. But I didn’t say so.
I helped her out of the car, found the key, and took her in.
Juliet went upstairs to lie down while I made her a strong sweet cup of tea in her tiny kitchen. I took it up and sat on the edge of her bed as she drank it. She seemed to have recovered somewhat and the tea helped further.
‘Why would he do such a thing?’ she asked. ‘Now I suppose I’ll need a new job. Oh my God, the job!’ She sat up with a jerk and started to get off the bed.
‘Juliet,’ I said, ‘lie down. You don’t have to be at work today.’
‘But who will look after the horses?’
‘I’m sure Fred will work out that the horses need to be fed and watered but they won’t be going out this morning. They’ll survive without you for a while. You are staying here and that’s an order.’
I picked up her jacket from where she had dropped it on the floor and went to hang it in the wardrobe.
‘That’s OK,’ she said. ‘Leave it on the bed, I’ll do it.’
‘It’s no problem.’
I opened the wardrobe and found some space for the jacket. Juliet always gave such an impression of being an out-and-out tom-boy that I was surprised to find that she had a row of dresses hanging there, many in their designer-named plastic covers. There was also a line of fancy shoes with colours to match the dresses. In a funny sort of way, I was pleased to glimpse her feminine side. I closed the wardrobe without comment and sat down on the bed.
‘Juliet,’ I said, ‘I’ll go back to the yard and sort out any problems that Fred has with the horses. I think you should rest here as long as you can. The police will be down to see you soon enough.’
‘Thanks, Sid.’
I drove back to Bill’s place, not to the main drive but round the back, to the far end of the stables. I hopped out and went into the yard to find Fred. He was there looking slightly agitated, checking his watch. It was already ten minutes after the allotted time for the horses to go out and there was still no sign of Bill or Juliet.
‘Fred, hello,’ I called to him.
‘Oh, Mr Halley, good morning,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry but Mr Burton and Miss Juliet aren’t here yet. I can’t understand it — they should have been here about half an hour ago, at least.’
‘They won’t be coming, Fred,’ I replied. ‘The horses aren’t going out this morning. Tell the lads to remove the tack and leave them in their boxes. Give them some hay and water.’
‘But surely — ’
‘Just do it, Fred, please.’
He wasn’t sure and kept glancing towards the gate through which he still expected Bill to appear at any second.
‘There’s been a bit of a disaster,’ I went on. ‘Death in the family. The police are in the house with Mr Burton. Just tell the lads that the horses are not going out this morning. No need to tell them why.’
They would know soon enough. It wasn’t only Juliet who would need to find a new job.
‘Right,’ he said.
I left him to it and went back to my car. There was a task I had to perform before I went into the house to see the police, and it was something I was not looking forward to.
I drove out of Lambourn on the Wantage road and turned into the drive of Kate’s parents’ house. They had moved here five years ago when Kate’s father had retired and Bill had taken over the stables. But Arthur Rogers had enjoyed his retirement for only a few weeks before being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and he had survived for barely two months after that. Daphne, his widow, now lived here alone and was one of the grandes dames of the racing world.
I stopped in front of the house and wondered if anyone would be up yet. I pushed the bell and heard a reassuring faint ringing somewhere deep inside. Daphne was indeed up but still in her dressing gown as she opened the door.
‘Good morning, Sid,’ she said with a smile. ‘What brings you here this early?’
‘Morning, Daphne,’ I said, returning the smile. ‘Is Kate here?’
‘Why?’ The smile disappeared.
‘I have to see her.’
‘Did Bill send you?’ she asked. ‘I always said that Kate shouldn’t have married that man. He’s brought disgrace on this family. Race fixing, indeed!’
Murder, it seemed, was acceptable.
‘Is she here?’ I asked again.
‘Maybe she is, and maybe she isn’t. Why do you have to see her?’
‘Look, Daphne, it’s important. Something’s happened to Bill.’
‘Something else? What’s he done now?’