‘Thanks. And tell Rufus I’m learning fast about the gee-gees.’
‘He’s absolutely furious that you’re in Newmarket while he’s stuck in Florence.’
‘Ask him if he needs any tips.’
We disconnected with ASW still laughing.
Next I called Kate at work.
‘Hello, Sherlock,’ she said cheerily. ‘Unearthed any more clues?’
‘Do you know,’ I said seriously, ‘I found Moriarty this morning hiding in my wardrobe.’
‘Ha, ha! Very funny.’ But she didn’t actually laugh. ‘So what plans have you got for today?’
‘I thought I might go back to the races this afternoon. Get a better idea of what really goes on. For some reason I wasn’t properly concentrating yesterday. Then I might go out for dinner. What do you think?’
‘Sounds pretty good to me, although the dinner bit seems rather spurious. I thought you were having room service.’
I smiled. ‘It could be arranged,’ I said.
‘Excellent. Now what are you doing this morning?’
‘Nothing. Why?’
‘Well, I happened to mention to my boss that I was with the personal representative of Sheikh Karim at the races last night and he was dead keen that you should be given a tour of the sales complex.’
‘Would you be conducting this tour?’ I asked.
‘It could be arranged,’ she said, mimicking what I’d said. ‘But we might have my boss with us. He’s very eager for the Sheikh to spend more money on buying horses. That’s more money buying horses from us, of course.’
‘Of course. How long will this tour take? First race today is at one-forty.’
‘Come to the main reception at eleven. That would give us plenty of time.’
‘Great. See you then.’
She hung up and I found myself grinning like the Cheshire Cat that had also got the cream. Calm down, I told myself, you’ve been here before and it didn’t work out. But I was determined that neither Declan, nor any other member of the Chadwick family for that matter, was going to ruin my night this time.
I decided that I’d switch off my phone good and early.
But not yet. I had calls to make, and first on the list was Declan.
I called the Rowley House Stables yard office and Chrissie answered. She had clearly put the receiver back on the hook.
‘Hi, Chrissie,’ I said. ‘How are things?’
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘now Mr Declan is back.’
‘How many owners turned up?’
‘Just one in the end. That bloody Mr Reardon. Arrived with a trailer towed behind a Range Rover, I ask you. Not even a proper horse trailer, neither. More like one of those for moving cows or sheep. Demanded his horse. Stupid bully. I told him to help himself but I swear he didn’t even know its name, let alone what it looked like.’ She was laughing at the memory. ‘He insisted that someone should load his horse for him, so I told him that would only happen if he settled his outstanding invoices first.’
‘Good girl,’ I said. ‘Then what happened?’
‘He got back into his flashy Range Rover and drove away. But he had to turn it round. Silly man should have unhooked the trailer first. He was all over the place. Took him a good ten minutes of toing and froing to get it round. It was the funniest thing I’ve seen in years. The tears were streaming down my face. And the more I laughed the angrier he got. Didn’t help his driving, neither.’
‘He won’t have liked being humiliated,’ I said. ‘He’ll take his horse away anyway.’
‘Good riddance,’ Chrissie said. ‘We’ll be better off without him.’
Things had obviously looked up since the same time yesterday.
‘Is Declan around?’ I asked.
‘He was but he’s stepped out. Do you need him?’
‘Not really. I’m just checking he’s all right.’
‘I think so. He slept in my spare room last night and was keen as mustard to get here this morning. He hasn’t been into the house yet though. Says he can’t face it.’
‘I can understand that,’ I said. ‘But how are things in the stable yard?’
‘Fine, I think,’ she said. ‘Declan got cross that I hadn’t done the declarations for tomorrow’s racing at Newbury. Things must be back to normal if he’s complaining about me.’ She laughed again.
Next I called Oliver. He should be at home having his breakfast between lots. I had no intention of giving him an easy time.
‘Oh, hello, Harry,’ he said nervously. ‘Did you get my message?’
‘Yes, Oliver, I did. You would do very well to tell that bloody son of yours to control his tongue. Remember the Sheikh has horses with Declan too.’
I think Oliver was slightly taken aback by the forcefulness of my reply. I was a bit, as well.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Ryan had just had a bad day. He’d come straight back from York where his runners didn’t do very well in the Dante. I’m sure he didn’t intend to be disrespectful.’
That’s exactly what he had intended, I thought, but there would be little to gain by persisting further in making his father squirm.
I imagined it must be difficult being a racehorse trainer when it came to dealing with the owners. A bit like the headmaster of an expensive private school dealing with parents who had little idea of the true conduct or ability of their idle, stupid child, while believing absolutely that he or she was both an angel and a genius. A subtle blend of grovelling and realism was required to maintain the cash flow, yet manage future expectations.
And, coincidentally, the cost of keeping a son at Eton or Harrow was almost exactly the same as having a racehorse with a top trainer. Funny that.
‘Have you spoken to the Sheikh?’ Oliver asked, the worry thick in his voice.
‘Relax, Oliver,’ I said. ‘Rest assured, I will not be reporting the incident to His Highness.’ I could hear his audible sigh of relief. ‘But I will not expect it to ever be repeated.’
‘No, absolutely not. Thank you, Harry, thank you.’
Was his guard down?
‘Oliver,’ I said. ‘Tell me about Zoe.’
‘What about her?’
‘Everything. What was she like?’
‘Strange girl,’ Oliver said. ‘Always was. Perhaps I was more used to boys. I was one of two boys myself, and I had three sons before Zoe came along. She became quite odd from an early age, you know, surly and badly behaved.’
‘How early an age?’
‘Three or four. I remember thinking that school would sort her out but, if anything, it made her worse. She was always in trouble with the staff. She used to make things up all the time and then swear they were true. Didn’t know the difference if you ask me. We even had the child welfare people round here once because she’d claimed to a teacher that she was beaten and tied to her bed all the time at weekends. It was all nonsense, of course, but it caused us all sorts of trouble at the time, I can tell you.’
‘What sort of trouble?’ I asked tactlessly.
‘Her mother and I argued a lot. Yvonne always took Zoe’s side. Made excuses all the time.’
I could imagine Oliver being a bit of a black-or-white father, and not being overly sympathetic to his daughter’s strange ways. And it would have undoubtedly made things worse — much worse.
‘Tell me about the time she went missing.’
‘Oh, you’ve heard about that, have you? Stupid girl. Her mother was in pieces, thinking she was dead. Then they found her drugged-up under a railway line in south London, and that was dreadfully upsetting. It might have been better for us all if she had died.’
What a dreadful state of affairs, I thought, that a father would have wished his daughter dead. But she was dead now.
‘So you don’t grieve much for her?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know what to think. It was a terrible shock when the police told me it was her they’d found in the fire. Like she’d come home to die after all.’