“You were there that day, Harry,” Darcy said. “What do you think happened?”

“What happened?” Harry asked angrily. “Someone injected the horse with a powerful stimulant and it was too much for the poor creature’s heart.”

“And do you think the person who did that was my father?”

“Of course I don’t,” he said. “Like I told you, your father treated those horses like his children. He’d never have risked a horse’s life to make him run faster and win races. Never.”

“So do you have any idea who did dope the horse? Roach himself?”

“I’d give you ten to one that it was him. Right before the race I saw him coming out of the stall and he spotted me and he looked startled and said he’d just wanted to check Gladiator’s girth. Well, I think he’d just drugged the horse himself then and he thought that I’d seen him do it. That’s why he got rid of me. Not because I was too old or not good enough at my job, but because I knew the truth.”

“Very interesting,” Darcy said. “And he put the syringe into my father’s drawer to place the blame on him.”

Harry nodded. “That’s what he did. And made an almighty fuss and dismissed your father on the spot. No wonder your father finally gave him what he deserved.”

“You think my father killed him?”

“Didn’t he? And if he didn’t, then who did?” Harry asked.

“That’s what we aim to find out,” Darcy said. “So tell me, all the time you worked at Kilhenny stables, did Roach have any visitors? Did he ever talk about friends or family in America?”

Harry made a disparaging grunt. “Hardly ever showed his face at the stables and certainly didn’t chat with the likes of us.”

Standing well back while Darcy and Harry chatted, I had just had a brilliant thought. I couldn’t wait to share this insight. I watched while Darcy shook hands with the old man, then came back to join us. “I suppose you heard everything, didn’t you?”

“We did,” I said. “And it confirmed what you suspected, didn’t it?”

Darcy nodded. “Interesting that Roach had bet heavily on his horse.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” I said. “Remember we were told that Roach was a reclusive gentleman whose interests were horses and books? Well, someone was having a laugh at our expense. His interests were horses and books—but only in the sense of betting on them.”

“Bookmakers, you mean?” Darcy’s eyes lit up. “That’s clever, Georgie. So much for our impression of a reclusive gentleman in the old sense. He might have been reclusive, but not a gentleman.”

“How do you know that?” Zou Zou demanded.