‘Look, I don’t want to get involved,’ he said with obvious concern.

‘But you are already involved. You gave me your number.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have done. I was only trying to warn you.’

‘Why do I need to be warned?’

‘Because Mr Valance is not a very nice man.’

‘Well, thank you for the warning but I’m a big boy now,’ I said. ‘I’m sure I can look after myself.’

‘Maybe that’s what Gary Bremner also thought,’ the young man said, then he hung up.

CHAPTER

10

I SAT STARING AT my phone for quite a long while after the man had hung up. If I had his number, surely, even with GDPR and the other privacy regulations, I should be able to find out his name from somewhere.

If he had really wanted to remain anonymous, he had simply to not give me his number in the first place. But he had, and he had been trying to warn me. I wondered if my mystery man was up to his neck in trouble but fundamentally on the side of the angels.

What did I do next?

I had dropped Rosie off at Charles’s place at Aynsford at a quarter to six this morning and, even though it felt to me like the majority of the day had already passed, the clock on the Discovery’s dash stubbornly showed it was only five to eleven. More than an hour, even, to midday.

I checked the horse-racing-fixtures app I had on my phone. There were three meetings scheduled for this particular Tuesday: jumping at Fontwell Park near the South Coast, close to Bognor Regis; an evening floodlit meeting on the ‘all-weather’ flat track at Wolverhampton; and, finally, an afternoon of jump racing at Catterick Bridge Racecourse, just fourteen miles down the road from Middleham, and the first race was due off at 1.50.

Perfect.

I decided I would go to the races at Catterick and make some more waves.

‘Hello, Mr Halley,’ said the man at the gate to the car park reserved for owners, trainers and jockeys. ‘Long time no see.’

I racked my brain to try and remember where I’d seen him before, and what the hell was his name?

‘Hello,’ I said, failing badly in both departments. ‘Please, can I come in here?’

‘Do you have a pass?’ he asked.

‘Sorry, no. I forgot it.’

‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Always loved your riding back in the day.’ He fleetingly looked over both his shoulders. ‘If you promise not to tell, I’ll let you in.’

I put a finger to my lips. ‘Thanks.’

‘And my name’s Fred,’ he said as I passed him. ‘Used to be at Haydock.’

‘Thanks, Fred,’ I shouted out the window, laughing. He had been so far ahead of me.