Read Online The Price of Murder by Bruce Alexander - Free Book Online Page B

offered would surely have felt in his heart that he was king, if only for a day. Which day? Why, racing day, of course.
    Because it was Easter, I felt obliged to renew my acquaintance with the faith in which I had been baptized. That done—the Easter anthems heard and the cries of “He is risen!” raised on high—I set forth on the long journey from Bow Street to Uxbridge Road, Shepherd’s Bush, with naught to sustain me but two of Molly’s hot cross buns.
    When first I broached the matter of the race meet to our Mr. Baker, he was curious as to why I, having shown no previous interest in the sport, should of a sudden wish to give it my full interest. But then, I told him of Mr. Plummer and his relation to the mother of the girl who had been pulled from the Thames the day before.
    “So Deuteronomy Plummer is her brother,” said he. “Is that the way it is?”
    “That’s indeed the way it is. Will he be racing at any of the courses Sunday?”
    “At Shepherd’s Bush Common, as I’ve heard. I was intending to go myself. I’d invited Mr. Patley to accompany me.”
    “Could I come along?” I asked.
    And that, reader, is when we worked it out so that I might meet him there. When we had done, I put another question to him.
    “Do such race meets always start so late of a Sunday?”
    “Naw,” said he, “it’s ’cause it’s Easter. I believe Shepherd’s Bush is the only one going, and that’s ’cause it’s pretty far outside London.”
    “How far?”
    “Well, you’ll be afoot, so it’s going to take you the better part of the morning to get there, probably.”
    And it did. In general, taking Mr. Baker’s advice, I followed the river. Though, in its way westward, it took bends and twists, it was nevertheless the safest route. To go off roaming through Tothill Fields might save some time if the right way were known, yet if you were as ignorant of this piece of territory as I certainly was, you would no doubt become hopelessly lost. And so I went my way, curious at the volume and nature of the river traffic, and seeing that most of it was vegetables for Covent Garden and pleasure boats for those rich enough to have them. ’Twas not till I approached near to Hammersmith that, following Mr. Baker’s directions, I turned north for Shepherd’s Bush. From that point on, it was naught but a matter of holding to the map he had sketched for me.
    The town of Shepherd’s Bush was a bit disappointing. What there was of it was stretched out along Uxbridge Road. Why had such a place been chosen for race meets? Ah, but then, as I advanced a bit, I spied a bit more of the town far over on the other side of what I had taken to be green fields. Yet I saw the gathering crowd at the most distant part of the field and noted horses that had been unloaded from specially built carts of a kind seldom seen in London. Having seen thus much, I realized that this large open field was nothing more or less than Shepherd’s Bush Common: I had come to my destination.
    From mixing with the men and the few women who had thus far arrived, I soon came to the conclusion that their number did not include either Mr. Baker or Deuteronomy Plummer. I cannot say that I was surprised by this. Though I knew not the exact time, I had the feeling that it was still quite early. Looking round, I noticed a man who, like me, was simply standing about, observing the work of the rest. He also appeared prosperous enough to be the possessor of a timepiece. I approached him diffidently and made to him a polite inquiry.
    “I wonder, sir,” said I. “Have you the correct time?”
    “I do,” said he. “I most certainly do.”
    Yet he made no move to produce the timepiece, neither did he inform me of the hour and minute. He simply turned away from me and stared off rather pointedly in another direction. Had he misunderstood me? Was this his notion of a joke?
    Still most politely I put the question to him in a manner which could not be