Page 67 of Murder at the Polo Club

“What is it?” Mr. Broadman barked. “What did you find?”

Harry stuffed the waistcoat containing the photographs back into the sack. “Evidence.”

“For the police?”

“For the major. I think he should deal with this.”

As if Harry conjured him by speaking his name, Major Leavey suddenly appeared inside the door. He squinted in our direction. “You two again! I told you not to come here.” He strode in our direction, pointing his finger aggressively. “Remove yourself from these premises at once!”

Mr. Broadman put out a hand to keep him back. “Let them stay. They’ve found a clue. One of the grooms has been doping the horses.”

“What!”

“Not ours. The Polo and Gun mounts. Rigg-Lyon’s, at least, and probably Hardwick’s and the others.”

The major stared at him. Then his eyes narrowed. He turned to Robbie.

Robbie put his hands in the air. “Not me, sir!”

“Bert,” Mr. Broadman explained.

If Harry or I had accused one of the grooms, the major wouldn’t have believed us. But he was willing to listen to Mr. Broadman. “I assume you have evidence.”

“Watkins told us about an argument he witnessed between Bert and Rigg-Lyon,” Harry explained. “Rigg-Lyon threatened to expose Bert’s secret if he didn’t do what Rigg-Lyon wanted, but we weren’t sure what that secret was—until now.” Harry showed him the photographs.

The major merely glimpsed them before pulling a face and shoving them back at Harry. “Disgusting.” He waggled his finger as Harry returned them to the waistcoat pocket. “Don’t let Miss Fox see those.”

No one mentioned that it was too late.

“So Rigg-Lyon found those in Bert’s possession?” he asked.

“He may have,” I said. “Or he may have discovered Bert’s…interests lay in that direction another way.”

The major slapped his hands together behind his back and rocked on his heels. “I think you should stop there, young lady. This is not a conversation you should be privy to.”

I continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Sometimes the only way to respond to a man who is pushing you in one direction is to push back. “Do you recall us mentioning the small peepholes drilled into the changing room shower cubicles?”

The major folded his arms and said nothing.

“What?” Mr. Broadman turned on his heel and marched out of the stables.

We all followed, leaving the burlap sack with the photographs behind. Instead of going inside the changing room, he turned the corner and found the wall with the small holes drilled through the brickwork. He bent and peered through one.

“Bloody pervert.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of being spied upon, but perhaps he would later, after the violation had time to sink in.

The major and Robbie peered through the other holes in silence. Neither commented.

“Of course, we can’t be certain that Bert was the one who made those holes,” I pointed out. “But given what we just found in his belongings, it’s a safe assumption. Those photographs tell us that he has a predilection for the male nude.”

The major stiffened. “Don’t say that word. It’s not becoming for a young lady to even utter it.”

I bit down on my tongue to stop myself repeating it. As much as the wicked side of me wanted to ruffle his feathers a little more, it wouldn’t be helpful.

Harry must have been worried that my self-control would waver, because he rushed to fill the silence. “It’s not just the photographs. Apparently Bert’s often late getting to the stables after a match and can be seen coming from this direction. The showers are occupied immediately after a match by the players, are they not?”

Mr. Broadman nodded. “From both teams.” He traced a finger over the hole. “I had no idea. No idea whatsoever.”

“Rigg-Lyon must have noticed,” Harry went on. “He probably caught Bert in the act and decided to use the information to blackmail him.”

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