Warned Off by Joe Mcnally, Richard Pitman Read Free Book Online

today.
There’s no way -’
    ‘What about the Champion Hurdle?’
    ‘Well, nothing ... nothing about the
race itself anyway. But  heads will be rolling because the Queen Mum was
embarrassed at the presentation by the absence of the owner. She didn’t
complain but the course executive look on it as a deliberate insult by this guy
Perlman.’
    ‘Go on.’
    He hesitated. ‘You know something about
this?’
    ‘Finish your side first.’
    ‘Okay. We sent someone to interview
Perlman this morning. He can’t be found. His house, or at least the address we
have registered, is empty and has been for a while according to the locals who
also say they’ve never heard of Perlman.’
    ‘Wasn’t he checked through the normal
procedures before your people cleared him as an owner?’
    ‘Of course he was! Couldn’t have been
more impressive. A million quid’s worth of country house in Wiltshire, a Rolls
in the drive, we even sent the same guy this morning who interviewed him
initially. The place is deserted.’
    ‘What happens now?’ I asked.
    ‘Arses get kicked, our clearance procedure
gets tightened and we keep looking for Perlman.’
    ‘Have you called Roscoe, his trainer?’
    ‘Yes. He claims he’s never met Perlman
nor spoken to him. He communicates with the stable by email only and pays his
bills prompt on the eighth of every month. Obviously we’ll be looking further
into that but we’re under the cosh.’
    ‘If Perlman actually exists then I know
someone who might tell me a few things about him if I buy enough champagne.’
    ‘Who? And what do you mean if he
actually exists?’
    ‘Oh, come on, Mac, how many owners do
you know who don’t turn up when they win the Champion? How many have never met
their trainer? The name’s got to be a front for someone, maybe somebody who’s
been warned off in the past.’
    ‘For what?’
    ‘How would I know? But whatever it was
he might be doing it again in the name of Perlman.’
    There was silence at the other end. I
went on, ‘Anyway, I’ll see if I can find anything out from Alan Harle.’
    ‘Roscoe’s jockey?’
    ‘More like this Perlman’s jockey. Can
you remember if Roscoe took Harle on around the same time that Perlman appeared
on the scene?’
    ‘Not off hand but I can find out. Call
me here this evening.’
    ‘Listen, I said. ‘I’ll see Harle at
Cheltenham today and ask if he wants to go partying tonight. You find out what
you can about him and Roscoe and I’ll try and ‘phone you around ten.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘Mac, does nothing else about Harle ring
a bell?’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Like the reported sighting of him with
the men last seen with Danny Gordon?’
    There was silence for a few seconds then
McCarthy said, ‘I’ll check it out.’
     
    I
missed the first three races that afternoon and despite the melancholy it had
caused the previous day I decided to watch the fourth from out on the course.
There wasn’t a single space in the crowd lining the rails at the last fence so
I wandered down to the starting gate as the big field of novices lined up.
    Harle was booked to ride Craven King for
Roscoe and I tried to pick him out as the jockeys pulled their goggles down on
tense faces. The horses pricked their ears and strained at their bits, some
rolling their eyes back till the whites showed.
         There was a
moment of almost eerie silence. I panned and turned the wheel on my binoculars
to focus on the packed stands and twenty thousand pairs of glinting lenses
looked back at me.
    ‘Come on!’ yelled the starter, breaking
the spell. The tape snapped upwards, the riders let out an inch of rein and the
ground shook as nineteen novice ‘chasers set off to prove who was champion.
    I walked toward the centre of the course
till the commentary was out of earshot and there were no people around. That
feeling of desolation at not being involved was coming back again and I was
trying to fight it. I decided to concentrate on Harle and Craven King