Murder at the Races Read online

  Murder At The Races

  Carmen Radtke

  MURDER AT THE RACES

  By Carmen Radtke

  Copyright © 2020 Carmen Radtke

  The right of Carmen Radtke to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by

  her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Published in 2020 by Adamantine Books, UK

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be

  reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in

  writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the

  terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-9162410-3-9

  Contents

  Also by Carmen Radtke

  Murder At The Races

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Also by Carmen Radtke

  Also by Carmen Radtke

  False Play at the Christmas Party (a Jack Sullivan mystery)

  A Matter of Love and Death (a Jack and Frances mystery)

  The Case of the Missing Bride (an Alyssa Chalmers mystery)

  Glittering Death (an Alyssa Chalmers mystery)

  Walking in the Shadow

  This book is dedicated to the people of Adelaide, to horse lovers, and to everyone who - like me - spent unforgettable hours at the races.

  I’ve taken a few liberties with Morphettville. The racecourse is and always has been one of the most exciting but also peaceful places to visit. Any shenanigans described in this novel only happened in my imagination. The beauty and wonder of the Morphettville racecourse is real, though.

  Murder At The Races

  Cast of Characters

  At the Top Note:

  Jack Sullivan, veteran and charming owner of the Top Note

  Bluey Fitzpatrick, his second-in-command

  Marie Fitzpatrick, Bluey’s resourceful wife

  Dolores Barden, singer and star of the Top Note

  Pauline Meara, Dolores’ dresser and Frances’s best friend

  Tony Dixon, Pauline’s fiancé and handy-man working for Jack

  Other characters:

  Frances Palmer, Jack’s girlfriend

  Uncle Sal, aka Salvatore the Magnificent, Frances’s honorary uncle, ex-Vaudevillian

  Robert Theodore Palmer, Frances’s brother, a racecourse vet

  Brocky, a racecourse blacksmith with a too good memory for hooves

  Mr Dunne, manager of Morphettville racecourse

  Mr Lucca, his assistant

  Mr Henry, racecourse accountant

  Dr O’Leary, racecourse doctor

  Dr Gant, former racecourse vet

  Andie Miller, a friend of Marie Fitzpatrick’s

  Sergeant Miller, her policeman husband

  Arthur Dowling, a veteran and part of Jack’s network

  Kev and Paula Johnson, guesthouse owners and part of Jack’s network

  Assorted bookies, musicians and staff

  Chapter One

  The knife whirred past its target with less than an inch to spare, burying itself deeply into the wood. Frances expelled her held breath in a loud whoosh, but Uncle Sal shook his head in dismay. ‘It’s no good, love,’ he said. ‘Did you see how I went off my aim when I stepped back?”

  She hadn’t but then he was the professional, and she wasn’t. She said, ‘That’s only to be expected. You haven’t practiced in over two years.’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s my gammy ankle, Frances. I can’t risk it, not with you as target.’ He flung the two remaining knives at the silhouette they’d painted onto a door that stood propped up centre-stage. They rose in an arc, making a full turn in the air, before embedding themselves blade-point between the outlined arms and chest.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I trust you. And maybe we could put saw-dust on the stage, to make it less slippery.’ She slid a sequinned shoe over the ground. The floorboards weren’t too smooth, if she were honest, because they were usually covered by black felt, but that had been taken off for their rehearsal. The room looked naked, its night-time glamour replaced by a workmanlike atmosphere for a few hours before the magic got switched back on. Cinderella, waiting for pumpkin-time. Frances wondered if Uncle Sal felt the same about his surroundings. Probably not, for an old vaudeville artist a stage was a stage, wherever he was.

  He said, ‘Thanks, love, but it’s no use, even if Dolores and the band wouldn’t mind looking like they’re playing in a barn. We’ll just have to spruce up our juggling act a bit, that’s all.’ He shrugged off his disappointment with his usual grace, but she could see that it hurt.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said.

  ‘Oh yes. Can you imagine what your mother would have to say if I so much as hurt a hair on your head? I’m not even thinking of what Jack would do.’

  ‘Or I, in that case,’ a voice said behind her back.

  ‘Rob!’ Her big brother dropped his suitcase as she jumped into his arms. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Checking up on you, of course. What do you expect when I find out that my little sister has taken up with a night club owner, Mum’s lodger has been seduced by a singer and Uncle Sal is returning to the stage, all within the span of a few months?’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘I wouldn’t have recognised you on the street, that’s for sure. Since when are you a platinum blonde? No wonder you set tongues buzzing.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, whipping off the wig. ‘Uncle Sal will tell you all there is to know while I get changed.’

  She smiled to herself as she ran towards the dressing room at the back of the stage. Things surely couldn’t get much better than this, she thought, as she took off the sequinned and tasselled dress Miss Francesca wore, to become plain old Frances Palmer again. Despite today’s setback, Uncle Sal looked ten years younger since they’d started rehearsing for their part in the charity show that Jack was going to stage in the Top Note, Adelaide’s safest and, for her, best night club. Having Rob turn up on their doorstep made her joy complete. She’d wanted him for months to meet Jack and Dolores and all the rest but coming all the way from Queensland when everyone was penny-pinching would have been impossible.

  The men waited for her in the passage. Rob gave her an appraising look. ‘You’ve grown up to be quite a looker since I last saw you,’ he said with brotherly insouciance. ‘I bet Uncle Sal has his hands full keeping you out of trouble, from what he told me.’

  Heat rose in her cheeks. She gave Uncle Sal a questioning glance. He’d promised to keep quiet about her and Jack Sullivan’s part in a murder investigation earlier this year. He shook his head imperceptibly.

  Rob chuckled. ’I can’t wait to lay eyes on this paragon of yours, who’s charmed my little sister and Mum at the same time
. Uncle Sal tells me he is the whitest of men, but that I’ll have to see for myself.’ He grinned. ‘I am the head of the family after all.’

  She gave him a fond box on the shoulder, wishing he’d hush his voice a bit, as a door opened and Jack stepped out of the room. He stretched out his hand and said, ’I couldn’t help but overhear that somewhat effusive praise. I hope you’re not too disappointed.’ His sleepy eyes held a decided twinkle.

  ‘Not at all.’ Rob shook Jack’s hand, faint colour rising in his pale skin. It made him look younger, more like an overgrown schoolboy than a fully qualified vet and father of one. Frances had to refrain from smoothing down his unruly hair.

  Jack said, ‘In that case, maybe you’d care to join us tonight for dinner, unless you’ve got other plans?’

  ‘I promised Mum I’d spend the evening with her. Maybe afterwards?’

  ‘Fine.’ Jack stroked Frances’s cheek with his thumb. ‘How did the rehearsal go?’

  Uncle Sal turned away from them as she said, ‘Why don’t you watch us the next time?’

  ‘If I can. I’ve got a ton of paperwork waiting for me. See you later, kiddo, Uncle Sal. Nice to meet you, Rob.’

  ‘Bye.’ Frances gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before she slipped her arm through her brother’s. ‘Now, out with it, Rob. What brings you here? And where’s Lucy and Junior?’

  He swung his suitcase in his free hand. ‘No need to worry, I’m here for a job.’

  ‘A job? But you’ve got one, haven’t you?’ Her heart-beat quickened.

  ‘Sure do. It’s only, well, most farmers can’t pay their bills, Frances, and some of them haven’t been able to make a single payment since the end of 1930, so I’ve got a bit of time off the practice.’

  She heard Uncle Sal whistle under his breath as she took in the implications.

  Rob put his suitcase down to pat her hand. ‘It’s fine, Frances. Honestly.’

  They left the club through the back door. She blinked as the sunshine hit her. Not even noon, and already the heat settled in over the city.

  ‘Miss Frances?’ Bluey hailed her as he followed them. ‘If you’ll give me two minutes, I’ll get the Ford.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Bluey, this is my brother, Rob. Rob, I want you to meet Bluey. He’s Jack right-hand man and a good friend.’

  The men shook hands, in that slow way they employed when trying to take someone else’s measure. Frances smiled to herself. Rob hadn’t acted like that with Jack, but then she couldn’t imagine anyone doing that. Jack had the same air of easy command that Uncle Sal exuded on stage.

  Rob gave her a brotherly poke with his elbow as soon as Bluey was out of earshot. ‘I’m impressed with you folks. How the other half lives, eh?’

  ‘They work just as hard as you do,’ Uncle Sal said. ‘Probably harder, especially Jack.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to criticise, Uncle Sal. Surely you know that.’

  Bluey drove up and pulled the car into the curb. Without asking, he stowed Rob’s suitcase away. ‘Where to?’ he asked as Uncle Sal climbed onto the passenger seat. Rob and Frances sat in the back. ‘Your home?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Frances, surprised at the question.

  Rob cleared his throat. ‘If you don’t mind, I need to go down to the racecourse first and drop off my luggage, if it’s not too much to ask.’

  ‘Which one? Morphettville or Victoria Park?

  ‘Morphettville.’

  ‘Sweet.’ Bluey started the motor.

  ‘But aren’t you staying with us?’ Frances asked.

  ‘Where? You’ve got no room unless I kip on the sofa, Frances, and anyway my new job comes with digs.’

  ‘What is it you’re going to do?’ asked Uncle Sal.

  ‘Working as a travelling vet for the racecourses.’ Rob’s eyes shone. He’d always loved high-bred horses, Frances recalled, but most of his working life involved sheep, cattle and workhorses.

  ‘What about Lucy and your son?’

  He ruffled his light-brown hair that was the same colour as hers until it stood up in spikes. ‘They’re fine back home. It’s only for a few months, and then I’ll return to my old job. I really need the money, Frances, and this was too good to miss.’

  She leant against his shoulder. ‘I’m not complaining. It’s bonzer to have you back for a bit.’

  At the racecourse, Rob was gone for less than five minutes, to drop off his luggage and get his key.

  ‘Maggie will be chuffed to bits,’ Uncle Sal said while they were waiting outside the gates. ‘She doesn’t say anything, but she misses that boy, and her grandson.’ He paused. ‘I only hope it won’t spoil her visit to Melbourne, knowing that Rob’s here.’

  ‘I jolly well hope not. She’s been looking forward to seeing Uncle Fred and Aunt Millie for ages. And we’ve saved so hard for the train fare.’ Frances’s wages as a switchboard operator covered the mortgage and everyday bills, but they’d been pressed to save a penny until they’d taken in a lodger just before Easter. ‘And she’ll only been gone for a month.’

  Rob strolled towards them, his empty hands dangling. He still looked like a gangly youth, Frances thought, despite his twenty-seven years.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said to Bluey as he got back in. ‘I appreciate that.’

  Bluey nodded. It took a while for him to loosen up around new people. As vexing as it could be, it made him invaluable when it came to dealing with unwanted people in the club. They all underestimated the quiet, burly man with the blank face. Frances hoped he and Rob would become friends. She wanted everyone she cared about to love her brother.

  ‘How did you know where to find us?’ Uncle Sal asked. ‘Don’t tell me Maggie let you run off as soon as you’d set foot in the house.’

  ‘She was gone, covering from someone at the soup kitchen,’ Rob said. ‘Miss Edna told me to try my luck at the Top Note and give your name as the magic word. It sure worked.’

  Frances’s cheeks grew warm again. It seemed as if the whole neighbourhood took her relationship to Jack for granted. Or Uncle Sal’s. Or their lodger Phil’s involvement with Dolores Bardon, the ravishing singer whose husband had died a few weeks before the war ended in 1918. Alright, she admitted to herself, there were a few reasons why the Palmer household could be linked with the Top Note in the minds of people.

  It wasn’t that she was ashamed of it, on the contrary, but she was so happy in the present that she didn’t want to think about the future. Or maybe deep down she wondered if she and Jack had a future together. He might get bored with her.

  She suppressed that thought as soon as it had popped up in her head. Whatever the future held, it would be for a good reason. For now, it was enough to have Jack, and to prepare for her stage debut with Uncle Sal, and enjoy Rob’s company. Plenty to be thankful for.

  Bluey parked in his accustomed spot. ‘Thanks,’ she said as they alighted.

  ‘You’re welcome as usual,’ he said, giving her a smile that lit his whole face. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  They stepped into the passage. A light breeze stirred the air, sending tiny dust and sand particles floating. No matter how much time Mum spent cleaning, the Australian wind always managed to find a way to invade houses, bringing sand in its wake. Nobody wanted to seal windows and doors anyway. You needed the wind to beat back the heat that settled like a blanket in closed rooms.

  Rob followed her to the back door. Mum sat on the porch, shelling peas into a bowl on her lap.

  He tiptoed over to her on silent feet. ‘I’m home,’ he said, touching her sleeve.

  Mum looked up with a startled expression. ‘Rob!’ She hugged him with a fierce intensity that surprised Frances.

  ‘Hold it,’ said, Rob, rescuing the bowl from falling over.

  ‘Oh Rob. I’ve missed you so much.’

  Uncle Sal who stood behind Frances, took her hand. ‘Let’s give them some space,’ he said into her ear.

  She followed him inside, still unsettled by the passion in Mum’
s voice. She’d thought that Mum was content with her life but obviously she, Uncle Sal, their friends and neighbours weren’t enough. Mum must have been unhappy many times, being unable to visit her son and his family because of the money worries that dogged everyone’s life since 1929, but she’d never said a word. Or maybe Frances hadn’t listened, because she was too caught up in her own world. Well, now Mum had Rob back, if only for a little while. Although ...

  'Uncle Sal?'

  'Yes, love?'

  'You don't think there's trouble between Rob and Lucy, do you? Only it seems so odd for him to leave his family halfway across the country and come down here on his own.'

  Uncle Sal gave her an encouraging pat. 'Don't fret about the boy, love. He told us himself that things are pretty tight, and he'd be a fool to turn down a few honest pounds if he can earn them.'

  'Yes, but -'

  'There is no but, Frances. If you want me to, I'll have a quiet word with your brother, but don't you have to get to work now? It's past noon already.'

  'Heavens.' She blew him a kiss as she made for the door. Her boss, Mr Gibbons, had been kind enough to rearrange her shift to accommodate her rehearsals - after all, the show was intended to raise funds for the soup kitchen and the local orphanage which took in more abandoned waifs every day - but she didn't want to be late.

  She broke into a trot, catching the tram half a minute before the doors shut. Two pence gone, she thought, but without the urgency she used to feel before Phil and Jack came into their life. They still weren't affluent, by a long shot, but her purse was less strained these days. She'd even set aside two pounds as pocket money for Mum when she went to Melbourne, so her mother could treat herself to something nice.