DEAD CERTAINTY
Glenis Wilson
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This first world edition published 2015
in Great Britain and the USA by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.
Trade paperback edition first published 2015 in Great
Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.
eBook edition first published in 2015 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
Copyright 2015 by Glenis Wilson.
The right of Glenis Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Wilson, Glenis author.
Dead certainty. (Harry Radcliffe series)
1. Horse racingFiction. 2. Family secretsFiction.
3. BiographyAuthorshipFiction. 4. Suspense fiction.
I. Title II. Series
823.92-dc23
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8486-2 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-590-2 (trade paper)
ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-640-3 (e-book)
Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
This ebook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,
Stirlingshire, Scotland.
To the one where the honour lies
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Mr Nick Sayers at Hodder & Stoughton. His belief in me and the manuscripts kept me going.
Kate Lyall-Grant and all at Severn House Publishers.
Mr David Grossman, my literary agent.
David Meykell, clerk of the course, Leicester Racecourse, for allowing me to do a murder on his racecourse.
Roderick Duncan, clerk of the course, Southwell Racecourse.
Jean Hedley, clerk of the course, Nottingham Racecourse.
Mark McGrath, former manager, Best Western North Shore Hotel and Golf Course, Skegness.
Bill Hutchinson, present manager, and all the lovely staff at the above hotel with special thanks to Gavin Disney, Dan, Nikki and Katie for all their help.
Sarah at Sarahs Flowershop.
All the library staff at Bingham, Radcliffe-on-Trent and Nottingham Central, with special thanks to Steve and to Rosie for her expertise on computers.
David and Anne Brown, printers and friends for bailing me out twice and finding just where chapters twelve and thirteen had disappeared to!
Lois from Crime Readers Group, a savvy lady who gave me confidence at the start.
The police at Skegness and the staff at Nottingham Prison for checking facts.
Management at The Dirty Duck at Woolsthorpe.
Kirsty at The Unicorn Hotel at Gunthorpe.
Vickie Litchfield at The Royal Oak, Radcliffe-on-Trent.
And for all the people who have helped me in whatever way during the course of writing the Harry novels, may I say a very big thank you and have a great read.
The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and the inheritance of a great example.
Benjamin Disraeli
To the one who has gone before, the great master of horseracing novels, Dick Francis, thank you for all those wonderful reads. I offer my sincere gratitude and humbly follow in your footsteps.
Glenis Wilson
ONE
I can remember the brushwood jump rising, wickedly high, in front of us.
I can remember my uprush of exhilaration as Gold Sovereign soared sweetly up and over.
I can remember seeing, briefly, a horse lying on the grass on the far side of the jump, legs thrashing wildly as he sought to regain his feet.
I can remember Gold Sovereign twisting in mid-air as she tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid landing on top of him.
I cant remember any more.
There must be more because now here I am in this hard, high bed facing a blank wall. No long sweep of green turf bathed in golden sunshine stretching away out in front, just a cold, insipid, white wall.
And thats all you remember? The white-coated doctor by the side of the bed peered at me over his rimless glasses and scribbled something indecipherable on to his clipboard.
I nodded. And regretted it. Any movement sent out screams of protest around my body. I breathed shallowly and waited for the pain to subside. Deep breaths were out. On its own, that told me Id got cracked ribs at the very least. But looking down the length of bedcovers, there was a highly suspicious hump of unpleasantness which no doubt concealed a cage. It would be taking the weight off my left leg. A break, possibly, but a tentative wriggle of my toes produced no effect. What then?
I began to sweat.
TWO
T hree days later I had a visitor. He was one of thousands who would have actually witnessed my accident.
Harry, howre you doing? It was my best friend from childhood, and, incredibly, still my best friend in adult life. He was also my boss. His concern for my welfare was truly genuine and would also, I know, be tempered by concern for my career prospects and ultimately for his own business. Mike Grantley was a much respected and successful racehorse trainer. As his retained jockey, our partnership had prospered and together we had picked some of racings beautiful plums. Like the Cheltenham Gold Cup.
You were totally out of it when I came before twice, actually.
Eh? I didnt recall any visits.
He grinned, more of a grimace really. Morphined-up, you were. In a totally better place.
Yeah, guess I should have stayed there.
Whats this then, Harry? Iron man succumbing to self-pity?
Three days ago, Mike, I didnt know the verdict.
His expression turned grave. And now you do. A flat statement.
Now I do.
Too soon, Harry, far too soon. Oh, I dont doubt the docs a top man but hes used to patching up your average Joe Soap. And thats something youre not. He wagged a finger at me. Abruptly he changed the subject. Anything I can do in the outside world?
Pay my telephone bill. That came before I set off for Huntingdon. Cant risk being cut off.
He nodded. Neither of us needed to mention the reason why.
Mobile?
May not be allowed in here.
Ah.
Could you just check any telephone messages that might have come through?
Consider it done. If theres anything urgent Ill act as proxy, shall I?
Our eyes met. The message bypassed words but was very clearly transmitted.
Thanks. My voice sounded husky but with a suddenly choked-up throat it was the best I could do. A man needed a good friend at times, and never more so than when he was on the canvas. And could you check Leos OK? His cat flaps permanently open and hes frequently away on hunting forages for days