(1975) High Stakes by Francis Dick

Author:Francis, Dick [Dick, Francis,]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-06-30T14:53:06.203000+00:00

In the event, I went.

Most people’s memories were short and I received no larger slice than I expected of the cold shoulder. Christmas had come and gone, leaving perhaps a trace of good will to all men even if they had been beastly to poor Jody Leeds and got themselves fined for drunkenness. I collected more amused sniggers than active disapproval, except of course from Quintus Leeds, who went out of his way to vent himself of his dislike.

He told me again that I would certainly never be elected to the Jockey Club. Over his dead body, he said. He and Jody were both addicted to the phrase.

I was sorry about the Jockey Club. Whatever one thought of it, it was still a sort of recognition to be asked to become a member. Racing’s freedom of the city—along those lines. If I had meekly allowed Jody to carry on robbing, I would have been in. As I hadn’t, I was out. Sour joke.

Dial made up for a lot by winning the four-year-old hurdle by a length, and not even Quintus telling everyone it was solely due to Jody’s groundwork could dim my pleasure in seeing my horse sprint to the post.

Rupert Ramsey, patting Dial’s steaming sides, sounded apologetic all the same.

“Energise isn’t his old self yet, I’m afraid.”

Truer than you know, I thought. I said only, “Never mind. Don’t run him.”

He said doubtfully, “He’s entered for the Champion Hurdle. I don’t know if it’s worth leaving him in at the next forfeit stage.”

“Don’t take him out,” I said with haste. “I mean… I don’t mind paying the extra entrance fee. There’s always hope that he’ll come right.”

“Ye-es.” He was unconvinced, as well he might be. “As you like, of course.”

I nodded. “Drink?” I suggested.

“A quick one, then. I’ve some other runners.”

He gulped his Scotch in friendly fashion, refused a refill, and cantered away to the saddling boxes. I wandered alone to a higher point in the stands and looked idly over the cold windy racecourse.

During the past fortnight, I’d been unable to work out just which horse was doubling for Energise. Nothing on Jody’s list of horses in training seemed to match. Near-black horses were rarer than most, and none on his list were both the right color and the right age. The changeling at Rupert’s couldn’t be faulted on color, age, height, or general conformation. Jody, I imagined, hadn’t just happened to have him lying around: he would have had to search for him diligently. How, I wondered vaguely, would one set about buying a ringer? One could hardly drift about asking if anyone knew of a spitting image at bargain prices…

My wandering gaze jolted to a full stop. Down in the crowds among the rows of bookmakers’ stands I was sure I had seen a familiar pair of sunglasses.

The afternoon was gray. The sky threatened snow, and the wind searched every crevice between body and soul. Not a day, one would have thought, for needing to fend off dazzle to the eyes.

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