‘Charlie Hern?’ I said.
He nodded. ‘They were both arrested on suspicion of fraud, and of animal cruelty.’
‘Animal cruelty?’ I said. ‘That was imaginative.’
Tony laughed. ‘It was the best we could think of at the time.’
‘Unbelievably, I saw them at the Nassau County Courthouse yesterday morning. I was leaving my arraignment hearing as they were coming in for theirs. I presume they both got bail as neither went to Rikers with me.’
‘Indeed they did,’ Tony said. ‘A hundred-thousand-dollar bond each, plus a condition that they may not go within five hundred feet of any racetrack or any horse barn. NYRA have moved quickly to revoke his trainer’s licence so he can’t act as a trainer for the Belmont Stakes. His horses have already been transferred to other stables.’
‘Including Fire Point?’ I asked.
‘Especially Fire Point. He’s gone to another trainer at Belmont Park. Someone called Sidney Austin.’
I nodded. I’d heard of him.
I wondered about Raworth’s staff. He had three barns across the country but it was those at Belmont I was concerned about, in particular Keith, Victor, Rafael, Maria and Chuck, the yard boy. They would have lost not only their jobs, but their homes and keep as well.
I could only hope that, like the horses, they would soon be taken on by other trainers. I feared most for old Chuck and his trusty broom. I had been told by Keith that Raworth had acquired Chuck along with the barn when he’d first arrived at Belmont, but maybe his time would now be up.
There was nothing I could do for them but that didn’t stop me worrying.
Maybe Bert Squab would give them a meal or two for free.
But probably not.
We landed at Andrews just before five, as the sky was lightening in the east. Harriet was there to drive us back to their place. Tony sat up front while I was in the back.
‘What about Bob Wade?’ I asked. ‘How’s his foot?’
‘He lost it,’ Tony said.
Was I sorry? No, not really.
At least I’d left him alive, which is more than he would have done for me.
‘Is he under arrest?’ I asked.
There was a pause from the front seat.
‘He’s not, is he?’ I said.
‘Not at this time,’ Tony said in his official ‘Deputy Director’ tone.
‘Why not?’ I asked, but I already knew the answer.
It was much more convenient for FACSA if everyone believed that both Steffi Dean and Diego Ríos had been murdered by the Irish groom, Patrick Sean Murphy. Public confidence would not be compromised, as would certainly be the case if it became known that one of the Agency’s own had been responsible. A high-profile trial, and all the media attention it would generate, would not be very welcome.
‘We may not have secured a conviction,’ Tony said.
‘Surely there’s enough evidence.’
‘The ballistics are inconclusive and it would largely be your word against Bob’s. Could we take the chance? It is sometimes pretty difficult to get a jury to convict even when the evidence is overwhelming.’
Ask O.J. Simpson’s prosecutor, I thought.
‘So what happens to Bob now?’ I asked.
‘He’s been retired from the service,’ Tony replied. ‘Supposedly because he’s medically unfit, but he knows the true reason. He has effectively been dismissed, losing his benefits and his pension.’
By benefits he meant government-funded medical insurance for life.
‘Did you question him about warning people of upcoming raids?’
‘We certainly did.’
‘And how about Jason Connor? Couldn’t you at least arrest him for that?’
There was a short silence.
‘We decided that such an arrest would not be in the best interests of the Agency.’
‘Who is we?’ I asked.
‘The Director and I.’
‘Why?’
‘Other than the collection of cash from George Raworth at Belmont Park on the day Steffi Dean was killed, we had no real evidence of racketeering and absolutely nothing concerning the death of Jason Connor. So we cut a deal.’
‘What deal?’
‘That Bob would leave the agency and face no criminal charges but, in return, he would tell us everything that had been going on.’
Tony paused and I waited patiently for him to continue.
‘Over the years Bob had set up quite an operation with nearly a hundred trainers and breeders. Anyone that he came into contact with during his normal agency work.’ Tony laughed. ‘He effectively sold them insurance. They paid him monthly premiums on the understanding that he would warn them if there was a planned FACSA raid, or even if any out-of-competition drug testing was due to take place at their stables.’
‘How much was this monthly premium?’ I asked.
‘Not a lot. It depended on the trainer, but it was always less than a hundred dollars, sometimes only fifty. Not enough for anyone to worry about.’
But even fifty dollars a month was six hundred a year. Times that by a hundred trainers and the sum would soon add up.
‘Was Hayden Ryder one of the trainers who paid?’
‘Yes,’ Tony said.
So that was why Ryder had been angry enough to go for Bob with a pitchfork. It had been his bad luck that Trudi Harding had seen it and shot him.
‘What did Bob say about Jason Connor?’ I asked.
‘He refused to speak about him. He knew he was on firm ground as the Maryland Medical Examiner had already declared that Connor’s death was an accident.’
‘But you still don’t believe it?’
‘No,’ Tony said. ‘There was something rather cocky about Bob Dean’s demeanour when I was questioning him about it, as if he knew we knew but there was nothing we could do about it.’
And there wasn’t.
‘Where did the money go?’ I asked. ‘That sort of cash doesn’t appear anywhere on Bob’s bank statements.’
I knew because I’d checked.
‘His elderly mother has dementia,’ Tony said, ‘and Bob has power of attorney over her affairs. It all went directly into her bank account.’
‘But then where?’
‘The mother is in a nursing home. The money paid for her care. Bob claims that was why he set the scheme up in the first place but he was making more than was required. He withdrew the balance in cash.’
‘So why were he and Steffi trying to get ten grand out of George Raworth?’
‘Raworth was not one of his regular clients and Bob claims it was Steffi’s idea to get some quick extra. It seems she wasn’t happy that most of the other money went to the mother.’
I bet she wasn’t. Steffi had been the greedy one. It had been their undoing.
‘Did Bob give you the names of all the trainers and breeders who were paying him?’
‘That was part of the deal.’
‘What are you going to do to them?’ I asked.
‘There’s not much we can do. It’s hardly illegal to help pay for an old lady’s nursing care. According to Bob, that’s what they were told — a contribution, he called it.’
‘You could always send in the drug testers unannounced.’
Tony laughed. ‘We already have plans to do just that.’
I looked out of the car window as we sped westward along the DC Beltway towards Fairfax. Washington was waking up and the roads were already busy.
‘I heard Bob and Steffi talking when I was hiding from them,’ I said. ‘Steffi was expecting Bob to leave his wife and marry her. I was amazed when he shot her.’
‘We interviewed Mrs Wade yesterday. She told us that those plans had been put on hold. Bob had promised her to give their marriage another chance, for the sake of their daughters. Not that it will survive now. She was apoplectic with rage when we told her that Bob had spent two nights in a New York hotel with Steffi Dean earlier in the week. He’d told his wife he was on an official agency assignment, when he’d actually taken three days of his annual vacation.’