Peter Lovesey - Skeleton Hill

Diamond came to the point. ‘The reason I asked about the date is that 1993 appears to have been the year that the young woman whose murder I’m investigating was buried on Lansdown. There was a horse hair found with her skeleton and it’s just possible it came from your horse.’

‘Good Lord! What makes you think that?’

‘I said it’s a possibility. Did you employ a girl to groom the horse?’

‘Personally, no. You’d have to ask my trainer, Percy McDart, at Lambourn. He looked after all that. He’s still in business there.’

‘Lambourn? Is that where the horse was stabled?’ This was not what he wanted to hear. He knew of Lambourn, one of the centres of racehorse training, at least forty miles off, the other side of Swindon. ‘I was thinking Hang-glider was trained locally.’

‘Well, you’d be wrong. Any half-decent horse is kept at Lambourn, Highclere or Newmarket.’

‘I’ll contact McDart. We’d like to check Hang-glider’s DNA.’

‘How can you do that when he’s not been seen since 1993?’ Davina asked. ‘They didn’t keep DNA records then.’

‘If anything was kept as a souvenir – let’s say a saddle, or a rug – we might get hairs or skin particles, from it. Do you possess anything like that, Sir Colin?’

Tipping shook his head. ‘All I have are photographs and race-cards and a fat file of correspondence from the damned insurance company. You’re welcome to see those any time.’

‘And some silver cups in the trophy cabinet,’ Davina said. ‘You still have those, Fa.’

‘That’s true, but they won’t help the police. They get polished regularly.’

‘His rug?’ Diamond tried again.

‘I collected cheques and trophies, not horse rugs. You’ll have to ask McDart.’

‘And did you ever hear from the people who stole the horse?’ ‘Not a word. They didn’t demand a ransom and they couldn’t race him. I believe I told you my theory.’

‘That he was secretly put to stud?’

Davina said, ‘I don’t believe that one.’

‘He’d have produced damned good foals,’ her father said.

‘Not necessarily. There are no guarantees in horse-breeding. Many great stallions and mares have produced only moderate offspring. You know the saying: breed the best to the best and hope for the best.’

‘Sheikh Abdul thought he was a good investment and so did the blighters who took him.’

‘But if the matings were done secretly the foals would have no pedigree.’

‘Doesn’t matter. When you know something and other people don’t, there’s money to be made.’

‘Not enough,’ she said.

‘What’s your theory, then, Miss Wisenheimer?’ Tipping asked.

‘I’ve never said this to you before, Fa, but if you really want to know, I think it was done from personal spite. Someone heard you were about to cash in and they chose that moment to bring you down.’

He looked quite shaken. ‘I’m not one to make enemies. I’ve always treated people decently in business and in everyday life.’

‘You don’t know the effect you have on others. Ask Mr Diamond.’

For one awkward moment Diamond thought he was being invited to say what a boring old fart the man was, but Davina went on to say, ‘Isn’t jealousy one of the main motives for crime?’

‘It’s one to consider, yes,’ Diamond said. ‘If you’re right, what do you think happened to the horse?’

She gave him a glance that made him wish he hadn’t asked. ‘I’d rather not say. He was my father’s pride and joy.’

Ingeborg was waiting to see Diamond when he arrived next morning, her eyes bright as sword blades.

‘Something happened?’ he asked.

‘It’s Saturday, guv.’

‘Even I can work that out,’ he said.

‘Farleigh Hungerford Castle. The muster this afternoon. I’m wondering if I can leave early.’

‘Your performance. Right.’ With the focus shifting to the missing racehorse, he had nudged Inge’s frolic to the back of his thoughts. ‘What time?’

‘Well, as soon as possible. They want us on parade at one p.m. – that’s in full uniform, us and our horses.’

‘You’ve had only one rehearsal, haven’t you?’

She gave him a pained look. ‘Drill, guv. We call it drill. Yes, I’m making up the numbers, one of the extras, but I still have to look the part.’

‘Like a bloke, you mean? They didn’t really have women in the cavalry, did they?’

‘Do you mind? I expect they did. Only I’m not trying to pass myself off as a guy.’

‘Before you go, did you find out anything last night?’

‘About Hang-glider?’

‘No, I cleared that up. Anything on Rupert?’

She shook her head, a fraction too fast for Diamond’s liking.

‘You forgot?’ His eyes continued to read her face. ‘There’s something, isn’t there?’

A sigh, blaming him. ‘I tried to tell you this last night. The surprise was the officer in charge, our drill instructor. I must have done a double take when he rode up in his buff coat and feathered hat. It was Dave.’

‘Dave who?’

‘You know. Dave Barton, the man who was with Rupert when they found the femur.’

He paused, taking this in.

‘Inge, are you sure?’

‘Hundred per cent.’

‘He’s a foot soldier, not cavalry,’ Diamond said. ‘He shouldn’t be on a horse.’ Even as he spoke, he recalled Keith Halliwell telling him Dave liked the outdoor life and went out riding.

Ingeborg flushed scarlet. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. Believe me, Dave could teach Butch Cassidy a trick or two. I don’t know what he was doing the day of the re-enactment, but he’s a cavalry officer, and a good one. I’m not kidding, guv.’

‘He’s not the officer type.’

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. ‘It’s not the real army. You don’t have to go through Sandhurst to do the job.’

Fair point, he thought. These people were playing at soldiers. He’d been caught making assumptions.

‘He’s just your average guy, except he’s a top horsemen,’ she said to soften her petulance. ‘He makes it all seem simple.’

‘I believe you. I’m surprised, that’s all.’

‘Maybe his horse was injured when they had the muster. He’d still want to take part, wouldn’t he?’

‘ Did he recognise you as CID?’

‘I don’t think so. I saw him the day he came in, but we didn’t speak. He’s okay. No side to him.’

He allowed her to leave directly. Much else was on his mind.

John Wigfull was the next to look in and he, too, appeared uncommonly cheerful. ‘I hear there was a very good response to my press release. I expect you’ve solved your case now, or you’re on the point of doing so.’

‘It’s not the number of calls. It’s the quality of the information.’

‘The story was on the late news on television. You’ll get more take-up this morning, I guarantee.’

‘I’ll let you know, John.’

For the next few precious minutes he was not interrupted.

The previous night’s conversation with Sir Colin Tipping had almost persuaded him that the theft of Hang-glider in 1993 was the key to the case. Up to then he’d been assuming Nadia’s murder was connected to the re-enactment, that she’d been killed during or shortly after the battle and buried hurriedly. The discovery that the race meeting took place four days later and a serious crime was committed opened a new possibility. Could she have witnessed the theft of the horse and been shot simply because she was there? They could have bundled her body into a car or van and driven her a short way up the road and buried her.

Wouldn’t it be marvellous if Wigfull’s publicity had produced an eye-witness who remembered seeing Nadia at the race meeting? He stepped back into the incident room and asked the receiver for the latest batch of notes from callers.