The Poisoning in the Pub (16 page)

‘Did you go back to the kitchen through the bar?’

The chef grinned sardonically. ‘You’re very good, Carole. Asking exactly the same questions as the police did. And I think I know what your next one will be too.’

‘Oh?’

‘Was the back door to the kitchen closed when I went in there?’ he parroted.

Carole looked a little taken aback. ‘I was going to ask that, yes.’

‘The answer is: it was. And no, I didn’t notice whether one of my kitchen knives was missing at that time, but I think it must have been. Certainly no one came into the kitchen while
I was there, which means that whoever took the knife must have done so earlier.’

‘So when did you open the back door?’

‘When I heard the police siren. Self-protection dictated that I should get off the scene as quickly as possible.’

‘Exactly what we thought,’ said Jude. ‘That’s why we went round the back, thought it would be simpler to get home that way rather than being questioned by the
police.’

Carole couldn’t stop herself from saying, ‘Not, of course, that we had anything to hide.’

Jude grinned. ‘No, of course not. So, Ed, when we saw you, it was just at the moment you’d opened the back door to make your getaway?’

‘Yes. Except that I didn’t realize it was you two. I’m blind as a bat without my glasses, so I could just see the outline of two people.’

‘But you did see what had happened to Ray?’

‘Yes. I saw something lying there when I opened the door. I had a close look at him – my eyesight’s OK really close.’ He swallowed nervously. ‘It was a bit of a
shock.’

‘I’m sure it was. So you could see the knife?’

‘Oh yes. And I recognized it as one of mine, but I didn’t really have time to take in the full implications of that. I was so shocked I wasn’t really thinking
straight.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Carole. ‘And . . . I think I probably know the answer to this question, but I’m going to ask it, anyway. Did you see anyone else around
the back of the kitchen?’

He shook his head. The action must have banged the bridge of his glasses against his nose. He winced before replying, ‘No. No one. Well, that is to say, I saw the bikers making their
getaway. And that little Smart car.’

‘Yes,’ Jude mused, ‘I wonder who was in that Smart car?’

‘Anyway, I didn’t see anyone else who was on their feet. Till you two appeared. I was only out there less than a minute.’

‘And you’re sure Dan Poke didn’t go into the kitchen?’ asked Carole.

‘Not after he’d finished his act, no. He was waiting there before Ted introduced him.’

‘While you were still tidying up?’

‘Yes, Jude.’

‘Did he say anything to you?’

‘Not a word.’

‘A bit standoffish of him.’

‘Well, he was about to do his act. He probably needed a bit of quiet time to, you know, get his concentration together.’ Ed Pollack was clearly one of those people who could find
excuses for anyone’s behaviour.

‘And . . . it’s hardly worth asking this either, but did you—’

Ed was ahead of Carole. ‘No, I did not see Dan Poke take one of my knives while he was here.’

Jude sighed. ‘So we aren’t really a lot further forward.’

‘Further in what?’

‘Well . . .’ She felt surprisingly embarrassed by the question.

‘Further in our investigation,’ said Carole firmly. ‘Jude and I are determined to find out who killed Ray Witchett. And indeed why.’

Ed Pollack nodded, rather more cautiously this time. ‘Good for you,’ he said. ‘If I remember anything else relevant, I’ll let you know. But I think it’s unlikely.
The police covered all of the ground with me, and you now know as much as I told them.’

‘Did you know,’ said Jude suddenly, ‘that Ray admitted to me that he’d changed round the tray of scallops in the fridge on that Monday?’

The chef looked really amazed by the news. ‘But why?’

‘Someone told him the ones in the fridge were poisoned. The exact opposite of the truth. Ray thought he was saving the Crown and Anchor from an attack of food poisoning.’

‘But who the hell told him that?’

Jude chewed her lip with frustration. ‘That’s the one thing that I don’t know. We were interrupted when Ray was about to tell me.’

‘And,’ said Carole tartly, ‘to stop him telling anyone is quite possibly the reason why he was murdered.’

The door from the bar clattered open and Zosia entered with a small pad from which she tore off a couple of sheets. ‘Food orders, Ed. We have actually got a few customers out
there.’

‘Oh, right, I’d better get on,’ he said, taking the orders. Zosia returned to the bar. ‘By the way,’ Ed asked Carole and Jude, ‘what are you two
having?’

‘What do you recommend?’

‘Actually,’ he replied hesitantly, ‘I do have some very nice scallops. Doing them with crispy bacon and leeks today.’

Jude, on the principle that lightning never struck twice, did go for the scallops. Carole, for whom the very idea revived her terror of being sick, opted for the shepherd’s pie. The chef
started to busy himself at the stove.

‘Ed,’ said Jude, ‘just going back to the Monday morning when the scallops were switched . . .’

‘Right,’ he murmured, preoccupied with pouring olive oil into a pan.

‘As I recall, you said you and Ted and Zosia were all out of here shifting some beer barrels in the cellar . . .’

‘Yes, they’d got jammed down the chute when they were taken off the delivery van.’

‘And did the delivery man help you down in the cellar?’

Ed Pollack let out a sardonic laugh. ‘No way. The day he does anything helpful, pigs’ll fly.’

‘Oh, so he’s a regular delivery man, is he?’

‘Yes. What’s more, you two have probably met him.’

Both women looked bemused. ‘Have we? Who is he?’

‘His name’s Matt. He’s the one who’s knocking around with Ted’s ex-wife.’

Carole made eye contact with Jude. ‘Is he now?’ she said.

Carole and Jude wanted to talk to Ted Crisp, but he wasn’t back from his visit to the bank by the time they’d finished their food. A few other customers had arrived
in the pub, but they were mostly French or Dutch tourists, who presumably did not know the Crown and Anchor’s sensational recent history.

Because business was slack, Carole and Jude managed to talk again to Zosia, but she couldn’t add much to their stock of information. Yes, she knew Matt sometimes drove the van that made
deliveries from the brewery, but she didn’t know much else about him. And she hadn’t noticed him doing anything unusual the morning of the food-poisoning debacle.

So the two women left the Crown and Anchor in a state of some frustration. The discovery about Matt might be a breakthrough, but they couldn’t quite see how. And they really needed to find
out more about Ray, who his contacts had been, how he used to spend his time. Jude wondered whether another visit to Nell Witchett might glean some more information, but she wasn’t
over-optimistic.

Almost every other potential line of enquiry involved talking to Ted Crisp, and even when they finally found him they weren’t sure how cooperative with them he would be.

Mind you, Jude’s scallops had been delicious.

When she got back to Woodside Cottage, the light on her answering machine was flashing. There was a brief message from Sally Monks.

That morning Nell Witchett had been found dead in her bed.

Carole also had a phone message when she returned to High Tor. It was from Sylvia. She just said ‘Sylvia’ on the phone. Carole hadn’t really considered before
what the woman’s surname might be, but she supposed it was probably still ‘Crisp’. Sylvia Crisp. What on earth could she want? Dutifully Carole returned the call.

‘Hello,’ said the distinctive nasal voice.

‘How did you get my phone number?’ asked Carole.

‘I am capable of using a phone book.’

‘Oh.’

‘Look, is Ted with you?’

‘Is Ted with
me
? Why on earth should he be?’

‘I can’t raise him at the pub, he’s not answering his mobile. I thought he might be hiding out with you.’

‘Why would he want to hide out with me?’

‘Well, you two are an item, aren’t you?’

Carole’s instinct was to deny the allegation hotly, but then she stopped to think. Sylvia might be more forthcoming if she believed she was talking to her ex-husband’s girlfriend. No
harm in letting the deception run for a little while, to see if it did lead to any revelations. So all she said was, ‘He’s not here.’

‘Where do you live?’ asked Sylvia brusquely.

‘If you’re so capable with phone books,’ Carole responded frostily, ‘I’d have thought you would notice that they contain addresses as well as numbers.’

‘Yes, all right, I know your address, but I don’t know where it is. I’m not a Fethering resident. Are you near the Crown and Anchor?’

‘About a five-minute walk. The High Street leads away from the sea, you know, it’s where the parade of shops is.’

‘I know it. I think it would save time, Carole, if you and I had a little talk.’

‘By all means.’

‘I’m in Worthing. I’ll be with you in as long as it takes.’ And the phone was put down.

Carole Seddon was affronted by the woman’s rudeness, but also intrigued. Just when most avenues of investigation seemed to be closing, here was a potential new one opening up. She dialled
1471 and took a note of Sylvia’s mobile number. Then she committed it to her memory – she had a photographic memory for phone numbers. You never knew when something like that would come
in handy.

They sat in the garden. Even there the air moved very little. Gulliver panted pathetically in the inadequate shade of the green table, and tried unsuccessfully to chew off the
bandaging round his leg.

Sylvia was wearing clothes which, though perfectly acceptable for the beach, looked out of place in the austere environment of High Tor. Another pair of microshorts – pale blue this time
– and plastic flip-flops. Above the waist nothing but a red bikini top, which did nothing to disguise the ampleness of her charms. Carole was already disposed against Ted Crisp’s
ex-wife, and the way the woman dressed for her visit did nothing to dilute the strength of that disapproval. Yes, the weather was hot, but standards still had to be maintained. A scarf over the
bare shoulders might seem to be a minimum requirement. Carole thought her own ensemble of grey linen trousers and a short-sleeved white blouse went quite as far as casual needed to go.

But clearly, not upsetting her hostess was low among Sylvia Crisp’s priorities. As soon as, having turned down offers of tea and coffee, she had been furnished with a glass of mineral
water, she launched straight into the purpose of her visit. ‘Come on, I want to know where Ted is.’

‘So far as I know, he’s at the pub. It has reopened. I was there at lunchtime.’

‘Did Ted mention I’d been trying to contact him?’

‘He wasn’t there. He had a meeting at the bank.’

‘But you’ll be seeing him soon?’

‘Possibly.’ Then Carole remembered she was trying to maintain the illusion that she and Ted were ‘an item’. ‘Certainly.’

‘Well, when you do see him, will you tell him to answer my bloody phone calls. Not to mention the phone calls from my solicitor.’

‘I’ll ask him,’ said Carole, ‘but I can’t guarantee that he’ll do it. As you must know, when Ted doesn’t want to do something, he can be very
bloody-minded about not doing it.’

‘Look, this is a legal matter. It’s not down to what Ted wants or doesn’t want to do. I need a divorce, and to get that my solicitor and I have to talk to him.’

‘Maybe your solicitor could talk to his solicitor?’ suggested Carole.

‘Yes, fine. That’d be a start. Except Ted won’t give me a name for his solicitor.’

‘I will try and find that out for you.’

But her magnanimity didn’t get any gratitude from Sylvia. ‘Do that. Then I can get things bloody moving.’

‘You’re so keen to get a divorce because you want to marry Matt?’

‘Not
want to
. I am
going to
marry Matt.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Carole drily.

There was an unpleasant light of mischief in Sylvia’s eyes as she went on, ‘And of course once the divorce has happened, there’ll be nothing to stop you and Ted getting
married.’

‘Thank you. But I don’t think that’s a very likely scenario.’

‘No, I wouldn’t have thought so.’ The woman looked Carole up and down in a disparaging manner. ‘Why should he bother with a piece of paper when he can get what he wants
for free?’

It was with great difficulty that her hostess bit back a response to this. Carole had suffered from more in-your-face insults since she’d met Sylvia than she had in all the rest of her
nice middle-class life.

She channelled her anger into a polite but direct question. ‘Sylvia, do you want Ted to sell the Crown and Anchor?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘unless he’s got some other loot stashed away that I don’t know about.’

‘You want the proceeds of the Crown and Anchor to fund your divorce settlement?’

‘Of course. It’s quite common when a divorce happens, the assets of the couple are divided up. That’s all I’m asking for.’

‘But when you and Ted split up, he had no assets.’

‘He does now. There’s got to be a hell of a lot of money tied up in that pub.’

‘It’s a business he built up on his own, though. You had nothing to do with it. You didn’t even meet during all the years he was getting the Crown and Anchor going. You
don’t have any rights to the money he’s made there.’

Sylvia smiled smugly. ‘My solicitor says I do.’

‘Well, your solicitor is wrong.’

‘I would think that my solicitor knows rather more about divorce law than you do, Carole.’

‘That’s quite possibly true. But Ted’s solicitor will no doubt be at least as well informed as yours is.’ Even as she said the words, Carole wished she believed them.
Ted’s casual mention of the man who had ‘dealt with the purchase of the Crown and Anchor’ did not inspire confidence in the arrival of a new Perry Mason on to his team.