‘He tried to drag you into this thing?’

  Clive opened the door. ‘Let’s say he convinced me of something that you’d failed to convince me of since the start of this mess.’

  He closed the door. I wound down my window.

  ‘Now you know I didn’t have anything to do with the K and R?’ I said. ‘Or the murder?’

  Clive walked towards his car. ‘Now I know,’ he said, ‘that Detective Sergeant Fielding is a prick.'

  Chapter 34

  * * *

  For a few hours, up in Tubs’s front room, I slept. I dreamt about Mum and, when I woke up, daylight was peeping round the curtains. It was while I was rubbing my face, still groggy with sleep, that I made the connection I should have made hours earlier. Getting up I wrapped a towel around me then I wandered over and took Tubs’s mobile off the dresser. I dialled Clive, praying I’d get something more than the answer machine.

  Four rings, then he answered. ‘Wainwright.’

  ‘Clive, it’s Ian. You said you had dinner at Sebastian’s I place last week.’

  There was a few beats’ silence, then he said, ‘Are you off your rocker?’

  ‘No, listen, was there anything unusual about the silver, or the cutlery? Some mark, anything that sticks in your mind?’

  ‘Cutlery. You’re serious?’

  ‘Very.’

  A pause, then he answered. ‘Nothing occurs to me. By the by, I’m still down at the station. Here’s a bit of good news for you. Max Ward can’t positively identify the brooch.’

  I asked Clive what he thought that meant. He said it meant that whoever tipped Fielding off that the brooch was in my flat, or gave it to Fielding to plant there, had made a mistake. Either the brooch had nothing to do with Sebastian, or Fielding’s informant hadn’t bargained on Max’s bad memory.

  ‘Well, does that let me off?'

  He told me if anyone ever asked, I hadn’t heard this from him. ‘But I wouldn’t present myself just yet, Ian. Max might still remember.’

  ‘Oh great.'

  Clive said he was getting another lawyer to come down to the station and hold Nigel’s hand. He really sounded like he’d had enough of the whole business. Then just as I was about to ring off, he said, ‘That cutlery?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I couldn’t swear to it, but didn’t it all have a bulby bit down the end?’ He paused as if he was puzzling it over. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Like an onion?'

  Doug Aston was back from his holidays. His wife said he was with the dogs, so Tubs and me walked on down the track to the kennels. The place looked different in daylight, more open, but the smell was just the same. We found Doug with one of his kennel-lads, both of them kneeling beside a tub of mush, bread and water. Doug had his arms in it up to the elbows. He saw us from a good way off but waited till we’d stopped right by him before he looked up.

  ‘Watcha,’ Tubs said.

  Doug nodded. ‘Long time, Ian.’

  I didn’t want to start down that road, so I came right out with it. ‘We’ve come about Eddie Pike.’

  Doug scooped a bucket through the mush. Then he handed the bucket to his lad, telling him to finish the feeding before hosing out the yard. The lad walked over to where the dogs were scrabbling at their kennel doors, yapping.

  ‘Got back last night,’ Doug said, wiping his arms with a rag. He nodded towards the lad. ‘Just heard this mornin’.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ I asked him.

  He shot a look at me. He knew now that this wasn’t a social call. ‘Eddie’s in some strife,’ he said. He finished wiping, then flicked the rag over a rail. ‘The lad knows more about it than me. Try him.’

  ‘Eddie Pike’s wanted on suspicion of murder,’ I told him evenly. ‘Sebastian Ward — remember him? His house burnt down while he was still in it. Eddie Pike was meant to be the security man there. But since the fire, he’s disappeared.’

  Doug rolled down his sleeves. ‘Yeah?’ he said. Then he turned away from us and headed for the converted barn, the place where Pike had been hiding out. We followed him into the central room downstairs. The pane of glass Tubs had smashed with his torch hadn’t been replaced, but the floor was swept clean. Doug threw back the lid on a feed bin and leant over, inspecting how much was left.

  I said, ‘Doug, you must have known Pike was staying here.'

  He screwed up his face. ‘You what?’

  ‘He’s not here now, is he?’

  Doug’s mouth opened, he made a sound of disbelief. Stepping forward, Tubs gestured to the door. ‘Sorry about the glass. When Ian and me came over the other night, we had some trouble persuading Pike to let us in.’

  At that, Doug’s look changed. He tugged at the bin lid, it came down with a bang. ‘What do you two want?’

  ‘To look around,’ I said.

  He waved a hand, telling us to feel free, he was busy. He opened the next feed bin and peered in there.

  ‘Then we’d like a chat,’ I told him. He didn’t look up; it seemed like we’d already given him plenty to think about.

  Tubs went and looked into the other dog-room and came back shaking his head. Then both of us went into the living quarters, where Eddie Pike had bolted from the other night. Downstairs it was all just like it had been, except that the back door leading out of the kitchen was locked shut. Up on the next floor, the beds were stripped bare, and the TV had gone.It looked like no-one had used the place for months. Tubs checked under the mattresses. No girlie mags this time, and no photos.

  Getting to his feet, Tubs said, ‘You reckon Aston cleared the place out, or Pike?'

  I pulled a face. Who knows? Then I went to the stairs and climbed up to the loft. Hitting the light switch, I saw straight away that the stuff was gone. Tubs climbed up behind me, we stood side-by-side looking down the dimly lit gallery to the far wall. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a few dust-sheets heaped halfway along.

  Tubs said, ‘You’re sure it was here?’

  Nodding, I went forward. I crouched and pulled the dust-sheets back, there was nothing hidden underneath. ‘All the silverware was here,’ I said, waving my hand over the spot. ‘In boxes.’ Still crouching, I pivoted. ‘The furniture was over there.’

  ‘The desk?’

  I stood, walked a few paces, then stopped. ‘Right here.’

  Tubs stared at my feet as if he was imagining how it had been. ‘Fuck,’ he said.

  And that pretty much summed it up. We’d had our chance and blown it.

  Then I noticed something in the shadow, about knee- high, propped against a rafter. You could have mistaken it for a bit of old board, I guess I had till then, but now I saw that it glinted golden along one edge. Crouching down, I went forward, and the last yard I had to get down on my knees. Close up, you couldn’t mistake it. I took out a hankie, placed it over my hand, then reached out and gripped the edge of the thing. Backing awkwardly out of there, I pulled it after me.

  ‘What have you got?’ Tubs said.

  Standing, I took it over to the light, still careful not to touch it except through the hankie. I spun it round so we could both see.

  ‘A picture?' Tubs reached, but I fended his hand off. He looked surprised, then he got it. ‘One of Sebastian’s?’

  ‘At a guess.’

  It was a landscape. Even in the dim light you could make out the trees and the sky. In the field there were dark shapes, maybe cattle.

  I picked it up and headed for the stairs. ‘Let’s see if we can’t jog Doug’s memory.’

  We found him in the room where we’d left him, but now he had a pile of leads and collars out, he was cleaning them. Through the open door to the yard, we heard the lad outside hosing down.

  ‘Satisfied?’ Doug said, without looking our way.

  I took the picture over and propped it on one of the feed bins. He glanced up. I don’t know what bullshit story he’d dreamt up for us, but you could see in his eyes when he saw the picture that he knew a story wasn’t going to help him now.

  ‘Not one of yours?’ I said.

  He had his elbows on the table, he lifted one hand and covered his face.

  ‘It was stolen from Ward’s house the night he died,’ I told him. ‘Along with the other stuff Pike had stashed up there.’

  Doug stayed silent.

  I said, ‘We should probably take this to the police.'

  ‘Leave it out.’ He dropped his hands. ‘All I did was let the little bastard have a key.’

  ‘Pike?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I gestured round. ‘For this place?’

  Doug nodded unhappily. Then he got up and slung the leads and collars on their hooks before closing the door. ‘Anyway,’ he said, turning, ‘what’s this to you?’

  Looking him straight in the eye, I explained that the police had the mistaken idea that I was involved with the murder. ‘If I send them round here,’ I said, ‘maybe you could put their minds at rest.’

  ‘Here? Fuck me, don’t send them here. It’s nothin’ to do with me.’

  ‘Then why did you give Pike the key?’

  ‘I was goin’ on holiday. I had a lad comin’ in for the dogs, feedin’ and that, but I needed someone a bit responsible if there was problems. Callin’ the vet in, say. Buyin’ more feed.’

  ‘And someone responsible,’ I said, ‘that was Pike?’

  ‘He done it for me last year,’ Doug opened one hand. ‘He won’t be doin’ it again. I already told him that.’

  A blast of water hit the door outside, then moved on.

  ‘Where is he now, then?’ I asked.

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘You came back last night. Between then and now, you’ve spoken to him. Where?’

  Ignoring me, he turned to Tubs. ‘They don’t seriously reckon Pike killed him, do they?’

  Tubs nodded.

  ‘Shit,’ Doug said. His hands bunched into fists on the table. He was thinking about his licence. ‘I’ll wring the bugger’s neck.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I had nothin’ to do with it.’ It was coming home to him just how much trouble Pike might have landed him in. If the police showed up at his kennels, word would get around. He’d find himself hauled up by the stewards at the Stow, maybe even old man Chandler, and asked to explain. If he couldn’t satisfy them, it might cost Doug his training licence. Without tha,t his kennels were worthless. Now he dropped his head. ‘He’s at the Stow.’

  ‘The track?’ Tubs said, amazed. ‘He’s hiding at the track?’

  ‘Look, I came back last night. Pike just about shat when he seen me. He had the kennel lad giving him a hand, loading stuff in his van.’

  ‘From the loft?’ I said, jerking my thumb up.

  'Yeah. I took one look at it — pictures, classy furniture — Pike said he was helpin’ a mate out. I knew it had to be hooky. I got my key back off him, and told him to bugger off. That was the last I seen him.’

  ‘He told you where he was going?’

  Doug turned his head. ‘He took the kennel lad to help him get the stuff unloaded. He gave the lad twenty quid to keep his mouth shut.’

  ‘Not enough?'

  Going to the door, Doug said, ‘The kid’s not too bright, but he prefers his job here to the dole queue.’ He opened the door and called the kennel lad over. While we were waiting, Tubs poked me in the ribs. I turned to him and he nodded to the far wall. There was a collection of framed photos, the standard winning shots of the dogs as they hit the line at full stretch. ‘Bottom right,’ Tubs whispered.

  At first I didn’t see them, but then both names leapt out at me, Lucky Lip and Jeremiah.

  ‘Here,’ Doug said, bringing the lad in.

  Collecting myself, I listened as Tubs asked the lad a few questions. He wouldn’t have been more than seventeen, and it was obvious that helping lug furniture was the sum total of his connection with Pike. I kept glancing back at the dog photos. The lad just about drew us a map of where at the track he’d helped Pike unload the stuff. Doug must have put the fear of God into him earlier. When we had what we needed, I told the lad, Thanks, and he shot out the door like a hare.

  Doug said to me, ‘Take that with you,’ pointing to the painting I’d propped against the feed bin. ‘That’s the last of it, yeah?’

  ‘I think so.’

  Swearing under his breath, he went and pulled another lot of leashes and collars off the pegs, then laid them out ready to clean. You could see something was playing on his mind. I picked up the painting to go, and he said, ‘Listen, there’s no need for the cops to know Pike was here, is there?’

  His licence. That’s what was still eating him. ‘I can’t vouch for Pike,’ I told him, ‘but Tubs and me won’t say anything.’

  Doug looked relieved. It seemed like this might be a good time for a bit of give and take, so pointing to the photos of Lucky Lip and Jeremiah, I said their names. Doug didn’t seem troubled.

  He cocked his head. ‘You wanna see ’em?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘They any good?’

  ‘Hardly lift a leg, either one of ’em.’ He touched the photo of Lucky Lip. ‘This came in at five-to-one.’ Then Jeremiah. ‘This one too. Same weekend. Buggers haven’t done a bloody thing since.’

  Five-to-one. But the bets in Dad’s ledger were both at even money, so Sebastian had been very keen to get his money on.

  ‘Were they tested?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, becoming wary. ‘They came back clean. And before you ask, no, I didn’t have a penny on either one.’

  We seemed to have reached the end of the line. Then Tubs spoke.

  ‘Doug, you weren’t on holiday just before they ran that weekend?' I got it a second or two before Doug; I don’t know which of us was more surprised. Doug’s mouth dropped open. Tubs said, ‘You didn’t happen to leave someone your keys?’

  Turning his head, Doug went straight into the next room. He pulled an old calendar off the wall and came back, flipping back through the months. He checked the date on the winning photos then ran his finger over the calendar. His finger stopped. He looked up.

  ‘Ireland,’ he said quietly. ‘I went to look at some pups.’

  ‘And Pike kept an eye on the kennels for you?’ Tubs asked.

  Doug nodded, his face going grey. He looked at me like he’d seen a ghost. He turned the calendar around for me to see. He had his finger on something there, and I looked down.

  On the Saturday, in red ink, he’d scribbled in: Bob Collier, 10 a.m.

  I raised my eyes. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘An appoinunent.' Doug’s brow furrowed as he remembered. ‘Your old man came out for a word.’

  ‘About Jeremiah?’ I said.

  Doug nodded, still staring at the calendar. Ten o’clock in the morning of Jeremiah’s race. By then it was obvious to all three of us what had happened, but there was no getting round it, I had to ask.

  ‘What did you tell him, Doug?’

  Doug looked up slowly, turning from me to Tubs, and then back. ‘I told him it couldn’t lift a leg.’ Doug wasn’t a crook, and he wasn’t in with Sebastian and Pike, and right now he was absolutely gutted by what he’d accidentally done. ‘I swear to God, Ian,’ he said. ‘I honestly thought that dog couldn’t run.

  Chapter 35

  * * *

  As we drove I felt my gut churning. The two bets that had sent my old man under, they weren’t even on the level, he’d been completely stitched up. When I got my hands on Pike, I’d know for sure. That seemed really important suddenly, to know exactly how it had happened. Since Tubs had given me Dad’s bag and the medal and ledger, since he’d told me Dad had probably done himself in, my view of things had changed. Jesus, the old man’s reckless punt against Jeremiah wasn’t as reckless as I’d thought.

  'That last bet in your old man’s ledger,’ Tubs said suddenly. He kept both hands on the steering wheel, arms straight, his belly almost touching the seat between his legs.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘What was it again, four hundred quid at three hundred to one?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Just thinkin’.’ He went quiet for a bit, then he said, ‘Four hundred, at three hundred to one, that’s a hundred and twenty-grand payout.'

  ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘A hundred and twenty grand.’ He looked over. ‘That’s how much Sebastian took Bob for on those two dogs, and then some.’ When I didn’t say anything Tubs seemed annoyed. He faced the front again. ‘If your old man’d won that bet, he’d be all square with Ward. Maybe up a bit.’

  ‘Get real, Tubs. Three hundred to one? On the dogs?’

  ‘Who said it was on the dogs?' I was about to ask him exactly what he meant, when he pointed up ahead and said, ‘Is this us?’

  He took the turn to the City airport, and my thoughts slipped into a different groove. Lee Chan was going home. I had the LCO papers in a plastic bag beside me. This wasn’t a detour I could avoid, even if I’d wanted to; Lee really needed those papers back. Uberrima Fides, the Lloyd’s trading standard, there were still plenty of people there who took it seriously. I was in such strife already that the theft of some old documentation couldn’t have done me much more harm. But with Lee it was different. If they missed the documents, the LCO people would be brain-dead not to realize I was behind it, and loads of them knew the history between Lee and me. And once they made that connection, Lee would be out on her ear.

  Besides, this was it, the last chance I had to say what I wanted to say to her about us. And deep down, I guess I knew that that was the real reason she’d told me to get the papers back to her. She wanted to give me that chance.

  When we pulled up in the dropping-off bay, Tubs offered to take the papers in. ‘No-one’s lookin’ for me,’ he said.

  ‘No-one, including Lee,' I said. I told him to wait, or, if he got moved on, to circle round.

  Inside, the terminal was full of suits. Businessmen on their way to meetings, coming back from meetings, or typing into their laptops, preparing for meetings to come. I bought an FT from the kiosk and stuck it under my arm, like camouflage. I couldn’t help being nervous, but I didn’t really believe there was that much chance of me being spotted. Fielding might have circulated a description of me, or even a photo, but the only faces the cops or Customs people would be watching were those checking in. I stood well back from that area and ran an eye over the suits. Every now and again there was a splash of colour, a woman, and my gaze zeroed in. Two minutes of this, and there was still no sign of Lee Chan.

 

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