The Iron Horse

‘What does that tell you?’

‘That you may well be offered the portrait back,’ said Colbeck. ‘At a high price, naturally.’

Lord Hendry shuddered. ‘I can’t afford to pay for it twice.’

‘You can if Odysseus wins the Derby.’

‘Yes,’ said the other, rallying slightly. ‘I can, Inspector. I can pay for anything then. The horse will get that painting back for me.’

‘God willing!’

‘I don’t have to call on the Almighty. I rely entirely on form. Odysseus has been consistently faster than his nearest rivals. Over the same distance, he was even fleeter of foot than last year’s Derby winner, West Australian.’

‘But not in race conditions,’ said Colbeck. ‘In the heat of a Derby, form is not the only telling factor.’

‘It will be tomorrow,’ said Lord Hendry in a conscious effort to raise his own spirits. ‘My trainer has never been so positive about a result before and he’s handled dozens of three-year-olds.’

‘I wish you luck.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Incidentally,’ said Colbeck, ‘when I heard about this theft, my immediate concern was for Odysseus himself. I thought that he might be in danger as well. I know that you have him under armed guard, but I dispatched Sergeant Leeming to your stables to verify that there have been no problems during the night.’

‘That was considerate.’

‘Has your trainer been made aware of what happened here?’

‘Not yet,’ said Lord Hendry, ‘and my instinct is to keep the news from him and from my jockey. They’re both very superstitious. They’ll interpret the theft in the way I’ve been doing – as an evil portent.’ He was worried. ‘I hope your sergeant will not tell them about what occurred here last night.’

‘I told him not to, Lord Hendry. His job is simply to check on the safety of Odysseus. When all is said and done, the horse is far more important than the portrait of him.’

‘Quite so.’

‘Do you have any clue as to the thief’s identity?’

‘I could hazard a guess at his paymaster.’

‘Brian Dowd?’

‘Not in this instance, Inspector,’ said Lord Hendry thoughtfully. ‘He wouldn’t even know that I had the painting. Besides, he’s never been anywhere near this house. Because Odysseus stands between him and a Derby win, Dowd is much more likely to try to injure the horse himself than steal his portrait. No,’ he continued, ‘I spy the grasping hand of Hamilton Fido behind this.’

‘How would he know that the painting existed?’

‘Someone could have told him,’ replied the other, thinking of Kitty Lavender. ‘Someone in whom I unwisely confided at one time.’

‘Are we talking about the young lady at the Wyvern Hotel?’

Lord Hendry glanced anxiously towards the door. ‘Keep your voice down, man!’ he ordered. ‘This is my home.’

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Colbeck, speaking in a whisper. ‘But the question cannot be avoided. Is it the lady we’ve discussed before?’

‘Yes, Inspector.’

‘You seem to have discovered that she’s formed a liaison with Mr Fido. Am I right in thinking that?’ Lord Hendry nodded sullenly. ‘Could there be an element of spite in this? Given the circumstances, could this person have urged Mr Fido to arrange the theft of the painting out of pure malice?’

‘She could and she did, Inspector,’ said Lord Hendry, deciding that Kitty wanted her revenge for the blow he had given her. ‘That must be what happened. She instigated the whole thing.’

‘Then she committed a criminal act,’ said Colbeck. ‘That being the case, it’s even more crucial that I know her name so that I can speak to her as soon as possible. If your supposition about her is correct, it may be a way to retrieve the painting sooner than I thought. Well, Lord Hendry?’ he pressed. ‘Are you going to tell me who she is?’

Still in her night attire, Kitty Lavender was propped up in bed as she watched Hamilton Fido putting on his frock coat. She was peevish.

‘Do you have to leave so early?’ she complained.

‘Needs must when the devil drives, my darling.’

‘Let your assistants do all the work.’

‘I like to be at the course first thing to give them instructions,’ said Fido, adjusting his coat in the bedroom mirror. ‘One of the rules of bookmaking is to be constantly visible. It inspires trust.’

‘Come here and inspire me,’ she said, patting the bed.

He blew her a kiss. ‘I’ll have to postpone that delight until this evening, Kitty. I have too many people to see and too many bets to take. I also need to find a moment to go across to the stables to check on Merry Legs. That attempt at poisoning her scared me.’

‘Do you still think that Mr Dowd was responsible?’

‘I’d put money on it.’

‘You’d never do that unless you were very confident.’

‘My motto is simple,’ he said, coming to sit on the bed. ‘I only back certainties – like Kitty Lavender.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Pleasantly tired,’ she purred.

‘Then you can go back to sleep. While you slumber away, I’ll be plying my trade at the racecourse and hoping that Inspector Colbeck will be able to find the villain who put that poison in the water.’

‘What are the chances of that happening?’

‘We shall see. Colbeck is an astute man.’

‘Marcus doesn’t think so. He said you’d outwit him every time.’

‘I’d outwit any policeman, Kitty,’ he said cheerily, ‘ which is why I’ve never seen the inside of a courtroom. But this crime is something I can’t solve on my own. I need an able detective.’

‘What sort of person is Inspector Colbeck?’ he asked.

‘You’d like him – he’s a real dandy. He sticks out from every other policeman I’ve met, whereas his sergeant is more typical of the breed. To be honest,’ he went on, ‘I enjoyed crossing swords with Colbeck. He’s a worthy opponent – unlike Lord Hendry.’

She was uneasy. ‘Do you still mean to go ahead with the duel?’

‘I can’t pull out of it now, Kitty.’

‘But you could be putting yourself in jeopardy.’

‘He’d never get the better of me with a pistol.’

‘If he believes that, George will look for a way to ensure that the duel never takes place.’

‘You mean that he’ll go into hiding somewhere?’

‘No,’ she said, stroking his arm. ‘George won’t run away – that would look bad. He’s more likely to hire some ruffians to break a few of your bones so that you’re frightened off.’

Fido laughed. ‘He’ll need a whole army to get close to me,’ he boasted, tapping the bulge at his waist. ‘Apart from the fact that I carry a loaded weapon, I have a bodyguard watching my back. The moment I leave here, I’m under his protection.’

‘That won’t stop me worrying.’

‘Lord Hendry deserves a bullet between his eyes.’

‘I want you to stay alive in order to put it there.’

‘One of us will finish him off,’ he said with conviction. ‘If some mishap should befall me, Marcus will take my place. From what you’ve told me about him, he’s an excellent shot.’

‘He is,’ said Kitty. ‘Gambling is his first love but, when he takes time off from that, it’s to join a shooting party somewhere. Though he’s desperately short of money most of the time, he somehow manages to maintain a very comfortable existence. He trades on his charm and lives off his wealthy friends.’

‘He’s a silver-tongued social parasite and I admire him for that. It takes skill and daring to do what he does. I was also touched by the way he came to your defence.’

‘I just wish that he hadn’t told you about it.’

‘Somebody must call Lord Hendry to account.’

‘I’d rather it wasn’t you, Hamilton. I know the way that George’s mind works. If the duel did actually take place,’ she warned, ‘he’d be ready to fall back on unfair means.’

Fido grinned. ‘That makes two of us – so will I.’ Holding her by the chin, he gave her a gentle kiss then stood up. ‘When are you going to speak to Inspector Colbeck?’

‘Never – if I can help it.’

‘He won’t give up, Kitty. The longer you keep dodging him, the meaner he’ll be when he finally does catch up with you. It’s only a matter of time before he does that,’ he pointed out. ‘As soon as he sees us together, he’ll know that you’re the lady from the Wyvern Hotel.’

‘There’s no reason why he should see us together – not alone, anyway. I’ve got myself another beau to hide behind.’

‘Oh – and who might that be?’

‘Marcus, of course,’ she said. ‘He told me to avoid the police at all costs or my name might finish up in the newspapers. I don’t want to become a public spectacle, Hamilton.’

‘I rather hoped that you did – on my arm.’

‘When I’ve shaken off Inspector Colbeck, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Above all else, I want George to see us together. After what he did to me, I want him to writhe in pain.’

‘He’s already been doing that, Kitty,’ he said, reaching for his hat. ‘My guess is that Lord Hendry didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. He’d have been tortured by the thought of fighting a duel against me. He knows how that will end. And if he was kept awake, he’ll have heard the sound of the downpour we had. It rained hard for hours and hours. That means the going will be soft at the racecourse and that won’t suit Odysseus at all.’ He put his hat on at a rakish angle. ‘One way or another,’ he said cheerfully, ‘Lord Hendry must have had the worst night of his life.’

Victor Leeming was making his way through the crowd when he saw the woman. Short, dainty and with a look of sublime innocence on her face, she was accompanied by a small boy. Speaking to an elderly gentleman who was just descending from his carriage, she asked directions from him. He was happy to oblige. He was entranced by her pretty features and beckoning smile. Victor Leeming was more interested in what the boy was doing. When the directions had been received, the woman thanked her guide and led the boy away. The sergeant moved swiftly to intercept them. Fixing the boy with a knowing look, he held out the palm of his hand.

‘Give me the wallet,’ he ordered.

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded the woman haughtily.

‘The wallet that he took from that gentleman while you distracted him. This lad is a pickpocket and you’re his accomplice.’

‘How dare you! I’m David’s mother!’

‘Then you should be ashamed to bring him up in this way.’

‘If you don’t leave us alone,’ she said, putting a maternal arm around her son, ‘I’ll call a policeman.’

‘You’re already talking to one,’ said Leeming, enjoying his moment. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Leeming from Scotland Yard.’

He waved a hand to a uniformed policeman who stood a dozen yards away. Recognising him, the man came briskly over to him.

‘Good morning, sir,’ he said.

‘Here’s your first arrest of the day, Constable. I caught a pair of pickpockets. The lad has just stolen a wallet from that gentleman standing beside his carriage. Return his property to him,’ said Leeming, ‘then find out what else these two have purloined.’

The woman and her son made a sudden dash for freedom but the policeman restrained them both. Turning on the sergeant, she unleashed a stream of vile abuse and had to be dragged away. Leeming was about to move off when Brian Dowd came over to him.

‘I saw that, Sergeant,’ he said with a complimentary smile. ‘You did very well. I’d never have known what those two were doing.’

‘You didn’t spend as many years in uniform as I did, sir. When you get big crowds, the pickpockets come out in their hundreds.’

‘That boy could have been no more than six or seven.’

‘Children younger than that have been trained to steal,’ said Leeming sadly. ‘They’re corrupted at an early age. I don’t blame the lad. It’s the mother who should take the punishment.’

‘I hope you don’t spend all your time looking for pickpockets.’

‘By no means, sir.’

‘There are more important crimes to solve.’

‘Inspector Colbeck and I are well aware of that,’ said Leeming, ‘and we have our superintendent snapping at our heels to make us find the killer of John Feeny. Our problem is that we keep getting distracted by related crimes.’

‘Such as?’

‘The attacks on both Odysseus and Merry Legs – someone is determined to keep them out of the Derby.’

‘Don’t forget what happened to me,’ said Dowd. ‘Limerick Lad can win the race but I’m honest enough to admit that he might not do it unless he has Tim Maguire on his back. That’s why my jockey has been the target, Sergeant. Tim is my guarantee of success.’

‘Limerick Lad likes soft going, I’m told.’

‘The more rain we have, the better.’

‘I hope that it holds off for the race itself.’

‘Yes,’ said Dowd. ‘The world and his wife will be here tomorrow. There’s nothing quite like Derby Day. I hope that the sun shines brightly during the races but I’ll be praying for more rain tonight.’

‘Were you on your way to the grandstand?’ asked Leeming, glancing towards it. ‘If you are, I’ll walk with you, if I may.’

‘Please do, Sergeant. I have some friends to meet there.’

Leeming fell in beside him. ‘I’ve arranged to meet Inspector Colbeck,’ he said. ‘Left to myself, I’d rather see some of the sights. There’s a six-legged pig on display and the Smallest Man in England is in one of the booths. Then there’s a huge Polynesian woman who has tattoes everywhere. Duty calls, however,’ he sighed. ‘And the inspector should be back from Lord Hendry’s house by now.’

‘Oh?’ Dowd was curious. ‘What was he doing there?’

‘We had a report of a crime that took place last night.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Lord Hendry’s painting of Odysseus was stolen,’ said Leeming. ‘Other things may have been taken as well, for all I know, but it was the loss of the painting that sent the inspector haring over there.’

‘I’ll be interested to hear what transpired.’

They picked their way through the crowd. Races were not due to begin for a couple of hours yet but Epsom Downs were already submerged beneath a rippling sea of humanity. The noise was deafening and the buzz of excitement was almost tangible. The two men chatted about the races on the day’s card and Dowd recommended a bet on one of his own horses, Quicklime, in the last event of the day. As they got near the grandstand, they saw Robert Colbeck waiting at the appointed place. After an exchange of greetings, the inspector looked enquiringly at Leeming. The sergeant shook his head.

‘There are no problems at the stables, sir. Odysseus is fine.’

‘Thank you, Victor,’ said Colbeck.

‘What’s this about a painting being stolen?’ asked Dowd.

‘It was taken in the night, sir. Lord Hendry is heartbroken.’

‘Don’t look to me for sympathy. It was rash of him to have a portrait of his horse painted before the race was even run. That was tempting Fate. But I’m surprised that anyone was out and about last night,’ he went on. ‘That storm should have kept everyone indoors.’

‘Unfortunately,’ said Colbeck, ‘it kept the dogs indoors or they would have been guarding the house.’

‘It’s not a disaster,’ said Leeming. ‘Lord Hendry could always have another portrait painted.’

‘Only if Odysseus wins the Derby,’ said Dowd waspishly, ‘and you’d have a better chance of doing that, Sergeant.’

‘Then why is Odysseus still the favourite?’

‘Wonders never cease.’

‘Limerick Lad has dropped back slightly in the betting.’

‘That suits me – we get better odds. But you must congratulate your sergeant,’ said Dowd, turning to Colbeck. ‘I watched him catch a couple of pickpockets in the crowd just now.’

‘Well done, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘You always had sharp eyes.’

Leeming shrugged. ‘I just happened to be in the right place, sir.’

‘That’s an essential part of policing.’

‘I hope you’re both in the right place when it comes to catching John Feeny’s killer,’ said Dowd earnestly. ‘I want to know who that merciless bastard is.’

‘So do the rest of us, sir.’

‘Well, I must be off – don’t forget what I told you, Sergeant.’

‘Quicklime in the last race,’ said Leeming.

‘Tim Maguire is riding him.’

‘Then I’ll be sure to put a bet on him. Goodbye, Mr Dowd.’ They waved the Irishman off. ‘I’m glad I saw him this morning.’

‘He was in a better mood than when we last met,’ said Colbeck.

‘You didn’t accuse him of lying this time, Inspector.’

‘That’s true.’

‘What happened at Lord Hendry’s house?’

Colbeck told him about his visit and how profoundly depressed the owner had been at the theft of his beloved painting. The piece of information that Leeming seized on was the suggestion that a woman might be implicated in the crime.

‘Did you get her name, Inspector?’

‘Only after a long battle,’ said Colbeck.

‘Who is she?’

‘Kitty Lavender.’

‘Do you have an address?’

‘She lives in London but Lord Hendry was certain that she’d be staying somewhere nearby during Derby Week.’

‘How do we find her?’

‘By speaking to Hamilton Fido,’ said Colbeck. ‘He and Miss Lavender will doubtless be sharing the same accommodation.’

‘Do you think she had anything to do with the theft of that painting?’ said Leeming.

‘I’m keeping an open mind about that. What I do think is that last night’s incident is related to all the others. If we solve one of the crimes, we will effectively be solving them all. The same person is behind them. Who knows? Her name may even be Kitty Lavender.’

‘You did say that a woman might help to unravel this mystery.’

‘I still hold to that view,’ said Colbeck. ‘In fact, we may find that we get help from more than one woman.’

Having packed the food into his satchel, Madeleine handed it to her father. Caleb Andrews thanked her with a kiss then slung the satchel from his shoulder. He was just about to leave the house to go to work.

‘You’ll have to make your own lunch tomorrow,’ she warned.

‘Why?’

‘Robert is taking me to Epsom.’

‘Then you’ll be able to see your father making money,’ he said chirpily. ‘I picked out the winner.’

‘Which horse did you bet on – Princess of Fire?’

‘I was going to bet on her but I remembered that colts always win the Derby so I’ve gone for Aleppo instead at 12–1. I read in my newspaper that he’s the most likely to upset the favourites in the race. Help me tomorrow and shout for Aleppo.’

‘Whoever I shout for, my voice won’t be heard in that crowd. Oh, I’m so excited, Father. I just can’t wait to get there.’

‘You’ll enjoy every minute of it, Maddy.’

‘It’s such a wonderful present for me.’

‘I’m glad to see that Inspector Colbeck is treating you in the way you deserve. The only time you’ve ever been to Epsom was years ago when you were a baby and your mother and I took you on Derby Day.’ He tapped his chest and chortled. ‘I backed the winner then as well. I bought you a new rattle out of my winnings.’

Madeleine giggled. ‘I won’t need one of those this year,’ she said. ‘According to Robert, Aleppo might be a wise choice.’

‘Why?’

‘The three horses ahead of him in the betting are the ones that have been having trouble. There have been attempts to kill two of them and to bribe the jockey riding the third. Robert says he’ll be grateful if he can get Odysseus, Merry Legs and Limerick Lad to the starting post.’

‘Is he anywhere nearer making an arrest yet?’

‘He thinks so.’

‘I’ve told him before, Maddy – the killer is a jealous husband.’

‘You’re wrong about that, Father,’ she said. ‘The victim was a young Irish groom who was walking out with a barmaid called Bonny Rimmer. They worshipped each other. John Feeny would never have looked at another woman, certainly not at someone’s wife in Crewe.’

‘That’s where the inspector should be continuing his search.’

‘The murder has nothing to do with Crewe. Feeny probably had no idea where the place is. Everything that Robert has discovered so far is connected with the Derby. The answers lie there.’

‘I’ll believe that when I see the proof. But I wish I was going with you tomorrow,’ he said enviously. ‘I’m probably the only person in London who won’t be there.’

‘When will you learn the result?’

‘When I get back to Euston.’

‘How?’

‘Carrier pigeons will bring the result to London and it will be posted up in various places. Next day, I’ll collect my winnings.’

‘From where?’ she asked. ‘I thought the only betting that was allowed was on the course itself.’

Andrews cackled. ‘Some rules are made to be flouted.’

‘Do you mean that that you’ve deliberately broken the law?’

‘I’ve just bent it a little, that’s all – like everyone else.’

‘What will Robert say if he knew that my father was a criminal?’ she teased. ‘If you break a law, it’s his duty to arrest you.’

‘Then he’ll have to arrest thousands of other people as well, Maddy. A stupid law won’t stop us putting money on the Derby. It’s every Englishman’s right to have a bet.’

‘Time to go,’ she said, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I’ll come part of the way with you, Father. I need to go to the market.’

He put a hand to his wallet. ‘Do you have enough money?’

‘Plenty, thank you.’

Madeleine went into the kitchen to collect a large wicker basket then they left the house together and strolled along the street.

‘Who was that woman you mentioned earlier?’ he said.

‘Bonny Rimmer? She was Feeny’s sweetheart.’

‘And you’ve met her?’

‘We went to church together last Sunday.’

‘Is that where you and Inspector Colbeck were?’ he said. ‘When he took you off in that trap, I was bound to wonder. What’s so special about this girl, Maddy?’

‘Robert thinks she’ll help us solve the murder.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I was very hopeful at first,’ she said, ‘but not any more. If she was going to come forward, she’d have done so by now. To be honest, I don’t believe we’ll ever see Bonny Rimmer again.’

As soon as he noticed the two detectives coming into the crowded betting room, Hamilton Fido got up from his table and let his assistant take over. Crossing the room, he gave Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming a cordial greeting and a warm handshake.

‘You seem in good spirits this morning, sir,’ noted Colbeck.

‘I’m always in good spirits, Inspector,’ said Fido. ‘The Derby gets closer and closer and the money keeps rolling in.’

‘Some of it will have to be repaid.’

‘Not if it’s been wagered on Odysseus or Limerick Lad.’

‘I see that the odds have shifted slightly, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘Your horse is now only 6–1.’

‘Are you tempted, Sergeant?’

‘Very tempted.’

‘But we’re not here to place any bets at the moment,’ said Colbeck briskly. ‘Is there somewhere a little quieter where we might talk to you, Mr Fido?’

‘Of course,’ said the bookmaker. ‘Follow me.’

He took them through a door, along a passageway and into a room that was used for storage. Fido was dressed more ostentatiously than ever and there was even more of a swagger about him.

‘How can I help you, gentlemen?’ he said obligingly.

Colbeck was direct. ‘Tell us how to find Miss Kitty Lavender.’

‘Kitty?’

‘She is the young lady with whom you stayed at the Wyvern Hotel, is she not? There’s no point in prevarication. My information comes from an unimpeachable source.’

‘Lord Hendry, no doubt!’

‘He was as unwilling as you to divulge her name at first, Mr Fido, even though he’d once tried to pass her off as Lady Hendry. The turn of events forced him to change his mind.’

‘What events?’

‘I’ll tell you that in a moment, sir. First, we’d like to know how we can make contact with Miss Lavender.’

‘I’m sorry, Inspector Colbeck,’ said Fido, trying to protect her until she was ready to come forward. ‘I’m not sure where Kitty is.’

‘We assumed that she’d be with you,’ said Leeming.

‘There are no women bookmakers, Sergeant.’

‘Staying with you, Mr Fido.’

‘I forego such delights during Derby Week,’ said the other with a grin. ‘A man in my position can afford no distractions whatsoever at such a busy time, however pleasurable they might be. No matter – I’m consoled by the fact that self-denial is good for the soul but, then,’ he added with a wicked smile, ‘I don’t suppose that you believe we bookmakers have souls, do you?’

‘Let’s talk about Kitty Lavender,’ said Colbeck. ‘It seems highly unlikely that she would want to miss the excitement of Derby Week. Do you happen to know if the young lady is here?’

‘I’ve not set eyes on her, Inspector.’

‘I understood you were on close terms.’

‘By the grace of God, we are.’

‘I’m not sure that God would approve of the attachment, Mr Fido,’ said Leeming, irritated by the glib reference to the Almighty. ‘Your union has not been blessed in His sight.’

‘That doesn’t prevent either of us from enjoying it, Sergeant.’

‘It would prevent me, sir.’

‘I’ll mention that to Kitty when I see her.’

‘And when will that be?’ asked Colbeck.

‘When this week is over, Inspector.’

‘Not before?’

‘Only if we should chance to meet.’

‘Where are you lodging at the moment?’

‘In my own home,’ replied Fido. ‘My coachman drives me back to London every evening and gets me here early in the morning.’

‘Would it not be more sensible to stay near Epsom?’

‘Accommodation is almost impossible to find.’

‘Do you know if Miss Lavender found any?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘You seem singularly uninformed about her movements, sir.’

‘Kitty is a friend,’ said the bookmaker, ‘and a rather special friend at that. Yet I don’t keep her on a leash. Kitty likes her freedom. She comes in and out of my life at will.’

‘I don’t think that anyone would be allowed to do that somehow,’ said Colbeck levelly. ‘You’re a man who prefers to exercise control. We saw that in the sad case of Peter Cheggin and the same rule no doubt obtains with Miss Lavender. You never fit into anyone else’s plans, Mr Fido – they fit into yours.’

‘You’re getting to know me too well, Inspector.’

‘Well enough, sir.’

‘What’s this about Lord Hendry and the turn of events?’

‘His house was broken into last night,’ said Colbeck. ‘His portrait of Odysseus was stolen.’ Fido laughed harshly. ‘He was less amused by the crime. We saw the painting. It was an outstanding piece of portraiture.’

‘What use is the portrait of a losing horse?’

‘Odysseus has not lost the race yet, sir, and Merry Legs has not won it. May I ask if you were aware that the painting existed?’

‘I was, Inspector.’

‘How did you come to know about it?’

‘Kitty mentioned it to me. She heard about it from Lord Hendry himself. He was inordinately proud of it.’ He looked from one to the other and saw their stern expressions. ‘Ah – so that’s why you’ve come to see me, is it? Lord Hendry has accused me of arranging the theft. Or perhaps he thinks I broke into the house myself.’

‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘that’s not the allegation he made.’

‘Then what is he alleging?’

‘He feels that Miss Lavender was involved in some way.’

‘Kitty?’ Putting back his head, Fido laughed aloud. ‘What would she want with the painting of a horse?’

‘To cause Lord Hendry pain and embarrassment.’

Fido became serious. ‘She’s every right to do that, Inspector, and I’d back her to the hilt when she did so. But she’s no thief – nor would she know where to find one skilful enough to get in and out of the house without being caught.’

‘Would you know where to find one, sir?’ asked Leeming.

‘I know where to find whatever I want, Sergeant.’

‘So you could have advised Miss Lavender.’

‘The only advice I gave to Kitty was that she should speak to you. When she’s done that, and when you realise that she’s had nothing to do with any of the crimes committed, you might stop pestering the two of us.’

‘You were glad enough of our help when someone tried to poison your horse,’ said Colbeck.

‘In times of trouble, I always turn to the law, Inspector.’

‘That’s what Lord Hendry has done.’

‘Well, you can tell him to stop looking in my direction,’ said Fido irritably. ‘I didn’t steal his painting and nor did Kitty. You ought to be talking to Brian Dowd. He has good reason to upset Lord Hendry. So do lots of other people, for that matter. Lord George Hendry is not the most popular man in horseracing.’

‘We’ve learnt that, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Well, you must get back to the betting office. But if Miss Lavender should cross your path…’

‘I’ll be sure to point her in your direction, Inspector.’

‘Thank you.’

Fido gave them a smile of farewell before hurrying off down the passageway. Colbeck rubbed a hand across his chin and reflected on the conversation with the bookmaker. Leeming was terse.

‘He’s a liar.’

‘I don’t think Mr Fido has ever been acquainted with the truth.’

‘My guess is that Kitty Lavender travels back to his house with him every evening. A man like that just has to wear the trappings of success and the lady is one of them.’

‘Granted,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I don’t accept that he lives at home during Derby Week. It would be absurd to travel back and forth to London when the roads are so congested. He’ll have found a hotel or lodgings close to the racecourse. Find out where it is, Victor.’

‘How, sir?’

‘By following him when he leaves at the end of the day. With luck, Hamilton Fido will lead you all the way to Kitty Lavender.’

‘May I say how ravishing you look, Kitty?’ he remarked, appraising her with beaming approval. ‘At times like this, I begin to wish that we were not related.’

‘Whereas I’m grateful that we are,’ she said.

‘I thought I was your beau for the day.’

‘You are, Marcus.’

‘Then we must look as if we’re together,’ said Marcus Johnson. ‘Not as children of the same mother but as man and mistress.’

‘Why not husband and wife?’

He brayed at her. ‘Neither of us could manage that deception with any degree of success. It’s far too much to ask. Even when I was married, I never contrived to look like a husband and your blend of beauty and voluptuousness would rarely be found in a wife.’

He had come to pick her up from the house to take her to the racecourse. Kitty Lavender had, as usual, taken great pains with her appearance, wearing a dress of light blue shot silk with pagoda sleeves and a hooped skirt with several flounces. To complement the dress, she had chosen a round hat of leghorn straw, trimmed with flowers at the front and a large blue velvet bow at the back. Marcus Johnson wore a well-cut frock coat, fawn trousers and a purple cravat. As she took a final look in the mirror, he put on his top hat.

‘What a handsome couple we make!’ he declared, looking over her shoulder. ‘If he could see us now, Hamilton would be green with jealousy.’

‘He won’t be jealous of my half-brother.’

‘What a pity! I love exciting envy.’

‘How did you first come to know him?’ she asked.

‘I met him at Newmarket when I placed some bets with him. I was staying with friends near Cambridge at the time and I got Hamilton invited back for a night at the card table. He was impressed that I moved so freely among the aristocracy.’

‘Did he win at cards?’

‘Yes, Kitty,’ he replied, ‘but only modestly. He played like the bookmaker he is and hedged his bets. Had he been bolder and more venturesome, he would have won far more.’

‘Were you bold and venturesome?’

‘Of course – but, as it happens, I lost.’

‘That’s nothing new,’ she said, turning to look at him. ‘Yet you’ve had successes at the card table as well, I have to admit that.’

‘Good fortune comes in waves. I’m riding one at the moment.’

‘So am I, Marcus – thanks to you.’

‘Hamilton Fido seemed the obvious choice for you, Kitty,’ he said, ‘and you were in need of some adventure after wasting your favours on Lord Hendry.’

‘I regret ever meeting George now though there were some good times at the start. And like you, I do have a weakness for hobnobbing with the nobility. For that reason,’ she said, ‘I was prepared to endure some of George’s obvious defects.’

‘Too old, too ugly, too mean-spirited.’

‘And far too married.’

‘Why does his wife put up with the old rake?’

‘The wonder is that I endured him for so long,’ said Kitty with rancour. ‘My prospects have improved in every way since I met Hamilton. He’s ten times the man that George ever was.’

They left the house and climbed into the waiting cab. As it set off, Kitty adjusted her dress and tried to ignore the dull ache in her temple. Days after she had received it, the bruise caused by the slash of a cane reminded her that it had not yet healed.

‘Hamilton keeps on at me about Inspector Colbeck,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘Because the inspector is determined to speak to me.’

‘You know my advice, Kitty,’ he said. ‘It was bad enough having your hatbox turn up in the middle of a murder investigation. Do you want to make it worse by facing the press? That’s what will happen if you cooperate with the police.’

‘Hamilton said that Inspector Colbeck is very discreet.’

‘He has reporters watching his every move. The moment you talk to him, someone will release your name to the newspapers and that could well bring some adverse publicity. You and I are twilight creatures, Kitty. We operate best in the half-dark of anonymity. If names and descriptions of us appear in newspapers, they could be read by people we are anxious to avoid.’

‘There are several of those in my life,’ she said, rolling her eyes, ‘and I daresay you’ve left a trail of disappointed ladies in your wake.’

‘I have,’ he said. ‘All the way from Paris to Perth.’

‘What were you doing in Perth?’

‘I had a brief dalliance with a countess.’

Kitty laughed. ‘You are incorrigible, Marcus!’

‘That makes two of us. We both have a ruthless streak. But you can rid your mind of Inspector Colbeck,’ he went on. ‘He won’t be able to find you in a month of Sundays. When the murder is eventually solved, your unfortunate connection to it will be soon forgotten.’

When she returned from the market, Madeleine Andrews did her household chores then spent the rest of the time working at her easel. It was late afternoon before she had a visitor. Having given up all hope of seeing Bonny Rimmer again, her spirits soared when she heard a tentative knock on the front door. She opened it at once and saw the girl standing there, nervous, frightened and overawed.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Bonny. ‘I was lost.’

‘You got here and that’s the main thing. Come on in.’

The barmaid stepped into the house and looked around. The living room was small but it was larger and more comfortable than the bare room that Bonny occupied at the Shepherd and Shepherdess. The place was neat and tidy. Everything had been recently polished. She stared at the painting of a locomotive on the wall.

‘It’s the Lord of the Isles,’ explained Madeleine.

‘Oh, I see.’

‘It was on display at the Great Exhibition and a friend kindly bought this for me.’ She was about to mention that the friend was actually Robert Colbeck but she thought better of it. ‘I have a keen interest in railways. My father’s an engine driver and I like to draw locomotives.’

She indicated the easel near the window. Bonny went across to inspect the drawing and stood back in amazement. She shook her head in disbelief.

‘You did this, Miss Andrews?’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s so clever. I could never do anything like that.’

‘I didn’t know that I could until I tried.’

Seeing how anxious her visitor was, Madeleine took her into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. When she had taken a few sips from her cup, Bonny Rimmer slowly began to relax. Coming to London for the first time was an unsettling experience for a country girl. The size and speed of everything was terrifying to her, and she felt as if she had stumbled into a foreign country. Madeleine tried to reassure her.

‘I’ll walk you to the station afterwards,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Miss Andrews – getting here was a real trial.’

‘London can be overpowering for all of us sometimes.’

‘It scares me.

‘Did you bring anything with you?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Bonny, putting down her cup to open her handbag. ‘There’s not much, I’m afraid.’ She took out a handful of items and put them on the table. ‘John asked me to look after these letters from his friend because he couldn’t read.’ A forlorn smile brushed her lips. ‘I was going to teach him.’

Madeleine looked at the meagre legacy of John Feeny. Apart from the letters, a few trinkets bought for Bonny and a rabbit’s foot he had given her for luck, the only thing there was a short note, written by Brian Dowd, confirming that Feeny had been taken on his payroll.

‘He was so proud to get that job,’ said Bonny. ‘Dozens of lads wanted to work at Mr Dowd’s stables but John was the one he chose. It was hard work but he liked it there – at first. He had dreams of riding in Mr Dowd’s colours and winning big races.’

‘It was not to be.’

‘No, Miss Andrews.’

‘But he lasted a couple of years,’ said Madeleine, seeing the date at the top of the paper. ‘Since he fell out with Mr Dowd, I’m surprised he kept this record of working there.’

‘He needed the address so that he could write to Jerry Doyle.’ Bonny gave a shy smile. ‘Or get someone else to write for him.’

‘I’m surprised the note was not damaged when he swam ashore.’

‘John was not stupid. He knew he might get wet on the voyage so he wrapped everything he had in a piece of oilskin. That includes this,’ she said, holding up a misshapen gold ring. ‘It belonged to John’s mother. He wanted me to take care of it until the day I could wear it as Mrs Feeny.’ Bonny slipped it on the appropriate finger. ‘You see, Miss Andrews? It fits.’

Madeleine was disappointed. She could see nothing there that would be of any use to Colbeck but she decided to hold on to some of it nevertheless. Bonny was quite happy to leave the letters and the note behind as long as she could take the wedding ring and the trinkets with her. They were her only mementoes of the young man she had loved. Madeleine thanked her.

‘When Inspector Colbeck has looked at these other items,’ she said, ‘I’ll make sure that you get them back.’

‘Will they be any use?’

‘That’s for the inspector to decide.’

‘You like him, don’t you?’ said Bonny.

‘Well, yes,’ replied Madeleine, caught unawares by the bluntness of the question. ‘I suppose that I do.’

‘I can hear it in your voice when you say his name.’

‘He’s been very kind to us.’

Madeleine gave her a brief account of how Robert Colbeck had come into her life and how he had solved the series of crimes that started with a train robbery in which Caleb Andrews was badly injured. Bonny listened with fascination.

‘Does that mean he’ll be able to catch John’s killer?’ she said.

‘I have no doubt about it.’

‘What will happen to him?’

‘He’ll be hanged.’

‘I wish I was there to see it,’ said Bonny with unexpected anger. ‘He deserves terrible pain for what he did to John. I hate him. He’ll roast in Hell for this crime.’

Madeleine was surprised by the outburst from such a placid girl but she understood the strain that Bonny Rimmer must be under. As they drank their tea, she moved the conversation to more neutral topics and her visitor calmed down. Before they left, however, Madeleine returned to the subject that had brought them together.

‘You told me that John had no enemies.’

‘None to speak of,’ said Bonny. ‘He always got on with people.’

‘He didn’t get on with Mr Dowd.’

‘That was because he ran out of patience. Mr Dowd made all sorts of promises to him about how he’d be a champion jockey one day but they were just lies. He never let him ride in a single race and John realised that he never would.’

‘Was that when they had their argument?’

‘Yes,’ said the other. ‘John used bad language towards Mr Dowd and that was that. He was thrown out of the stables without any pay. You know the rest, Miss Andrews.’

‘I can see why John was so grateful to meet a friend like you,’ said Madeleine. ‘For the first time in his life, he had something to look forward to.’

‘Oh, he did. John didn’t just want to prove to everyone that he could be a good jockey. He wanted to beat Mr Dowd’s horses in every race he could. That’s what kept him going,’ said Bonny. ‘He told me that he’d never be really happy until he could get his own back on Mr Dowd. It was like a mission.’

Brian Dowd had had a more than satisfactory day at the races, One of his horses had come second in the opening race and Quicklime, as he had predicted, won the last race on the card. Wearing a frock coat and top hat, he sat among the privileged spectators in the grandstand and relished his position. Lord Hendry, by contrast, had had a miserable afternoon. All of his bets were misplaced, especially the one on his own horse, Darius, in the final race. After a promising start, the animal had pulled up lame three furlongs from home. It was irksome. As he made for the exit, the last person he wanted to encounter was the smirking Irishman.

‘It was a rehearsal for tomorrow,’ said Dowd.

‘What was?’

‘That last race – my horse winning by a mile from yours.’

‘Darius went lame,’ said Lord Hendry.

‘A sure sign of lack of fitness – he was badly trained.’

‘I need no advice from you about training horses, Dowd.’

‘Apparently, you do,’ taunted Dowd. ‘You can’t even train Odysseus to stay on your wall. He galloped off somewhere, I hear.’

‘Who told you that?’ snarled Lord Hendry.

‘You’d be surprised what I get to hear. The rumour is that the painting was stolen in the night. True or false?’

‘You ought to know the answer to that.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s just the kind of thing you’d do. When you failed to cripple Odysseus in his travelling box, you paid someone to steal that portrait of him instead. It’s typical of your low Irish cunning.’

‘I wondered how long it would be before you started abusing my country,’ said Dowd cheerfully. ‘You English are so ungrateful. We dig your canals for you, we build your railways and we show you how to train racehorses properly yet you still sneer at us.’

‘Do you have my painting?’ demanded Lord Hendry.

‘I wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole.’

‘Do you know where it is?’

‘No, Lord Hendry, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. The only horse that interests me at the moment is Limerick Lad. When he runs in the Derby tomorrow, you’ll see why.’

Dowd walked away before the other man could speak. Lord Hendry muttered a few obscenities under his breath then joined the queue at the exit. His first thought had been that Hamilton Fido was behind the theft of the painting but he now felt that Dowd was a likely suspect as well. He believed that the Irishman had deliberately sought him out to gloat over the loss of the portrait. Lord Hendry decided to report that fact to Robert Colbeck.

Before he could do that, another shock awaited him. As he left the grandstand, an official walked across to him and handed Lord Hendry a letter.

‘This was left for you in the office, my lord,’ he said.

‘By whom?’

‘I’ve no idea. It just appeared.’

Without even thanking the man, Lord Hendry tore open the envelope. His blood froze as he read the single sentence inside.

‘Your painting will be returned for £3000.’

Victor Leeming was smiling complacently. Having taken Brian Dowd’s advice, he had bet on Quicklime and won himself over twenty pounds. He planned to spend it on gifts for his wife and children but, before he could decide what they would be, he saw that Hamilton Fido was about to leave at last. There had been no point in watching the man while he was in the betting room. Leeming waited until all the races had been run and all bets paid off. Then he lurked behind a coach and waited for the bookmaker to appear. Fido came out with a group of acquaintances but they soon dispersed.

Leeming trailed his man from a reasonable distance, close enough to keep him in sight but far enough behind him to eliminate any risk of being seen by Fido if he suddenly turned round. The thick crowd was both a hazard and help, impeding his progress yet offering him a welcome screen should he need it. The bookmaker seemed to be heading for a line of cabs that stood waiting for business. Leeming was pleased. Once Fido had taken a cab, he could easily be followed in a second one.

As the crowd began to thin out, Leeming got a better view of his quarry. He saw him go to the front of the queue and talk to a cab driver. Before Fido got into the vehicle, a young woman in a light-blue silk dress and straw hat approached him. From the effusive welcome she was given, he surmised that she must be Kitty Lavender. He was thrilled with his discovery but his pursuit came to an abrupt end. Intent on trailing someone else, he did not realise that he had also been followed. Leeming’s hat was knocked off from behind and he felt a sharp blow on the back of his skull. At the moment that the cab was drawing away, Leeming was plunging into unconsciousness.

‘What is it like? Did you see any races? Was there anybody famous there today? What time do we leave tomorrow? From where will we watch the Derby?’

Robert Colbeck was met with such a battery of questions that it was minutes before he was able to claim a kiss of welcome. When he got to the house late that evening, Madeleine Andrews was in a state of anticipatory delight. The joy of being able to see the Derby was compounded by the pleasure of being at the racecourse with Colbeck. As the questions continued to come, he held up a hand.

‘That’s enough, Madeleine,’ he said. ‘When you get to Epsom tomorrow, you’ll be able to see for yourself what it’s like. But you must bear in mind that it’s not merely an excursion for me. While you are watching the races, I’ll still be looking for John Feeny’s killer.’

‘Will he be there?’

‘Oh, I think so. The Derby was supposed to be the culmination of his criminal acts. Even though some of those acts were frustrated, I don’t believe he’d dare to miss the event.’ He was saddened. ‘I see that Bonny Rimmer did not, after all, turn up.’

‘Oh, but she did,’ said Madeleine. ‘How silly of me! All I could think about was myself. Yes, she did come, Robert.’

‘Did she tell you anything of interest?’

‘I think so.’

‘Did she bring anything? The girl talked about keepsakes.’

‘Those were gifts that John Feeny bought her and the wedding ring that had belonged to his mother. Apart from that, all she had were a few letters from that friend of Feeny’s in Ireland.’

‘Jerry Doyle?’

‘Yes,’ said Madeleine, opening the drawer of the sideboard. ‘I asked if I could show them to you but they won’t be of any real use. The writing is spidery and there’s just gossip about the stables.’ She took out the items and handed them over. ‘See for yourself, Robert.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. He read the note. ‘What’s this?’

‘Something that Mr Dowd gave to him when he started there,’ she replied. ‘It was proof that he’d worked at one of the leading Irish stables and he wanted to hang on to that. It was a form of certificate.’

Colbeck scrutinised the note. ‘Dowd wrote this himself?’

‘Yes, Robert.’

‘Are you certain of that?’

‘That’s what Bonny told me,’ she said. ‘I had such hopes that she might bring something that turned out to be valuable evidence but she didn’t – just two badly written letters and that short note.’

‘Come here,’ he said, taking her in his arms.

‘Why?’

‘Because I want to give you a kiss.’

‘Yes, please,’ she said, responding warmly then looking up at him in surprise. ‘What made you want to do that, Robert?’

‘This is much more than a mere note,’ he said, waving it triumphantly in the air. ‘It’s a confession.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

The pilgrimage began at dawn. Derby Day was an unpaid holiday, a joyous release from the workaday world, a national celebration, a glorious opportunity for revelry. People descended on the racecourse from all directions. The road from London to Epsom was a scene of amiable chaos as tens of thousands made the journey on foot, on horseback or seated in an astonishing array of horse-drawn vehicles, ranging from the meanest donkey-cart to the finest carriage. The journey was as much a part of the carnival as the races and it produced all the excesses of which human beings were capable.

There was constant beer-swilling, gormandising, cheering, jeering, good-humoured fighting, whirlwind flirtation, raucous singing and general ribaldry. The long trek was also punctuated by accidents, arguments and the inevitable collapse of overloaded carts or coaches. Musical instruments of all kinds added to the continuous din and self-appointed entertainers displayed their talents whether invited to do so or not. The endless procession was a thing of wonder in itself, watched by crowds who could not go to the Derby but who nevertheless wanted to be part of an unique annual experience.

On the following day, newspapers would give accounts of the journey to Epsom as well as of the races themselves and reporters were busy collecting anecdotes or noting incidents along the way. In the shared joy of travel, there was enough material for a three-volume novel let alone for a column in a newspaper. Any hideous injuries incurred en route were always worth a mention and an overturned carriage would merit a whole paragraph. High drama marked every mile of the excursion. Wherever one looked, raw emotion was on display as racegoers merrily flung off the conventions of civilised behaviour and gave vent to their true feelings. Derby Day was a positive riot of uncontrolled human aspiration.

Edward Tallis was at once shocked and mesmerised by it all, aghast at the air of wild abandon yet unable to take his eyes off it. Seated in a cab beside Victor Leeming, he found new reasons to issue arrest warrants at every turn.

‘Look at those delinquents throwing stones at each other,’ he said, pointing an index finger. ‘They should be taken into custody. So should that woman on top of the beer cart – she’s virtually naked! We can’t have females disporting themselves in public like that.’

‘Everything is tolerated on Derby Day, sir,’ said Leeming.

‘Not by me.’

‘People want some fun.’

‘That’s permissible,’ said Tallis, ‘as long as it stays within the bounds of decency and the embrace of the law.’

From the moment they set out from London, the superintendent had regretted his decision to travel by cab. He had simply not realised how slow their progress would be or how beset by what he saw as rampant criminality. When a fat old lady hopped nimbly off a cart, lifting her skirt and spreading her legs to urinate, Tallis winced in disgust. Leeming, however, was savouring it all. Though he was obliged to travel with his superior and endure his ceaseless moaning, he was in relative comfort and spared a journey by rail that he would have hated. A bandage encircled his head but it was hidden beneath his hat. The cab came to a sudden halt.

‘What’s happening now?’ asked Tallis.

‘There’s a toll-gate ahead, sir,’ said Leeming.

‘We are from Scotland Yard – we should be waved through.’

‘We’d have to get there first and, as you see, we’re hemmed in on all sides. We just have to wait in the queue.’

‘I want to get to Epsom.’

‘Be patient, sir. They sometimes have a brawl or two at toll-gates and that always holds us up.’

‘Brawling in public? That must be stopped.’

‘Then you’ll need to speak to the owners of the toll roads,’ said Leeming, ‘for that’s the root of the problem. Whenever Derby Week comes round, they always put up the prices to make large profits. Somebody refuses to pay and a scuffle takes place.’ The cab jerked forward. ‘Ah, we’re on the move again.’

They soon drew level with members of a brass band, marching in ragged formation and playing ear-splitting melodies that were hopelessly out of tune. The remorseless pounding of the bass drum made Tallis quake.

‘How long will the pandemonium last?’ he cried.

‘You may find it’s even noisier when we get there, sir.’

‘Nothing can be worse than this!’

‘They say there’ll be upwards of sixty thousand people on the Downs this afternoon. That means a real uproar. Don’t worry, sir. You’ll get used to it after a while.’

‘Never – this is purgatory!’

Edward Tallis was not all bluster and protest. When Leeming had reported the attack on him at the racecourse, the superintendent had been sympathetic and suggested that they travel to Epsom together so that Leeming would be spared the violent jostling at the railway station. Tallis shot his companion a look of concern.

‘How does your head feel now, Sergeant?’

‘It still aches a bit,’ admitted Leeming, removing his hat to put a tender hand to the back of his skull. ‘Yesterday it was agony.’

‘I can well believe that.’

‘When I regained consciousness, I thought at first I’d been the victim of a robbery but nothing had been stolen. I was knocked out to stop me following Hamilton Fido.’

‘We’ll have that rogue behind bars before the day is out.’

‘It will be very difficult to prove, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘There were plenty of witnesses and they gave me a description of my attacker before he vanished into the crowd. All in vain, I fear. He’ll probably never be seen on the course again so there’s no way to link him to Mr Fido.’

‘We’ll find a way,’ said Tallis dourly. ‘I’m not having my men assaulted in broad daylight. Besides, the bookmaker lied to you and to Inspector Colbeck. Misleading the police is something of which I take a very dim view. Fido swore that he had no communication with Kitty Lavender yet you saw them embracing.’

‘I saw a woman I assumed was Miss Lavender, sir, but I could be wrong. Mr Fido is on familiar terms with many young ladies. We’ll have to ask him who that particular one was.’

‘Do you believe that he’ll give us a truthful answer?’

‘No, Superintendent.’

‘Nor me – an honest bookmaker is a contradiction in terms. But we won’t be deterred by that fact,’ said Tallis. ‘We’ll demand answers.’

‘What about Inspector Colbeck, sir?’

‘The inspector has another quarry in sight. He left a note on my desk to that effect because he knew that I would call in at my office before I set out this morning. He claims to have made a significant advance,’ he went on. ‘I look forward to hearing what it is.’

Special trains were intended to relieve the congestion on the road and get large numbers of people from London to Epsom much faster than any horse-drawn transport. Accordingly, thousands flocked to the railway station and boarded the succession of trains. Robert Colbeck and Madeleine Andrews were on one of the earliest to depart. Squashed together in a first-class carriage, both of them enjoyed the close proximity and thought how privileged they were compared to the masses in third class who were crammed into open-topped carriages.

Not that anyone complained about the crush. A festive spirit informed the whole journey. As well as singing, storytelling and jollity, there was feverish speculation about the result of the Derby. The train sped through the morning sunshine with a cargo of happiness and high expectation. Colbeck and Madeleine were caught up in the general exhilaration, their pleasure heightened by the fact that they were seated deliciously close to each other. It was easy to forget that they were in pursuit of a callous murderer.

When they reached Epsom Station, a human wave burst out of the train and swept across the platform. Borne along by the surge, Colbeck and Madeleine gradually eased their way to the back. It was almost possible to talk at last without having to shout above the continuous hullabaloo.

‘Are you sorry that you came?’ asked Colbeck.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘It’s wonderful!’

‘So you didn’t mind having to get up so early?’

‘I’m used to that, Robert.’

‘When we get to the racecourse,’ he warned, ‘I’ll have to leave you for a while. As you know, this is not only a social event for me.’

‘I can look after myself,’ she said.

‘You deserve to enjoy the fun of the fair, Madeleine. What you did has been of immense value to me.’

‘Talking to Bonny Rimmer was no effort.’

‘By winning her confidence, you gained information that would always have been beyond me. I now have a truer picture of the relationship between John Feeny and his former employer. You helped the girl cope in her bereavement as well,’ he said, ‘and that was important. You provided succour.’

‘I wish I could have done more, Robert. When she came to the house yesterday, she looked so lonely and pitiful. The effort of getting to London had really taxed her.’

‘It was kind of you to take her back to the station.’

‘I’m glad she didn’t have to catch a special train like the one we just travelled on,’ said Madeleine with a smile. ‘Bonny would never have survived that. She was too fragile.’

‘Her journey was not in vain. That may give her consolation.’

‘Do you really think you can make an arrest today?’

‘I’m certain of it,’ he said confidently. ‘In fact, I intend to make more than one arrest. I just hope that I can do it before the Derby is run. Having been so close to the race and to some of the people involved in it, I’d hate to miss seeing it.’

‘I did warn you that Inspector Colbeck would never give up,’ said Hamilton Fido. ‘You saw what happened yesterday.’

‘We were not seen together,’ said Kitty Lavender.

‘We might have been. If I had not had a bodyguard in the right place, we could have been followed all the way back here.’

‘But we weren’t, Hamilton.’

‘Only because my man knew what to do,’ he said. ‘Assaulting a policeman is a dangerous game, Kitty. It’s like poking a stick in a beehive – there’ll be a whole swarm of them buzzing around Epsom today as a result. Why don’t you stop hiding?’

Dressed to leave, they were in the bedroom that they were sharing during Derby Week. Kitty was wearing more jewellery than she had done on previous visits to the course and she stopped to examine her diamond necklace in the mirror. Fido grinned.

‘That’s the difference between Lord Hendry and me,’ he said, kissing the nape of the neck. ‘He buys you a hat and a hatbox – I give you jewellery.’

‘In fairness to George, he did promise to buy me a diamond brooch when his horse won the Derby.’

‘When or if?’

‘There was no doubt in his mind.’

‘How much money has he laid out on the race?’

‘A lot, Hamilton,’ she said. ‘He’s risking everything on it.’

‘Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought.’

‘His wife has money but she won’t lend him any to fritter away on what she considers to be a pointless sport. It always maddened George that she would make large donations to worthy causes while ignoring him. He’s had to raise funds from elsewhere.’

‘Loans from friends?’

‘He’s been forced to mortgage some of his property.’

‘What happens if Odysseus loses?’

‘George will be finished,’ she said with satisfaction.

‘In that case, I’ll be doing him a favour by killing him in a duel. It will put him out of his misery.’

‘Must you go ahead with it, Hamilton?’

‘I can’t pull out of it now,’ he said. ‘That would be cowardice.’

‘I still feel that George may resort to a trick of some kind.’

‘I’ll be ready for him, Kitty.’

‘I don’t want you harmed in any way,’ she said, stroking his cheek. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose you.’

‘Lord Hendry poses no danger to me,’ he said smugly. ‘I’m a bookmaker, remember, and I create enemies without even trying. Over the years, disaffected customers have threatened me with all manner of gruesome deaths. Yet I’m still here,’ he boasted. ‘Doesn’t that tell you something?’

‘Yes – you take wise precautions.’

‘I also have a sixth sense. I knew that Sergeant Leeming was going to trail me. He came into the betting room once too often and kept glancing in my direction. That’s why I gave the signal to one of my bodyguards. Of course,’ he went on, ‘none of this would have been necessary if you had spoken to Inspector Colbeck. Because of you, his sergeant ended up with a throbbing headache.’

‘I don’t like getting involved with the police, Hamilton.’

‘You have no choice.’

‘Marcus warned me against it.’

‘It’s your decision, Kitty – not his.’

‘I know.’

‘How much longer do you want to hold back?’

She turned away and walked to the window, gazing sightlessly through the glass. Deep in thought, she stood there for minutes and wrestled with the competing arguments. Fido waited patiently. At length, she turned back to him with a resigned smile.

‘I’ll speak to Inspector Colbeck today,’ she said.

‘Thank goodness for that!’

‘But only after the race,’ she stipulated. ‘I’ll not let anyone distract me from that. It’s the reason I got up so early. I want to enjoy every minute of Derby Day and watch Odysseus getting beaten by Merry Legs. Then – and only then – I’ll be ready for Inspector Colbeck.’

Although he knew how capable and independent she was, Robert Colbeck did not want Madeleine Andrews to wander about the Downs on her own. There were too many thieves, confidence tricksters and drunken men about, ready to pounce on an unaccompanied female. Since she was keen to see the acrobats performing, Colbeck assigned a uniformed policeman to be her guide. While she set out with the burly constable, Colbeck went off in search of Brian Dowd.

To get to the stables where Limerick Lad was being kept, he had to find his way through a labyrinth. Broughams, barouches, carts, gigs, four-wheeled chaises, traps, cabs, covered vans and phaetons were parked close together in positions of vantage. As he passed a stagecoach, Colbeck counted no fewer than eight people perched on its roof as they consumed their picnic. When the races began, the vehicles would form their own grandstand and those still sober enough to see would have an excellent view of one part of the course.

It took him some time to reach the stables but he was rewarded with a sight of Brian Dowd. The trainer was walking across the yard. Seeing his visitor, the Irishman gave him a broad smile.

‘Top of the morning to you, Inspector!’ he said.

‘And to you, sir.’

‘Isn’t it just a grand day for a Derby?’

‘That depends,’ said Colbeck.

‘More rain last night and a clear sky today,’ said Dowd happily. ‘Limerick Lad couldn’t ask for better conditions. The going will be soft and he’ll have the sun on his back.’

‘I thought he’d have Tim Maguire on his back – unless, that is, he’s been tempted away from you by anonymous offers.’

Dowd frowned. ‘Do I hear a cynical note in your voice?’

‘You were responsible for putting it there, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘When you showed me that letter sent to your jockey, I believed that one of your rivals really was trying to steal him from you. Then this happened to fall into my hands,’ he continued, pulling out the note that had belonged to John Feeny and thrusting it at Dowd. ‘The handwriting bears a strange resemblance to that in the letter, as you’ll see.’ Extracting the missive addressed to Tim Maguire, he handed it over. ‘Don’t you agree, Mr Dowd?’

Face motionless, the Irishmen compared the two items. A flicker of irritation showed before he burst into laughter. He reached forward to slap Colbeck companionably on the shoulder.

‘You found me out, Inspector. I wrote both of these.’

‘In other words, you reported a crime that never existed.’

‘But it did exist,’ said Dowd. ‘You can ask Tim about it. The only difference is that it was made verbally. I thought that if I put it down in writing, you’d take it more seriously.’

‘You deliberately misled me, sir,’ said Colbeck icily, ‘and I take exception to that. You also gave me an incorrect version of what happened when you and John Feeny parted company.’

‘It’s my word against that of an ignorant barmaid.’

‘The girl can read, write and tell the truth.’

‘All she’s told you are the lies that Feeny spread about me,’ said Dowd, spitting out the words. ‘Frankly, I’m insulted that you should believe for a moment anything she said.’

‘It accords with my own observations, Mr Dowd.’

‘Are you questioning my honesty?’

‘I’m saying that you’re very parsimonious with the truth, sir.’

‘I resent that strongly, Inspector!’

‘Your resentment is duly noted,’ said Colbeck smoothly, ‘but it pales beside my own. You wrote a letter purporting to come from an anonymous rival. That was gross deception.’

‘I explained that. I needed to secure your attention.’

‘You’ve certainly secured it now.’

‘It was done with the best of intentions.’

‘What about that story of two men who tried to cudgel Tim Maguire? Did you invent that with the best of intentions as well?’

‘It was no invention.’

Colbeck raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ retorted Dowd. ‘And before you accuse me of lying to you, let me remind you that I didn’t report that incident to the police. We dealt with it ourselves as we’ve done with many similar incidents. If you look at my record as a trainer over the past five years, you’ll see how successful I’ve been. That annoys people, especially members of the English aristocracy who can’t bear the thought of an upstart Irishman like me beating their expensive racehorses time and again. At Doncaster last year, someone tied a silk handkerchief around the leg of my colt, Dungannon, then hit it with a stick. It’s a miracle the leg was not broken. And you don’t have to believe me,’ he went on, working himself up into a fury. ‘The incident was reported in the newspapers. It happens every time we come to England, you see. We’re always under siege over here. Well, look at the evidence. If one of the bastards can send me the severed head of a lad I once employed, you can see what I’m up against.’

‘Other owners have their afflictions as well, Mr Dowd.’

‘Who cares about that?’

‘Merry Legs might well have been poisoned,’ said Colbeck. ‘Can’t you find an ounce of sympathy for the horse?’

‘I’ve sympathy for every horse, Inspector, especially one that’s owned by Hamilton Fido. Anyone who tries to kill an animal that way deserves to have the poison poured down his own throat. I hope you catch the man soon.’

‘Can you suggest where I might start looking?’

‘You do your job and I’ll do mine.’

‘Unhappily,’ said Colbeck, ‘the two overlap so we’re sure to see more of each other before the day is out. As for what was, in essence, a forged letter written to deceive the police, I’ll have to consult my superintendent about the appropriate action to take. Since he’s coming to Epsom today, he may well want to speak to you himself.’

‘I’ll speak to the whole of the Metropolitan Police Force, if you wish,’ volunteered Dowd, ‘and you’re welcome to issue a fine or lock me up, if need be. I ask only one favour, Inspector – please don’t do it before the Derby.’

Having complained bitterly throughout the entire journey, Edward Tallis reserved his severest remonstrations for Epsom itself. The sight of so many people enjoying themselves on the Downs was anathema to him. He viewed the vast panorama of tents, marquees, booths, stalls and handcarts as if they were a communal entrance to Hell.

‘Have you ever beheld such sin and degradation?’ he said.

‘They always have a fairground here, sir,’ replied Leeming. ‘On a day like this, people expect entertainment.’

‘Entertainment! Is that what you call it, Sergeant?’

‘Most of it is quite harmless. Who could object to acrobats and fire-eaters and fortune-tellers? And there are dozens of amazing freaks to see, not to mention jugglers, musicians and ballad singers. I know there are pickpockets, thimble-riggers and swindlers here as well,’ he conceded, ‘but the majority of people are very law-abiding.’

‘At the moment, perhaps,’ said Tallis darkly, ‘but anything can happen when drink is taken. We saw that on the way here. The most upright citizen can be reduced to a babbling imbecile after six pints of beer. By evening, this place will be like Sodom and Gomorrah.’

Leeming stifled a laugh. ‘Yes, Superintendent.’

They alighted from the cab and elbowed their way towards the grandstand. All around them, people from every class of society were eating, drinking, smoking, laughing, playing games or engaging in lively banter. They went past mechanics and members of the nobility, tradesmen in their best suits, urchins in their rags, noisy shop-boys, boisterous apprentices, wandering foreigners, red-cheeked country folk, orange sellers, minstrels, maidservants, baked-potato vendors, porters, dockworkers, watermen, lavender girls, gypsies, soldiers, sailors and everyone else who had been drawn to the jamboree.

Victor Leeming thought that the crowd was remarkably even-tempered but Tallis predicted trouble. The superintendent was pleased to see a number of police uniforms dotted around the scene.

‘Let’s hope our men can enforce a measure of control,’ he said.

‘They’ll make all the difference,’ said Leeming.

‘What’s that?’

‘There were no policemen in Sodom and Gomorrah.’

‘I can do without your comments, Sergeant.’

‘I was simply trying to make a point, sir.’

‘Make it elsewhere.’

The curt rebuff reduced Leeming to silence until they reached the betting room. After Tallis had been introduced to Hamilton Fido, they adjourned to the nearby storeroom with the bookmaker.

‘I’d appreciate it if this discussion was brief,’ said Fido. ‘As you know, I’m needed to take bets. My presence is critical.’

‘This is not a discussion, sir,’ said Tallis, ‘but part of a police investigation. I set no time limit on that.’ He nudged Leeming who removed his hat to reveal the bandaging. ‘Yesterday evening the sergeant was clubbed to the ground while in the act of following you.’

Fido feigned surprise. ‘Why should he follow me?’

‘I thought you’d lead me to Kitty Lavender,’ said Leeming.

‘I told you – I’ve no idea where she is.’

‘We didn’t accept your assurance, sir.’

‘In other words,’ said Tallis, resuming control, ‘one of my officers was assaulted while in pursuit of you, Mr Fido. We are bound to suspect that the ruffian involved was in your employ.’

‘I deny that wholeheartedly!’ exclaimed Fido.

‘We had a feeling that you would.’

‘I had no idea that I was being shadowed by Sergeant Leeming and, if I had, I would certainly not have set someone onto him. I’d have stopped and asked him exactly what it was that he wanted. My policy is to assist the guardians of law and order as much as I can.’

‘That statement flies in the face of your reputation.’

‘The only reputation I have,’ said the bookmaker, ‘is for honest dealing. That’s why I’ve lasted so long while others have gone to the wall.’ He studied Leeming’s bandage. ‘I’m very sorry that the sergeant was wounded but I must protest at the allegation that I somehow prompted the attack.’

‘I know that you employ some pugs, sir,’ said Leeming.

‘Only as bodyguards.’

‘We have a good description of the man who hit me. He was big, brawny and had a broken nose. Two or three witnesses said that he looked like an old boxer.’

‘There are plenty of retired boxers roaming the Downs today.’

‘We’re only concerned with one individual,’ said Tallis.

‘Do you have him in custody?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Do you have any idea who he might be?’

‘One of your henchmen, Mr Fido.’

‘You’re welcome to have a list of my employees,’ said the other blithely, ‘so that you can talk to each of them in turn. I can guarantee you will not find the man you are after because he has no connection whatsoever with me. Sergeant Leeming’s injury was caused by a complete stranger.’ He flashed a defiant smile. ‘Will that be all?’

‘No, it will not be all,’ said the superintendent tartly.

‘I’m required elsewhere, Mr Tallis.’

‘You’re required here at the moment, sir. I’m not letting you go until we clear up this nonsense about Miss Kitty Lavender. We must see her immediately. Inspector Colbeck believes that she can throw light on the murder that occurred,’ he continued, ‘and he’s tired of your refusal to bring her forward.’

‘I’ve encouraged her to speak to you.’

‘Yet she remains inaccessible. Part of the blame for that should lie with you, Mr Fido, which means that you are hindering a murder investigation and are therefore liable to arrest.’

‘Your wait is over, Superintendent,’ said Fido, holding up both hands to pacify him. ‘I give you my solemn word on that. Kitty has finally accepted the wisdom of my advice and consented to speak to the police.’

‘Then where is she?’

‘And how do you know she’s changed her mind,’ added Leeming, ‘when you claim to be out of touch with her?’

‘I’ll take those questions in order. Where is she?’ he asked. ‘I don’t rightly know but Kitty is here somewhere and promises faithfully that she will talk to Inspector Colbeck once the Derby is over. How do I know all this? said Fido. ‘I was informed of her change of heart by Marcus Johnson, her half-brother. He, too, is here today.’ He pulled out a gold watch and consulted it. ‘Time races on, gentlemen,’ he noted. ‘May I have your permission to leave?’

‘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?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that cheered me.’

They were standing in front of a garish poster advertising the Judge and Jury Show and they moved away so that passers-by could see it. Johnson unfolded the newspaper that was under his arm.

‘Haven’t you seen that enough times, Marcus?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘I still haven’t made up my mind.’

‘But you know the names of the horses off by heart.’

‘I’d rather study them in print.’

‘I’ve put money on Merry Legs,’ she said.

‘A filly hasn’t won the Derby for over fifty years.’

‘One is due to break that sequence.’

‘I’d never risk a bet on Hamilton’s horse.’

‘Then which one will you pick?’

‘The race has to be between these six runners,’ he said, pointing to the paper. ‘The rest of the field will simply make up the numbers. Somewhere in that sextet is my chance to make a fortune.’

Kitty looked over his shoulder at the list of betting odds.7–2 against - Lord Hendry’s Odysseus 6–1 - Mr Dowd’s Limerick Lad 9–1 - Mr Fido’s Merry Legs 10–1 - Duke of Sefton’s Aleppo 12–1 - Sir J Mallen’s Gladiator 12–1 - Hon E Petre’s Royal Realm

‘You can’t shilly-shally any longer, Marcus,’ she said.

‘I’ll not be rushed. It’s the biggest bet I’ve ever made.’

‘Odysseus is the clear favourite.’

‘I’d never waste my money on anything belonging to Lord Hendry,’ he said, folding the newspaper up again. ‘Favourite or not, Odysseus can and will be beaten.’

‘By whom?’

‘Limerick Lad,’ he decided. ‘I’ll entrust my future to Ireland.’

Epsom racecourse was shaped like a horseshoe but it would not bring luck to all of the runners in the Derby. Only one could win and, years after the race, that was the name that would be remembered. No matter how close they had been to success, second- and third-placed horses would be consigned to obscurity. Everything depended on a fierce gallop that lasted less than three minutes. No horse could have a second chance to win the fabled race.

Robert Colbeck had been reunited with Madeleine Andrews in time to share a light repast with her and his colleagues. She had met Victor Leeming before but now had the ambiguous pleasure of being introduced to Edward Tallis. Notwithstanding his trenchant views on the distraction caused to his officers by wives and female friends, the superintendent was uniformly charming to Madeleine and showed a side to his character that the other men had never seen before.

The whole day had been built around the Derby and when the starting time drew closer, the excitement reached a new and more strident pitch. Much to his frustration, Leeming was ordered to take a seat beside Tallis in the grandstand. He would have preferred to accompany Colbeck and Madeleine to the paddock but was given no choice in the matter. The sergeant had managed to place a surreptitious bet but he would have liked to see his chosen horse at close quarters before the race.

‘Mr Tallis is not the ogre you described,’ observed Madeleine.

‘You caught him on one of his milder days,’ said Colbeck.

‘I thought that he disliked women.’

‘Only if they take the minds of his officers off their work.’

She giggled. ‘Is that what I do, Robert?’

‘From time to time,’ he replied, squeezing her arm, ‘and I’m grateful for it. But you’ve also been able to assist me, as you’ve done in the present investigation.’

‘What does that make me?’

‘I suppose that I’d call you a useful diversion.’

‘Is that good or bad?’

‘You won’t ever hear me complaining, Madeleine.’

The paddock was near the finish and a sizeable throng had gathered to watch the horses being paraded. Owners were having last-minute conversations with their trainers and jockeys. Lord Hendry was there, patting Odysseus nervously as a groom led him past. It was Madeleine’s first sight of the favourite and she marvelled at his lean head, longish neck and solid shoulders. She also took note of his massive ribs and powerful quarters. Merry Legs, though neat and beautifully proportioned, looked slight beside the favourite.

‘Father was going to bet on Aleppo,’ she confided.

Colbeck pointed. ‘Here he comes,’ he said, ‘and he may yet cause an upset. So might Sir James Mallen’s Gladiator. I’ve been hearing good things about him all morning.’

‘It’s so confusing, Robert. How can anyone choose a winner?’

‘By a combination of luck and judgement.’

‘What’s your feeling?’

‘I’m just relieved that the Derby is about to be run without any horses having been eliminated unfairly. It’s not too late for any foul play at this stage, of course,’ he said. ‘To guard against that, I’ve placed some of my officers in strategic positions so that the horses will be watched all the way to the start.’

‘You didn’t answer my question.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Have you or have you not placed a bet?’

Colbeck smiled. ‘It would be absurd not to, Madeleine.’

There was mild commotion as Princess of Fire had a tantrum, bucking half a dozen times and scattering those who had got too near. The groom and the jockey soon calmed the filly. It was time for the horses to go to the starting post. Jockeys were helped up into the saddle and fitted their feet into the stirrups. Racing caps were adjusted. Silk tunics, bearing the owner’s colours, flapped in the breeze. Tensions that had built steadily up over months of preparation were finally on the point of release. There was no turning back now.

When they saw the runners heading for the start, the spectators went into a frenzy of anticipation. Lining the course and covering the Downs like a vast human carpet, they roared and cheered and clapped. Six years earlier, the starting point had been altered so that it was more easily visible from the towering, three-tiered grandstand. That was the best place from which to watch the race and Colbeck conducted Madeleine there. While he was very interested in the outcome of the Derby, part of his mind was still concentrated firmly on the murder investigation. Leeming had told him that Kitty Lavender had agreed to meet him soon after the race. Colbeck looked forward to the encounter with her.

They were all there. Lord Hendry was seated among his cronies, hiding his deep fears beneath friendly badinage. Brian Dowd sat nearer the front, dressed in his finery and using a telescope to get a better view. Hamilton Fido had vacated the betting room and stood at the rear of the grandstand, framed in a doorway and watching it all with wry amusement. He had taken an immense amount of money in bets. Whatever the result, he stood to reap a huge profit. He was already considering what he would buy Kitty Lavender by way of celebration.

With the vast crowd baying for the race to start, there was a delay as three of the jockeys were unable to bring their horses in line. In spite of repeated warnings from the starter, it was minutes before the mettlesome thoroughbreds were brought under enough control. Twenty runners were eventually strung out in something resembling a line. The flag came down and the horses plunged forward on their dash into racing history. They were off.

Royal Realm and Princess of Fire were the early leaders with the rest of the field fanned out behind them. They made the running all the way to Tattenham Corner, with over half the race behind them. As soon as they entered the straight, however, they fell back and it was a quartet of horses who surged to the front. Below the distance, with just over a furlong to go, they split into two groups. Limerick Lad and Aleppo were involved in a ferocious battle on the rails while Odysseus and Merry Legs fought for supremacy on the stand side. There was little to choose between any of them.

The Irish horse seemed to be pulling slowly away, then it was the favourite who put in a finishing spurt. Aleppo stayed in touch with both of them but Merry Legs began to falter and lose ground. The race was only between three horses now. Using their whips and yelling their commands, the jockeys sought to pull every last ounce of speed out of their mounts. As they thundered towards the post, Odysseus made a supreme effort and Limerick Lad strained to match it.

The noise reached the level of hysteria and the whole of the stand was on its feet to cheer the horses home. With Limerick Lad and Odysseus riding neck and neck, it looked as if it might be a dead heat. Then Aleppo showed perfect racing temperament by saving his spurt until the critical moment, edging past the others over the last twenty yards to win by a half a length. Another Derby had delivered a shock. In the massive explosion of sound that followed, it was minutes before most people were aware of the full result.

Aleppo was the winner, Limerick Lad was second and the favourite was pushed into third place. Gladiator had stolen up to take fourth place from Merry Legs but that did not appease those who had backed him. The Derby was over for another year and the murder investigation could be resumed.

When the hordes descended on the bookmakers, it was difficult for the detectives to reach Hamilton Fido. They had to force a way through the crowd. Madeleine Andrews had been left with the superintendent so that Colbeck and Leeming could go about their work. In the sustained clamour, they could hardly make themselves heard. When they finally got to the betting room, they caught a glimpse of Hamilton Fido over the heads of the people in front of them. Beside the bookmaker was a beautiful young woman. Certain that it was Kitty Lavender, Colbeck redoubled his efforts to move through the crowd.

But he was not the only person eager to get close to the woman. Lord Hendry had an even more urgent appointment with her. Crazed by the failure of Odysseus, knowing that he faced financial ruin and enraged by the sight of Kitty Lavender and Fido together, he rushed towards them, using his cane indiscriminately to beat a way through. Panting for breath, he confronted them.

‘You’re a harlot, Kitty Lavender!’ he shouted. ‘I won’t fight a duel over you because you have no honour to defend.’

‘That’s enough!’ yelled Fido, stepping between the two of them. ‘I’ve told you before, Hendry. If you dare to insult Kitty, you answer to me.’

‘This is all I have to say to you!’

Pulling out a pistol from beneath his coat, he fired at point-blank range and sent a bullet burrowing into Fido’s forehead. There was a moment of abrupt silence and everyone instinctively drew back. The whole atmosphere in the room had changed in a flash. Then the bookmaker fell backwards into Kitty’s arms and she let out a scream of absolute terror. The detectives were the first to recover. All decorum was abandoned now as they shoved people aside to get to the killer.

Lord Hendry did not wait for them. Flinging his pistol aside, he twisted the handle of his cane, drew out the sword that was concealed inside it and used it to create a space for his escape. He went swiftly through the door at the rear of the room and slammed it behind him. Colbeck and Leeming were the only men brave enough to follow him. When they finally reached the door and opened it, a horrifying scene greeted them. Having lost his money, his property and his reputation, Lord Hendry had decided that he had nothing left to keep him alive with any dignity. Falling forward onto the point of the weapon, he had pierced his heart and was writhing in a pool of blood.

Colbeck thought of all the classical texts in the man’s library.

‘It was a Roman death,’ he said. ‘He fell on his sword.’

It took a long time to calm everyone down and to have the two dead bodies removed by policemen. A pall of sadness now hung over the room. Devastated at the death of her lover, Kitty Lavender was also tortured by the realisation that she was indirectly responsible for it. In becoming, in turn, the mistress of two men, she had ensured a violent end for both of them. She was anguished.

Colbeck had to be extremely patient with her. Having escorted her to a private room, he waited until the immediate shock had passed. It was followed by a wide-eyed bewilderment.

‘Why did George do it?’ she wailed. ‘Why?’

‘I think he was pushed to the brink of despair,’ said Colbeck.

‘He didn’t have to kill Hamilton.’

‘He felt that he did, Miss Lavender.’

‘It was madness – George has ruined everything.’

‘This crime is rooted firmly in another one,’ said Colbeck quietly, ‘and you are the only person who can help me to solve it. A hatbox bought for you by Lord Hendry was stolen from the Wyvern Hotel. Do you remember that?’

‘How could I ever forget, Inspector?’

‘You were staying there with Mr Fido at the time.’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘My belief is that the theft was deliberate. There were items of far greater value left in your hotel room but the thief only took the hatbox. Can you follow what I’m saying, Miss Lavender?’

‘No,’ she said, tears running freely.

‘Someone came to that hotel with the express purpose of stealing your property. No other guest was robbed – only you. The thief must therefore have known where you were and that you would have your hatbox with you.’

‘Nobody knew, Inspector,’ she said. ‘Hamilton and I wanted to be alone together. That’s not the kind of thing that I’d advertise.’

‘A casual word to a female friend, perhaps?’

‘No.’

‘A hint to someone close to you?’

‘I talked to nobody.’

‘Then we must be looking for a mind-reader,’ concluded Colbeck. ‘Someone who knew you well enough to guess where you would stay with Mr Hamilton because the Wyvern Hotel might have a particular significance for you.’

Kitty Lavender almost choked and Colbeck had to support her while she coughed violently. When she had recovered, her face was ashen and she was trembling all over.

‘Marcus,’ she said in a hoarse whisper.

‘Who?’

‘Marcus Johnson, my half-brother. I believe you met him.’

‘Did you tell him where you’d be staying?’

‘Not exactly,’ she recalled, ‘but he knew that Hamilton and I were going to spend the night together. He’d introduced us. Without him, I’d never have got to know Hamilton.’

‘Was he aware of your relationship with Lord Hendry?’

‘Yes – Marcus helped me to escape from it.’

‘So he might know where that hatbox came from.’

‘Of course, Inspector.’

‘And might even have followed you to the hotel.’

A tremor passed through her. ‘I’ve just remembered something else,’ she said, eyes filling with dread. ‘Hamilton and George both urged me to speak to you but my step-brother stopped me from doing so. Marcus said that I should avoid the police at all costs.’

‘Why do you think he told you that?’

‘I’m beginning to wonder.’

‘It was because he was afraid, Miss Lavender,’ said Colbeck. ‘He was afraid that his name would be mentioned and a new line of inquiry would be opened up. He was not thinking of you – he was protecting himself.’

‘If Marcus stole the hatbox…’ her voice trailed away.

‘Then he also murdered the lad whose head was put in it.’

‘He’d never do anything like that!’ she protested.

‘An hour ago you’d have sworn that Lord Hendry would never shoot someone in cold blood then commit suicide. Yet that’s exactly what happened, Miss Lavender. In extreme situations, people will do anything. You say that your half-brother introduced you to Mr Fido?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Did it ever cross your mind that he did so on purpose?’

‘Not until now,’ she said, reeling from the thought. ‘Marcus said that he had my best interests at heart but, all the time, he was just using me. He wanted someone close to Hamilton so that he was aware of his movements. He even stole my hatbox.’

‘I need to speak to Mr Johnson immediately.’

‘Yes, yes, you must.’

‘Then where is he?’

‘Marcus went off to see a friend. He didn’t give me his name.’

‘Not to worry,’ said Colbeck. ‘I believe that I know it.’

The argument took place in an empty stall. Aware that they might be overheard by someone in the yard outside, both men kept their voices down but there was no diminution in their intensity of feeling. Marcus Johnson gesticulated with both hands while Brian Dowd kept his fists bunched as if ready to throw a punch at any moment.

‘Give me my money!’ demanded Johnson.

‘You’ll not get a penny from me,’ said the other.

‘We had an agreement, Brian.’

‘The agreement was for you to make sure that Odysseus and Merry Legs didn’t run. I wanted Lord Hendry and Hamilton Fido out of the race but not at the cost of killing their horses.’

‘I tried to disable them and failed.’

‘That didn’t mean you had to cripple one horse and poison another. You went too far, Marcus, and that meant the police were alerted. I don’t hold with harming racehorses. There were easier ways of taking them out of the race. I told you what to do.’

‘Your methods didn’t work,’ said Johnson.

‘Neither did yours – and that’s why I’m not paying you.’

‘I was depending on that money, Brian.’

‘Then you should have done as you were told.’

‘I used my own initiative. The irony is that you didn’t need to get your rivals out of the race. Limerick Lad beat both of them, as it was. Unfortunately, Aleppo sneaked a win at the post.’

‘Years of hard work came to nothing,’ said Dowd sourly. ‘It was the best chance I had to win the Derby and cock a snook at both Fido and Lord Hendry. Instead of which, I get nothing.’

‘Limerick Lad was an honourable second.’

‘I only settle for first place. I’ve lost thousands on this race.’

‘You’re not the only one,’ said Johnson. ‘After listening to your boasts about how Tim Maguire would ride your horse to victory, I put every penny I had on Limerick Lad winning. In return, I got nothing.’ He took a menacing step forward. ‘So I need the money that was promised to me at the start.’

‘I don’t have it,’ said Dowd, ‘and even if I did I wouldn’t give it to you. Get out of here and never let me see your face again.’

‘I won’t take orders from you.’

‘You’re asking for trouble, aren’t you?’

‘I’m asking you to remember that we’re in this together,’ said Johnson, voice rising out of control. ‘On your orders, I killed John Feeny. On your orders, I tried to bring his head to you in Ireland. On your orders, I caused mayhem at the stables belonging to Lord Hendry and Hamilton Fido. You can’t get rid of me that easily. We’re partners in crime, Brian. We’re accomplices.’

‘Not any more!’ said Dowd, flinging himself at Johnson.

They grappled in the middle of the stall and flailed around in the straw. The fight was short-lived. Before either of them could land a telling blow, the stable door was flung open and Colbeck came in with Leeming at his shoulder. The combatants stood back from each other.

‘I’ve never heard such a frank confession before,’ said Colbeck. ‘The sergeant and I are very grateful to Mr Johnson for clarifying the details. We were standing outside while he did so. There’s one more crime to add to the list,’ he added, waving a letter in the air. ‘I’m talking about the theft of a painting from Lord Hendry’s house.’

‘That was nothing to do with me,’ protested Dowd.

‘I’m not accusing you, sir. Mr Johnson is the culprit. This letter was found in Lord Hendry’s pocket. It gives instructions about where he can leave £3000 to buy the portrait back. That money will never be paid or collected. Lord Hendry is dead.’

Johnson and Dowd traded a look of utter amazement.

‘He committed suicide,’ explained Leeming, ‘immediately after he had shot Hamilton Fido. Both of your rivals have perished, Mr Dowd.’

‘Is this true?’ gasped the Irishman.

‘We were witnesses to the shooting, sir.’

‘When I searched Lord Hendry’s pockets,’ said Colbeck, ‘I found this second demand. I showed it to your half-sister, Mr Johnson, and she was kind enough to identify the handwriting as yours.’

‘Kitty must be mistaken,’ said Johnson.

‘No, sir – she won’t ever make a mistake about you again. Now that she sees you in your true light, she knows you for what you are.’

‘Brian is to blame – he put me up to it.’

‘Shut your bleeding gob!’ yelled Dowd.

Johnson laughed. ‘Compliments pass when the quality meet.’

‘This is all your fault.’

‘You are just as guilty, Mr Dowd,’ said Colbeck. ‘This whole business sprang out of your hatred of John Feeny. You never forgave him for standing up to you. When you heard that he was working at the stables owned by Hamilton Fido, you saw a chance to get your revenge on the lad and cause some embarrassment for one of your rivals at the same time. It was a clever ruse.’

‘Getting that hatbox delivered to you,’ said Leeming, ‘made it seem as if you were the victim and not the man who instigated the crime in the first place. You fooled us at first. What let you down was that you tried to do it again.’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘When I discovered that you had forged the letter supposedly sent to your jockey, I became very suspicious. I was convinced that you lied to me about John Feeny.’

‘Feeny was a vile little bugger!’ roared Dowd. ‘When I threw him out of my stables, he went round telling everyone that I was a cheat and a bully. If he hadn’t fled to England, I’d have strangled him with my bare hands.’

‘So you had no compunction about ordering his murder?’

‘None at all, Inspector – it was what he deserved.’

‘The severed head was my suggestion,’ said Johnson airily. ‘I thought it would add a suitably macabre touch. When Kitty told me about the hatbox that Lord Hendry had bought her, I couldn’t resist stealing it. At one brilliant stroke, I linked Lord Hendry and Hamilton Fido with the death of Brian’s former groom. There was an almost poetic roundness to it all.’

‘It’s not one that I appreciate, sir,’ said Leeming.

‘Nor me,’ added Colbeck. ‘Let’s take these gentlemen into custody, Victor. I’m sure that Superintendent Tallis will be delighted to meet both of them – on their way to the gallows.’

Leeming produced a pair of handcuffs to put on Dowd but the Irishman tried to buffet him aside and escape. The sergeant had arrested far too many men to be brushed aside. Sticking out a leg, he tripped Dowd up then sat astride him and pulled his arms behind him so that he could put on the handcuffs. He then got up, grabbed the prisoner by the collar of his frock coat and hoisted him to his feet. Dowd was still swearing violently as he was pushed unceremoniously out of the stall. Colbeck was left alone with Marcus Johnson.

‘You seem remarkably unperturbed, sir,’ said Colbeck, taking out a pair of handcuffs.

‘I backed the wrong horse in every sense, Inspector.’

‘How did you get involved with Brian Dowd?’

‘I spent some months in Ireland,’ replied Johnson, ‘sponging off friends. I met Brian at a race meeting there and we hit it off at once. I admired his determination to win the Derby at all costs and he was grateful to meet someone who would do anything for money and, moreover, do it in great style.’

‘There’s nothing stylish about murdering an innocent lad.’

Johnson brayed. ‘You were not there at the time.’

‘You won’t laugh quite so loud on the scaffold,’ warned Colbeck. ‘Turn around, please, and put your hands behind your back.’

‘Your wish is my command, Inspector.’

Johnson turned round obligingly but, instead of putting his hands behind his back, he pulled out a small pistol from under his coat and swung round to point the weapon at Colbeck.

‘The tables are turned,’ he said, grinning in triumph.

‘I dispute that,’ said Colbeck, showing no fear. ‘As well as Sergeant Leeming, there are four uniformed policemen outside. You can’t kill six of us with one bullet, Mr Johnson.’

‘I won’t need to kill anybody now that I have a hostage. You are my passport out of here, Inspector. Nobody would dare to stop me when I’m holding a gun to the head of the much-vaunted Railway Detective. And the beauty of it is,’ he went on, ‘that you’ll be wearing your own handcuffs.’ He levelled the pistol at Colbeck’s head and his voice became a snarl. ‘Give them to me and turn round.’

‘As you wish, sir.’

‘And no tricks.’

‘You have the advantage over me, Mr Johnson.’

‘I’m glad that you appreciate that.’

Colbeck held out the handcuffs but, when Johnson tried to take them, they were suddenly thrown into his face. In the momentary distraction, Colbeck grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the weapon and forced it upwards. The pistol went off with a loud bang and the bullet embedded itself harmlessly in a wooden beam. Colbeck, meanwhile, was hurling Johnson against the wall to make him drop the weapon. He then hit him with a succession of punches to the face and body. Johnson put his arms up to defend himself but the attack was far too strong. A vicious right hook finally sent him to the floor. Blood streaming from his nose, Johnson lay huddled in the straw.

Having heard the shot, Leeming came running back to the stall.

‘What happened, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘Fortunately,’ said Colbeck, ‘he decided to resist arrest.’

It was dark by the time their train steamed into the station. Robert Colbeck first supervised the transfer of the two prisoners into custody before taking Madeleine Andrews home in a cab. An eventful day was finally drawing to an end.

‘Thank you, Robert,’ she said. ‘It was a marvellous experience!’

‘That’s what I felt when I arrested Marcus Johnson.’

‘I’m sorry that you weren’t able to enjoy the Derby itself.’

‘But I was,’ said Colbeck. ‘Once I knew that I’d be speaking to Kitty Lavender after the race, I could watch it without any distraction. I was as enthralled as you, Madeleine – enthralled but disappointed.’

‘How could you be disappointed with such an exciting race?’

‘I bet on Merry Legs,’ he confessed.

She giggled. ‘You should have followed Father’s advice.’

‘I’m sure that Mr Andrews will point that out to me.’

‘Time and time again.’

They snuggled against each other in the cab and watched the gas lamps shoot past on both sides of the street. It had been a most satisfying Derby Day. Madeleine had been able to wallow in the multiple pleasures of the occasion and Colbeck had solved a whole series of related crimes. Though it had given intense delight to untold thousands, the Derby had also claimed its victims. Hamilton Fido had been shot dead and his killer had taken his own life. Colbeck had little sympathy for the bookmaker but he felt sorry for Lord Hendry.

‘He could simply not face it,’ he said.

‘Who?’

‘Lord Hendry,’ he explained. ‘He gambled and lost. He could simply not face turning up at Tattersalls on Monday and admitting that he was unable to settle his debts. The ignominy was too much for him. At least, that’s what I assumed at first.’

‘What other explanation is there?’

‘He’d been challenged to a duel by Hamilton Fido.’

‘A duel?’

‘It was another instance of Marcus Johnson’s cunning,’ said Colbeck. ‘It seems that Lord Hendry struck out at Kitty Lavender with his cane. She confided in her half-brother but asked him to say nothing about it. What do you imagine he did?’

‘He went straight to Mr Fido.’

‘Exactly,’ he replied. ‘He knew that he could provoke a duel between the two men he was being paid to incommode by Brian Dowd. Had the duel taken place before the Derby, the likelihood is that one of the horses would have been withdrawn from the race out of respect to its dead owner – Lord Hendry, most probably.’

‘Marcus Johnson was malevolent.’

‘His half-sister realises that now. Miss Lavender thought him a lovable rogue but he was far more sinister than that. He also had a weird sense of humour. Do you remember the name on that hatbox?’

‘Yes,’ said Madeleine. ‘It was Mr D Key, wasn’t it?’

‘Kitty Lavender told me why he chose it. In his younger days, her half-brother had a nickname. Because of his long face, prominent teeth and braying laugh, he was known as Donkey Johnson.’

‘So D Key stood for Donkey.’

‘When he put that severed head in the hatbox,’ said Colbeck, ‘he thought he was starting a process that would help Limerick Lad to win the Derby. It would turn Brian Dowd into an apparent victim and send us after his two deadly rivals. In short, an Irish horse would owe its success in the most famous race in the world to a donkey. That was Johnson’s idea of a joke. When I pointed that out to Mr Tallis,’ he went on, ‘he was far from amused.’

‘Is he going to pay your expenses now?’

‘Yes – he finally agreed that my visit to Dublin was necessary.’

‘He must be thrilled with what happened today,’ she said. ‘You solved the murder and made two arrests. Superintendent Tallis ought to be eternally grateful to you and Sergeant Leeming.’

‘He will be when he finishes wrestling with a personal problem.’

‘Personal problem?’

‘Mr Tallis thinks that Derby Day is an abomination. But Victor was right next to him when the race was run and the superintendent cheered as loud as anyone. He’s lapsed into a period of repentance now,’ said Colbeck. ‘He can’t forgive himself for having enjoyed the occasion.’ He slipped an arm around her. ‘I hope that you feel no guilt at having had so much pleasure at Epsom.’

‘It was an unforgettable experience, Robert.’

‘I was afraid that you might be bored,’ he teased.

‘Bored?’ she repeated. ‘How could anyone be bored? The Derby was the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.’

‘Really?’

‘I loved every second of it.’

‘In that case,’ he said, tightening his hold, ‘you might want to come with me to Epsom again next year.’

‘Yes, please,’ said Madeleine, laughing with delight.

‘That’s settled, then.’

‘Thank you, Robert.’

He pulled her close. ‘Though I’m sure that we can find some other excitements for you in the interim,’ he said fondly. ‘Twelve whole months of them.’

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

About the author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE