If so, it would appear to be a very poorly thought through plan for murder.
The chances of knifing the wrong man to death as a result of misidentification seemed enormous.
No, they had to have known exactly what I looked like.
‘Did you ask Banks how they would recognize me outside the racecourse?’ I asked the inspector.
‘Indeed I did,’ he said. ‘It seems that they followed you to the racecourse from Esher railway station earlier in the day.’
I silently berated myself for not having spotted a tail. I was the one who usually did the following, and I knew all the tricks. I should have noticed.
‘But how did they know what I looked like then?’
‘According to Banks, you were pointed out to them.’
The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. It was my turn for an adrenalin rush. Fight or flight. The body’s natural response to fear. I had been pointed out to a pair of killers without me having the slightest notion of why, and it frightened me badly.
‘Who pointed me out?’ I asked, forcing my voice box to relax.
‘Banks says he doesn’t know. Just a man.’
‘Didn’t he give you a description?’
‘He claims he never met the man. He only saw him from afar. Lawrence spoke to him inside the station while he, Banks, had been told to wait outside.’
‘He must be able to give you something,’ I said. ‘Was the man young or old? Tall or short? Fat or thin?’
‘He says he doesn’t know, but I’m not sure I believe him. He claims that only Lawrence knew who the man was.’
And Lawrence was conveniently dead.
26
On Monday morning I caught another train from Paddington, this time to Reading, where I took a taxi to the police station for a booked appointment with Detective Sergeant Jagger.
‘Now, how can I help you?’ he said when we had both sat down in one of the interview rooms. We were accompanied by a detective constable with a pen and notebook.
‘I think it’s more about how I can help you,’ I replied.
‘I’m all ears,’ he said.
‘A lot of it was in the statement I gave to your colleague. But I now have more to tell you.’
I told him everything about my investigation into the race fixing, from my meeting with Dave Swinton in his sauna on the morning of the Hennessy Gold Cup, right up to my conversation with Willy Mitchell on the previous day. I told him of the dubious bets made by Leslie Morris and of my visit to Morris’s house in Raynes Park. I left out the actual identities of McKenzie and Mitchell, referring to them only as Jockey A and Jockey B. I also skipped over the true reasons why they were being blackmailed.
‘You know who these jockeys are, of course?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ I confirmed. ‘But I’d like to keep them out of it.’
There was a brief moment of silence, bar the scratching of the constable’s pen on his notebook.
‘Are you sure that Mr Swinton told you that he was aware who had been blackmailing him?’
I thought back to the conversation. Dave had been reluctant to say anything of substance down the phone line. But I was sure.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He told me on the morning that he died. He said that he knew who it was. I presume he had found out at Newbury races the day before, or maybe on the Saturday evening. Either way, he wouldn’t tell me the person’s name over the phone. He said he didn’t trust them after being a victim of hacking a few years ago. That’s why I went back to his house that Sunday morning.’
‘He hadn’t known who it was when you spoke to him on Saturday?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He told me that he’d kill him if he knew.’
The detective raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you think Mr Swinton might have set a trap for the blackmailer on Sunday morning? One that went badly wrong?’
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ I said. ‘I tend to think that saying he’d kill him was only a turn of phrase, rather than an actual threat. Dave was ruthless in his riding, even aggressive, but he was a gentle soul underneath. That is why I was so surprised when I thought he had left me in his sauna to die.’
‘Do you believe that the same person is blackmailing the other jockeys?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I do. Otherwise it would be too much of a coincidence.’
‘The world is full of coincidences,’ the detective said. ‘Trust me, that’s something you learn very quickly in my business.’
‘So are you now going to arrest Leslie Morris?’
‘You say Mr Morris is a retired accountant?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Well into his sixties?’
‘He’s sixty-six.’
‘Do you think a sixty-six-year-old would have the strength to overcome a young, fit jockey like Mr Swinton? And would he also have the strength to lift him into and then out of the boot of a car?’
They were good points.
‘But whoever it was had to have an accomplice with him anyway,’ I said. ‘To drive another car. Otherwise how did he get away from the burning Mercedes? You can hardly hitch a lift in the middle of Otmoor. And how did he get to Lambourn in the first place?’
‘But who was that accomplice?’
‘One of the jockeys told me that Morris has a son, and that he’s a nasty piece of work. And there’s also Darryl Lawrence and Gary Banks to consider.’
‘Are those the men who attacked you at your flat?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It seems they met a man at Esher station who pointed me out to them as their target. Maybe that was Leslie Morris, although I’m not sure how it could have been. But, if it was, then together they would easily be strong enough to lift Dave Swinton into the boot. Lawrence is now dead, and Banks is in custody for killing him. You had better speak to Detective Inspector Galvin.’
‘I will,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Mr Hinkley, for your assistance.’
He stood up.
‘Is that it?’ I said.
‘Is there anything else you have to add?’ he asked.
‘No. But... you don’t seem to be very interested.’
‘I will have discussions with my colleagues,’ he said. ‘I will also speak with DI Galvin and other officers from the Met. We will act on your information, be assured of that, but we can’t just go in and arrest someone, with all our guns blazing, until we have considered the matter further. We have to be pretty sure before we detain anyone in these circumstances, not least because we would have only twenty-four hours to question him and complete our investigation, before we would be required to either charge or release him. We like to line up all the ducks before we start shooting at them.’
‘And in the meantime,’ I said, ‘I have to go on watching my back?’
‘That would seem to be a wise course of action. My constable will type up what you have just told us into a formal statement. Can you wait here while he does that, so you can sign it?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘No problem.’
‘Good.’ He started to leave but then turned back to face me. ‘Oh, yes, one more thing, Mr Hinkley. I will need the names of those other two jockeys. They’ll both have to be interviewed. And you don’t want to be the one arrested today, now do you, for obstructing the police?’
There was absolutely no humour in his voice whatsoever.
‘What the bloody hell have you been telling the filth?’
Willy Mitchell wasn’t happy with me. He called me early the following morning, as I was packing my suitcase for the Cayman Islands.
‘You promised me you’d keep what I told you confidential.’
Actually, I hadn’t, but I decided now was not the time to say so.
‘All I told the police was that you were being blackmailed. I absolutely did not tell them why.’