The Poisoning in the Pub (17 page)

‘Maybe, but if Ted won’t tell me or my solicitor who his solicitor is, the whole situation becomes rather complicated. My solicitor says that there are legal sanctions that can be
brought to bear on people who don’t respond to solicitors’ letters.’ Sylvia was clearly parroting the words of her adviser as she voiced this threat. ‘And I’m sure Ted
wouldn’t want to be in any more trouble with the law than he is already.’

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t.’ Carole took a sip of mineral water before moving into more investigative mode. ‘With regard to his being in trouble with the law . .
.’

‘Hm?’ Sylvia didn’t look very interested in pursuing the conversation.

‘. . . he does seem to have had a sequence of bad luck, doesn’t he?’

Sylvia shrugged her tanned shoulders. ‘Bad luck or inefficiency.’

‘Where would you say he’s been inefficient?’

‘Well, that food-poisoning outbreak . . . got to be down to slack standards in the kitchen, hasn’t it?’

Carole restrained herself from a detailed defence of Ted and Ed Pollack’s standards of hygiene, instead suggesting, ‘Or down to sabotage?’

Sylvia’s puzzled reaction suggested that this was an idea which had genuinely not occurred to her before. And Carole didn’t think she was a good enough actress to make such a
pretence. Her reactive question also implied she had just been given a new thought. ‘But who’d want to sabotage the Crown and Anchor?’

‘Someone who wanted to make life tough for Ted. Someone who wanted him to have to sell up.’ Carole decided to be bold. ‘Someone like you.’

The response to this too showed real bewilderment. ‘Me?’

‘You want Ted to sell up, don’t you?’

‘I want a proper divorce settlement. If he’s got other money stashed away with which he can fund that, well and good. If he hasn’t, then my solicitor says he’ll have to
sell the pub to pay me off.’ Every mention of her solicitor seemed to give the woman more confidence.

But Carole’s confidence was building too. In authoritative tones she announced, ‘The food poisoning was definitely caused by sabotage. Before he died, Ray Witchett admitted that he
had changed round a tray of fresh scallops in the kitchen of the Crown and Anchor for some dodgy ones that he had been given.’

‘Really?’ This was all news to Sylvia.

‘What is more, there is a strong suspicion that the dodgy scallops were delivered to the kitchen by your fiancé, Matt.’

‘Matt?’ came the amazed echo.

‘Yes. How long have you known Matt, by the way?’

‘Only a few weeks. We met in a pub in Worthing. I’d been staying in a B&B over there since I’d been trying to get some action out of Ted. You know what he’s like. He
won’t answer phone calls or letters. If you want to get something out of him, you have to turn up in person.’

‘Are you still in Worthing?’

‘Yes.’ She grinned with feline satisfaction. ‘But in Matt’s place now.’

‘Right. Well, look, you know he works as a delivery driver for the brewery that supplies the Crown and Anchor . . .’

‘Of course I do.’

‘On the morning of the Monday when the food-poisoning outbreak occurred, Matt delivered some beer barrels in such a way that Ted and his staff had to go down to the cellar to unjam them.
During that time it seems very likely that Matt went round to the kitchen and gave Ray the scallops that caused the sickness.’

‘Really?’ A change had come over Sylvia. From being bewildered, she now looked almost excited by the news she was getting. ‘You think Matt did that?’

‘Yes. Did he tell you that was what he was planning to do?’

‘No. He didn’t tell me anything about it.’ She seemed more excited, even ecstatic.

‘Are you sure you didn’t set him up to do it?’

‘No. Why on earth would I?’

‘Because,’ Carole explained patiently, ‘the outbreak of food poisoning caused the pub to be closed down, which put more pressure on Ted, was a threat to his business, and made
it more likely that he would be forced to sell the Crown and Anchor and pay you the settlement your solicitor is demanding.’

‘Yes,’ Sylvia said, as though she were spelling out to herself some wonderful news. ‘Yes, now you mention it, I can see that.’

‘But are you saying you didn’t set Matt up to do it?’

‘No. No, he must have worked it all out for himself. Oh, I’ve underestimated him,’ she added fondly.

‘What on earth do you mean by that?’ It was Carole’s turn to be bewildered.

‘I mean that I’ve always been slightly worried with Matt . . . you know, whether he really loves me as much as I love him. I mean, he hasn’t got a demonstrative nature. He
doesn’t really show his feelings much . . . you know, except in bed.’ There was no way she was going to miss that out. ‘But this shows how much he cares. He knew how upset I was
about trying to get the divorce from Ted. He knew how much difference it would make if Ted had to sell the Crown and Anchor . . . and Matt, all on his own, out of his own head, worked out this
clever plan to sabotage the scallops.’ She hugged herself with glee. ‘Ooh, he’s such a lovely man.’

God, thought Carole, how stupid can someone be? But she was convinced that, before it was mentioned that afternoon, Sylvia Crisp had known nothing about the sabotage in the Crown and Anchor
kitchen.

Jude spoke to Sally Monks on the phone that evening, and caught up with the news that had been travelling along the social workers’ grapevine. The police had checked out
Nell Witchett’s flat, but had not stayed there long. There would be a postmortem, because she had died so soon after her son, but there seemed to be a general view that there were no
suspicious circumstances surrounding the old woman’s death.

Sally wasn’t surprised by the theory Jude put forward about Nell Witchett being at one level relieved by her son’s murder. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time that had
happened, the caring parent feeling that a great burden’s been lifted. It’s a while since I’ve had direct contact with Nell, probably seven or eight years back, but even then she
was worrying about what would happen to Ray after she’d gone. So, though she may have regretted the circumstances . . .’

‘Even the circumstances were perhaps not that bad,’ suggested Jude. ‘Terrible to have your child murdered, but at least for Ray it must have been very quick. So far as Carole
and I could see, there was no sign of a struggle. Whoever stabbed him must have been able to get very close. Which made us think that perhaps it was someone he knew.’

‘Could be that,’ Sally agreed, ‘but then again Ray was so trusting, he’d have let anyone come up close to him, even if they were brandishing a kitchen knife.’

There was a silence, as both women contemplated the sadness of an innocent’s death. Then Jude said, ‘Sally, I’m determined to find out who killed Ray.’

‘Yes, I rather got the impression you were. I also got the impression that your interest was . . . let’s say, more than idle curiosity.’

There was a momentary temptation to confess the real extent of Jude and Carole’s investigative activities, but she resisted it. ‘I want to know for Ray’s sake really. It just
seems so unfair for something like that to happen to someone like that. And also it’s a bit for Ted Crisp’s sake, as well.’ Which wasn’t untrue, though it was a partial
truth. ‘I wonder if there’s some link between Ray’s murder and all the other things that have been going wrong at the pub. I want to find out who it is who’s got it in for
Ted in such a big way.’

‘Hm. Well, anything I can do to help . . . We social workers do have quite a lot of insight into what goes on around here.’

‘Thanks, Sally. I’ll be glad to take you up on that. And, actually, now I remember, there was something I wanted to ask you about.’

‘Fire away.’

‘That girl Kelly-Marie . . .’

‘Up at Copsedown Hall?’

‘Yes. Nell Witchett said that she and Ray used to talk a lot together.’

‘I can believe it. They’re a pair of the gentlest people I’ve ever met. Would have had a lot in common.’

‘I was going to go up to Copsedown Hall and talk to Kelly-Marie.’

‘Good idea.’

‘I just wondered if there was anything I ought to be aware of. You implied you knew her.’

‘Yes. She was my responsibility for a time. Very well organized.’

‘That’s what Nell said.’

‘Knows her limitations. Very aware of the things she can’t do. But she doesn’t let it get to her. A perpetually sunny disposition. God, I wish more of my charges were like
her.’

‘Has she got parents still alive?’

‘Yes, nice middle-class couple up in Fedborough. And a couple of brothers, I think, who have no disabilities. It was Kelly-Marie herself who announced she wanted to live somewhere like
Copsedown Hall, to prove she could be that independent. Which she certainly has proved.’

‘How do you think she’ll have taken Ray’s death?’

‘I think she’ll be upset, but not totally devastated. Kelly-Marie does understand about death. She does know that her parents won’t be there forever.’

‘And you don’t think my talking to her about Ray would upset her?’

‘No. Anyway, Jude, she’ll tell you if she thinks it will. She’s very direct.’

‘No idea what she’s doing at the moment, whether she works . . . ?’

‘I’m pretty sure she has got a job.’

‘I was just wondering when might be the best time to call at Copsedown Hall, you know, when she’s likely to be in . . .’

‘Oh, don’t just go up on the off chance. She’s got a mobile. Ring her.’

‘And do you, by any chance, have her number?

Sally Monks did.

The two neighbours met up later for a glass of wine in the garden of Woodside Cottage, which, like its owner, looked lush and abundant. Carole didn’t know how Jude did
it. There was never any sign of her actually working in the garden, very little evident watering, minimal mowing of the lawn. And there were certainly none of the geometric paths and borders that
distinguished the garden of High Tor. But, in spite of this, at the back of Woodside Cottage everything flourished, even in as dry a summer as the one they were currently experiencing. Carole had
never liked to ask how this horticultural miracle had been achieved. She was afraid she’d get some more of Jude’s New Age mumbo-jumbo. If her neighbour went out and talked to the plants
at midnight – which she was quite capable of doing – well, Carole Seddon didn’t want to know about it.

Jude quickly brought her up to date with what she’d heard from Sally Monks. ‘I’d be very surprised if there turns out to be anything suspicious about Nell Witchett’s
death.’

‘Except that it came so soon after her son’s murder.’

‘I’m not saying the two are unconnected. I think that Nell had just been holding herself together because she was worried about who would look after Ray when she’d gone. Once
he was dead, she relaxed and the death that had been on hold for months, possibly years, caught up with her.’

Carole sniffed. Her logical instincts went against the idea of people choosing the time of their own death, but she couldn’t deny that Jude’s argument was persuasive.

‘Anyway, putting that on one side, you said you were going to speak to Kelly-Marie . . .’

‘Yes. I phoned her. Very happy to talk to me, but she can’t do anything till Saturday. She’s got a job in one of the Fethering retirement homes – just cleaning I think
basically – and she’s got an eight-hour shift tomorrow.’

‘Ah,’ said Carole. ‘I won’t be around on Saturday.’

Though neither said anything, both women were relieved by this news. They both knew Jude would be better on her own with Kelly-Marie.

‘Where will you be?’

Carole looked rather embarrassed. ‘Fulham. I’m having lunch with Stephen and Gaby. Then they want to go off and buy a new laptop for Gaby . . .’

‘And leave you looking after Lily?’

‘Yes. It won’t be for long, and she does still have a sleep in the afternoon, but . . .’ Carole looked nervous. ‘I hope she’ll be all right with me.’

‘Of course she will,’ said Jude in a way that ruled out any negative thinking. ‘Anyway, tell me what happened earlier this evening. The lovely Sylvia came to see
you?’

‘Yes, and what a poisonous woman she is. Deeply stupid too, I reckon. But I think I have got a link between Matt and the dodgy scallops.’ Briefly Carole recapped her conversation
with Sylvia.

Jude sat back and took a thoughtful sip of her wine. ‘That’s good. And of course Matt dresses in black leather, doesn’t he? Just like the bikers do. Maybe he was behind the
sudden influx of bikers into the Crown and Anchor.’

Carole was attracted by the idea. Her pale blue eyes sparkled as a chain of logic began to join up in her mind.

‘So it looks,’ said Jude, ‘like we need to make contact with the monosyllabic Matt.’

‘Yes, I thought I’d do that,’ said Carole boldly. ‘For a start, he knows who I am. Then again, if he and Sylvia are really under the illusion that Ted and I are an
item
. . .’ She didn’t manage to suppress all of her distaste for the expression ‘. . . then it might not seem odd if I were to approach him.’

‘Makes sense.’

‘The question is: where am I going to find him? We don’t know his surname, so the basic phone-book approach is out of the question.’

‘Ted must have a number for where Sylvia’s staying. She keeps on and on about wanting him to ring her back.’

‘Yes, but Ted’s in such an uncooperative mood at the moment. I tried ringing him at the Crown and Anchor earlier. Zosia said he wasn’t there, but there was a kind of hesitancy
in her voice that made me think he probably
was
there, just not taking calls.’

‘We could go back down to the pub and confront him.’

Carole looked at her watch. ‘Nearly closing time. We’d be lucky to make it before they locked up. Anyway, as I said, I don’t think Ted’s very likely to give us much
cooperation.’

‘Well, he’s got to start cooperating. Keeping things to himself isn’t doing any good. If he’d told the police about Ray being in the kitchen alone that Monday morning
when the rest of them were all down in the beer cellar . . .’

Jude didn’t need to finish the sentence. Another silence ensued. Finally the day was beginning to cool. The slightest of breezes animated the herbal smells of Jude’s garden.