Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [34]
FOXY FOXTON AND BILLY SEARLE IN £100,000 GAMBLE?
I bought the paper with shaking hands and stood reading it in the shop.
In addition to the headline there were photographs of Billy and me, mine taken during my racing days, wearing racing colors and cap.
The article beneath was as equally damning as the headline:
Leading National Hunt jockey Billy Searle was observed in a heated argument at Cheltenham Races yesterday with former fellow jockey Nick (Foxy) Foxton. The topic of their acrimonious exchange? Money.
According to the Racing Post correspondent at the track, the amount under discussion was in excess of a hundred thousand pounds, with Searle demanding instant payment of this amount, which he claimed he was owed by Foxton. At one point Searle was heard to ask why he, Foxton, wanted to murder Searle. Could this all be connected with Foxy’s new job at City financial firm Lyall & Black, where he gambles daily with other people’s money on the stock markets?
Well-known trainer, Martin Gifford, stated that Foxton had informed him on Tuesday that Herbert Kovak, the man whose murder last Saturday led to the postponement of the Grand National, was Foxton’s best friend and a fellow stock market speculator who had also worked for Lyall & Black. Gifford implied that Foxton may have known more about the killing than he was telling.
Not surprisingly, people yesterday were asking if Foxton’s argument with Searle could have had some sinister connection to the Aintree murder. The Rules of Racing clearly ban gambling by professional jockeys, but no such restriction applies to former jockeys. The Racing Post will endeavor to keep its readers up to date with this story.
The article cleverly didn’t actually accuse Billy Searle or me of any wrongdoing, it merely asked leading questions. But there was little doubt that the tone of the piece was designed to imply there was a criminal conspiracy between us, which also had something to do with the death of Herb Kovak.
No wonder Gregory Black was steaming around the office fit to burst.
I was surprised my phone wasn’t ringing off the hook.
Bugger, I thought. What should I do now?
I called Patrick on his mobile. I didn’t fancy using the office number just in case Gregory himself answered, as we all sometimes did if the receptionists were busy on other calls.
“Hello, Nicholas,” said Patrick. “I thought I told you to be discreet. I hear that Gregory’s after your blood. I’d keep your head down if I were you.”
“I will,” I said. “But it’s all a pack of lies.”
“You know that, and I know that. But, unfortunately, John Doe on the street will believe what he reads in the paper.”
“But they have completely distorted the truth. It’s so unfair.”
“Tell that to the politicians.” He laughed. “I have already told Gregory not to believe what he reads, but he says, quite rightly, that you shouldn’t have been having a public argument with a client in the first place. He’s pretty mad.”
“It wasn’t an argument,” I claimed in my defense. “Billy Searle just started shouting and swearing at me for no reason.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Patrick said. “It’ll all blow over in a couple of days.”
I wish he’d been right.
6
I walked back to Herb’s flat hardly feeling my feet on the pavement.
What a bloody mess.
I could imagine that Billy Searle wasn’t too happy about it either. I thought the last thing he’d want would be the racing authorities asking him questions about why he needed a hundred thousand pounds so urgently.
I let myself in through Herb’s front door and went to check again on Sherri. She hadn’t moved and was still sound asleep. I left her alone and went back to the living room, where I sat at Herb’s desk wishing I’d brought my laptop with me. It was lying on the kitchen table in Finchley and I was tempted to go home to fetch it. Instead I called Claudia.
“Hi, it’s me,” I said when she answered.
“Hi, you,” she replied.
“Could you bring my computer over to Herb’s flat?” I said. “His sister has turned up, and she didn’t know he was dead. She’s sleeping now, but I don