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attack with its front hooves and teeth and we do have the bite mark as well, of course.’
    ‘But if Noel was behind him, he’d kick with his back legs?’ asked Dixon.
    ‘He would.’
    ‘Which is the clearest imprint?’
    ‘The one on his forehead. The partial on his jaw is clearish too. Why?’
    ‘Can we see it?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    Poland opened the album again and turned to the last of the photographs. ‘This is it,’ he said, handing the album to Dixon. ‘Here, come and have a look.’
    The laboratory assistant, Tracey, had finished cleaning the make up off Noel’s face. Dixon leaned over and stared at the imprint on his forehead.
    ‘Are all the imprints from the same shoe?’ he asked, without looking up.
    ‘As far as we can tell, the same type of shoe, yes. Some are blurred due to his clothing, of course, but the force was such that there’s still a clear mark.’
    ‘But there’s the imprint of more than one shoe?’
    ‘I’d need to check that. Davidson certainly didn’t look at it.’
    Dixon turned to Jane. ‘Open your handbag a second will you, Jane?’
    Dixon reached into it and took out a horse shoe. He handed it to Poland.
    ‘Like this?’
    ‘Yes, that’s it. You’ve got the deep groove and you can count the five nails either side.’
    ‘And this is definitely the same type of shoe that killed him?’
    ‘Yes. Why?’
    ‘Because these are bog standard horse shoes. Twenty pence each for heaven’s sake. And very heavy. It’d be like a sprinter running in diving boots.’
    Dixon took a racing plate from Jane’s handbag and handed it to Poland.
    ‘This is an aluminium racing plate and this is what Westbrook Warrior was wearing at the time. The farrier put four new ones on him the day before, ready for the race at Taunton.’
    Poland looked at the racing plate. ‘Seven nail holes.’
    ‘Exactly.’
    Poland looked again at the photographs. Then at the racing plate.
    ‘There’s a ridge at the front here, presumably for extra grip. That’s not imprinted on the body either.’
    ‘So, Westbrook Warrior didn’t kick him?’ asked Jane.
    ‘No, he didn’t,’ replied Poland, ‘which gives us an unexplained death, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Bollocks,’ said Dixon. ‘He was murdered and thrown into the stable to make it look like the horse kicked him to death.’
    ‘That’s certainly one interpretation of it, yes,’ said Poland.
    ‘What are the others?’ asked Dixon.
    ‘Well...’
    Dixon continued. ‘Let me ask you this then. Bearing in mind his injuries, is it possible he got in that stable under his own steam before he lay down and died?’
    ‘No, definitely not,’ replied Poland.
    ‘So, a person or persons unknown killed him somewhere else and then…’ Dixon’s voice tailed off. ‘Pass me the photos.’
    He stared at the photograph of the imprint on Noel’s forehead.
    ‘Jane, pass me the nails, will you?’
    He put the photo album down on the worktop and stood looking at it with the nails in the palm of his right hand.
    Dixon nodded. ‘That’s it.’ He passed the album to Poland. ‘What shape are the nail heads, Roger?’
    Poland looked at the photograph. ‘Round.’
    ‘Hold out your hand.’
    Dixon dropped the nails into the palm of Poland’s hand.
    ‘They’re square.’
    ‘They are,’ replied Dixon. ‘We need to know how many shoes are imprinted on his body, Roger. Can you do that?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Perhaps produce a 3D image of them from the imprints?’
    ‘Yes, why?’
    ‘Because if I’m right, we’ll find that all of the injuries were caused by one shoe.’
    ‘One shoe? asked Jane.
    ‘Yes, I don’t think he was kicked by a horse at all. I think he was hit by a piece of wood with a horse shoe nailed to it, to make it look like he was kicked by a horse. What do you think?’
    ‘It’s certainly possible,’ said Poland.
    ‘Either that or he was kicked to death by a one legged horse.’
    Poland turned to Jane. ‘He has such a way with