Peter Lovesey - Wobble to Death

‘Died?’

‘Yes.’

‘You mean ’e ran ’imself to death?’

‘I did not say that. It is too early to say for certain what was the cause of death. The race-doctors have decided to hold a post-mortem examination. I shall be exceedingly sur-prised if overtaxing of the system proves to be the only cause.’

Williams, O’Flaherty and the veteran who shared Reid’s hut slowed to Mostyn-Smith’s pace and fell in behind. Chalk told them the essential facts.

‘And this is premature, of course,’ added Mostyn-Smith, ‘but I think it right as a doctor to warn you all-and I shall speak to the other contestants-that Mr Darrell’s last hours bore sev-eral of the symptoms of tetanus-a very vicious disease.’

‘Tetanus!’ Williams repeated. ‘That’s the ostlers’ disease, ain’t it?’

‘It has certainly been established that there is a tendency for workers in stables and farmyards to contract tetanus.’

‘But Darrell ain’t been near a farm. ’E took his breathings at ’Ackney Wick. Monk told me that.’

Mostyn-Smith was patient.

‘That may be so. However, gentlemen, if one needed to look for a building in London where tetanus might be con-tracted-’

He spread his hands, gazed upwards to the roof and looked resignedly at each troubled face.

‘You mean-this bloody ’ole! You’re right. The biggest stinking cow-shed in the country,’ Williams thundered.

‘But before you vacate the Hall, gentlemen, I think it unlikely that any of us will become infected. I have arranged for the area of the huts, which is the most fouled by animal excrement, to be washed and disinfected at once. I rather think that Mr Darrell, unfortunate man, may have become infected when he took off his boots on Monday night to run barefoot on blistered feet. It is through an open wound that the disease enters the body. I strongly advise you to retain your footwear at every stage of the race. If you have cuts or abrasions, have them covered. The doctors will help.’

‘I’m for quitting,’ Chalk said. ‘Tetanus. That’s something doctors can’t cure.’

‘That is perfectly true,’ Mostyn-Smith admitted. ‘But we know enough about it to take reasonable precautions. If I thought there was a real danger, I should have retired from this contest already. Of course, the decision is your own. Bear in mind that we shall not be certain until after the post-mortem examination. It may be that he died from other causes.’

He actually raised his pace a fraction to put a decent dis-tance between them and him. They conferred for several minutes as they walked. Apparently a group decision was to be made. Then O’Flaherty detached himself and approached Mostyn-Smith again.

‘You say we’re not likely to catch it if we keep our feet clean?’

‘Bearing in mind that you aren’t likely to suffer skin dam-age on any other part of your person, yes. Whether Mr Darrell died from tetanus or some other cause, it is still good advice. That is why I arranged for our hut to be scrubbed, Mr O’Flaherty.’

The Irishman accepted the point in silence.

‘And you’re going on with this tramp yourself?’

‘I fully intend to,’ Mostyn-Smith affirmed. ‘I shall make up the time that I lost this morning by increasing my stride-length.’

A little devilment made him add, ‘If you gentlemen with-draw, I should be among the leaders by Friday.’

This reminder that Darrell’s death had increased the chances of prize money tipped the scales in the pedestrians’ decision to continue. After another brief consultation the group broke into a run, and trotted away in step into a faster lap to celebrate their resolve. They raised dust, defined in pale beams of sunlight that had penetrated the grimy vaulting.

Erskine Chadwick sat at lunch in his tent, watched by Harvey. The meal was cold, but well prepared, and he con-sumed it noisily. The morning’s tragedy had not touched him. Darrell had scarcely existed, except as a yardstick. The poor fellow was dead, so Herriott would probably promote some other worthy trudger to the inner track and the race would continue. The tetanus scare had not bothered Chadwick either. That eccentric little medico from the outer path had made a point of mentioning the risk. But after army service the only risks that troubled Chadwick arose on the Stock Market.

The full blare of the band invaded the tent for an instant as the flap was drawn open. Walter Jacobson came in.

‘Forgive this intrusion. I should like to speak with you about the race, and I don’t wish to delay you. The matter is of some importance.’

‘Please sit down, then. Our furniture is sparse, but if you don’t object to sitting on the bed…?’

Jacobson, ill at ease, fluttered his hand to decline the offer.

‘To come to the point, you will have heard of Mr Darrell’s tragic passing, and I think you will understand that this has thrown the whole future of the contest into uncertainty. We-that is, the management-would wish to continue with the race, providing that the participants feel able to go on.’

Chadwick felt totally able, but feigned a moment’s decent hesitation.

‘Of course,’ he ventured, ‘one feels reluctant in these unhappy circumstances…’

‘Quite, quite. Do continue your meal, won’t you?’

‘However, as a military man,’ Chadwick added with an air of fortitude, ‘I learned to accept such things philosophically. And as an athlete I have trained my body to persevere, even when the mind protests. I think that poor Darrell would wish us to continue the race.’

‘I am so glad that you feel this way. I hope that your fel-low-competitors are equally resolute.’ Jacobson produced a large handkerchief and dusted the back of his neck. ‘What we now have to settle is how we rearrange the race.’

Chadwick had prepared for this.

‘Yes. There was a good deal of interest in the duel between Darrell and me.’

‘We have a problem,’ Jacobson continued, ‘in that no sin-gle competitor seems worthy of consideration as your antagonist.’

He paused, allowing Chadwick to savour the flattery.

‘If, for example, I nominated Williams, who holds second place by a small margin, he might be overtaken tomorrow by O’Flaherty, or even Chalk.’

Suspicion dawned on Chadwick’s face.

‘So I have come to suggest,’ Jacobson said, speaking more quickly, ‘that instead of making the main contest a two-man race, we alter the conditions a little so that you are challenged by all-comers-which was in real terms always the case.’

‘But I do not exactly follow-’

‘In other words, we dispense with one of the tracks and all competitors run on the outer path, which is wider than the other.’

Having delivered his dart, Jacobson paused to study its effect.

Chadwick picked up a knife from the plate and held it poised on his fingers, pointing at Jacobson.

‘You are seriously suggesting,’ he said in a voice thick with menace, ‘that I appear on a track with the drunks and half-wits who are out there at the moment. Is that it, Mr Jacobson?’

‘Well-known pedestrians, many of them,’ Jacobson stam-mered.

‘Clowns or criminals, every one! Perhaps you aren’t aware, sir, that I hold the Queen’s Commission. I am not unused to dealing with the lower levels of society. I wouldn’t allow one of that rabble to clean my blasted boots!’ With an air of finality he snatched an orange that Harvey was holding and bisected it savagely.

Jacobson selected his next words with care.

‘So I must now inform Mr Herriott that you are retiring from the contest?’

‘That is not what I said.’

‘But the effect of what you said is the same, Mr Chadwick. First, you have no rival left. Second, you refuse to appear with the antagonists who are nominated. The conclusion is obvious.’