A Dead Certainty: A Jack Daniels P.I. Novella #2 Read online

  A Dead Certainty

  John Holt

  Phoenix Publishing – Essex - UK

  © John Holt – March 2015

  CONDITIONS OF SALE

  John Holt has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998 to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  This book has been sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  Printing History

  This Edition was published by Phoenix, Essex, UK, in March 2015

  ISBN

  978-1-326-21469-2

  Preface

  The story that follows is totally fictitious. It is a story, nothing more and nothing less. All places and persons included in the story are totally imaginary, and any similarity to actual persons alive or dead, is totally co-incidental, and unintentional.

  * * *

  I am grateful to Lauren Ridley, Cherryloco Jewellery for allowing me to base the Phoenix logo on her design.

  Once again my sincere thanks go to Michael and Barbara Morton for their un-tiring work in checking the formatting of the manuscript.

  John Holt

  Chapter One

  A Mugs Game

  Let me start right off by saying that I’m not a gambling man. I never have been. As far as possible I don’t take chances. I mean life’s one big gamble ain’t it? And there’s nothing certain in this life except death and taxes. I think it was Franklin Delano Roosevelt who said that, or was it Benjamin Franklin, I’m not too sure; or it could have been Jerry in the bar the other evening. He occasionally comes out with something clever like that. Either way, whoever it was, when it comes right down to it, however you play the game you will still lose out in the end. Living will eventually kill you and no mistake. There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s no avoiding it.

  So that’s more than enough for me. I’ve no intentions of adding more problems to my life, by gambling on the roll of a dice, or the flip of a card, or the spin of a wheel.

  Why take the chance? I mean it just doesn’t matter what plans you make, or whatever you do, things can go wrong. Seriously wrong. Am I right, or am I right. As I said I’m no gambler. It’s a mugs game. No one wins on the gee-gees except the bookie. No one wins at roulette except the house. Oh sure some punters win, and some win pretty good. But the chips are stacked against you, and most people will lose, and lose badly. The odds aren’t in your favor, take my word for it. Whether it’s the lottery, the track, or poker, you just can’t win. Unless you have a sure fire system you have no chance. I know I’ve tried it, never again.

  Talking of systems, I’m no expert but it seems to me that basically there are two types. There’s the legal type. You know the one where you weigh up the risks, and study the form. Is the going good, or bad; you check the horse’s pedigree; what weight is the horse carrying and things like that. Doesn’t mean a thing to me, but some guys swear by it. You check the odds and you assess your chances. You know what’s involved, and you plan for every eventuality. You know what you can afford to lose, and you cover your bets. Your chances of winning are probably fair to okay, but you’ll never make a fortune.

  Some people will just bet on favorites. Sure, most of the time their horse comes home first, but at what odds? They won’t be high that’s for sure. You won’t get a favorite at twenty to one will you? The odds will be low I can tell you, two to one maybe. You know you bet ten bucks, to win five. Where’s the sense in that? What’s the point?

  On the other hand there’s the second type of system, the illegal way. You know what you want, and no matter what happens you’ll get it, even if it means eliminating anyone, or anything, that stands in your way. You don’t care who gets hurt, or how. It’s no longer a gamble. In other words, you could say that it was a dead certainty. You’ll win no matter what.

  * * *

  By the way, the name’s Daniels, Jack Daniels. I’m a private detective. I was having a slow day. Well slow didn’t really do it justice. It wasn’t so much slow, as stopped. I had just finished tying up my last case. A surveillance job, okay so have it your way, it was snooping. Feel better now do you? Anyways I’d made copies of all the photographs, and the statements that I had. They were now all safely sealed in an envelope addressed to Mrs. Amanda Walker, and ready for me to deliver to her when I got details of the time and place. And she could then get on with seeking that divorce that she wanted so badly. Then after a few more days I should be getting a nice fat pay check.

  So I was busy going through my paperwork, sorting through the bills that had to be paid. You know, have you ever noticed how things like that mount up. Electricity bills, this insurance and that insurance, repair bills, begging letters from the I.R.S. It seems that’s all that I get these days, that and the charities trying their luck. I never get that letter giving you something; it’s always somebody looking for something.

  That’s life I guess.

  Keeping me company was Elmore James. That is he wasn’t actually there in the room with me. I mean the poor guy died over forty years ago, No he’s on a Compact disc that I had playing. Just in case you don’t know who Elmore James is, or was I should say, let me fill you in. I’m a blues fan, you know. Elmore was a blues singer from Mississippi, a few years back. I’ve got a fair collection ranging from Robert Johnson, and Charley Patton, right through to Muddy Walters and John Lee Hooker. Okay, so you’ve never heard of them either. Is that my fault?

  Now every Tuesday you’ll usually find me at the 51 Club a couple of blocks away. It’s a blues club on Ashby. It’s just a small place you understand, I mean thirty people and it’s packed. They usually have something good on though, a visiting blues band perhaps, or maybe a solo artist. Last week it was a guy going by the name of Tony McPhee, a blues guitarist from Chicago. Not great, but not bad either. He did a lot of the old Chicago blues by Muddy Waters, and Little Walter.

  Okay, so I’m sitting here listening to Elmore’s ‘Dust My Broom’, trying to sort out my accounts. For those who don’t know, to dust your broom means to shake off an old girl friend, to make way for the new one. Get it.

  “I'm a get up in the mornin'

  I believe I'll dust my broom

  I quit the best girl I'm lovin'

  Now my friends can get in my room”

  Okay lesson over for today.

  As I said I was doing pretty okay with the bills, if I do say so myself. Well I’d got the papers in a nice neat stack at least. Come on now, give me a break, it’s a start. Okay so I hadn’t actually done a lot, but at least everything was now in date order, the oldest bill at the top. All I had to do now was to go through them and see what I could afford to pay – if any.

  There was a knock on the door. I looked up, and this old guy just helps himself. The door opens. He comes in without
so much as a by your leave, and he looks at me.

  “Mr. Daniels?” he says, sits down and makes himself right at home. Any second now he’s going to produce a flask of coffee and some cookies. He’s going to take his shoes off and put his feet up. I hoped he hadn’t planned on staying the night, or maybe bring his family with him the next time.

  “I’m Daniels,” I replied, as I reluctantly switched the CD player off. “And you are?”

  “Jason Drake,” he replied all cool and collected, as though I was supposed to know who he was. “Maybe you have heard of me.”

  I hadn’t, and I’m still waiting for the coffee and cakes.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  Jason Drake

  “Should that mean something to me?” I asked.

  He placed a briefcase on the desk and opened it. He took out a newspaper and spread it out in front of me. It was a copy of The Racing Post. The three inch headline announced the Death of Blue Boy, a three year old. Underneath was a photograph of a certain Jason Drake. I would never have recognized him.

  I was still puzzled. I pushed the newspaper back towards him. “So?” I said quite simply.

  “Mr. Daniels, I own several race horses, including Kansas Lad, he’s favorite for the Kingsland Stakes at Belmont in three weeks time.”

  I was none the wiser. The only steaks I was interested in were the well done variety with mushrooms and onions, and French fries. “So,” I repeated, stifling a yawn. I really had to get on, the paperwork was crying out for attention or something like that. Besides I wanted to get back to the music.

  Not to be put off in any way Mr. Drake continued with his fascinating narrative. “Mr. Daniels, if you look at that newspaper article once again, you will notice the date.”

  I could hardly contain myself, with all the excitement. I was sure that there was a point to all of this, though I was beginning to think that perhaps Mr. Drake had forgotten what it was. “I’m looking, I’m looking,” I said.

  “It was three weeks ago,” Drake explained.

  Did I say explained? A slight overstatement on my part, I have to say. It explained nothing except that he collected old newspapers. To me yesterday’s newspapers were simply that, yesterday’s newspapers, and of very little value.

  “So it was three weeks ago,” I said. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

  Drake heaved a sigh, and glanced around the office. What he was looking for I had no idea, but I guess he must have found it, because here he was once again with the explaining. “Mr. Daniels, Blue Boy died three weeks ago. The veterinary said that it was his heart. It just gave out.”

  It could happen I supposed, but not being an expert in either horses or veterinarys, I said nothing.

  “Mr. Daniels, Blue Boy’s health had been checked thoroughly only two days previously. He was declared as fit as a bell.”

  The health of bells was another subject of which I was not an expert, so I continued to say nothing. I had decided that the guy did have a point, and would sooner or later get to where he was going. I only hoped that he would get to where he was going before he forgot where he was, and that it would be sooner rather than later, before he forgot what it was, or that I was too old to enjoy it.

  “Blue Boy was due to race at Hyland, he was the favorite for the Chantry Stakes, prize money of one hundred thousand dollars to the winner. Somebody didn’t want him to run, so he was deliberately killed,” Drake continued. “Poisoned I would guess.”

  Okay so at last he had made his point. I wasn’t impressed. “What makes you say that Mr. Drake?” I asked, although why I have absolutely no idea. Now don’t get me wrong, I like animals as much as the next guy, but I mean the veterinary said that it was his heart, and you know what, he or she, should know what they were talking about shouldn’t they.

  Drake started to frown. “Mr. Daniels do you know anything about horses?”

  I guessed there was a reason for the question, although what that reason was remained a mystery.

  “I’ve owned horses my whole life,” Drake continued. “My father owned horses, and his father before him, and his father before that.” He paused for a moment. “It’s in our blood you see.” He paused once again. “There was nothing wrong with his heart, nothing.”

  “So you think ….”

  “No, Mr. Daniels, I don’t think that he was killed,” Drake interrupted. “I know that he was.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “Mr. Drake I’d be the first to admit it, I know nothing about the gee-gees.” I thought that it was about time I said something. “All I do know is never bet on them, it’s only the bookies that win.”

  Mr. Drake opened his mouth to speak, but I was on a roll. Nothing was going to stop me, not now. “Gambling is a mugs game, and the odds are stacked way against you. You just can’t win.”

  “I appreciate your opinion Mr. Daniels, but that does not take from the fact that Blue Boy was murdered.”

  “Who would want to do a thing like that?” I asked. “For what reason, what would they have to gain? Every murder must have a motive.”

  “Oh there’s a motive alright, it’s money,” Drake replied. “I’m sure that you will realize that the racing world is very competitive. And clearly you know there is a lot of money involved. Horses are expensive to buy, and to rear. Trainers cost money, good jockeys don’t come cheap. But of course there are compensations to be had. There is a lot of money to be made in winnings, an awful lot of money.”

  Fascinated as I was, I hoped that he would get to the punch line soon. “I have many rivals,” Drake continued. “Some of whom are not as gentlemanly as we would like.” He paused once again, whether for effect, or just to check that I was still awake I’m not sure. “Since the death of Blue Boy there have been several other, shall we say, incidents.”

  “Incidents,” I repeated. “Such as?”

  “Oh just things like a small fire in one of the tack rooms,” Drake started to explain. “It was nothing too serious, and no one got hurt, fortunately.”

  “Anything else?” I asked, unimpressed.

  “Terry, one of the stable boys, fell from a ladder. The rung snapped, fortunately he wasn’t hurt, but it could have been very serious.”

  “Another accident,” I suggested. “These things happen.”

  “Certainly they do. Accidents happen all the time. Riders fall from the horse, they cut themselves. They sometimes break a bone or two.” Drake agreed. “But these particular incidents were no accidents. These were deliberate.”

  “I could say that you would say that, if I were a cynic,” I replied.

  “And Mr. Daniels, if I were a cynic I would say that you would say that,” he replied smiling. “But I’m not a cynic, I’m a realist.”

  “Go on,” I coaxed. “I’m listening.”

  “A short time ago I mentioned Kansas Lad, remember?”

  “The favorite for the Kingsland Stakes at Belmont, I think you said.”

  “Right, Mr. Daniels, absolutely correct. You have an excellent memory,” said Drake. “Just lately however, there is a lot of money being put on Warrior, the second favorite.”

  I tried hard to think of why that should be considered sinister. I couldn’t. “So someone thinks that maybe, just maybe, your horse is beatable, and Warrior is the one to do it,” I suggested.

  “My thinking completely,” agreed Drake. “But why now, why suddenly like this? I wondered if it could possibly be connected with the fact that now Kansas Lad is very ill, and probably won’t be in the race anyway.”

  Probably a coincidence, but maybe best to keep an open mind, I thought. “So why come to me?” I asked.

  “Simple, I would like you to come down to the Drake Stables for a few days,” Drake said. “Take a look around. See if you can find out anything. We’ll make your stay comfortable.”

  I would hardly go if I thought it was going to be uncomfortable, but I did not pursue the point. “Why me though now?” I asked. “Blue Boy die
d three weeks ago. Why now? And why not the police, it would be a lot cheaper for you.”

  Drake nodded and smiled. “That is an excellent question, Mr. Daniels. Why indeed?” he replied. “Two main reasons I guess. Firstly, we did go to the police, exactly three weeks ago, but they weren’t interested. Whatever they might say, our police force isn’t really that interested in a death of a race horse, even though the horse was worth over $200000.”

  “And whose death was confirmed to be a natural death by a well respected veterinary,” I added. “And I imagine you are covered by insurance anyway.”

  “Precisely,” agreed Daniels. “We are covered by insurance, but that only covers up to a point. It takes no account of potential winnings in the future. It also takes no account of the fact that the horse was deliberately killed.” He paused for a moment. “The police are also not interested in the other odd little accidents.”

  I smiled. “As you say, accidents happen. I guess if the police spent all their time investigating accidents, they’d have no time for catching speeding motorists.”

  “Guess not,” Drake agreed.

  “And the second reason,” I prompted.

  “Having a number of uniformed police officers all over the stables is not good for the image,” Drake replied. “Mercenary of me I know, but a fact nonetheless.”

  “You’re still not saying, why me?”

  “No reason really, Mr. Daniels,” Drake replied. “I suppose I could have picked anyone, it just happened to be you.”

  You could’ve lied couldn’t you? We heard you were the best; or you come highly recommended; or …. What the hell, with such a recommendation how could I possibly refuse. Besides I imagined I would get paid for my troubles.

  “We haven’t discussed my fees yet,” I pointed out.

  Drake smiled and shook his head. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” He stood up, and handed me a piece of paper. “Directions to get to the Stables,” he continued. He held out his hand. “I look forward to seeing you in a couple of days time.”