Free 03 - Murder in Mink by Evelyn James Page B

them, “I didn’t much want to face everyone
last night. I knew you would only ask questions.”
    “What do you expect after yesterday’s drama?” Clara asked
a little hotly, feeling irritated she had ever been worried at all about the
surly man before her.
    Andrew made no reply, just flicked at a strand of loose
cotton on his steering wheel.
    “Bonzo, Herr Campbell!” A man in driver’s cap waved at
them as he walked passed, “I am trying my Opel. See if she remembers the
track!”
    Andrew lifted a hand in response, but he was still
distracted. Clara looked enquiringly at Peg.
    “Mr Francke, Austrian.” Peg answered, “So he is racing
today?”
    “Yes, just to top off my bad luck. I thought his Opel
would be in crates and hay for at least another year.” Andrew finished off with
the loose thread and sat back on his car, “Look, if you are here to natter on
about yesterday I don’t want to know.”
    “Come off it Andrew! You have to discuss it!” Peg looked
at him aghast.
    “It’s between Laura and I. I’ll find a way to put things
right, but I don’t need you barging your noses in. Especially you.” Andrew’s
last words were adamantly directed at Clara, “I don’t need a busybody
interfering in this.”
    “Mind your tongue!” Tommy snapped before Clara had the
chance, “That’s my sister and she isn’t a busybody, she is a very clever
detective and you might be grateful for her help one day.”
    “Might I?” Andrew scoffed, “When I next lose my gloves
I’ll let you know then.”
    “You are insufferable Andrew.” Peg snapped at her
brother, “I hope you damn well lose this race, you don’t deserve to win.”
    Andrew gave her an unpleasant smile as she walked away
with Clara and Tommy.
    “He isn’t usually this bad.” Peg apologised, “Isn’t this
business hateful?”
    Clara put a friendly hand on Peg’s arm.
    “Try not to fret.”
    “It’s just such a mess Clara. Who is this woman? Does she
have a claim on my brother?” Peg fumbled in her trouser pocket for a cigarette,
“I’m desperate for a gasper. I can’t stand this.”
    “There goes Herr Francke’s Opel.” Tommy leaned forward in
his chair as a silver car streaked past on the racetrack, “She’s a nimble
thing.”
    “Oh yes, Andrew absolutely hates Francke and his car.”
Peg muttered lighting her cigarette, “He hasn’t really got much chance against
him.”
    The thrum of an engine reverberated into the distance.
The Surrey countryside seemed unmoved by the commotion, even a flock of rooks
in a nearby tree ignored the noise.
    “I really can’t see how Andrew can even think of racing.”
Peg dragged hard on her cigarette, “He doesn’t seem to give a damn about
Laura.”
    Suddenly there was a screech of brakes and a horn blared.
Everyone froze. The workmen glanced up from the cars, other drivers stopped in
the middle of checks and donning goggles. A silence descended. Had the Opel
crashed on an open stretch of road pre-race? No one seemed to want to move and
find out. Then, just as suddenly, an engine roared again and the Opel was
heading back towards them, coming the wrong way on the track.
    “What’s the blighter doing?” Tommy was trying to see
Francke’s face, what could have turned him about?
    In moments the Opel was drawing up before a building
Clara understood to be the racing steward’s office and Francke was jumping out.
    “Perhaps a problem with the track?” Peg shook her head,
“And after all that effort they put into repairing it.”
    Clara was edging forward. Her eyes had been caught by the
look of shock on Francke’s face in the brief moment before he left his car. He
didn’t look like someone who had found a pothole, so what did it mean?
    Several officials ran out of the hut at undignified
speed, heading up the track in the direction Francke had originally gone.
Francke went to follow but he was driven back by gestures from the officials.
He stomped instead towards the