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Watkins moved to his desk, but Mr. Hardwick stepped in front of him. He grabbed Watkins’ jacket and scrunched it in his fist. Watkins tried to smack the hand away, but Mr. Hardwick was bigger and stronger.
“It wasn’t me!” Mr. Hardwick shouted. “I didn’t kill him. I admit I lied about being in the privy, but that doesn’t mean I murdered Vernon. He was my friend. My very good, dear friend…I would never hurt him. I loved him.” His voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes. He let Watkins go and rubbed the back of his neck while he struggled to regain his composure.
“Tell us where you were really,” I said. “Do you have an alibi?”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “I was ensuring one of the grooms kept quiet about the doping. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you thinking I was involved. If it gets out, it’ll ruin me.”
“Bert?” Harry asked.
Mr. Hardwick nodded. “All the grooms knew, but he was being the most difficult about it.”
“Allthe grooms?” I asked.
“They had to know. We had to enlist their help to inject the horses. They’d known all season. If any of them tell you they didn’t, they’re lying. They all happily took our money. Except Bert. Money wasn’t enough for him. Vernon had to resort to blackmail.”
“He threatened to tell the major about the peepholes.”
Mr. Hardwick nodded. “But Bert was wavering again that day.”
“It was the final,” the major said. “He’s an Elms lad and wanted a fair match.”
“He doesn’t care about the club,” Mr. Hardwick snapped. “He didn’t care who won. He cared about the horses. On the day of the final, Panther was put in his care. He found the animal frothing at the mouth, listless, anxious. He didn’t want to inject him again and refused. So I went to talk to him. I offered him money, but he wouldn’t take it. I had to reiterate the threat Vernon already held over his head. If he didn’t inject Panther, we’d tell the major about the peepholes.”
“That wasbeforethe match,” I pointed out. “Where were you afterwards, at the time of death?”
Mr. Hardwick cleared his throat. “I went to make sure Bert understood the consequences of telling anyone about the doping.”
“The entire time? There was a twenty-minute window.”
He looked away, his cheeks pink. “Ask him.”
“We will.”
The major’s whiskers twitched with his bitter smile. “Your alibi will be thoroughly questioned. Your word can’t be trusted. You’re a liar, Hardwick, as well as a cheat. I will make sure the world knows it.”
Mr. Hardwick dragged his hand through his hair. He didn’t appeal to the major, he didn’t attempt to talk him out of spreading the truth. He must have known it was hopeless. “My father’s going to disown me. He had no part in this. He didn’t know about the doping.” He passed his hand over his face. When it came away, he looked ashen and close to tears. “He was always telling me todosomething, to be better, like him. I was never good enough. I never made captain of the team, never won a championship until this year.”
Now I could see what drove him. He wasn’t in Rigg-Lyon’s shadow; he was in his father’s.
“My fortunes would have turned around after the auction. Not just mine, but the entire family’s. He would have been proud.”
“Until he found out you doped the horses in order to win,” the major said. “Did you think no one would know? What excuse would you give when the horses failed to perform after they were sold?”
Mr. Hardwick shrugged. “They were pining for us?”
The major’s bitter laugh echoed around the foyer. “You fool. You deserve everything that’s coming to you when word of this spreads.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” Mr. Hardwick pressed his palms together. “I beg you, Major. Don’t ruin me. I didn’t know anything about your daughter, I swear. She was just one of many girls he—”
Mr. Hardwick didn’t see the major’s fist until it was too late and it hit him square in the jaw. He stumbled, clutching the side of his face, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
The major shook out his hand, then strode up to Mr. Hardwick. The younger man cowered. “Get out or I will have you thrown out!”
I suspected Harry was the one who was supposed to play security guard, but he simply stood by and watched, just as he’d done nothing to stop the major punching Mr. Hardwick. He’d been close enough to intervene, and his reflexes were quick, but he’d kept his hands at his sides.
Mr. Hardwick lowered his head and left the clubhouse of his own accord.
Watkins returned to the reception desk while the major headed to his office. Harry and I followed. Harry closed the door behind us for privacy.
