Cut Throat (50 page)

Franklin was looking very interested. ‘You might have something there,' he said. ‘But do you think it's Mr X's style to allow himself to be blackmailed?'

‘Maybe not,' Ross admitted. ‘But he might also think that Leo could be a useful tool, for a while at least. I mean, it really fogged things up, didn't it? Not knowing who was responsible for what.'

‘But now we know they're working together, what's to stop us, or rather McKinnon, picking Leo up and persuading him to tell all?'

‘Nothing. Except I think Mr X will make sure Leo keeps his head down from here on in. He certainly didn't intend me to know who either of them were, but Leo just couldn't keep his mouth shut. Our friend could've cheerfully slaughtered him.'

‘And might still do,' Franklin observed darkly, ‘with the stakes this high. He could already be charged with attempted murder for running Peter down.'

‘Yes, I hadn't thought of that.'

They wandered on in silence for a moment, both thinking hard.

‘Can you tell me more about Tuesday evening?' Franklin asked after a moment. ‘I waited for about an hour but when you didn't show up I called the cottage and Bill said you'd gone out and weren't back yet. I rang your mobile but it was switched off and I didn't know what to think, except that your jeep might have broken down. I even drove the route I thought you'd have used but there was no sign of you or the jeep. I didn't know what to make of it until the next day when I rang John. So tell me, what did happen?'

Ross frowned. ‘The whisky really messed me up and I still can't remember everything, just snatches. For instance, I remember I was late because I thought I was being followed and I was trying to lose them.' He didn't think he'd mention Roland at this point. ‘There was a Land-Rover, a diversion sign and some traffic cones – I'd guess they were probably just for my benefit – but I can't remember what happened next. When they forced the whisky down me I think I was in a wood. I remember branches overhead and being tied to a tree. My arms still ache . . .'

He paused by Clown's box, turning half away from Franklin. It was intensely painful to remember. So humiliating; so
frightening
to be that helpless. His mind still flitted around the edges of it.

‘I . . . um . . . remember that Leo had a gun,' he said, and a cold sweat broke out on his body at the memory. ‘And I remember Irish saying I should have minded my own business, but the rest . . .'

His voice cracked and he shook his head, staring hard at nothing in particular. ‘I can't even remember what I wanted to talk to you about.'

Franklin perceived his distress and put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Never mind now,' he said gently. ‘A gun, though? My God! Did you tell the police?'

Ross laughed harshly. ‘Oh, sure, they'd have loved that! “A gun?” they'd have said. “What, no hand grenades?” No, I figure they've heard just about every story there is concerned with drinking, and then some. They weren't exactly receptive. Apparently I was found in the jeep, three times over the limit and with the whisky bottle beside me. They just weren't interested in excuses.'

Franklin shook his head. ‘I'm
so
sorry, Ross. How much have you told the Colonel?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Why not?'

‘Well, how could I? How much could I say before he started to guess there was a lot more to it than he was being told? If I didn't tell him the whole, he would just think it was a tall story. And who could blame him?'

Franklin studied Ross' taut profile as they stood watching Clown pulling at his haynet.

‘I'm sorry,' he said again. ‘I had no right to get you involved in all this. It just didn't occur to me there'd be any danger to you, personally.'

Ross disagreed. ‘It wasn't your fault. You and McKinnon only asked me to keep my eyes and ears open. It was my idea to start stirring the hornet's nest. The way I see it, it's my fault if I got stung.'

Franklin pursed his lips. ‘Well, whatever the case, it's gone far enough. I'm not having your career ruined for my sake. The Colonel must be told, whether McKinnon likes it or not. Personally, I would've told him in the first place but McKinnon wouldn't have it, and since I employed him to advise . . .' He shrugged.

‘Look, let's wait a bit,' Ross urged. ‘The Colonel hasn't sent me packing yet – though God alone knows why! His attitude towards me would be bound to change if he knew the truth. Other people would notice and wonder, maybe even Mr X himself. This thing could snowball and we don't want anyone else getting hurt. Let's just let it ride for the moment.'

‘But Bill and the others – they're treating you like dirt,' Franklin protested. ‘It's not fair to let you carry the can for something you didn't do.'

‘Bill and I have never seen eye to eye,' Ross pointed out. ‘And now I know that
you
believe me, I think I can cope with the others.'

Franklin was still doubtful. ‘If you're sure, but I don't like it, Ross. It's getting out of hand.'

‘Well, we've obviously got him worried,' Ross observed. ‘Maybe he'll make a mistake. Or maybe I'll remember something useful.'

Franklin wasn't convinced. ‘He's made one push to get you out of the way. If he sees it hasn't worked he may make another. What then? Have you thought of that?'

Ross had and he didn't like it any more than Franklin appeared to.

‘I just wish I knew what it was he thought I was close to discovering. It's so frustrating.'

‘Perhaps he doesn't know either. On the phone you told me you thought you might have something important to discuss,' Franklin said. ‘What if he listened in somehow and decided to nobble you before you could share it with me, whatever it was?'

‘I thought of that. But he couldn't have bargained on me not remembering,' Ross said. ‘So he can't have thought I knew anything very important. The whole thing must just have been a precaution. I was nosing around and he wanted me out of the picture.'

Franklin ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. ‘Sometimes I feel perhaps I should have the horses destroyed and finish this business once and for all, but then there's Clown. I could never do that to Peter. He's had a rough enough time of it already.'

‘I don't know that it would help, either. It might even make things worse. I mean, he's already shown he's not unwilling to use other targets. If it's a grudge, it's not just going to go away because the horses do.'

‘You're probably right,' Franklin said wearily. They had completed their circumnavigation of the yard and stopped beside his Range Rover.

‘Listen, Ross, I don't know how to thank you . . .'

‘What for?' he enquired. ‘Getting myself in a hole? I've blundered around making trouble for myself and upsetting a whole lot of other people and for what? I just seem to have muddied the waters a bit more, if anything.'

‘The professionals have done no better,' Franklin observed. ‘But I meant, thank you for caring enough to try. And I can assure you that when you go to court you'll have the best legal defence in your corner that money can buy.

‘Anyway,' he glanced at his watch, ‘I must be going. I called in on my way to the Chinese takeaway. It's Cook's night off and we normally go out but Peter has got it into his head he wants a Chinese.' He grimaced. ‘Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid. I prefer good, traditional English cooking myself. You can't beat roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Strange thing that – it's the only thing I really miss about Peter's mother. When she could be bothered, Marsha was a dab hand in the kitchen, though to look at her you wouldn't think she could make toast without a recipe.' He smiled at the memory.

Ross hesitated only fractionally, then gave voice to a suspicion he had long harboured. ‘When did you find out about Marsha and Darcy?'

Franklin raised an eyebrow. ‘You don't miss much, do you?'

Ross relaxed. It appeared he hadn't offended and, furthermore, had guessed right.

‘I suspected,' Franklin said. ‘But Darcy himself told me in the end. I couldn't blame him, exactly, though I was disappointed. She was an attractive woman and almost always got what she wanted, sooner or later. Usually sooner. If she had her eye on him, he wouldn't have stood a chance – he wasn't much more than a boy, after all.'

‘So you didn't fall out over it?' Ross thought his forbearance remarkable.

Franklin smiled and shook his head. ‘No, not really. The marriage was over by then, in all but name, and I couldn't see what good it would do to alienate the boy just when we needed to stick together as a family. He'd owned up and apologised, said it only happened once and the affair was over. As far as I was concerned, that was an end to it.' He opened the door of the Range Rover and paused. ‘What made you think of that?'

Ross shrugged. ‘Oh, I don't know, something he said once. More the way he said it, I suppose. I can't really remember.'

‘He's always had an eye for the girls,' Franklin confessed. ‘Takes after his father, I suppose.' He started the engine. ‘Look, Ross, take care of yourself, okay? Leave the detecting to the detectives for a bit. Your first concern should be getting fit and winning classes.'

Ross grinned. ‘Okay, boss.'

‘And if you change your mind about telling the Colonel . . .'

‘Sure. I'll let you know.'

The next day, Friday, started promisingly with a note from the Colonel to say that if Ross felt up to it, the horses would compete as planned that weekend and he should prepare them accordingly. The note was brief and businesslike and gave no hint as to the Colonel's disposition, but Ross considered it a hopeful sign.

Although it was clear that his workmates still regarded him with disgust, the prospect of action lifted everybody's spirits a notch or two and gave the team a common aim. The atmosphere in the yard improved noticeably.

Ross worked hard all day, riding all the horses that were entered for the show at the weekend, assessing their performance and demeanour after the enforced break in their routine. His own condition improved hourly, although the state of his cracked ribs hadn't been improved by the attentions of Leo and Irish and would clearly be tender for some days to come.

As he finished his last session of the day and leaned on the gate watching Clown roll luxuriously in the soft sand of the school, Danny came to stand beside him.

‘Hi, kid,' Ross said, without turning his head.

Danny was silent.

Ross sighed. ‘Come to add your two cents' worth?' he enquired.

Danny shuffled his feet. ‘No,' he said finally. ‘I've been thinking about what you said that night. You know, about the whisky and jumping to conclusions?'

‘Uh-huh.' Ross waited.

‘Well, the thing is . . . I wanted you to know I don't believe you did it. Drink and drive, I mean. You wouldn't. It's just not the sort of thing you'd do. I know what they're saying but I don't believe it. I just wanted you to know.' His somewhat wandering avowal of faith having reached its end, he rather spoilt it by adding, ‘You didn't, did you?'

Ross supposed it was a measure of his low physical and mental state that a simple show of confidence could bring a lump to his throat, but his mouth twitched in response to this postscript.

‘No, Danny. I didn't,' he said gravely, still not looking round. ‘And thanks.'

‘I just wanted you to know,' Danny repeated.

Saturday morning dawned fair but with a blustery wind, which had sprung up overnight. The preparations for the show ran smoothly, every member of the team carrying out their own particular tasks like parts of a well-oiled machine. Nobody spoke much, although that was not unusual. Time was at a premium and they were all working hard.

Maggie came out with a well-stocked lunchbox just as they were loading the horses and handed it to Danny. Normally she wished Ross good luck. Today she hardly glanced at him.

When all the four-footed passengers were safely aboard and the last bolts fastened, Ross made his way round to the driver's side of the cab and opened the door.

‘I think not,' Bill said firmly, coming up behind him. ‘The Colonel would rather I drive.' He stared defiantly up at Ross like a bull terrier taking a stand.

Ross felt quick anger rise in him but clenched his jaw against the retort. After all, he really couldn't blame them. He shrugged and turned away. ‘Suit yourself,' he said. ‘I'll travel in the back.'

The show was a big one, which suited Ross. The less the concentration of people who knew him, the better. As it was, he was sure it hadn't gone unnoticed that Bill had driven the lorry. He kept his head down and concentrated on the job in hand.

The competition was fierce but the horses were jumping well and more than held their own, and in spite of his antipathy Bill couldn't hide his pleasure as first Simone then Bishop qualified for classes at the bigger shows later that year. Ross was pleased too but he couldn't help wondering gloomily who would be partnering the horses by then.

The Richmond clan turned up to see Clown jump in two classes but, try as he might, Ross wasn't able to win a rosette for the birthday boy.

Peter accepted the disappointment with his customary good manners but he was very quiet, and once or twice Ross found he was being regarded with a particularly solemn stare. He wondered what the boy had been told.

Before they left, Franklin drew Ross to one side and told him that in place of the written-off jeep, he had an old Land-Rover that Ross was welcome to use for as long as he liked.