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Harle admired its work
then pushed it back into his pocket. He was still looking in the mirror so I
turned too and our reflections carried on the conversation.
    ‘Any more like Castle Douglas tucked
away?’ I asked.
    ‘We’ve got a couple of cracking novices.
One runs in the Triumph on Thursday, Tourist Attraction, he’s called.’
    ‘Fancy him?’
    ‘He’ll skate up. Don’t miss him.’
    ‘I won’t. Who owns him?’
    He hesitated. ‘He’s the same owner as
Castle Douglas.’
    ‘Lucky man. Who is he?’ I tried to
appear open-faced and innocent. I don’t know if he bought it because he paused
again before answering and gave me a glance which said, is this guy kidding?
    ‘Mister Perlman, he’s Roscoe’s biggest
owner.’ He straightened his tie, leaving the top shirt button loose.
    ‘Perlman? Never heard of him either,’ I
said.
    ‘He’s only come into the game recently.’
    I shook my head slowly. ‘Boy, I can’t
get moving for overnight success stories since I came back.’
    Turning from the mirror he looked up at
me accusingly. I smiled in apology and grabbed his arm. ‘Hell! I don’t mean
you, Alan. You deserve every winner you get, you’ve worked hard for your
success.’ He seemed placated.
    I followed up. ‘But if you’re honest,
doesn’t it make you sick when guys like Roscoe and Perlman flash a few quid
around and suddenly they’ve got a Champion Hurdler when they haven’t been in
the business five minutes?
    He shrugged. ‘That’s the way it is,
Eddie, money talks.’
    ‘Where did Perlman make his fortune
then?’
    ‘Nobody knows.’ He was fishing in his
pockets but his hands came out empty. ‘Any smokes?’ he asked.
    ‘Sorry.’ I laughed. ‘Go in and ask
Perlman for a Havana, I’m sure he can afford it.’
    ‘I would if I knew what he looked like.’
    I looked puzzled. ‘What are you talking
about?’
    He smiled.
    I thought I heard the door open. Harle
spoke. ‘What I could tell you about Perlman ...’
    There was a slight squeak from the door
spring. I heard no footsteps on the tiled floor but Harle became alert. He gave
a follow-me nod and turned to leave. Whoever had come in was hidden from us by
a dividing wall; he heard us move and began walking in. Turning at the end of
the wall we almost collided with a small, neatly dressed and apparently
stone-cold sober man wearing thick glasses.
    He looked surprised. ‘Oh sorry!’ he said
and stepped aside to let us pass. ‘Have to be getting the old eyes tested
again, Alan.’
    Harle nodded at him and smiled. We went
out into the corridor.
    ‘Friend of yours?’ I asked.
    ‘I’ve seen him around the racecourse and
he’s in here with us tonight. Don’t know who asked him.’
    We began walking back to the party.
‘Anyway, what were you saying about Perlman?’ I asked.
    We reached the door of the Directors
Suite. ‘Some other time, Eddie, eh?
    ‘Sure. What about Friday, after racing?’
    ‘Fine, yeah, great.’
    His look didn’t match his words and I
knew his mind was elsewhere. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I’ll meet you by the weighing
room.’
    ‘Definitely. Look forward to it.’
     I headed along the corridor and
returned to the toilet. All three cubicle doors were open. Stepping through the
centre one I closed it behind me. Taped to the base of the cistern I found a
plastic bag containing an empty glass phial and a syringe.
    I made my way back to the car thinking
there might just be a buzz to be had playing amateur detective. It didn’t
deliver the thrills of my riding days, but it would do for now.

9
     
    First
thing next morning I rang McCarthy’s office. He answered the phone.
    ‘Can’t you afford a secretary?’ I asked.
    ‘Who is this?’
    ‘Malloy.’
    He wasn’t pleased. ‘What do you want?’
    ‘Some information.’
    ‘On what? Is it important?’
    ‘It is to me.’
    ‘Look, Eddie, I’m under severe pressure
over yesterday’s Champion Hurdle, The Jockey Club want a report by noon