Free Kickback by Damien Boyd Page A

though.’
    ‘What does that mean exactly?’
    ‘We’ve been looking at irregular betting patterns. We monitor live betting in real time and there have been several suspicious episodes, shall we say?’
    ‘Is Hesp aware of this?’
    ‘Yes, we had him in for interview in July I think it was. He denied everything.’
    ‘Where are you based?’
    ‘Newmarket.’
    ‘Shame. I was hoping to meet...’
    ‘I’m going to be in our London office tomorrow, if that’s any good to you?’
    ‘It is.’
    ‘I have two hours clear before lunch, say, 11.00am?’
    ‘See you then.’
    ‘I’ll bring the file,’ said Spiers.
    ‘I can get a court order for its release if that would assist?’
    ‘No it’s fine. I expect the police would have been getting involved sooner or later anyway,’ said Spiers.
    Dixon put the phone down and shouted at the open door of his office.
    ‘Jane.’
    He was about to shout again when Jane appeared in the doorway.
    ‘Yes, Sir.’
    ‘We need two tickets to London tomorrow morning. We’ll pick up the fast train at Taunton. There’s one eightish that gets in tennish.’
    ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘To meet a British Horseracing Authority Integrity Services officer. They’ve been investigating irregular betting patterns on some of Hesp’s horses it seems.’
    ‘Really? You have been busy.’
    ‘I have. Then get your coat. We’re off to the races.’
     
    ‘So, Hesp lied,’ said Jane.
    ‘He did. But then he denied it when interviewed by the BHA as well.’
    ‘And he got away with it that time, I suppose?’
    ‘We’ll find out tomorrow. He’s still being monitored by them from what I can gather, but we’ll see.’
    ‘What’s an irregular betting pattern, I wonder?’
    ‘We’ll find that out too. Either way, we’ve got a possible motive,’ said Dixon.
    ‘Possible?’
    ‘Assuming that’s what Noel was going to blow the whistle about, yes.’
    ‘What else could it have been?’
    ‘No idea. But we can’t jump to conclusions.’
    Dixon checked the glove box of the Land Rover for his binoculars as they crossed the River Exe on the M5.
    ‘We’ve got time for some lunch. Get off at Kennford and we’ll try that pub at the bottom of the hill.’
    Jane turned off the M5 at the foot of Haldon Hill and into The Gissons. They took an hour over lunch and then spent twenty minutes in the woods with Monty, arriving at Exeter Racecourse just before 2.00pm.  Dixon had checked the racecard online and knew that Hesp had two horses going, Midnight Blue in the 2.40pm and Uphill Tobermory in the 3.10pm. They bought two tickets on the gate and walked across to the grandstand. It was cloudy and dry, with a strong south westerly wind. Perfect racing weather according to the man in the ticket booth.
    ‘Fancy a flutter, Jane?’
    ‘Should we?’
    ‘No, we shouldn’t, you’re right.’ Dixon winked at her. ‘Let’s find the betting ring.’
    Jane followed.
    ‘You done this before?’
    ‘Once or twice on the Grand National but that’s it.’
    ‘Me too,’ replied Dixon. ‘I’m sure there must be a more scientific way of doing it than whether I like the name.’
    They walked around the side of the grandstand. Dixon noticed the parade ring off to the right, where the horses going in the 2.10pm were being walked around. He could see the stables and various horse lorries behind that. To his left was the grandstand with the betting ring in front. Dixon counted eighteen on course bookmakers, each standing underneath a large and brightly coloured umbrella.
    The course itself was laid out on the top of Haldon Hill with the traditional white rails stretching off into the distance. It was completely encircled by trees and appeared to undulate, making it uphill and downhill in parts. The long finishing straight was off the left of the grandstand.
    ‘It’s a bloody long way round,’ said Jane.
    ‘Let’s get a drink,’ said Dixon.
    He picked up a copy of the Racing Post that had been left lying