Redbourne

By the time they got back to the station, the canteen had stopped serving lunch. Two stale cheese sandwiches remained, their edges peeling back. The tea was stewed so strong that the teaspoon could almost stand up in it. Cantwell was dismayed but his hunger was so great he would eat and drink anything.

"I'm going to phone the hospital to find out about Brenda Ellacott's condition. You take your time, Cantwell. You'll get the most almighty indigestion from the looks of that bread - so eating fast will just make it worse."

The hospital staff were unhelpful and answers to Temple's questions were sparse. Her injuries were not life-threatening; she had not regained consciousness; she could not answer his questions in the foreseeable future. 'Well, thank you, doc.' Temple muttered under his breath, as he put the phone down.

Never one for patience, especially whilst on a case, Temple pondered as to how he could push the investigations further. Remembering the contents of Ellacott's wallet and Redbourne's business cards gave him his next port of call.

Cantwell came into the office just as Temple was leaving: "Where are we going, Gov?"

"We are not going anywhere. You stay and write up the report on today's events. Wait for a call back from the Path Lab on those pills. I'm going to Redbourne's place to check out about Ellacott's dealings with him. I'll see you when I get back."

Cantwell's heart sank, he knew these 'see you when I get back' statements meant he would be late home yet again. Debbie would be livid, they were supposed to be going to the flicks tonight.

Temple strolled through the town until he came to Redbourne's office. A gilt plaque proclaimed 'Mr R. Redbourne, Turf Accountant' outside a green door complete with brass knocker and letterbox. Without knocking, Temple walked in and climbed the flight of stairs to the first floor. A pretty blonde typist was sitting behind a large oak desk. She straightened her back and smiled.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked rather winsomely.

"I've come to speak to Mr Redbourne." He flashed his police card at her.

"He's in a meeting."

"No problem, I'm in no hurry." He strolled over to the window.

Loud voices, raised in argument, came suddenly from inside the office. Without further ado, Temple pushed past the reception desk and opened the door. Redbourne, a thickset man with a deep scar across his left cheek, was behind the desk. Two men were facing him, their hands placed firmly on the shoulders of a third man sitting in front of the desk.

"Trouble, Redbourne?" Temple asked sardonically.

"Who the hell let you in?"

"When there's trouble call a policeman, isn't that what they say? I heard the trouble - so I came."

Redbourne nodded to his two men. The tall, leaner one stepped aside. The shorter one released his grip on the seated man's shoulder.

"What do you want?" Redbourne asked.

"From what little I could hear, I thought it was you who was asking the questions of this gentleman. Who is he, by the way?

"This thieving bastard," he pointed, "goes by the name of Beaver or 'Eager' as his friends call him. But he ain't no friend of ours. He's the first in line to pick up his winnings but the last to pay his debts. He likes his little flutter on the dogs and the gee-gees"

"I'm sure Mr Beaver will be paying his debts in due course, won't you, Mr Beaver?"

The seated man was sweating profusely. He nodded vigorously in response to Temple's question. But it was Redbourne he addressed when he spoke:
"You'll get your money, Mr Redbopurne. Some of those dogs was dodgy, Mr Redbourne, you know that!" He saw the look on Redbourne's face and stopped jabbering. "I'll give you half your money next week and the rest the week after. God's honour, I will."

"With interest, Beaver." Redbourne leaned forward menacingly, "And you bloody better had!"

"Or what?" Temple asked. "What will you do? Same as you did to Ellacott?" He glanced at Eager Beaver. "Get out now, Mr Beaver. Be more sensible in future. Don't punt with sharks, or there'll be blood in the water."

Beaver didn't need to be told twice. He left rapidly nodding to Temple as he did so. Temple looked at the other two men. The tall, lanky one fitted the description that Cantwell had given of the man who jumped over Ellacott's back fence.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Redbourne?"

Redbourne cracked each of his knuckles in turn:
"This is Charlie Davey," he nodded towards the shorter, stockier man. "This is Ted Steele. They help me out in the office and on the racetracks. Invaluable they are."

"That's an unusual way to describe your henchmens' activities. 'Helping you out'." Temple looked at the two men, then directed a question at Steele: "Where were you between 10:30 and 11:30 this morning?"

"He was here in the office." Redbourne responded before Steele had the chance."

"Of course he was! How stupid of me to think he could possibl;y have been beating up little Mrs Ellacott." Temple nodded to himself then turned towards the door. "I'll be leaving then." As he did he heard an audible whistle of relief come from Charlie Davey. Temple went back to the desk and banged it hard with his fist. "If I find out differently, Redbourne, you're for the chop, this time. Understand?"

There was no response. Temple leaned forward and seized hold of Redbourne's tie, twisting it round his hand and pulling Redbourne out of his seat.

"Understand?"

Ted Steele stepped towards Temple, but Redbourne held up his hand to stop him. "I understand."

Temple pushed him away, turned on his heels and left the office, slamming the door as he did so.

"I'd look for another job, if I were you, love. It's not too good for your health around here." The young typist, eyes wide with shock, did not respond.