Dick Francis's Refusal Read Online Free

runners, but I don’t know about those races in particular. But I do know there have been no positive test results on any jumpers so far this year.”
    â€œHave you questioned any of the jockeys?” I asked.
    â€œThe head of the Security Service approached one or two after I raised my suspicions with him, but nothing came of it. I was accused of being delusional and told that I was making the whole thing up.”
    â€œI’m sure that isn’t true,” I said.
    â€œIt is,” he replied quickly, the anger clear in his voice. “I know all the staff snigger behind my back and think I’m too old for this job, and that I’m losing my marbles, but, I tell you, I’m not.”
    He paused, and I said nothing.
    â€œThat’s why I need you, Sid, to investigate what’s going on and to stop it before racing is irreparably damaged.”
    â€œSir Richard, I told you, I don’t investigate anything anymore. If your own security service tell you there’s nothing going on, then, perhaps, you should listen to them. Peter Medicos is no fool, and he’s difficult to shake off if he smells even the slightest whiff of corruption.”
    Peter Medicos had been the head of the BHA Security Service since retiring from the Lancashire Police as a detective chief superintendent some seven years previously.
    â€œHuh,” Sir Richard snorted loudly down the line. Clearly, he didn’t have the same confidence. “I’m hugely disappointed in you, Sid. Why can no one else see what is going on?” He sounded thoroughly frustrated, and not a little frightened. “Well, I’m telling you,
I
intend to find out what’s happening. And I’ll not bloody rest until I do, with or without your help.”
    He hung up abruptly, leaving me holding the dead handset.
    Was there something going on or had he made the whole thing up?
    And did I care?
    Yes, perhaps I did.
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    I WENT TO FIND M ARINA, who was in the living room with Sassy and Annabel, watching a Walt Disney cartoon on the television.
    â€œI’m going to see Charles,” I said. “I won’t be long. I’ll be back for supper.”
    Marina looked up at me from the sofa, and I could tell that she wasn’t very pleased. She knew only too well why I wanted to talk to Charles.
    â€œDaddy, Daddy, please be back to read us a story,” piped up Sassy.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “I’ll be back by seven-thirty to read you both a story. But you must be in bed.”
    Suddenly, she wasn’t so keen. “But we’ve got Annabel staying. Can’t I stay up later tonight?” She looked up at me with doleful eyes.
    â€œNo,” I said firmly. “That’s all the more reason to be in bed early. It will give you time to talk to each other as you go to sleep.”
    She cheered up, but only fractionally. Getting Sassy into bed each night was always a battle of wills, and hers was very strong.
    â€œI’ll take my bike,” I said to Marina. “I promise I’ll be back.”
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    T HE MAIN REASON why Marina and I had looked for a house in West Oxfordshire was to be close to Charles, and we had amazingly found just what we wanted in a village only two miles away from his place at Aynsford.
    Admiral Charles Roland, Royal Navy Retired, was like a father to both Marina and me, in spite of not being a blood relative of either of us. He was, in fact, my ex-father-in-law, even though I generally dropped the ex-, and our friendship had not only survived the turbulent breakup of my marriage to his daughter but had become closer with every passing year. He had instantly taken to Marina, and was reveling in the role of honorary grandpa to Saskia, not having any true grandchildren of his own from either of his two daughters.
    He was now well past eighty, but you wouldn’t know it by looking