Part 39 (2/2)

He said thoughtfully, 'No, I suppose not.'

'So,' I said, 'there are about twenty l.u.s.ty males connected with this stable and dozens more in Sh.e.l.lerton and throughout the racing industry; and even if she were pregnant - and from what Doone said about bones I don't see how they can tell yes or no, even if she were - it still might have nothing to do with her death.'

'But it might.'

'She was a Roman Catholic, Ingrid says.'

'What's that got to do with it?'

'They're against abortion.'

He stared into s.p.a.ce.

I said, 'Harry's in trouble. Have you heard?'

'No, what trouble?'

I told him about Doone's accusations, and also about duckweed's way of winning and about Lewis's more or less explicit admission of perjury. Tremayne poured himself a gin and tonic of suitably gargantuan proportions and told me in his turn that he'd had a rotten day at Chepstow. 'One of my runners broke down and another went cras.h.i.+ng down a.r.s.e over tip at the last fence with the race in his pocket. Sam dislocated his thumb, which swelled like a balloon, and although he's OK he won't realistically be fit again until Tuesday, which means I have to scratch around for a replacement for Monday. And one lot of owners groused and groaned until I could have knocked their heads together and all I can do is be nice to them and sometimes it all drives me up the b.l.o.o.d.y wall, to tell you the truth.'

He flopped his weight into an armchair, stretched out his legs and rested his gaze on his toecaps, thinking things over.

'Are you going to tell Doone about the pregnancy test?' he asked finally.

'I suppose so. It's on Ingrid's conscience. If I don't pa.s.s on what she's said, she'll find another mouthpiece.'

He sighed. 'It won't do Harry much good.'

'Nor harm.'

'It's a motive. Juries believe in motives.'

I grunted. 'Harry won't come to trial.'

'Nolan did. And a good motive would have jailed him, you can't say it wouldn't.'

'The pregnancy test is a non-starter,' I said. 'Ingrid threw the empty box away; there's no proof it really existed; there's no saying if Angela used it or when; there's no certainty about the result; there's no knowing who she'd been sleeping with.'

'You should have been a lawyer.'

Mackie and Perkin came through for their usual drink and news-exchange and even Chickweed's win couldn't disperse the general gloom.

'Angela pregnant?' Mackie shook her head, almost bewildered. 'She didn't say anything about it.'

'She might have done, given time,' Tremayne said, 'if the test was positive.'

'd.a.m.ned careless of her,' Perkin said. 'That b.l.o.o.d.y girl's nothing but trouble. It's all upsetting Mackie just when she should be feeling relaxed and happy, and I don't like it.'

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