Hot Money - By Dick Francis Page 0,53

find out you were there.’

‘I can’t help it. I can’t hide for ever. You can come and stay close to me there.’

‘Don’t go,’ I said. ‘You’re safe here.’

‘Keep me safe at Quantum.’

He was adamant and began packing, and short of roping him to the bedstead, I couldn’t stop him.

Just before we left, I telephoned Norman West and found him at home — which didn’t bode well for the investigations. He was happy to tell me, he said, that it was now certain Mrs Deborah Pembroke, Ferdinand’s wife, couldn’t have been at Newmarket Bloodstock Sales, as on that day she had done a photo-modelling session. He had checked up with the magazine that morning, as Mrs Deborah had told him he could, and they had provided proof.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘What about Ferdinand himself?’

‘Mr Ferdinand was away from his office on both those days. Working at home on the Friday. The next week, he attended a course on the statistical possibilities of insurance fraud. He says that after registration on the Monday, they kept no record of attendance. I checked there too, and no one clearly remembers, they’re all half strangers to each other.’

I sighed. ‘Well… my father and I are going back to Quantum.’

‘That’s not wise, surely.’

‘He’s tired of imprisonment. Report to us there, will you?’

He said he would, when he had more news.

Cross off Debs, I thought. Bully for Debs.

I drove us down to Berkshire, stopping at Arthur Bellbrook’s house in the village to collect the dogs. The two full-grown Dobermanns greeted Malcolm like puppies, prancing around him and rubbing against his legs as he slapped and fondled them. Real love on both sides, I saw. Uncomplicated by greed, envy or rejection.

Malcolm looked up and saw me watching him.

‘You should get a dog,’ he said. ‘You need something to love.’

He could really hit home, I thought.

He bent back to his friends, playing with their muzzles, letting them try to snap at his fingers, knowing they wouldn’t bite. Theyweren’t guard dogs as such: he liked Dobermanns for their muscular agility, for their exuberance. I’d been brought up with relays of them around me, but it wasn’t the affection of dogs I wanted, and I’d never asked for one of my own.

I thought of the afternoon he’d let them out of the kitchen and then been hit on the head. The dogs must have seen or sensed someone there. Though not guard dogs, they should still have warned Malcolm.

‘Do those two dogs bark when strangers call?’ I asked.

‘Yes, of course.’ Malcolm straightened, still smiling, letting the lithe bodies press against his knees. ‘Why?’

‘Did they bark a week last Friday, when you set out to walk them?’

The smile died out of his face. With almost despair he said, ‘No. I don’t think so. I don’t remember. No… not especially. They were pleased to be going out.’

‘How many of the family do they know well?’ I said.

‘Everyone’s been to the house several times since Moira died. All except you. I thought at first it was to support me, but …’ he shrugged with disillusion, ‘they were all busy making sure none of the others ingratiated themselves with me and cut them out.’

Every possibility led back to the certainty we couldn’t accept.

Malcolm shuddered and said he would walk through the village with the dogs. He would meet people he knew on the way, and there were people in that village who’d been close friends with Vivien, Alicia and Joyce and had sided with them, and had since fed them inflammatory half-lies about Malcolm’s doings.

‘You know the village grapevine is faster than telex,’ I said. ‘Put the dogs in the car.’

He wouldn’t listen. It was only six days since the second time someone had tried to kill him, but he was already beginning to believe there would be no more attempts. Well, no more that morning, I supposed. He walked a mile and a half with the dogs, and I drove slowly ahead, looking back, making sure at each turn that he was coming into sight. When he reached the house safely, he said I was being over-protective.

‘I thought that was what you wanted,’ I said.

‘It is and it isn’t.’

Surprisingly, I understood him. He was afraid and ashamed of it, and in consequence felt urged to bravado. Plain straightforward fear, I thought, would have been easier to deal with. At least I got him towait outside with the dogs for company while I went into the house to reconnoitre, but no one had been there laying

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