Longshot

First catch your polar bear...

‘Well, sir,’ Doone said, laying the books aside, ‘we can trace the path of ideas about the trap, but who do you think put them into practice?’

I shook my head.

‘If I throw names at you,’ he said, ‘give your reasons for or against.’

‘All right,’ I said, cautiously.

‘Mr Vickers.’

‘Tremayne?’ I must have sounded astonished. ‘All against.’

‘Why, exactly?’

‘Well, he’s not like that.’

‘As I told you before, I don’t know these people the way you do. So give me reasons.’

I said, thinking, ‘Tremayne Vickers is forceful, a bit old-fashioned, straightforward, often kind. Angela Brickell would not have been to his taste. If, and to my mind it’s a colossal if, if she managed to seduce him and then told him he was the father-to-be, and if he believed it, it would have been more his style to pack her off home to her parents and provide for her. He doesn’t shirk responsibility. Also, I can’t imagine him taking any woman out into deep woods for sex. Impossible. As for trying to kill Harry...’ Words failed me.

‘All right,’ Doone said. He brought out a notebook and methodically wrote ‘KENDALL’S ASSESSMENTS’ at the top of the page. Underneath he wrote ‘TREMAYNE VICKERS’, followed by a cross, and under Tremayne, ‘NOLAN EVERARD’.

‘Nolan Everard,’ he said.

Not so easy. ‘Nolan is brave. He’s dynamic and determined... and violent.’

‘And he threatened to kill you,’ Doone said flatly.

‘Who told you that?’

‘Half the racing world heard him.’

Sighing, I explained about my riding.

‘And when he attacked you, you picked him up like a baby in front of all those people,’ Doone said. ‘A man might not forgive that.’

‘We’re talking about Angela Brickell and Harry,’ I pointed out mildly.

‘Talk about Nolan Everard then. For, first.’

‘For... Well, he killed Olympia, not really meaning to, but definitely by putting her life at risk. He couldn’t afford another scandal while waiting for trial. If Angela Brickell had seduced him — or the other way round — and she threatened a messy paternity suit... I don’t know. That’s again a big if, but not as impossible as Tremayne. Nolan and Sam Yaeger often bed the same girl, more or less to spite each other, it seems. Nolan regularly rides the horse, Chickweed, that Angela Brickell had care of, and there would have been opportunities for sex at race meetings, like in a horse-box, if he wanted to take the risk. He could sue me for slander over this.’

‘He won’t hear of it,’ Doone said positively. ‘This conversation is just between you and me. I’ll deny I ever discussed the case with you if anyone asks.’

‘Fair enough.’ I thought a bit. ‘As for the trap for Harry, Nolan would be mentally and physically capable.’

‘But? I hear your but.’

I nodded. ‘Against. He’s Fiona’s cousin, and they’re close. He depends on Fiona’s horses to clinch his amateur-champion status. He couldn’t be sure she would have the heart to go on running racehorses if she were forced to believe Harry a murderer... if she thought he had left her without warning, without a note, if she were worried sick by not knowing where he’d gone, and was also haunted by the thought of Harry with Angela Brickell.’

‘Would Everard have stopped to consider all that?’ he mused doubtfully.

‘The trap was well thought out.’

Doone wrote a question mark after Nolan’s name.

‘Doesn’t anyone have a solid alibi for Wednesday afternoon?’ I asked. ‘That’s the one definite time our man has to explain away.’

‘And don’t think we don’t know it,’ Doone nodded. ‘Not many of the men connected with this place can account for every hour of that afternoon, though the women can. We’ve been very busy this morning, making enquiries. Mrs Goodhaven went to a committee meeting, then home in time to be there when you telephoned. Mrs Perkin Vickers was at Ascot races, vouched for by saddling a horse in the three-mile chase. Mr Vickers’ secretary Dee-Dee made several telephone calls from the office here and Mrs Ingrid Watson went shopping in Oxford with her mother and can produce receipts.’

‘Ingrid?’

‘She can’t vouch for what her husband did.’

He wrote ‘BOB WATSON’ under Nolan.

‘For him being our man,’ I said dubiously, ‘is, I suppose, Ingrid herself. She wouldn’t put up with shenanigans with Angela Brickell. But whether Bob would kill to stay married to Ingrid...’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. He’s a good head lad, Tremayne trusts him, but I wouldn’t stake my life on his loyalty. Also he’s an extremely competent carpenter, as you saw yourself. He was serving drinks at the party when Olympia died. He went to the boatyard party as a guest.’

‘Against?’

I hesitated. ‘Killing Angela Brickell might have been a moment’s panic. Setting the trap for Harry took cunning and nerve. I don’t know Bob Watson well enough for a real opinion. I don’t know him like the others.’

Doone nodded and put a question mark after his name also.

‘GARETH VICKERS’ he wrote.

I smiled. ‘It can’t be him.’

‘Why not?’ Doone asked.