A Forgotten Shadow, page 14
“Yes, it was taken about thirty years ago up at Balmoral, so before my time I’m afraid,” said Seb. Shadow continued to sift through the photos. As well as those showing snippets of Sybil’s life, there were at least a dozen of Flynn FitzAllan with an older man; grinning together at the races or out shooting.
“Is this your grandfather?” he asked.
“Yes, he and Flynn were really close. Grandpa adored him. I maybe shouldn’t say this, but he got on much better with him than he did with Uncle Bertie.”
“And is this one of you?” Shadow asked, picking up another photo of a teenage boy and an older man.
“Yes, on my sixteenth birthday. I’m with Grandpa. Do you remember I told you about the one and only time he took me shooting?”
Shadow peered a little closer at the picture of the old duke with his arm proudly around his grandson.
“It’s a good photo. What a shame it’s been hidden away.”
“Oh, you know how Mum feels about blood sports, Chief Inspector.”
“Is that the Lumley gun you are holding?”
“Yes, the one Grandpa left to Flynn. He let me borrow it for the day. Not that it helped much. I was rubbish. I must take after Dad’s side of the family. Granny and Grandpa were both crack shots.”
“Oh well, I expect your heart wasn’t in it,” reasoned Shadow kindly as he took another biscuit. “Is it only you and your mum who live here?”
Seb nodded. “Yes, it’s always been just the two of us since Dad died. She’s had one or two boyfriends over the years, but nothing serious. I told her I wouldn’t mind if she met someone, but she always says nobody could compare to Dad.”
“I see,” said Shadow. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made that Plum would be LP. She was single, Siobhan and Flynn’s marriage was more of a business arrangement, and Seb didn’t mind, so why would they need to take elaborate measures like using burner phones to hide the fact they were in a relationship? He finished his tea and stood up.
“I won’t keep you any longer, Seb. I’ll catch up with your mum another time. Thanks for the tea.”
*
Shadow had arranged to meet Jimmy outside the church and his sergeant was already waiting for him.
“Well?”
Jimmy pulled a face and shrugged. “I stopped at the end of the driveway up to the stables. Parnell was right next to the fence, so I got some really good photos, but I still can’t be sure it’s the same horse as in the Instagram photo. Did you find out anything, Chief?”
“Plum wasn’t there but I don’t think she’s LP,” he said as he noticed the wildlife book tucked under his sergeant’s arm.
“You spotted anything else?” he asked, nodding towards the book. Since speaking to Ben, he’d been feeling more conciliatory towards his younger colleagues.
Jimmy’s face brightened. “Yep, there was a heron over the duck pond and I think I’ve just seen two magpies?”
“Two for joy—that’s meant to be lucky. If you only see one you should salute it, and say ‘Good morning, Mr Magpie’,” said Shadow.
“Why’s that, Chief?” Shadow furrowed his brow. “Something to do with the Bible and warding off bad luck. I forget why exactly—my grandfather always did it.” He nodded over the road to the dower house. “Let’s go and see if Sybil is at home.”
They walked across to the wisteria-clad house and Shadow raised the gleaming brass door knocker shaped like a lion’s head and rapped twice on the door. After waiting a moment, he tried again.
“She won’t be in, love,” called out a now familiar voice behind them. The two detectives turned around to see Bet putting up the umbrellas at the picnic tables outside the pub. They walked back across the road to join her. “She’ll be up at the castle. There’s always an estate meeting on the second Thursday of the month.”
“Is this the same meeting that Lady Victoria is attending?”
“Yes, she’s bound to be there too,” agreed Bet, who had now started wiping down the tables.
“But not the duke?” queried Shadow who had checked and knew that the duke and his party were at the races again this afternoon. Bet shook her head with a smile.
“I can’t say I blame him. He’s got three horses running today. Watching them will be a lot more fun than being stuck on his office talking about which of those damp old tunnels to restore or which tenants are behind with the rent.”
“I guess he’s lucky his mother and sister don’t mind attending on his behalf,” said Jimmy. Bet arched a heavily pencilled eyebrow.
“I’d like to see anyone trying to stop those two attending,” she replied curtly. “It was the same even when Bertie’s dad, the old duke was alive. He’d be down at the stables with Flynn, while Sybil ran the estate. Last year’s stroke might not have killed her but moving out of the castle when Annabel arrived almost did.”
“I heard she’s always been very involved in village life,” said Shadow diplomatically.
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. Nothing happens in Kirkdale without Her Grace knowing about it,” replied Bet. From inside the pub a telephone started to ring. “I’ll have to answer that. Are you two staying for a drink?” she asked.
“No thank you,” replied Shadow.
“I’ll see you later then, Handsome,” she called before disappearing through the door.
“Not a word,” muttered Shadow to his grinning sergeant.
*
They drove back to the city, dropping down from the wild rolling moors into the low flat vale of York. In the distance, the Minster stood out against the horizon, towering over the city as it had done for hundreds of years.
“What are we going to do next, Chief?” asked Jimmy.
Shadow sighed. “The more I think about it, the more certain I am that Siobhan is responsible for Aidan’s injuries, but we don’t have anywhere near enough evidence to get a conviction. We really need to find a motive.”
“Any ideas?”
“I’m sure there must a connection with the races. Ideally, I’d like to organise a surveillance operation at the course before the meeting ends on Saturday, but we’d need several officers to assist and the chief constable’s permission.”
“Do you think she’ll give it?”
“I’ve got a meeting with her at five. I’ll ask her then, but in betting terms I don’t like my odds.”
Chapter Eight
Across 4. Initially Fred, Ian and Xander alter the odds in their favour (3 letters)
“Absolutely not, Shadow,” said the chief constable firmly. “I don’t have any officers to spare. Besides, you can’t even tell me exactly what you are investigating. It sounds far more likely to me that Aidan O’Doyle had an argument with somebody outside the pub than this idea you have of someone riding cross-country to attack him.”
Shadow attempted to protest, but she silenced him.
“I don’t want you poking about at the racecourse upsetting people. Is that clear?” she said. “Surely I don’t need to tell you how important the Ebor meeting is for the city? You’ve already ruffled enough feathers amongst the Duke of Kirkdale’s party. You do know the dowager duchess used to be lady-in-waiting to the late queen mother, don’t you? I don’t want you upsetting any more VIPs. We even have members of the Saudi royal family arriving tomorrow, so stay away.”
Shadow didn’t bother trying to argue. He knew she wouldn’t change her mind, so he turned and left her office with nothing more than a polite: “Yes ma’am.”
*
That evening he was due to have dinner at the Golden Dragon, the restaurant on Goodramgate that Jimmy’s family owned. Since he and Jimmy started working together, he dined there once a week with his sergeant’s family. When he arrived, he found Sophie and Jimmy sitting at the table next to the kitchen along with Jimmy’s elderly grandfather. Shadow sat down and broke the bad news about the surveillance operation to Jimmy, but his sergeant didn’t seem too disappointed.
“Then we’ll have to go for plan B,” he said, handing his boss a beer.
“What’s plan B?” asked Shadow.
“Well,” said Sophie leaning forward, “I didn’t like your chances of getting the chief constable to agree to a surveillance operation, so I thought if she said no, then we could go to the races anyway. I’m not working on Saturday and you two must both have leave due. My parents have been members at York for years. They have four tickets for Saturday, so we can use them.”
“You could ask Maggie to join us,” suggested Jimmy. “Didn’t you say she follows some of Flynn’s horses? It would be good to have someone with us who knows a bit about racing.”
“That’s a great idea,” agreed Sophie suspiciously quickly, “then if we do happen to bump into the chief constable or anyone else we know, they won’t think we are up to anything. It’ll look like a social outing rather than work. Do you want me to ask Maggie for you, Chief?”
Shadow shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had the distinct feeling of being ambushed.
“No thank you, Sophie, it’s fine. I’ll ask her. I’ll explain there’s nothing in it and that we are only going there to help George out.”
“If you put it like that, how could she resist?” replied Sophie, shaking her head. “That’s one problem solved, but it doesn’t help the fact that the three of us know nothing about betting. How will we even know if something dodgy is going on?”
“Ah ha,” said Jimmy producing a copy of the Racing Post from the inside of his jacket, “I thought Grandad could have a look at the runners and riders for Saturday and give us his opinion. He’s great at working out odds and things like that. When he was younger, he used to work in the casinos in Macau. I thought he could give us a crash course. I’ve circled all the FitzAllan horses, so he can see if there’s anything strange.”
Jimmy handed the newspaper over to his grandfather. The old man adjusted his spectacles as he peered at the list of runners and riders.
“Can he read English?” whispered Sophie.
“He’s fine with numbers,” Jimmy whispered back. The old man retrieved the stub of a pencil from behind his ear and began scribbling symbols on the page. Shadow watched him and could only assume they were Chinese numbers. Then he began talking rapidly to his grandson. Jimmy’s forehead wrinkled as he listened, replied, and nodded before translating back to Shadow and Sophie.
“He says there’s something strange about the third race. There are two FitzAllan horses running, Kirkdale Legend and Wantage Whisper, but he doesn’t understand why Kirkdale Legend has been entered. I’ve explained that Siobhan told the Chief and I that he’s got a good pedigree.”
“I’m not sure that’s the right word for a horse,” interrupted Sophie. “I think they are thoroughbreds.”
“Really? Okay, I might not have translated it right,” said Jimmy looking confused, “but basically, Legend’s parents won loads of races, but he’s only won one. Grandad says he is completely outclassed by the other horse entered in his race.”
At that moment, Rose—Jimmy’s mother—appeared with their food and Jimmy’s grandfather continued to try and explain the intricacies of betting and horse racing as they ate.
“Is Angela not joining us tonight?” asked Shadow quietly, after a particularly garbled explanation about how to calculate betting odds from Jimmy. He had a feeling Jimmy’s sister would have been a better translator.
“She’s gone to the Van Gogh immersive exhibition at St Mary’s with Tom,” replied Sophie. “You know the one where they project images on the walls, and you feel like you are actually in the painting? It’s meant to be amazing. Have you been?”
Shadow shook his head. It was years since he’d been to a gallery or concert. Sophie turned around and began searching through her handbag that was slung over the back of her chair.
“Here, I picked up a couple of leaflets about it. Why don’t you take one? You might enjoy it,” she said, handing over the neatly folded piece of paper. Shadow briefly took in the vivid images before slipping it into his pocket.
“Thanks. Tom and Angela seem to be seeing a lot of each other,” he commented.
“Yes, isn’t it great?” said Sophie happily.
Shadow didn’t reply, as he suspected Sophie and Jimmy had the enthusiasm shared by many happy couples of wanting to pair off all their friends and family too. The meal ended and thankfully so did the betting crash course.
“I’m still not sure if the bookies want a favourite to win or not.” Jimmy sighed, scratching his head as he stared at the figures his grandfather had scribbled down.
“Never mind, sweetie,” said Sophie with an affectionate smile, “you’ll probably be able to work it out by Saturday.”
*
Later that night, after his obligatory game of backgammon with Jimmy’s grandfather, Shadow arrived back on Florence and was noisily greeted by the geese who had taken up residence on his roof. Inside the boat the air was stale and stuffy, so he opened the windows to let a breeze blow through. He poured himself a glass of wine, removed his shoes and tie and opened the envelope Tom had left on his desk for him. Inside was a copy of the late duke’s obituary from The Times, and some plans of Kirkdale Castle.
Shadow began reading the obituary. It mentioned Xander DeVere’s education at Eton, his time at Sandhurst, then in the House of Lords and the many committees and associations he’d been a member of, but one sentence caught his eye: ‘His army career ended abruptly after a tour of Northern Ireland, although he maintained close ties to the people he’d met there.’ Shadow flicked through the papers, but there was no other mention of the late duke leaving the army.
He turned his attention to the plan of the castle. Tom had attached a note saying it was the most recent one he could find and that he’d downloaded it from the planning portal for North Yorkshire Council, when six months ago permission had been sought to replace some windows in the east wing. Shadow adjusted his glasses and peered at the small print on the plans. He noted with interest that despite being married for only a few months, the duke and duchess had separate bedrooms. The plan also showed two priest holes, one in the now disused chapel and one in the dining room. There were also two hidden passageways. One led from the main hallway down to the cellars and another from the library upstairs to the main landing. Shadow had a feeling he was looking at something important, but he wasn’t sure why.
With a yawn, he finished his wine and went to bed, but sleep escaped him. The day’s racegoers were still noisily celebrating, and their shouts and laughter echoed down from the many pubs that lined the river and in through his open windows. After an hour of tossing and turning, he stomped through to the sitting room and closed the windows with a bang so loud he woke up the geese who protested loudly from on the roof.
“For crying out loud,” he muttered to himself as he flopped back into bed. As he thumped his pillow, he noticed the picture of Luisa smiling back at him. “I know, I know, I’ve turned into an old misery,” he said closing his eyes while the geese continued their noisy tap dance above his head.
*
The next morning found Shadow frowning at his reflection in the tall mirror in front of him. Over his left shoulder he could see the shop assistant wearing an eager expression and a tape measure around his neck. Over his right shoulder stood Maggie with her arms folded and eyebrows raised.
“Stop scowling,” she ordered. “You look very smart.”
Shadow looked down at the navy blazer and chinos she had picked out for him. Then she and the assistant had completed his new look with a pale blue shirt and tie. It could be worse, he thought, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been shopping for new clothes. This had been Maggie’s only prerequisite before agreeing to go to the races with him when he’d called into the laundry and asked her, a little over an hour earlier.
“Okay, I’ll come along, but only if you promise not to wear that old wax jacket. Honestly, one of these days it’ll get up and walk out of here on its own.”
Shadow hadn’t protested, as she’d practically marched him down to the men’s outfitters on Petergate, but he hadn’t expected to be given a complete makeover either. He tried to view his reflection objectively. Perhaps it wasn’t too bad. Just as he was beginning to get used to his new look, Maggie handed him a Panama hat.
“The finishing touch!” she declared.
“You must be joking?” Shadow replied, recoiling.
Maggie raised her eyebrows again. “Do you want to help George or not? This will make you blend in and it’ll help to hide your face on the off-chance the chief constable is there too. Be grateful we’re only going to the Ebor and not Royal Ascot otherwise you’d be in top hat and tails.”
*
After Maggie had completed her work, Shadow returned to the station laden down with bags full of his new clothes that he dumped in his office before anyone could see them. A few minutes later, Jimmy put his head around the door.
“Morning, Chief, I’m working on the photo of the horse. The guy from the Instagram account has been in touch. Do you need me for anything else?” he asked.
Shadow shook his head. “No but let me know if you find anything and get Tom to come and see me, will you?”
Five minutes later Tom appeared, and Shadow handed over a scribbled handwritten note.
“This is the name of the town FitzAllan and O’Doyle both came from and this is the date the late duke, Alexander DeVere, left the army. He was a captain at the time. Have a look and see if you can find anything strange that happened, any link to our case.”
Tom returned an hour later and proudly laid out several sheets of paper in front of Shadow.
“I think I’ve found something sir,” he said eagerly. “The town where FitzAllan and O’Doyle lived has its own weekly newspaper, so I started searching through archived copies from around the date you gave me. The only time the late duke, or Captain DeVere as he was called then, is mentioned is in a statement regarding the death of a young private in his unit. He says all the usual things—’outstanding service’ and ‘condolences to the family’—but reading between the lines it sounded as if his death was due to a lack of planning for the operation he was involved in.”
