A Room Full of Bones: A Ruth Galloway Investigation

revolving door.
    ‘Cruel, that’s what I call it,’ says Clough.
    ‘The horses love it,’ says Judy.
    Aside from a few curious glances, the stable lads ignore them, but, when they enter the yard Len Harris is waiting for them. His stance, jodhpur’d legs wide apart, does not look particularly welcoming.
    ‘We’re here to see Randolph Smith,’ says Judy, showing her ID.
    ‘Well, he’s not here,’ says Harris. ‘Doesn’t bother himself about the horses, Mr Randolph doesn’t. He’ll be up at the house.’
    ‘Can we walk through the yard?’ asks Judy.
    ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ says Harris. ‘There are some sensitive animals here and they might be upset.’
    It didn’t seem to worry them before, thinks Judy. She doesn’t like having to retreat, she feels that it makes her lose face in front of Clough. Her colleague, though, is only too happy to be away from the terrifying beasts.
    ‘The size of them,’ he keeps saying, as they take the path behind the yard wall. ‘They’re massive. It’s not right.’
    ‘I think they’re beautiful,’ says Judy. ‘I wanted to be a jockey once.’
    Clough laughs scornfully. ‘They don’t have
girl
jockeys.’
    ‘Yes they do,’ retorts Judy. ‘Women jockeys have competed in the Grand National.’
    ‘You’re too big.’
    ‘Thanks a lot.’
    ‘You know what I mean. You have to be tiny to be a jockey.’
    Judy realises that he’s trying to backtrack. Nevertheless, she can’t help being pleased when he steps off the path and straight into a pile of horse manure.
    Randolph is waiting outside the house. Somebody must have told him to expect them. Judy, who didn’t meet him on her previous visit, is surprised how handsome he is. He looks just like the hero in some Regency romance, an effect heightened by his rather long black hair and by his slightly distracted manner. Clough just thinks that he looks like a tosser.
    Randolph shakes Judy’s hand. ‘Thanks so much for coming. Where’s DCI Nelson?’
    ‘He’s not available,’ says Judy. ‘I’m DS Johnson and this is DS Clough.’ She can see Randolph looking at Clough. Probably thinks he’s in charge just because he’s a man.
    ‘Let’s go into the house,’ says Randolph. ‘It’ll be easier to talk there.’
Safer
, he seems to imply.
    They follow Randolph into the house, Clough surreptitiously wiping his feet. Judy, like Nelson before her, is surprised at how modern the house is. There seem to be no heirlooms or relics of the ancient house of Smith. Everything is as shiny and characterless as if it has just stepped out of a catalogue. Randolph leads the way through a gleaming modern kitchen, all brushed steel and red cabinets (no mention of coffee), and into a study crammed with trophies and pictures of horses. Is it his father’s study, wonders Judy. If so, does it seem strange to be receiving visitors here so soon after the old man’s death? Or is this what Randolph Smith has been waiting for all his life?
    Randolph sits himself behind the desk. ‘Ma’s out,’ he says, though neither of them has mentioned his mother’s whereabouts. ‘Caroline’s off somewhere with her weirdo friends. So we won’t be interrupted.’
    ‘What about your other sister?’ asks Judy, remembering the disembodied voice.
For fuck’s sake Randolph …
    ‘Oh, Tammy’s gone hot-footing it back to London. She can’t stand too much of us country types. She’ll be back for the funeral.’
    ‘Do you have a date?’ ventures Judy.
    ‘Thursday,’ says Randolph, looking down at his hands. ‘It’s on Thursday. Thursday the twelfth.’
    He lapses into silence. Judy looks at Clough.
    ‘You said something about new evidence,’ she prompts.
    ‘Yes,’ says Randolph. His eyes, which Judy had thought were black, are actually very dark blue. He runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up in an Elvis quiff.
    ‘Look. Officer. I don’t know you very well and what I have to tell you might sound strange but I promise you I’m not on drugs or … or having a nervous breakdown or anything. It’s just that some fairly odd things have been happening and I think they might be connected to Dad’s death. That’s all.’ He blinks at them engagingly. Judy smiles at him.
    ‘Why don’t you tell us?’ she says.
    ‘Well, it all started a few weeks ago. I was coming home after a late night and I didn’t want to disturb the old dears so I came in through the back gates – where the old house used to be