Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [45]
“Oh, Nick,” she sobbed into my neck, “I’ve been so frightened.”
“Come on,” I said, hugging her back. “Let’s go home.”
We walked out into the night, hand in hand, and hailed a passing black cab.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” I said to Claudia as we sat down.
“Why ever not?” she said. “I’ve been here ever since I found out where they’d taken you. It’s been bloody hours.”
“But how did you know I’d been arrested?” The police had allowed me only one call, and I’d made that to the company’s lawyer, Andrew Mellor.
“Rosemary called me,” Claudia said. “She was in floods of tears.”
“Rosemary?” I asked.
“You know,” she said. “Rosemary McDowd. She’s such a dear.”
I had worked at Lyall & Black for five years and for all that time I’d had no idea that Mrs. McDowd’s name was Rosemary. The receptionists were always referred to as Mrs. McDowd and Mrs. Johnson because that’s what they called each other. Only the other staff had first names, Mr. Patrick, Mr. Gregory, Miss Jessica, Mr. Nicholas and so on, and we were only addressed in that way because, again, that was how the Mesdames McDowd and Johnson did it.
“How did Mrs. McDowd have your number?” I asked.
“Oh, we speak quite often.”
“What about?”
Claudia didn’t reply.
“What about?” I repeated.
“You,” she said.
“What about me?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said evasively.
“No. Come on,” I said. “Tell me. What about me?”
Claudia sighed. “I sometimes call her to find out what sort of mood you’re in when you leave the office.”
More likely, I thought suspiciously, to check that I was actually in the office or when I’d left it.
“So what did Mrs. McDowd tell you today?” I asked, purposely changing the conversation’s direction.
“Between sobs, she told me that you had been arrested by the police for attempted murder. I thought it must be to do with Herb Kovak, but she said it was about someone else.”
I nodded. “Billy Searle was attacked this morning. He was a top jump jockey, and also a client of mine.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Claudia said.
That’s what I wanted to know.
I t had been nearly eleven o’clock by the time I’d been released, and I’d asked the taxi driver to go to the newspaper kiosk on the Edgware Road where I knew they received the early editions of the daily newspapers the night before.
Claudia stayed in the cab as I went to buy copies of all they had, including the Racing Post, which arrived in a van as I was paying for the rest.
If its previous day’s front-page headline had been vague and set as a question, this one pulled none of its punches:
BILLY SEARLE ATTACKED.
FOXTON ARRESTED FOR
ATTEMPTED MURDER
And the article beneath gave no comfort to me either.
Further to our exclusive report in yesterday’s Racing Post concerning a heated argument at Cheltenham Races on Wednesday between top jump jockey Billy Searle and ex-jock turned financial wizard Nicholas (Foxy) Foxton, we can exclusively reveal that Foxton was yesterday arrested for Searle’s attempted murder.
Billy Searle was taken to the Great Western Hospital in Swindon from the scene of a horrific incident in Baydon, near Lambourn, early yesterday morning when it appears he was deliberately knocked from his bicycle. Doctors at the hospital state that Searle’s condition is critical, with a broken leg and serious head injuries.
Foxton was arrested yesterday at 2:25 p.m. on suspicion of attempted murder at the Lombard Street offices of City financial services firm Lyall & Black, and he is currently being held for questioning at the Paddington Green Police Station.
Remarkably accurate, I thought, except for the bit about currently being held at the Paddington Green Police Station, and that had been right until about twenty minutes ago. Beside the article was another picture of Billy Searle, this time all smiles and wearing a business suit, and a photograph of the cordoned-off village of Baydon. Overlying the top right-hand corner of this photo was a smaller head-and-shoulders shot of me, positioned,