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For just £6 a month, binge ad-free adventures in full and have access to so much more over at patreon.com forward slash Sherlock & Co. Previously on Sherlock & Co. Let me go for largest bet placed and on what day? Five grand. Blimey. Whopper. Good lord. Yeah, he loves his horses. That was on the Thursday. Could I take a look at him? Yeah, yeah. There you go.
Lovely. Who was it, Sherlock? It was our sleepy Mr Straker. The husband of June at Straker. Ah, well, I mean, that rules him out, doesn't it? I mean, if he's whacking on five grand for Silver Blaze, he clearly has no idea what's about to happen. Yes, that would be the case, wouldn't it? If the bet was placed on Silver Blaze. But it wasn't. It was placed on his lesser-known stablemate, Bayard.
Bayard. They're from the agency that does the detective work. The agency? For Blaze or for June? For both. Show me the recording from the smart doorbell. I'm really sorry. We're both really sorry. Just can't believe it happened and I can't believe like we were that we got that
drunk on a night like that. I'm watching something on my phone. Oh, rub it in, why don't you? The smart doorbell footage. Oh, okay.
What a thriller. How do we see the waveform? The waveform of the audio? It looks to be important, yeah? Great. Six hours of audio. Brilliant. Show me the waveform. We need to see the audio. Alright. Jesus Christ. Let it load, okay? It's a really flat waveform, mate. Nothing. Now, it's the sound of silence. The waveform confirms it. Total silence. Are you trying to draw my attention to something? Yes.
To the curious incident of the dog in the night time. The dog did nothing in the night time. That was the curious incident. Curious indeed. Hello there, crime-solving friends. Welcome to the final part of the adventure of Silver Blaze. It's been an honour having you ride alongside me in the saddle.
I don't know if that terminology even makes any sense, but... Yeah, you know, this is the final hurdle, the final furlong. The finishing post is in sight. Enjoy the final ride. Some swearing will occur, obviously. Can you tidy the kitchen, please, if we're leaving the property so urgently? I'm on a call. To who? It's four in the morning. California. What? California. Why are we speaking to people in California? California.
Wait, have you got the mic? Yes, it's next to me. I'm waiting for an answer from... Sports Capital Trading, Sarah speaking. Sarah, hi. Sherlock Holmes. I've been emailing. It's regarding Silver Blaze. I know your company owns Colonel Racing Stables, among many other assets. We're not talking to reporters. I'm not a reporter. I'm a consulting detective. Okay. I need to know your final correspondence from the Strakers.
We got... I guess we got an email from June, not long before she passed. Yeah. She needed something. Funds from you, did she not? Yeah. She said Silver Blaze had an injury and with the right medical attention it would be fixed in time for the race. Sarah, if you could forward that to me, that would be great. Thank you. Sure. Absolutely. What was that? That, Watson...
was an old friend called Motive. She said Sarah. I was being dramatic. It didn't bark. Why didn't it bark if there was an intruder? Because it knew
It knew the intruder. Exactly. Which would make them not an intruder, technically, but we'll come to that. Take this left. It's quicker. How do you know? Because I do. OK, but you're putting me on edge. All right? Calm down. We must get to Mr Straker before he heads to Aintree. What time is it? It says there on the dash. And on your phone, you know, the thing that I don't have. And it says on your watch it's 5.35am, for God's sake. Thank you, Watson.
Pleasure. Right, this is the Strakers farmhouse. God, it really is near the stables, isn't it?
Slow down, mate. Please just remember that it's early in the morning and this is an elderly gentleman. Mr Straker, sorry to hear about your wife, by the way. Can I help you? But you're under arrest. Sherlock, don't. Not a headlock. Please, don't put him in a headlock. Open the back door, Watson. Get off me! Jesus Christ! Leave me alone, you bastard! In you go! Oh!
What the hell is going on? I'm calling the police. Lovely. Let them know we're coming. Oh, this is bloody outrageous. Outrageous! Mr Straker, I know you're very angry. Could you just stop banging on the window, though? It's a hire card and I'm liable for any... He's still banging on the window. Mr Straker, can you please... You're pathetic. Whatever you think this is, some...
Yes, actually. Her own fault, really.
Right-o. This is our stop. Really? All of us? What are you doing? Out you get. Chop-chop. What the hell is wrong with you? I'm offering you a chance to get out the vehicle. Something you've been begging for since we put you in it. What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you? Yeah, why don't you want to get out, Mr Straker? Is it because we're at the police station? And you placed a five grand bet on Bayard the day before Silver Blaze went missing? You are deluded fantasists. Get out of the car. I will take you to court.
Now, look, just listen to me, please. Listen, listen, listen. My wife was murdered, all right? My wife was murdered by Fitzroy Simpson. Get...
Hello there. Sorry it's early. We've got Philip Straker here. He's got some important information on the June Straker case. Let's go with my arm. Let's go with my arm now. OK. Hey, why are you letting go of his arm? He's a 70-year-old man surrounded by police officers. Oh, yeah. Fair enough. Right. I'll get in touch with Inspector Gregory. Yes. Tell him to come right in. And tell him if he wants to question our man, then we're questioning his. Who's his man? I appreciate this is rather early, Mr Simpson. Oh.
Fitz. Okay. Fitz, I have some questions. I've answered them. Believe me, I've answered them. Do you know the Strakers? What, personally? Did you have any prior reason to believe that Silver Blaze would be injured for the Grand National? Injured? I didn't even know she was injured. He. Silver Blaze is a he. Aye, right. Okay. You got a tip off, didn't you?
I did. A tip off that if you went to Colonel Racing Stables on the 28th, after hours, you would receive information on the race. Yep. And you didn't receive that information, did you? I didn't. I knew I was supposed to sweeten the deal, coax it out of them a bit with a bit of dosh. So I offered it, but they didn't want to know. Fobbed me off over the intercom or whatever. Who tipped you off? I don't know. Someone on their account. Their account?
How did you receive the tip? I got a direct message on Twitter. Who is it from? From Colonel Racing Stables. Their Twitter account. Ex-account, whatever. Right, have you told the police that? Yeah. And they said I hacked the account to make it look like I was invited. To back up my reason for visiting. In the middle of the bloody night. In the arse end of nowhere. Right. Ugh!
God's sake. Fitz, listen to me and listen closely. Because we're the only people that can get you out of this mess. Are you telling me the truth? I am. Are you hiding anything? I'm not. Honest to God, I did not kill June Straker. No, you didn't. But I know who did. I did.
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human connections. So the next time you're shopping for yourself or someone special, choose extraordinary items, handmade, handpicked, or designed by small businesses. Keep commerce human. Discover small businesses on Etsy. Okay, so you join us, well, you join me, some time later. No word from the police yet on Mr. Philip Straker, but we are currently at a motorway service station in Gloucester on the M5.
Been driving for about a little under two hours. It's still pretty early and I'm still pretty knackered. So very little makes sense right now, I'll be honest. I'm assuming it does to Sherlock. Or at least I'm hoping it does. Why am I sat in a hire car at a service station in Gloucester? Who knows? Who knows? Well, actually, hopefully this guy. Right. All done. Suspicions confirmed.
There's your phone. What are you... What? What? How did you find my phone at a motorway service station in Gloucester? I tracked it. Okay, what... How did... Why was it here? Because I stuck it into the saddle of the unnamed horse I met at Mapleton Stables. Sherlock, I can't quite... What? One star! What? What's one star? She...
She's given me a bloody one-star review on Airbnb. I gave her five stars, for God's sake, and there was damp in the bathroom. She didn't even have Netflix for... Oh, here we go, here we go. This is what she said. This guest seemed polite and courteous at first, but broke a number of rules, including moving the furniture. That's your fault. For goodness sake. I am missing decorative ornaments. Brilliant. Brilliant. Thanks, mate. That...
The guest also left black paint all over the bathroom sink. I mean, sorry, what is she on about? I wouldn't say I left it all over. That's a tad dramatic. You wouldn't say...
What did you do? I washed my hands. You were there. And why are you washing black paint off your hands? Because black dye was on my hands and I didn't want it on there anymore. Great, thanks. Yeah, that clears everything up. Excellent. I'm being sarcastic! Ah, didn't pick it up. Apologies. Anyway, black dye is all gone now. Yeah, in the sink. Right, yes. I meant actually for the big day. For the big day, right. Right.
Right, what is the big day? Grand National. Who's going to the Grand National? Route to Aintree Racecourse. Continue on to M5 for 37 miles. Oh, you are joking me.
Welcome to the 2024 Grand National. And what a race it will be this year. Crowds flocking as they always do to this mighty showcase of British horse racing.
You join us live at the bustling Aintree Racecourse for the main event, the Grand National. The steeplechase steeped in history and this year steeped very much in mystery.
So welcome to Grand National here in Aintree. We've got a few big horses here. I think Bayard looks immaculate. I think Royal Hero is going to be, we've got to watch him today because he is quick. They've really developed as race riders and that is different. Here comes the walkway into the Grand National and the crowds are already building. The traffic is absolutely massive getting into the course and it should be.
Yes, welcome to Liverpool, welcome to the Grand National, the most famous steeplechase in the world. The race means for the city of Liverpool. It isn't just a sporting event. It's the greatest race in the world, so if you're not in, you can't win. The Grand National's changed, hasn't it? Yeah, I mean, the modern day National now, it's a red-hot handicap.
Plenty of class in the race, obviously quicker ground usually. You need to be able to lie up in it. Obviously it's been a tremendously difficult year, not just for Colonel Racing Stables but for all of it, for the horse racing community it's been very, very difficult. And today is about remembering but it's also about moving on I think. The horse deaths are built into the system. These horses will keep dying until horse racing ends.
I think it's a day for horse racing fans to heal.
I think it's also a date for them to come out and bloody enjoy themselves. They are the current favourite royal hero also right up there. You'll see on your graphic as well. Silver Blaze, he does qualify, of course, for weighing in just last month in Liverpool City Hall. But as we all know, he is still not found and will not feature.
Ah, there you are. Rather crowded, isn't it? Yeah, it is. Where did you go? I went to place a bet, actually. Got a good feeling about this one. Right, yeah, well, that makes one of us. Don't worry, Watson. Everything will come into focus soon enough. How about we bring it into focus right now? Is that an option? Well, I wouldn't want to spoil the moment.
Plus there's so much to get into, it'll get ever so messy. Right, let's at least, let's at least try, shall we? What is going on? Why did you find my phone in Gloucester? Why did we abduct a man in his 70s and chuck him out at a police station? And why have I got a one-star review on Airbnb because of some black bloody paint? Dye. Oh, black dye, whatever. Remember when we first arrived at King's Pylons? We took a wrong turn. Yeah, Google said to go right. I'm not disputing your course.
Do you remember it? Yes. We got stuck behind some sheep. Mr Straker's sheep. They were rather slow. They were slow because three of them were lame. Why would the Strakers be neglecting their sheep? That's one question. But why would their sheep be limping in the first place? I don't really know all that much about sheep, mate. Here, the latest racing post. See the favourite for this race. Bayard. Bayard. The second favourite.
If you were to take Silverblaze out of the picture unbeknownst to the wider public, you could shift your money to Bayard while the odds were favourable. Take him out of the picture? The cataract knife. Why was June Straker equipped with such a small blade, Watson? Because she was ready to make her move. Ready to injure Silverblaze ahead of the Grand National and cash in on the less fancy Bayard.
They knew if Silver Blaze showed signs of injury back at the stables, the local rumour mill would churn. The odds on Bayard would shorten. They placed all their bets beforehand, even taking the last of their cash savings to the local betting shop the day before.
What's more, Sports Capital Trading, the owners, they received an email from June Straker moments before the disappearance of Silver Blaze and her own death, requesting urgent funds for medical care to ensure he could run in the nation's most high-profile race. God, the three sheep became guinea pigs.
They received the sharp stab to their feet with the cataract knife. A wound so small it would be imperceptible to the naked eye, but the muscle and tissue would be punctured and torn, taking weeks to repair. The sheep showed little signs of bleeding and adequate signs of immobility, and with that, the dress rehearsal was a success.
Time for the main performance. And what better warm-up act than Fitzroy Simpson, an opportunistic gambler responding to the dangling carrot of a tip-off sent to him by June Online.
Before his arrival she had provided her lent observing stablemaster and equestrian manager with some celebratory booze and, as we know, they took it. Fitzroy Simpson was turned away in a foul-mouthed boozy shouting match and June later left to check on the horses, as would later be reported. And of course our curious dog friend. The dog greeted her with nothing more than a submissive whimper, the kind that such dogs do to their masters.
To make it look like a break-in, she cut the bolt with a hacksaw and chucked it in the hay. No prints were found on it, but iron filings were found on her. She took Silverblaze out into the darkness. The darkness that would swallow his willies and cries of pain and distress as the cataract knife would pierce the cushion of his sold hoof, splitting open ligaments, joints and tendons.
burrowing up to solid bone, penetrating through thick bulbs of flesh and muscle that would be rendered ruptured and useless. Poor guy. Well, not so. Not so? He's doing all right. You met him, remember?
Whoa, whoa, what on earth? What is all the excitement? Some posh planter spilled cider on his red chinos or something. They've just discovered that Silver Blaze did make it, after all. Oh my God, the black dye. Mapleton Stables. A rival to Silver Blaze and his stablemates, yes, but lovers of all things equestrian first and foremost.
They found Silverblaze on the moors and, knowing he was under threat, they concealed him, even dyeing his iconic white head. That community waltz. If there's one thing they care about more than their successes and failures, it's the horses. Well, it doesn't look like it when they're whipping them for 200 yards. Look at him, the most famous horse in the world, just trotting about like nothing's happened. Mm-hmm.
How are they even letting it happen? Disqualify an already qualified horse. Come on, mate. Please. I think they'd much rather accept Silver Blaze and bask in this once-in-a-generation publicity, don't you? Hmm. You put my phone in his saddle so you could track him. I did indeed. And then lied to my face about it. I didn't. I concealed it. Concealing the truth. Yeah, yeah, there's a lot of that going around.
He's going to race. He's actually going to race. He certainly is.
And they are off for the 2024 Grand National. The runners stream down the walls to the first of 30 fences. Bayard and Speak Up Arthur first to get ahead. Hawkers Revenge and Punch Prince right up there as well. Prominent in the centre of the racecourse is High Flyer and Ghost Girl. All eyes though on Silver Blaze and they take the first. A stumble from Silver Blaze, Simba Sunshine is down and Bayard stretches that early lead.
On towards the second with Bayard and Ghost Girl leading, AJ Anaheim is down and it's Bayard followed by Ghost Girl followed by High Flyer and Royal Hero then Morning Thunder, Punch Prince and Speak Up Arthur. Towards the back Silver Blaze and Orca's Revenge and Hazy Daisy fall to the fourth as they jump the ditch.
Luxion doesn't land it, Silverblaze does and still races on. Bayard leads with Highflyer just behind, followed by Ghost Girl and Royal Hero. Speak Up Arthur on the inside is going okay with Winterstar and Fallen Kingdom in behind as they jump the next. The leaders are safely over. Burning Limbo is gone and Punch Prince takes a tumble. Silverblaze moves to the inside behind Fallen Kingdom. Still he won't give in. Looks like Bobby Dino has pulled up as Bayard takes the next fence without trouble. Ghost Girl in second, Royal Hero in third, Highflyer falling back to fourth.
I say please!
Silverblaze is now trying to get on terms with the front three as he moves past Highflyer into fourth. Bayard keeps control with Ghost Girl and Royal Hero neck and neck in behind as they begin the left-hand turn for home towards the second last. Bayard and Ghost Girl, Royal Hero chased by Silverblaze who's crowded out on the inside.
They approach 2 for the end in the National as Silverblaze throws Caution to the wind and moves to the outside. Bayard, Ghostgirl and Royal Hero make the fence as does Silverblaze. The gap between these four closing as Bayard starts to weaken. The final fence in the National and it's Bayard, Royal Hero and Silverblaze as Ghostgirl falters. They're approaching the elbow with Bayard holds the lead. Silverblaze is neck and neck in second with Royal Hero. Silverblaze now through to the inside to push into second. Bayard leaves
God, I don't think I've ever seen you look this smug. I mean, I've seen you look smug, but this is something else. Been a rather fun few days, hasn't it?
Well, yeah. Would have preferred being kept a little bit more in the loop. It helps my process. I know, I know. Let the thoughts stew. Exactly. However, and you know, look, I don't mean to wipe the big smug smile off your face. There's just a wee question of... Oh, that's it, yeah. Who murdered June Straker? One of the main reasons we took on the case. He's behind you. Aha, very funny. It's a bit early for panto, Sherlock. No, seriously.
What? The murderer is behind you. The jockey? Nope. Claire Balding? No. That bloke with the handlebar moustache? No, not that bloke either. The one with the flowers round his neck and the leather saddle? Long black tail, four legs. Sorry, sorry, right, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. What's wrong? You're telling me...
Silver Blaze murdered June Straker. Yes, I am telling you that. Although, really, it was you that told me. You just didn't put it together, and I did. Shall we grab a drink? Can you say it into the microphone, please, so everyone can hear how insane you sound? Silver Blaze murdered June Straker. Oh, God. I don't know if I'm sleep-deprived or if I've just completely lost it.
What's wrong? Let's just slow down. What are you talking about? Horses, Watson. You've been warning me of their murderous capabilities this whole time. He is a horse. Yes. A horse doing what a horse does when alarmed. June grabbed his hind leg, attempted to injure him with a cataract knife, and then she was struck. A force of 2,000 psi, steel-clad, and propelled at her skull at 200 miles an hour.
It nearly took her head clean off. Skull ruptured into six pieces. Teeth blown out her mouth. Jaw hanging by a thread. You said it yourself. Don't go behind the horse. Certainly don't kneel down and attempt to harm them. She was killed by a bloody horse. Yep. And Inspector Gregory is close, but wrong. It wasn't an S. It was a five. Shoe size. Horse shoe size five. Huh. She was killed by a bloody horse.
Drink? Yes, but you will have to tone down the smugness. Too smug? Way, way too smug. Well, I very rarely bet, so I think the smugness is warranted. You what? My bet came in. You bet on Silver Blade? For God's sake, mate! The cashier almost laughed me out of Aintree Racecourse, but they accepted it. Who's laughing now?
You bastard. Why didn't you tell me? I could have put money on that. Well, would you have believed me? No, probably not. Well, there you go. Still, that is not on. You know I'm strapped for cash. I could have made a shit ton. I don't think you would have had the nerve. Ah, wouldn't have had the nerve. Come on, what were the odds? I'm not telling you. Tell me. Nope. Tell me.
Tell me the odds now or I'll get silver blaze to kick you in the other eye. Never ever telling you. Oh, please. Come on. How much did you make? A grand? Two grand? Five grand. Help. Sherlock, don't be a child, mate. Just tell me. Tell me. Mate, I'm talking to you. Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock. She was killed by a horse.
What a world we live in, folks. I hope you enjoyed that adventure. Don't give me bollocks about it being four parts. Welcome to the incentivized structure of podcasting. You know, I didn't build this industry. I just operate in it.
If you want stuff, do you like stuff? Well, if you do like stuff, go to SherlockandCo.co.uk and go to our brand new shop. Get your fill of an exclusive initial run of Sherlock and Co. T-shirts, mugs, stickers, pin badges, pop sockets, loads and loads and loads of stuff. Stuff. This outro's really gone off the rails. Bye-bye. Bye-bye.