‘Has it been any help?’
‘Oh yes, I think so. I’ll let you know, sometime.’
‘And don’t forget. The obvious non winner... give me the wink.’
‘I’ll do that,’ I promised. ‘If you’ll risk it, after Pelican Jobberson’s experience.’
‘He’s got no sense,’ he said. ‘But I have.’
He rang off, and I studied his list of names. Several were familiar and belonged to well known racing people: the bookmakers’ clients, I supposed. None of the names were the same as those on Timieson’s list of Oakley contacts, but there was something...
For ten minutes I stood looking at the paper wondering what was hovering around the edge of consciousness, and finally, with a thud, the association clicked.
One of the men Herbie Subbing had told was the brother-in-law of the person I had found among the Oakley contacts.
I thought for a while, and then opened the newspaper and studied the programme for the day’s racing, which was at Reading. Then I telephoned to Lord Ferth at his London house, and reached him via a plummy voiced manservant.
‘Well, Kelly...?’ There was something left of Wednesday’s relationship. Not all, but something.
‘Sir,’ I said, ‘Are you going to Reading races?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘I haven’t yet had any official notice of my licence being restored... Will it be all right for me to turn up there? I would particularly like to talk to you.’
‘I’ll make sure you have no difficulty, if it’s important.’ There was a faint question in his tone, which I answered.
‘I know,’ I said, ‘Who engineered things.’
‘Ah... Yes. Then come. Unless the journey would be too uncomfortable for you? I could, you know, come on to Corrie after the races. I have no engagements tonight.’
‘You’re very thoughtful. But I think our engineer will be at the races too... or at least there’s a very good chance of it.’
‘As you like,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll look out for you.’
Tony had two runners at the meeting and I could ask him to take me. But there was also Roberta... she was coming over, probably, and she too might take me. I smiled wryly to myself. She might take me anywhere. Roberta Cranfield. Of all people.
As if by telephathy the telephone rang, and it was Roberta herself on the other end. She sounded breathless and worried.
‘Kelly! I can’t come just yet. In fact...’ The words came in a rush. ‘Can you come over here?’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Well... I don’t really know if anything’s the matter... seriously, that is. But Grace Roxford has turned up here.’
‘Dear Grace?’
‘Yes... look, Kelly, she’s just sitting in her car outside the house sort of glaring at it. Honestly, she looks a bit mad. We don’t know quite what to do. Mother wants to call the police, but, I mean, one can’t.... Supposing the poor woman has come to apologise or something, and is just screwing herself up?’
‘She’s still sitting in the car?’
‘Yes. I can see her from here. Can you come? I mean... Mother’s useless and you know how dear Grace feels about me... She looks pretty odd, Kelly.’ Definite alarm in her voice.
‘Where’s your father?’
‘Out on the gallops with Breadwinner. He won’t be back for about an hour.’
‘All right then. I’ll get Tony or someone to drive me over. As soon as I can.’
‘That’s great,’ she said with relief. ‘I’ll try and stall her till you come.’
It would take half an hour to get there. More, probably. By then dear Grace might not still be sitting in her car...
I dialled three nine one.
‘Tony,’ I said urgently. ‘Can you drop everything instantly and drive me to Cranfield’s? Grace Roxford has turned up there and I don’t like the sound of it.’
‘I’ve got to go to Reading,’ he protested.
‘You can go on from Cranfield’s when we’ve sorted Grace out... and anyway, I want to go to Reading too, to talk to Lord Ferth. So be a pal, Tony. Please.’
‘Oh all right. If you want it that much. Give me five minutes.’
He took ten. I spent some of them telephoning to Jack Roxford. He was surprised I should be calling him.
‘Look, Jack,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry to be upsetting you like this, but have you any idea where your wife has gone?’
‘Grace?’ More surprise, but also anxiety. ‘Down to the village, she said.’
The village in question was roughly forty miles from Cranfield’s house.
‘She must have gone some time ago,’ I said.
‘I suppose so... what’s all this about?’ The worry was sharp in his voice.
‘Roberta Cranfield has just telephoned to say that your wife is outside their house, just sitting in her car.’
‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘She can’t be.’
‘I’m afraid she is.’
‘Oh no...’ he wailed. ‘She seemed better this morning... quite her old self... it seemed safe to let her go and do the shopping... she’s been so upset, you see... and then you and Dexter got your licences back... it’s affected her... it’s all been so awful for her.’
‘I’m just going over there to see if I can help,’ I said. ‘But... can you come down and collect her?’
‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘I’ll start at once. Oh poor dear Grace... Take care of her, till I come,’
‘Yes,’ I said reassuringly, and disconnected.
I made it without mishap down the stairs and found Tony had commandeered Poppy’s estate car for the journey. The back seat lay flat so that I could lie instead of sit, and there were even cushions for my shoulders and head.
‘Poppy’s idea,’ Tony said briefly, helping me climb in through the rear door. ‘Great girl.’
‘She sure is,’ I said gratefully, hauling in the crutches behind me. ‘Lose no time, now, friend.’
‘You sound worried.’ He shut the doors, switched on and drove away with minimum waste of time.
‘I am, rather. Grace Roxford is unbalanced.’
‘But surely not dangerous?’
‘I hope not’
I must have sounded doubtful because Tony’s foot went heavily down on the accelerator. ‘Hold on to something,’ he said. We rocked round corners. I couldn’t find any good anchorage: had to wedge my useful foot against the rear door and push myself off the swaying walls with my hands.
‘O.K.?’ he shouted.
‘Uh... yes,’ I said breathlessly.
‘Good bit of road just coming up.’ We left all the other traffic at a standstill. ‘Tell me if you see any cops.’
We saw no cops. Tony covered the eighteen miles through Berkshire in twenty-three minutes. We jerked to a stop outside Cranfield’s house, and the first thing I saw was that there was no one in the small grey Volkswagen standing near the front door.
Tony opened the back of the car with a crash and unceremoniously tugged me out.
‘She’s probably sitting down cosily having a quiet cup of tea,’ he said.
She wasn’t.
Tony rang the front door bell and after a lengthy interval Mrs Cranfield herself opened it.
Not her usual swift wide-opening fling. She looked at us through a nervous six inches.
‘Hughes. What are you doing here? Go away.’
‘Roberta asked me to come. To see Grace Roxford.’
‘Mrs Roxford is no longer here.’ Mrs Cranfield’s voice was as strung up as her behaviour.
‘Isn’t that her car?’ I pointed to the Volkswagen.
‘No,’ she said sharply.
‘Whose is it, then?’
‘The gardener’s. Now Hughes, go away at once. Go away.’
‘Very well,’ I said, shrugging. And she instantly shut the door.