She wore one of her most severe suits, pinstripe charcoal, her shirt was pinned at the throat with an old-fashioned cameo brooch and the coils of her hair were pulled off her face, accentuating the dark frames of her spectacles. The message could not have been clearer if she'd worn a sign saying Don't touch. He indicated the pan of scrambled eggs and a rack of toast. `Sure you're not hungry?'
She shook her head. Ì suppose you're wondering why I haven't been in touch since the Newbury meeting,' she said. `Before you start, there's letter on its way to you.'
À letter? What's wrong with the phone?'
`We wanted to formally express our appreciation following Beaufort Bonanza's success the other day.'
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He buttered a piece of toast. `Sounds like you're giving me notice.' `No.'
She sat opposite him. `But I will if we can't put our relationship on a more professional footing.'
Òh really?' He felt his pulse beginning to quicken. `So what does a professional like you charge for a bunk-up then?'
Her eyes blinked as she absorbed his remark. `That's not funny, Malcolm,'
she said softly.
He chewed his food without tasting it.
`What I mean is,' she continued, `you and I can't continue to see each other except on business. It's been great fun but I think it's run its course.'
`Bollocks.' He pushed his plate away and watched it halt dangerously close to the edge of the table. He wished it had smashed to pieces on the stone, scattering gobs of egg and china fragments over her shiny black square-toed shoes. `What you mean is, you've got what you want out of me and now you'd like me to sod off.'
She sighed. Ì'm sorry, but one person always has to be the first to pull out of a relationship that's not working.'
`Come off it, Beverley, I know what you've been up to. You've been using me to get at old man Beaufort. He was cut up when his wife left him and you couldn't get him interested. So you started putting yourself about with me so he could see what he was missing. Now he's hooked and you don't need me any more.'
Behind her spectacles her pale eyes narrowed. He imagined he'd surprised her and she was wondering whether to contest the point. She switched tack. `Malcolm, what possible future could you and I have? You're not going to leave your wife for me, are you? As far as you're concerned I'm just a bit on the side.'
Ànd old Beaufort's the love of your life, is he?'
Beverley got abruptly to her feet. 'Barney's not old, Malcolm. He's in his mid-fifties and as much of a man as you are. What's more, he's a good man and he needs me in all sorts of ways. You only want to get me into bed.'
Malcolm couldn't argue with that.
She dumped her mug in the sink and stood with her back towards him, her head bowed. `You'd better leave me alone from now on.' Òr?'
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She turned to face him. Òr I'll take steps to ensure that you do.' Was she threatening him? She had balls, he'd give her that.
She looked at her watch. `Time to go. I don't want to be late.' He decided to leave quietly - this time.
`How are you feeling?' `Better for being out here.'
Jamie and Vanessa were leaning on a gate overlooking the section of moor that Pippa used for her gallops. Dave's group of horses were racing across the turf in the near distance, tracked by an old Land Rover.
Ì recognise that horse.' Vanessa pointed to the big grey animal in the lead.
`Gates of Eden. He's our only jumper - used to run on the Flat.' `You rode him at Ascot, didn't you? I remember.'
Jamie nodded, wishing it was him out there on Gates of Eden right now.
Ros and Pippa had thought including the grey in Dave's sessions might help build up his stamina. It had certainly helped remove some of the extra weight the animal had been carrying.
But much as Jamie wished to get back on board, he'd be a fool to mount a horse at the moment. He still had a stiff neck and wobbly legs. To be honest, however, his problems were as much mental as physical.
Though Jamie had been spending most of his days lying in bed, semi-comatose, he never seemed to get any proper sleep. It seemed he could shut his body down, but not his mind - and the result was that he felt permanently exhausted. And there was nothing to do. He couldn't concentrate on books or television. If he showed his face in the yard Pippa chivvied him away and Dave was too busy just to keep him company. It had been a relief when Vanessa turned up to check on his progress and suggested going for a walk.
`When's he going to race?’ Vanessa was still assessing Gates of Eden.
`He's entered at Carlisle in about ten days. I was worried he wouldn't be ready. Now I'm not sure I'll make it.'
Vanessa tucked her arm through his. `Cheer up, you old misery guts.
You'll be fine by then.'
`Yeah.' It was true, he was being a bit down in the mouth. Time to change the subject. `Can I ask your advice?'
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He didn't wait for her reply but plunged on to tell her about Marie Kirkstall - Ros asking him to avoid the yard, finding Marie in difficulties on a horse and the card she'd sent wishing him well.
Àfter the crash, I was in hospital for a while. It took a long time for me to realise exactly what I'd done, because I had no memory of the accident.
When I finally understood that I'd killed someone I wanted to write to the family. To acknowledge my guilt, I suppose. But I couldn't do the simplest things. I could barely write my own name. I wasn't capable of writing the letter and I didn't want to get someone else to do it for me - it wouldn't have been right.'
He stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts. She squeezed his arm in encouragement.
Às time went by it got harder to think exactly what I'd say - it seemed more and more like a self-serving exercise. Like I was looking for forgiveness for an act that couldn't be forgiven. So I never did write to them. Then there was a lot of nasty stuff in the papers about the family's grief and how much they hated me for what I'd done. And, of course, I knew I was going to go to prison. So I just sort of shut down. In self-preservation, I suppose.
`But now I've met Marie and though she said she didn't want to see me she came looking for me at Ros's place and she's sent me a get-well card. Why would she do that? And what should I do?'
Vanessa considered the matter. `Sounds like you want to send her that letter you couldn't write before.'
It was true, he did.
`Do you think I could? I don't want to upset her but I think it would help me.'
It would be like an offender coming face to face with his victim. It would be painful but it would be worth it.
`Do it then, Jamie. She's given you the opportunity.'
`Thanks,' he said. She'd confirmed his opinion. He'd write to Marie and ask Ros to give her the letter. He wouldn't ask for forgiveness, just for the opportunity to express his sorrow. The fact that he hadn't written to Alan Kirkstall's family had been preying on his mind. Maybe when he'd done it, he could go forward properly with his life.
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They strolled back down the hill. There was a spring in Jamie's step.
`Maybe writing to Marie will sort my head out,' he said. Ì've been having the strangest dreams about the accident.'
Ì thought you couldn't remember it.'
Ì can't, but you know what dreams are like. You get all your worries and neuroses all muddled up in some weird scenario that seems absolutely real. Last night I dreamt I was leaving the pub on the night of the crash, absolutely legless, and that poor girl Mandy turned up.' `The girl who was killed?'
`Yes. In my dream she started having a go at Malcolm for letting me get in the car pissed and I told Richard I'd thump him if he took my car keys off me.'
Ìs that what actually happened?'
`God, no. I can't remember what happened. But this stuff has been flying round my head ever since I got kicked last week. Maybe if I write to Marie it will put an end to it. Do you think?'
She suddenly threw her arms round him and hugged him tight, giggling as she did so.
`What's so funny?' he asked when she'd let him go. `You.'
`Sorry, I don't get it.'
Her face straightened and she looked him squarely in the eye. ÒK. What does Marie Kirkstall look like?'
He was puzzled. `What's that got to do with it?' Ìs she pretty?'
He thought about it. `She's a damn sight better-looking than pretty.' The irritating woman was still laughing by the time they got back down to the yard.
Ì really didn't like that man,' said Jane as Simon drove down the country lane that led away from Toby Priest's yard. `There's something slimy about him.'
`He's a pillar of the racing establishment.' `He was trying to look down my blouse.'
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Her colleague chuckled, a rich fruity sound that filled the car. `Well, you are looking quite fetching today, boss.'
Òh, shut up,' Jane snapped. She wasn't his boss any more but she couldn't deny she was looking her best. She wore her new navy suit and a pastel blue shirt which was only comfortable if she left the top two buttons undone. She'd made an effort with her hair and even applied a touch of eye make-up. It was pathetic really, titivating herself for a man who'd never shown the least romantic interest in her. But so what? She might as well boost her own morale.
She'd not seen Simon for a good ten days, not since they'd been instructed to back-burner the Bonfire case, and the drive to Yorkshire on a fine spring morning had been a treat - even if the point of it was to spend some time in the company of a puffed-up piece of work like Toby Priest.
To her surprise Simon turned off the road and parked in front of a pub with a thatched roof and a garden bathed in midday sunshine. He turned towards her. `Time for a quick sandwich?'
She shouldn't really. She had a pile of stuff she ought to be getting on with back in Preston. On the other hand, they'd been on the go since half eight and their surprised interviewee hadn't even offered them a glass of water.
`Good idea,' she said.
As yet there were few lunchtime customers but the barman was putting the finishing touches to a seductive-looking menu chalked on a blackboard over the fireplace.
`This is my treat,' she said firmly. It was too good to resist.
Ten minutes later they were tucking into a substantial lunch in the garden.
The food was hearty - home-made steak pie and roast vegetables - and she'd bought Simon a pint on the basis that she would take over the driving. A fresh breeze rippled over the nearby duck pond, sharpening the appetite.
`So,' she said when the issue couldn't be put off any longer, `what did you think of Toby Priest?'
They'd arrived at Ridgemoor at ten and had been left kicking their heels for some time in the house while the trainer had been summoned from the yard. He'd eventually turned up, wearing a face like thunder, obviously irritated at the interruption to his morning affairs. He'd been immediately 220
mollified by Jane's hint of cleavage - or so it seemed to her - but had reverted to annoyance when the purpose of their business became apparent.
Àmanda Parkin? The poor girl who was murdered? I don't see how I can help you.'
`We understand that she used to work for you.' Ònly for a few weeks.'
Àlmost six months, actually, Mr. Priest. We'd be interested to hear why she left.'
`How do you expect me to remember that? I've got over forty staff at this stable. They come and go like day-trippers sometimes, I can't keep up with them. You'd be better off talking to my head lad.'
`Surely you remember Amanda, Mr. Priest? We understand you had a close relationship with her for a while.'
That had surprised him and he'd looked at them suspiciously for a moment, obviously wondering just how much they knew. Jane thought he might deny the relationship, but he didn't.
`There's no law against a man falling for a pretty girl, is there? I was in the middle of a divorce at the time and she was kind enough to cheer me up.'
Jane kept quiet, hoping that Priest might volunteer more information. It worked, up to a point.
Ì was very sad when I heard what had happened to Mandy. Very sad indeed. Drugs are a terrible thing, as I'm sure you two officers know better than me. If she'd stayed here at Ridgemoor I like to think we could have given her the kind of pastoral care that would have saved her from such a fate. Everyone, no matter how junior, counts at this yard and we look out for each other.'
You hypocrite, Jane thought. A couple of minutes ago the trainer had said he wasn't responsible for his rapid turnover of staff, now he claimed he was head of a big happy family.
`Did you try to persuade Amanda to stay?'
`Yes, I did but she'd made up her mind. To be honest, I couldn't blame her.
Once we'd had our fun why would she want to carry on working for me?'
`Would you say the relationship came to an amicable end?' 'Absolutely.
No hard feelings on either side. I accepted that she really needed to settle down with a man her own age.'
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`So she went with your blessing?'
`That's right.' He sounded hesitant, as if he didn't know where this was going.
`Did she leave with anything else? Like a sum of money?' `Why would I give her money?'
Ì wondered if, as an employee, she was entitled to a redundancy payment.'
He guffawed loudly. Ì've never made a stable groom redundant in my life.
I'd have a hard time claiming I didn't need staff to muck out the horses.
What on earth are you on about?'
Jane thought it was time to come clean. So she told him about the £10,000
payment into Amanda's building society account.
`We just wondered, given your professional and personal association with Amanda, whether you might know how she came by it.'
For a moment he looked confused. Then he amazed her. Ì do know, as a matter of fact. I gave it to her.'
Jane was flabbergasted. In the silence that followed, Simon spoke for the first time.
`But you just told us you didn't. "Why would I give her money?" I believe you said.'