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Mr. Broadman’s face darkened. “The bloody nerve.” I thought he was referring to Bert’s peeping until he added, “He’s not worthy of being called a gentleman.” Apparently Mr. Rigg-Lyon’s crime was the worse of the two in his view.
“Did you know?” I asked Robbie.
He’d been silent ever since leaving the stables, and now he looked dazed. “No. Like I said, he kept to himself.” He shrugged.
I was quite sure all three men spoke the truth and didn’t know about the peepholes. The question was, did Mr. Hardwick? I posed it to the others. “By all accounts, Mr. Hardwick and Mr. Rigg-Lyon were very close. Do you think Mr. Hardwick knew his friend was blackmailing Bert into doping Panther?”
Mr. Broadman scoffed. “He must have. It’s only logical. Nobody is that vehement in their denial unless he’s guilty.”
“Major?” Harry prompted.
The major looked thoughtful, a welcome change from the angry look he’d sported earlier. “It’s possible. Indeed, I’d say it’s probable. They were good friends, both on and off the field. They went to university together, they socialized together, and they were even going into business together.”
Harry and I stared at him. “Are you referring to the agency here in London?” Harry asked. “The one Hardwick was setting up to represent his father’s breeding stables?”
The major shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know the particulars. Weeks ago, in the dining room, I overheard them joking about where they’d set up their office. They were laughing about it, making all kinds of silly suggestions, like near the club, or their favorite restaurant, or in Rigg-Lyon’s mistress’s flat.”
“No wonder Mr. Hardwick was upset when Mr. Rigg-Lyon didn’t tell him he wasn’t going to retire,” I said to Harry. “His change of mind could potentially halt their plans.”
“Hardwick has decided to play on until the team appoints a new captain and vice,” Mr. Broadman said. “As to Rigg-Lyon’s intentions, I can’t imagine him going into business with anyone. He just didn’t seem to have the drive for it. Besides, he was obsessed with polo. He had a few good years left in him, so why give it up for something new, something he had no particular interest in?”
We stood there in silence, contemplating the question until Robbie departed, stating he had work to do in the tack room. Neither Mr. Broadman nor the major acknowledged him, and he slouched off, hands tucked into his pockets.
The major soon left, too, without a word. Mr. Broadman acknowledged Harry and me with nods then strode after him. “Major, I demand a re-match against the Polo and Gun Club. The cup final must be replayed, given they cheated.”
We didn’t hear the major’s response.
“What do you think?” Harry asked me.
“I think Hardwick is a liar. He knew more about Rigg-Lyon’s life than he let on. He was also upset with Rigg-Lyon for changing his mind about retiring.”
“Upset enough to murder him? It seems unlikely.”
He was right. It didn’t feel like enough of a motive, although in the heat of an argument, Mr. Hardwick might have struck his friend in anger.
“Bert has a viable motive,” I said. “He was terrified of his Peeping Tom secret coming out. He could not only lose his position here at the club, but the major was unlikely to give him a reference.”
“We need to speak to him. Shall we find out where he lives?”
“Let’s look around here first. I have an inkling where he might be.” I set off with Harry on my heels.
“Where?” he asked as he fell into step beside me.
“Robbie told Broadman that Bert fled when he saw him. That was moments before we arrived, perhaps a few minutes. But we didn’t see him in the vicinity. Aside from the tack room and stables, the area is open. There’s nowhere for him to hide. I think he hid, planning to return to the tack room to get his kit after Broadman left. To do that, he’d need to keep an eye on the tack room.”
“So he hid in the nearest building; the stables. But I looked in all the stalls and he wasn’t there.” He clicked his tongue as it dawned on him. “I didn’t check the loft.”
He quickened his pace, only to stop when he reached the stable entrance. He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Cleo, stay—”
The rest of his sentence was knocked out of him, along with his breath by Bert slamming into him. Harry lost his balance and fell, taking his assailant with him. They both ended up in the dirt, narrowly missing a pile of horse dung.
With his fall cushioned by Harry, Bert was the first to recover. He sprang up and would have fled again if Harry hadn’t caught his foot. Bert fell onto his hands and knees in front of me.
“Are you both all right?” I asked.
Harry got up and hauled the groom to his feet. “I’m fine, but this suit will need a thorough clean.” Still clutching Bert’s arm, he dusted himself off with his other hand.
Bert tried to shake himself free, but Harry held him tightly. Realizing it was hopeless, the groom lowered his head, all the fight gone out of him.
