“Was there many of those?” asked Reilly.
“One or two, but Jane knew how to handle them.”
“Can you tell us about the accident she had a couple of weeks back?” Reilly asked.
“Accident?” questioned Atkinson.
“Yes. Apparently she was out with a group of friends,” said Gardener. “A hack, or something?”
“Aye, a hack, just a gentle stroll. No racing involved, it’s all nice and easy. Accident, you say?”
“Yes. They were near the edge of a field and a car backfired at the other side of the hedge. Upset the horses and they took off, only Jane Carter fell off.”
“Who told you this?”
“Her husband, Robbie,” said Reilly.
“Well no one’s told me.”
“Do they usually?”
“Oh, aye, it’d be a real talking point when they got back to the yard. Especially if it were serious. If owt like that happens I always make them go to the hospital, get checked out. You can’t be too careful.”
“Maybe it wasn’t anything serious,” said Reilly. “They just forgot to tell you.”
“No,” said Atkinson, shaking his head. He stood up and reached into one of the dresser drawers, removing a large red book, before sitting back down.
“Accident book, Mr Gardener. For insurance purposes, everything gets recorded in here.” He leafed his way through it. “Last accident was two months ago.”
“So you know nothing about any accident Jane Carter was supposed to have had?” pressed Gardener.
“No. Like I said, a very accomplished rider. I’m not saying she couldn’t have had an accident but when a horse gets spooked you have to know how to handle them and she certainly did. I’d back her against any jockey I’ve ever come across.”
Reilly made a note.
Gardener was unhappy. There were holes appearing in Robbie’s story.
A woman entered the tack room. She had long black hair, blue eyes and a rugged complexion like Atkinson. She was dressed in jeans, riding boots and a Barbour jacket.
“What’s all the rush, Matthew?”
“Lizzie, love,” he said, standing up. “These gentlemen are the police.”
“Has something happened?”
“It’s Jane. She’s died, love.”
Lizzie Atkinson put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, dear God, no. How did it happen?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Did you see her on Friday, Mrs Atkinson?” asked Gardener.
“Only through the car windscreen.” She glanced at her husband and then at Gardener. “We were going away and as we drove out of the yard I waved. The poor love.” Lizzie Atkinson sat down. “Ooh, I’ve gone all cold.”
“Before you go, you might want to speak to some of the people in the yard,” said Atkinson. “Most of the staff were here on Friday and they’ll have been with her all day. I’m sure they can tell you more than we can.”
“Thank you, Matthew, we’ll do that. You can’t think of any recent disagreements with anyone? Clients, staff?”