The Malicious Maligning of Inspector Lestrade

Chapter Twenty: Escape

By what good fortune I awoke before the fire engulfed me, I cannot say.

When I did open my eyes, it was to find myself pinned to the stable floor, my legs trapped beneath the still warm body of Catherine the Great. The animal's throat had been cut, and a lake of blood had spread through the thin layer of straw, matting hide and hair and clothes wherever it touched.

Clarence – if that was his name, which I doubted – had kept his word, both about my fate and that of the horse.

The thin tendrils of smoke wafting down to me told me that the fire had been set. From the back of the barn came the hiss and crackle of burning straw. Trapped animals, locked in their stalls, were whinnying and thudding their hooves against doors and walls in a vain attempt at escape. Shifting grey clouds increasingly blotted out the moonlight, leaving only an ominous red glow creeping out to consume all, straw or flesh, dead or alive.

The prospect of death, it has been said, sharpens the mind like no other. If I were to survive this night, it would be by my own ingenuity. No help was coming. I had to extract myself from this burning building – or die trying.

They had left me at a peculiar ankle, half on my side, with one leg pressed against the other. In such position, I could do little. I had to turn onto my front. It took effort, perseverance and gritted teeth before I felt my legs begin to shift. My injured ankle kept up a steady protest, and the grinding of one leg against the other did nothing to diminish its nagging pain. Finally prone, I scrabbled for a hand-hold with my one good hand. My nails bit into a gap in the cobbles and I pulled.

Nothing happened. I heaved again, only to feel my nails chip and break and slip across the bloody stones.

To have given up would have been the easiest thing in the world. The smoke would overcome me, as it was claiming the horses nearest to the blaze, long before the fire turned my flesh to ash. My remains would be shovelled up and thrown into a pauper's grave under an assumed name. Mycroft, and Clarence and all the others for whom I had been an inconvenience would be pleased. They would consider my death a job well done and move on to their next insidious scheme.

That thought, more than toying with any slim notions of hope, spurred me on.

With renewed determination, I took a firm hold with my right hand and planted my left elbow in the crack of a broken cobble. I pulled with all my might, trying to ignore the lessening squeals of terrified horses as one voice after another was silenced by the flames. I was panting from the effort and choking, but finally I felt my legs shift. Encouraged, I took up the slack and tried again. I kept going until finally my feet emerged from beneath the carcass.

Using the door to pull myself upright, I clung to it as I pushed my hand through the bars and felt for the bolt. The door slid back and for a moment I could not tell which was the way to freedom, so thick now was the smoke. As my eyes adjusted, I saw an angry crimson glow to my right. Pulling my coat up over my nose and mouth, I took a tentative step towards the double doors.

My ankle, abused by falls and punishments alike, buckled. I grabbed at the closest wall, supporting myself before I fell. Another step, and the pain was as fierce as ever. I tried again, growing used to the intolerable ache and better able to control it. As I edged my way towards salvation, I threw open stable doors as I passed. The occupants, wide-eyed and flaring of nostril, cowered away from me, and it was only when I pulled back the barn doors that the first nervous prisoner took the opportunity to gallop to freedom.

I staggered out into the night, half-suffocated, my eyes streaming with tears. Through the haze, I saw a figure coming towards me at a run. I fancied for a moment that it was Clarence, returning to see that the deed was done. I had visions of being thrown back into the inferno. Only when he drew closer did I recognise the familiar features of Inspector Lestrade.

"Mr Holmes, thank the high heavens," said Lestrade, forestalling my collapse by lowering me to the ground. "When I didn't hear from you, I expected the worst, so I came looking." His expression changed as he took in my appearance. "Who did this to you? Vigor?"

I tried to talk, but my voice would not come.

Then from the darkness came Danny Palmer, his young face glowing from the light of the fire, throwing his panic-stricken features into stark relief.

"Where's Artemis?" he cried. "She's not in the field!"

Before we could stop him, he ran headlong into the blazing building.

"Come back, you fool!" yelled Lestrade.

The boy did not turn. Lestrade jumped to his feet and headed after him, shrugging off my feeble effort to restrain him. As both vanished into smoke and flame, I heard the barn let out a fearful death rattle. Flames were licking the roof and reaching for the heavens through broken windows.

Suddenly a horse broke free from the inferno's heart and ran at full gallop, tail and mane smoking where the fire had tried to claim another victim. Shielding my eyes from the heat, I stared into the blaze and finally saw Lestrade making his way out, Palmer's arm around his shoulder.

They were a few feet from safety. Then, as I watched, the barn gave one last groan. The roof sagged and came crashing down in a mass of sparks and broken timbers. When the dust settled, Lestrade and Palmer had vanished from sight.

I heaved myself up, tore away my sleeve and wrapped it around my face, and then staggered back towards the building. The heat was searing, like as one imagines might the heart of a sun. Fire lapped around the door, throwing sparks at my clothes. Fortunately, I did not have far to go. Just inside, beneath the mound of smoking timbers, I saw the smouldering figure of Lestrade, trying frantically to free his trapped leg.

I grabbed the beam, lifting it just enough for him to pull his limb free. He rolled onto his front, tried to stand and collapsed. The cause was obvious. His foot hung at an unnatural angle, and the grimace on his face told of his pain.

I put my arm around his shoulder, and, half-supporting him, half-carrying him, we limped out of the inferno. I released him when we were at a safe distance, and, coughing and choking, he fell to the ground.

"The boy," he groaned. "He was right there beside me."

I had no reason to believe he was alive. A wiser man would have been content with the one life saved than take the chance of risking his own to seek out another. Every instinct told me not to go back, and yet I did. Danny Palmer had saved my life with the falsehood he had told Clarence, and I owed it to him to try to save his.

The closer I got, so great was the heat, I could have sworn my skin was on fire. Deep in the heart of the blaze, the building was collapsing in on itself, great plumes of light blinding to the eye as they soared against the dark of the sky. The mound by the door was on fire now, and the swelling temperatures almost beat me back. But for the outstretched hand I saw I would have turned back. As it was, I tightened the cloth about my nose and mouth and headed inside.

He lay on his back, half-buried under a blazing pile of timbers. His eyes were closed and his face was grimy and streaked with blood. The wood was no great weight, and I was able to grasp him under the arms and pull him free. As his body emerged, I saw the red stain on his shirt and the jagged protrusion from his abdomen where a broken shaft had speared him.

I dragged him clear, finally lowering him to the ground when I reached Lestrade. I saw the look in his eyes when he took in the boy's condition, and the almost imperceptible shake of his head to confirm what we both knew.

Then with a pained cough, Palmer shuddered and opened his eyes. "Artemis," he murmured, staring up at me. "He lied to me. There was no horse in the field. Is she safe?"

"Be still now," I said. "You've been hurt."

As if only now registering what had happened, his face contorted with pain and tears began to cut a clean passage through the soot on his cheeks.

"How bad is it?" he asked, desperately.

It was Lestrade who found his voice first. "Not too bad, son. You just lie there and you'll be all right."

"I'll ride again, won't I?"

His hand grabbed at mine with a strength which I should not have thought him capable.

"Yes, Danny, you will," I said.

He relaxed a little and a smile drifted across his face. "And I'll be champion one day?"

"Yes, Danny, you will."

"I am a good jockey, aren't I, Henry?"

His sad eyes came to rest on me. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.

"The best."

The smile twitched and faded. The grip on my hand weakened, and a final wheezing breath escaped him. I sat there, staring at the unseeing eyes for the longest time until Lestrade broke the silence.

"He's gone, Mr Holmes."

I arranged Palmer's arms so that they crossed on his chest, and closed the eyelids.

"We can't stay," I said, rising to my feet. My ankle burned from my exertions and would not take much more. Lestrade needed medical attention. What we needed was a horse.

The problem was finding one. Those we had freed had galloped out into the field, and were too fleet and scared to allow themselves to be caught by a sooty young man with a decided limp. We could try to get away as far as we could on foot, supporting each other. But by now, the village would have been alerted to the fire and people would be on their way. We would not get too far before we were found.

Then, as I was trying to decide on the lesser of the two evils, I heard the snort and whinny of a horse. In the field, at a safe distance, was a dark bay filly, rolling her eyes and pulling hard at the rope that secured her to the railings. Clarence had kept his word, after all.

I untied Artemis, made a rudimentary bridle with the rope and halter, and led her back to where Lestrade lay. He took one look at the horse and shook his head.

"We have no choice," I said. "The men who left me in there will be back at any moment."

"I should have known," he muttered. "You have a natural propensity for getting yourself into trouble."

"Fortunately, I am acquiring an ability for extracting myself from it. Are you coming?"

He grumbled something. I pressed him for his answer.

"I said, I can't ride," he retorted.

"Can't or won't?"

"Both. I never had the opportunity to learn. There's not much call for hunting foxes where I grew up." He glanced up at me. "Leave me. I'll be all right. Anyway, what do you think they're going to do to a Scotland Yard detective?"

"They will want to know what you were doing here."

"Well, I came to see what had happened to you. Not that you were too hard to find. There was talk on the station about some fool making off with a racehorse from one of the train wagons. It had to be you."

"You were correct, Inspector. It was a vain attempt to escape. They know who I am."

"That was careless of you," said Lestrade.

"And since you are here, they will assume that you too are privy to that information."

His gaze was drawn back to the blazing building as the possibilities occurred to him.

"Perhaps you've got a point." He held out a hand and I helped him up. "You first."

I led Artemis over to the gate and hauled myself up. I brought the horse as close to him as I could and again offered my hand.

"I'll sit behind, thank you," said he, grudgingly. "I'm a married man."

With groans, a few choice oaths and my help, he pulled himself upon the horse's back. I expected him to put his arms around my waist, but instead he chose to cling precariously to my shoulders. Suitably, if not comfortably, arranged, I turned the horse's head and urged her out towards the road. Once on the track, I opened the first gate we encountered and pressed her into a canter across the field. As the darkness swallowed us up, from behind us I heard shouts as the expected party of men arrived from the village to investigate the blaze. By then, we were already lost from their sight.

I did not know which way we were heading. Safety, so it seemed to me, lay in a large town with a police station. I kept to the fields where I could, and only when we crested a small rise and I saw a host of lights twinkling like a scattering of stars across the landscape did I dare to take to the road.

Save for the occasional moan and grumble, Lestrade had been mostly quiet during our journey. I knew he was in pain and the jolting stride of the horse had added to his suffering. There was a sense of awkwardness too, a feeling that there was something unresolved between us.

"What is the time?" I asked him.

I felt him scrabble in his pocket for his watch. "It looks to be a little before midnight."

"I trust there will be someone on duty at the local police station?"

"Depends where we are."

I glanced up at the moon. "About eight miles to the north-east of Chatterton Parva, I should say. If I'm right, we are approaching Egham."

"Where's that?"

"Surrey."

"Ah, the Surrey County Constabulary. We had one of theirs join the Yard last year. Hughes his name is. They had a case of rabies last year, so he told me."

"I dare say it has been dealt with by now."

"What I mean to say, Mr Holmes, is that arson and attempted murder might be more than what they're used to dealing with in the provinces."

"More than attempted, Lestrade," I corrected him. I went on to tell him about the death of the trainer at Clarence's hands.

"It sounds like this is a job for the Yard. I'll have to take over." He shifted uncomfortably behind me. "I only hope they've got a doctor on hand. I think my ankle's broken."

"It might not be as bad as that."

"If it is, that'll be the end of me. You can't have a detective who can't walk. I've spent half my life walking on the job. I thought I'd have an easier time of it at the Yard, but I've done more walking since I've been there than when I was on the beat. No, if I'm crippled, I'll be getting my marching orders." He let the thought lie. "But then already you knew that, didn't you, Mr Holmes?"

I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. Now, at last, seemed the time for honesty.

"I suspected you had been compromised, Lestrade. You were betting on fixed races, based on information received."

"So that business the other night, all that talk of needing money, that was just to get me to show you where I was getting my tips from?"

I nodded. I knew where this was leading.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

His tone was flat and unaccusatory. That would come later.

"You thought I was crooked, didn't you?"

"I believed you were deceived," I said with care.

"Do you take me for a fool?" said he, his temper flaring. "You thought I was corrupt. You arrogant little sod. When I think what I've done for you."

I had no answer for him. His anger was justified, as I knew it would be when he did find out.

"Stop this horse," he insisted. "I want to get off. I've had enough bumping around over hill and dale."

Obligingly, I halted Artemis. Lestrade slithered off, managing to land on his good foot before grabbing hold of my leg to steady himself.

"How dare you!" he spat up at me. "Sitting in judgement over people like some tin idol, you, who's never done a hard day's work in his life! I saved you in that prison, and this is my thanks."

"You have my gratitude. That is why I gave you the benefit of the doubt when others defamed you."

Anger flashed in his eyes. "Who?"

"Sir Rupert Bradley. Concerns had been raised about your new-found wealth. Bradley was convinced of your corruption."

"Then why wasn't there an official investigation?"

"The C.I.D an ill afford another scandal, let alone one connected with the turf after the last."

"That's true," Lestrade said, sighing. "The public's confidence is already shaken. Without their support, we might as well all go home."

"Conversely, if the charge was groundless, then Bradley judged it was better that you never knew."

Lestrade stared hard at me for the longest time before looking away. "With hindsight, I know how it looks. It didn't start off like that. A few quid here, a few quid there. I should have known it was too good to be true. In my heart, I suppose I did."

"You chose to ignore it."

"I had my family to consider!"

"How will it help them if you are dead?"

He was pale with pain, but I could have sworn that his face became whiter still.

"Bradley spoke of taking action if I found evidence that you were guilty. He had no interest in making your downfall public. You wouldn't be the first to have a 'convenient' accident. It would be easy for them to arrange your death whilst on duty. You die a hero for the cause and cease to be a problem for them: two birds with one stone."

His mouth moved wordlessly as he attempted to put his thoughts into words. "What will you tell them?"

"Nothing," I replied. "You can tell them yourself. If I were you, Inspector, I should say that I had been aware that races were being fixed for some time. The bets you placed were done so in the course of your investigation in an attempt to gain the confidence of your informer and gather prior information about which races were affected. You have been successful, Lestrade. Not only have you brought their activities to an end, but you have managed to secure evidence of how the deception was practised."

"I have?"

I patted Artemis' neck. "This horse ran under the name of Catherine the Great to win the Albert Stakes this afternoon. The hair of the leg has been bleached to make the horse look the same as the other. Only an experienced eye could tell them apart."

"Good heavens," he uttered. "What about that mad jockey, Vigor? I heard things about him. When you didn't turn up like you said you would after the race, I thought he'd done something to you. I thought it was him making the horses win." He stared at the tired filly. "I never imagined it was something like this. I thought they had measures to stop this sort of thing happening."

"In which case, I should interview the Steward who conducted the pre-race inspection. A horse's age can be discerned from the teeth, in which case, the difference between the two should have been apparent, this animal being the elder. And I should arrest a man who works at the course named Samuels. He had been instructed to reveal the deception after the race. I was able, with a little help, to forestall him."

"But why, Mr Holmes?" said Lestrade, aghast. "They had a system that worked."

"They had their eye on a bigger prize. What, I cannot say, save that it would have suited them to have Scotland Yard's attention elsewhere."

"On me, you mean?"

I nodded. "Your recent string of successes has made you ubiquitous, Inspector. Your disgrace at this juncture would have been convenient."

"Well, well," said he, shaking his head. "You never think it's going to happen to you, do you? It was just a few tips, that's all. I'll not deny the money came in handy."

"Nothing is ever free. There are always strings attached."

His eyes narrowed. "So why help me now?"

I shrugged lightly. "You're a married man with seven children."

"And not likely to have any more after that ride, I can tell you." A rueful smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "What is this 'bigger prize'? Do you know?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

He frowned. "There was something about a diamond as big as a hen's egg being presented to Her Majesty by some lord or other. Priceless, so they say."

"Everything has a price, Lestrade. In this case, it was worth the destruction of a man's life." I paused and frowned. "When is this presentation to take place?"

"Monday. I don't know the details. Chief Inspector Matthews was handling it."

It was hard not to make the obvious connection between Miles' return to the country and the possible theft of this diamond. If Clarence kept his word and killed him for his betrayal after the deed had been done, then they would not have the inconvenience of having to pay him. But perhaps that was the plan all along. Had he been sent to the racecourse, on the pretext of payment, knowing that I would be there? Were they testing him? It answered how Clarence had known of his involvement. Either way, I had to warn Miles.

"We have to get to the town and inform the local police," I said. "We have no time to waste. Tomorrow, Vigor's body will be found at the racecourse. He was murdered, but they will say he hanged himself. A note will found, implicating the trainer. Enquiries will be made about those who profited from the race. Your name is bound to come up. Better that you tell Matthews before he finds out from the bookmaker."

"If he believes me," said Lestrade without enthusiasm.

"Matthews is your one loyal supporter. He would not hear a word against you."

Lestrade nodded. "He's a decent bloke, is Matthews. He was stabbed in the leg last year and there's talk of him retiring. We'll be sorry to see him go. He helped me a great deal when I joined Scotland Yard: told me who to talk to, where to get good contacts. Blind Billy was one of his."

"Indeed?"

That was twice in as any minutes that the Chief Inspector's name had come into the conversation as being connected with this business. The sense of uneasiness I was starting to feel had nothing to do with the length of time since my last dose of laudanum.

"Now wait a minute." Lestrade had detected the reticence in my voice. "Matthews is as honest as the day is long."

"As your superior officer, he is ideally placed to implicate you."

"Why?"

"Because you are expendable."

The affront to his dignity was too much to bear. In his anger, he lost his balance and grabbed at my leg as he began to fall. I tried to right myself, too late, for he pulled me down with him. As we landed in the muddy ditch, the horse shied away and, had I not kept a hand on the rope, Artemis would have made her escape.

"Well, this is a pretty pass," said Lestrade, wiping the mud from his palms. "Happy now, are you?"

"Not particularly. It gives me no pleasure to say this, Inspector, but your conduct has been–"

"I know," he interrupted, irritably. "I've been a fool. I can't believe it of Matthews, though. What proof do you have?"

"When I spoke to him, he claimed ignorance of your association with Blind Billy. He was also having you followed."

Lestrade fell silent. When next he spoke, the rage had been replaced with quiet resignation. "Well, that's it then, isn't it? Who's going to believe me now?"

"Gregson. Tell him to go over Matthew's head to the Superintendant."

"Gregson hates me. He'll be overjoyed to hear the news."

"Not if you present him with an opportunity to regain his former position as inspector."

"At my expense?"

"Such is the price of folly."

Lestrade stared hard at me before looking away. "I dare say you're right. Better than throwing myself on Bradley's mercy. What a mess."

A fresh carried the sound of church bells from the town counting out the hour of midnight. I let the chimes die away, and reflected that though Friday might be behind us, the danger was still present.

I hauled myself to my feet with difficulty. Lestrade watched me impassively.

"We should go," I urged. "I cannot guarantee that we have not been followed."

"You're safe enough. They'll think you died in the fire."

"Not when they find Danny Palmer."

Misguided sentiment had caused me to leave the boy in a state of respectful repose. It was a mistake which would alert them that someone else had been there. That this person had then fled before raising the alarm could only point to me. I did not doubt that Clarence would be eager to finish what he had started.

I pulled Lestrade to his feet and helped him up onto the horse. With the assistance of a nearby stile, I joined him, taking the front position again, and we continued our journey towards the town.

"Horses," Lestrade muttered. "They'll be the death of me. This one, especially."

"How much did you win on the race?"

"£500."

I caught my breath.

"Don't worry, Mr Holmes. I'll give it to the Police Widows and Orphans. It might as well do someone some good. The funny thing is though–"

"I fail to see any humour in the situation."

"No, you'll laugh at this. I had another winner, fair and square, on Thursday. Isonomy in the Gold Cup. I put ten shillings on him for my father-in-law. He'll be wanting his winnings. The wife'll be wondering where I am too. I told her I'd be home for dinner. I'm not meant to be working today either."

"We all have plans, Inspector. I am supposed to be attending a wedding in ten hours' time."

"Whose?" asked Lestrade unenthusiastically.

"My brother's."

A laugh escaped him. "Well, I never. I can't see you making it back in time. He'll be sorry to miss you."

"I doubt that. There will be no marriage. The bride has fled to join her former fiancé. As for Mycroft..." I stared at my trembling hands. "Well, Inspector, I rather believe he has been trying to kill me. You should know this in case he is successful in his attempt."

"That's a serious charge, Mr Holmes. Do you have proof?"

"Let us say that I was not taking laudanum of my own volition."

"How long has it been?" said Lestrade, following the direction of my gaze.

"Too long."

"I see. If you don't mind me asking, why would he want to kill you? Not that I blame him. Knowing how you behave, I've been tempted myself a few times."

His dismissive manner told me that he did not place much weight on my accusation. No doubt he thought I was making excuses to cover my own failings or, worse, deceived by opium-induced delusions.

"I haven't asked him," I admitted.

"Then if I were you, I should, Mr Holmes, and right away."

He was correct, of course. I had hidden away in Suffolk rather than tackle my brother. Now I was about to resurface in dramatic fashion. When this business was resolved, I would have to confront him. It was not a prospect that I relished.

"I could ask, Mr Holmes," Lestrade continued, "how you knew about the bride's absence?"

"I may have provided the bride's sister with information regarding the fiancé's sudden change of heart."

The Inspector shook his head. "No wonder your brother wants you dead. I was right the first time. You are an arrogant little sod."

So they escaped the fire, but are they safe?

Continued in Chapter Twenty-One!