‘ The number 7, Dave Smith and his horse, Prince, brillantly just passes the 13, his main competitor, Brad Johnson.’ The loudspeaker yelled.
The spectators looked anxious. Who is going to win ? A lot of money was at stake.
‘Oh my god !What’s going on ? Mr Smith just fell off his horse ! It seems like he can’t move… But don’t worry, several nurses will arrive to see what’s happening and of course the race continues, as we all know, the show must go on !’
Many screams ringed out from the terraces. Everyone was so shocked . The famous jockey was quietly lying on the freshly mowed grass and seemed, despite of many heart massages, dead. The day after, by a quiet morning, a strange man came to the hippodrome . He was wearing a dark costume with an elegant black bowler, carring a little notebook and always scratching his mustache. His name was Chuck Turnip, the most renomned detective of the whole country and he was investigating on this case.
If you have ever readen the newspapers at this time, you would have read a lot of gossips, true or false, about the death of Mr Smith. He was on every headlines. Everyone claimed that he had a heart attack but it wasn’t Turnip’s opinion. He was convinced that someone had kill him. The witnesses didn’t help either ; they all trusted the 1/6 newspapers. So he asked a forensic doctor to examinate the corpse. Two days later, he discovered, thanks to the autopsy, that he had been poisoned. All night long he tried to match each clue he had to others to find a possible suspect. He notices that Mr Johnson, an other famous jockey was mentioned in a lot of testimonies. He was competing for the first rank and he really needed the money because he had debts but after pendering over a lot, he concludes that it was too obvious, therefore too easy . *
To get more informations about Dave Smith, he asked for a search warrant and rushed to his house. He was living in a nice area near to a lovely park. At first glance,