She went out while I put the kettle on.
I yawned again. What was I doing here? I surely could have just called Chrissie on the phone from the comfort of my bed.
I took my coffee out in the yard to see what was going on.
Chrissie was shouting at an unfortunate stable lad who looked barely old enough to be in long trousers let alone in charge of a racehorse. ‘Why are you late? You should have been here half an hour ago.’
‘Sorry, Miss Chrissie,’ he said, cowering away from her. ‘My dad told me not to come at all. Not to a murderer’s stable.’
‘Shut up,’ Chrissie retorted angrily. ‘Mr Chadwick has done nothing wrong. It’s all just a misunderstanding. He’ll be back before we know it.’ I admired her loyalty. ‘Now go and tack up Pepper Mill. Pull out in five minutes.’
The boy went off at a run.
Contrary to Declan’s worst fears, Chrissie seemed to have everything pretty much under control as the first lot pulled out and disappeared onto the Heath through a gate at the far end of the yard, pushing the waiting press out of the way.
Chrissie and I watched them go.
‘I thought all the yards had coordinated cap colours,’ I said, observing that Declan’s lads were wearing all sorts.
‘Many do,’ Chrissie said. ‘But it’s their choice. There are no hard-and-fast rules. Declan says he doesn’t hold with that sort of thing anyway. Tells the lads to wear what they like as long as they’ve got a helmet on underneath.’
I thought back to Ryan’s uniform light-blue caps with red pom-poms and wondered if Declan’s decision was simply to be contrary to his elder brother.
Next on the agenda was the departure of the two runners to York. Declan’s horsebox was driven into the yard and Joe, the travelling head lad, supervised the loading with a perpetual scowl on his face.
‘Right,’ he said miserably. ‘We’d better get going, although God knows if they’ll be allowed to run.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because the guv’nor’s training licence may have been revoked by then.’
He clearly always looked on the dark side of life.
‘Surely not,’ I said. ‘Not before any conviction, and we’re a long way off that. He hasn’t even been charged.’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ Chrissie said. ‘The racing authorities are a law unto themselves. They do what they bloody like.’
But they’re not above the law of the land, I thought. There may have been a time in the past when decisions of the Jockey Club were untouchable, but not any more. Nowadays, rulings that unfairly restricted someone’s ability to lawfully earn their living, in sport or otherwise, could be overturned by a court.
‘I am sure Mr Chadwick would want you all to carry on as normal,’ I said, and sent the dejected Joe on his way to York, still chuntering under his breath that he’d soon be out of a job, and who would employ him again at his age.
Just like old Fred Piper at Ryan’s place, I thought.
Getting old was a bugger.
I waited until seven-thirty before calling Arabella. I would simply have to take my chances with her sharp tongue.
I tried her mobile but, after six rings, it went to voicemail.
‘Try the internal phone,’ Chrissie said when I hung up without leaving a message. ‘Dial twelve for the kitchen and thirteen for their bedroom.’
I picked up the handset on Declan’s desk and dialled 13.
I let it ring about ten times before hanging up.
‘She’ll still be asleep,’ Chrissie said.
‘I’ll try again in a while.’
But five minutes later there was still no answer and there must have been some concern showing in my face.
‘I have a back-door key in here somewhere,’ Chrissie said, searching through her desk drawers. ‘In case they lock themselves out.’ She held it up triumphantly.
But the key wasn’t required. The door wasn’t locked.
Chrissie hung back nervously outside, so I went in alone.
‘Hello?’ I called out loudly as I walked through to the front hallway. ‘Anyone home?’
In spite of what I’d said to Chrissie earlier, things here would never again carry on as they had before.
Arabella was hanging from the banister of the galleried landing, an upturned chair beneath her dangling legs, and she was stone cold to the touch.
She’d been dead for hours.
16
‘I need to call the police,’ I said to Chrissie when I went back to her.
‘And an ambulance?’ she asked, deep concern in her face.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Just the police.’
She put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Is she...?’
I nodded.
‘Oh my God!’ She went pale and wobbled at the knees.
‘Come on,’ I said, taking her elbow. ‘Let’s get you into the office.’
I steered her across the yard and she slumped down onto her chair. I fetched her a glass of water and some of the colour returned to her cheeks.
Rather than dialling 999, I decided to call DCI Eastwood direct using my mobile, and I went outside so as not to distress Chrissie any further. She did not need to hear the gory details.
‘DCI Eastwood,’ he said, answering at the second ring.
‘Good morning, Chief Inspector,’ I said. ‘This is Harry Foster. I am at Declan Chadwick’s house. I came here to speak to Mrs Chadwick but it would appear that she has committed suicide.’
‘Suicide?’
‘Yes. I found her myself. She’s hanging from the banister in the hallway.’
‘Are you sure she’s dead?’
‘Yes,’ I said. I had checked. There had been no pulse in the wrist and there was already a noticeable stiffening of her muscles due to rigor mortis, especially in the face, resulting in what a pathologist friend once told me was known as the death grimace. Even Arabella’s immaculate make-up couldn’t disguise that. ‘There is absolutely no doubt in my mind whatsoever. I reckon she’s been dead for several hours.’
‘Have you called an ambulance?’ the DCI asked.
‘No. You are the first person I have spoken to.’
‘You should have also called an ambulance. A qualified medic is required to certify death. However, as you are so certain that she is dead, I’ll get a police medical examiner there as soon as possible to confirm it. In the meantime, please do not allow anyone to disturb the scene.’
‘I won’t,’ I assured him. ‘But be advised that the press are camped outside the property. TV crews included.’
‘That’s all we need. How do they know?’
‘They don’t. Not about Mrs Chadwick, anyway, but someone has tipped them off that Declan Chadwick is the man you’ve arrested. It’s been on the TV news since midnight.’ I paused. ‘I assume you will not now be questioning him as planned at nine-thirty.’
‘No. We will postpone that. We’re still waiting for some forensic results anyhow. In the meantime, Mr Chadwick can remain in the cells.’
He won’t be happy with that, I thought, but it was the least of his troubles.
‘Will you tell him about his wife?’
‘Only after it’s been confirmed by the medical examiner.’
He clearly didn’t want to take my word for it.
‘So should I stay here or come to the investigation centre?’ I asked.
‘Stay right where you are,’ the DCI said decisively. ‘I will come there myself.’
The horses returned from first lot and I intercepted one of the older lads and told him that all further lots for the day had been cancelled.
He gave me a questioning look. ‘Is that what Miss Chrissie says?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Miss Chrissie is not feeling too well and she has asked me to pass on the message. Just muck out and feed the horses, then the staff can knock off early.’