The Poisoning in the Pub (3 page)

‘No, they don’t come on duty till twelve.’

‘And Ed does all the cooking?’

‘Yes. Zosia and one of the girls might help him plating up if he’s really pushed, but he does virtually everything himself. Bloody genius, he is. That’s why it’s going to
be such a bugger when he goes back up to London.’

‘So would Ed have stayed in the kitchen all morning?’

‘Most of it. But he would nip out every hour or so.’

‘Oh?’

‘Boy’s a smoker. Knew he couldn’t smoke in his kitchen, even before the ban came in. So he nips out to the car park or round the back for a drag every now and then.’

‘For how long?’

Ted Crisp shrugged. ‘How long does it take to smoke a cigarette? Such a long time since I’ve touched one of the things, I’ve forgotten.’

‘And is there anyone else who might have been in the kitchen that morning?’

‘No.’ Ted seemed uncertain, then said, ‘Well . . .’

‘There was someone else?’

‘Only Ray,’ Ted replied reluctantly. Jude raised an interrogative eyebrow. ‘Ray. You may have seen him around. Short bloke in his forties, looks a bit vacant, walks a bit
funny.’

‘Oh, I think I’ve seen him, yes. Does he work for you?’

‘Well, not on an official basis. But I give him the odd fiver for sweeping the place out, doing the odd bit of washing up, you know. Ray’s, you know . . . he’s . . .
don’t know what the politically correct acceptable phrase is these days? “Simple”? “Differently abled”? You know what I mean, anyway.’

‘Sure. So you give him odd jobs to help him out?’

The landlord looked uncomfortable at this exposure of his philanthropy. ‘Well, yes, a bit. He is quite useful round the place, though,’ he added defensively. ‘Moving heavy
stuff, you know . . .’

‘And Ray’s entirely trustworthy, is he?’

Again Ted looked embarrassed. ‘Yeah. Not bright enough to do anything crooked.’

‘Was he likely to have touched the scallops?’

‘No, no chance,’ came the brusque reply. ‘Thing with Ray is he’ll do anything you tell him to, but nothing off his own initiative. He wouldn’t have touched the
scallops unless someone had told him to.’ The landlord looked anxiously at his watch. ‘I wonder what’s happening with that old girl at the hospital . . .?’

‘Bettina Smiley.’

‘Right. If she pegs out . . . God, that’ll be all I need.’

‘She looked terribly frail. If she does peg out, I’m sure it won’t be simply because of the scallops.’

‘No, but it doesn’t look good, does it? Local paper with a headline reading: “Old lady dies after eating meal in the Crown and Anchor.” Not exactly the sort of headline
I’ve been looking for all my life.’

Jude was silent for a moment, then asked, ‘Ted, do you think the scallops were tampered with?’

‘I don’t know. That’s the only explanation I can find that fits the facts. Though how it happened or who . . .’ His words petered out in incomprehension.

‘Have you got any enemies?’

He reached for the whisky bottle and recharged his glass. ‘Where do you want me to start?’

Jude woke feeling better the next morning and, after a breakfast of toast and honey, thought normal life might be once again a possibility. It was another beautiful day, the
July sun already high in a cloudless sky. Her instinct was to go round and knock on the door of High Tor, but then, thinking that Carole might still be bedridden, she used the phone.

‘I just wondered if you were feeling any better?’

‘No,’ Carole’s strained voice replied.

‘Have you been sick?’

This received another appalled ‘No!’

‘Well, if there’s anything I can get you from the shops . . .’

‘No, thank you. I don’t feel like eating.’

‘Any medicines you need?’

‘I don’t need any. I’ll just drink water to flush it out of my system.’

‘Oh. And you’re sure you don’t feel any better?’

‘No.’

‘Ah.’ There was one test Jude knew she could use to find out if her neighbour really was as ill as she claimed. ‘Ted came round for a drink last night . . .’

‘Really?’ Carole was instantly alert. Rather surprisingly, she had once had a brief affair with the landlord of the Crown and Anchor. It had long ago fizzled down into friendship,
and they could meet without awkwardness in the public territory of the pub. But the idea of Ted Crisp paying a social visit to Woodside Cottage . . . well, that did challenge Carole Seddon’s
proprietorial instincts.

‘He was very miserable. He’s been closed down pending a Health and Safety inspection.’

‘Well, he can’t complain,’ said Carole rather prissily. ‘If his kitchen is careless enough to serve dodgy shellfish . . .’

‘I agree. If that was what happened. But from what Ted said, it was more than just carelessness.’

‘What do you mean?’ The alertness with which Carole picked up the hint suggested that her health might possibly be on the mend.

‘He thinks someone might have arranged what happened, deliberately, to sabotage his business.’

‘Did he suggest who might have done that? Did you ask whether he had any enemies?’ Carole’s questions were now positively eager.

‘I did. He replied at great length, but I’m afraid didn’t say much that was very coherent.’

‘Oh?’

‘He had drunk rather a lot of whisky.’

‘That’s unlike him.’

‘I agree. He’s in quite a bad state. That’s why he was drinking so much.’

‘But didn’t he say what was wrong?’

‘His basic problems seem to be financial. From what he said, he’s only just managing to keep the Crown and Anchor open.’

‘Would he make anything much if he sold the place?’

‘Yes, I think he’d probably do all right. But the one fact that came through very clearly was that he doesn’t want to sell up. In spite of his less than enthusiastic manner,
Ted really loves running the Crown and Anchor. He’d be shattered if he had leave the place.’

‘I know. He talks about the pub a bit like people talk about their children. He can criticize it as much as he likes, but once someone else starts, he gets very defensive.’

‘Yes.’

‘But are you saying, Jude, that Ted thinks what happened with the scallops . . . assuming it was sabotage . . . was an attempt by someone to force him to sell up?’

‘He implied that, without putting it in so many words.’

‘And when you asked him about having any enemies, did he mention any names?’

‘No. All he said was that his “bloody ex-wife” had come back into his life.’

‘Oh, really?’ said Carole Seddon.

Stuck on the main doors of the Crown and Anchor was an A4 sheet on which had been printed in a large font: CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Under this someone had scrawled in red
felt pen: ‘Dew to customers being poissoned’. Jude felt pretty sure Ted Crisp hadn’t yet seen the addition; he wouldn’t have let it stay there for long. So when, at about
twelve o’clock, Zosia opened the locked door to her, Jude pointed it out. The girl immediately tore down the notice and said she’d print up a new one.

Jude had met Zosia when she had come over from Warsaw following the murder of her brother Tadeusz, and the two had bonded immediately, in spite of their age difference. The girl’s full
name was Zofia Jankowska, but everyone called her Zosia. When she had first arrived in England her English had been limited, but she had applied herself and now spoke with only a trace of an
accent. She had enrolled in a journalism course at the University of Clincham, and managed to fit her commitments at the Crown and Anchor around her studies. She always wore her blonded hair in
pigtails, and her hazel eyes sparkled with energy.

‘Ted will not be pleased with that,’ she said, indicating the graffiti on the notice.

‘I got the impression he wasn’t very pleased with much at the moment. He came round for a drink to my place last night. Seemed to be in a bad way. That’s really why I dropped
round this morning – just to see that he’s OK.’

‘When the pub’s closed, he is like a . . . what do you say – “bear with a headache”?’

‘“Bear with a sore head”.’

‘Yes, that is right. Though he doesn’t look like one, he is a real workaholic. He cannot be doing nothing.’

They were now inside the empty bar. ‘Ted’s out the back,’ Zosia went on. ‘I’ll take you to—’

‘Just a minute.’ Jude held the girl back with a touch on her arm. ‘Before I see him, I just wondered if you had any ideas about what might have happened yesterday.’

‘With the scallops? I’m sorry, Jude, I’d forgotten. You were one of the people who ate them, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, but I’m fine now, don’t worry.’

‘And Carole?’

‘Not so good, I’m afraid. But I’m sure she’ll soon be better. Incidentally, have you heard anything from the hospital? About the woman who was taken there? Bettina
Smiley?’

Zosia’s pigtails swayed as she firmly shook her head. ‘We have heard nothing. Ted is worrying about that too. Mind you, there’s no reason why the hospital should tell us, is
there?’

‘Probably not. Maybe I could make an enquiry . . .’

Zosia made as if to lead her friend through to the kitchen, but Jude again resisted. ‘Just a quick word before I see Ted. Have you any idea what went wrong with the scallops
yesterday?’

Another decided shake of the head. ‘I suppose it must have been the suppliers.’

‘Ted said they were normally very reliable.’

‘They are. And they don’t like what is being said about them. Ted had a furious managing director on the phone for a good half hour this morning.’

‘You haven’t had your Health and Safety inspection yet?’

‘No. They rang first thing, and said they’d try to fit it in this afternoon. But they didn’t sound optimistic. Ted’ll go mad if he has to keep closed for another
day.’

‘Last night he said . . . well, he was rambling a bit, but he said he thought someone might have tampered with the scallops, that it might have been sabotage.’

‘That is the obvious thing to think, when there is no other explanation. Except I don’t see how it could have been done. Either Ed or I was in the kitchen all the time.’

‘Did you see Ed take the delivery?’

‘Yes, I did. I was in and out to the bar all the time, but I was actually in the kitchen when the seafood delivery came. Ed checked it, signed for the stuff, it was no different from
usual.’

‘Ted mentioned someone called Ray who helps out.’

‘Yes, poor old Ray. He is not . . .’ Zosia made a circling movement with a finger by her temple ‘. . . not right in the head, you know.’

‘Is he in today?’

‘No. He rather comes and goes when he feels like it. That’s why Ted can’t really employ him on an official basis. Ray’s not good at following a regular schedule. And he
seemed very upset by what happened yesterday. We might not see him for a while now. He takes things very much to heart.’

‘Do you know where he lives?’

‘One of these projects where people with the same sort of disabilities share flats. You know, they are independent, but they are quite carefully supervised. Where it is exactly I
don’t know. In Fethering, though, I think. I’m sure Ted would have an address for him.’

‘And you don’t think Ray could have had anything to do with sabotaging the scallops?’

Zosia’s brow wrinkled as she dismissed the idea. ‘Even if he had the intelligence to work out something like that – which I’m sure he hasn’t – Ray would never
knowingly do anything that might hurt another person. Ray is
too
good,
too
prepared to believe the best of everyone.’

‘But is he—?’

Jude’s question was interrupted by the ringing of the phone behind the bar. Zosia moved towards it, but Ted Crisp, emerging suddenly from the kitchen, got there first. ‘Crown and
Anchor. Yes, that’s me. Oh, right, we spoke earlier. What? Oh, are you sure you can’t? Very well. Expect you tomorrow. When you like. I’m not going anywhere. Goodbye.’

He slammed the handset down and let out the burst of expletives which he had been restraining while being polite on the phone.

‘Was it them?’ asked Zosia when he was quiet.

‘Yes. Can’t come till bloody tomorrow now.’

‘Your Health and Safety inspection?’

Ted Crisp nodded savagely, too preoccupied by his anger to welcome Jude. He banged his fist down on the counter. ‘Another whole bloody day! Another day without business, right in the
middle of the tourist season. Another day for the rumour mill to go into overdrive. Another day for the gossips of Fethering to inflate a small outbreak of food poisoning into the bloody Black
Death!’

‘It’ll be fine,’ said Jude soothingly. ‘You said last night that you’d pass any inspection.’

‘That’s not the point. The worst thing that can happen to any pub’s business is to be closed. And the longer it stays closed, the harder it is to get the punters back. Anyway,
knowing the way my luck’s going at the moment, Health and Safety probably will find something wrong.’

‘But surely—?’

This attempt at reassurance was cut short by the sound of the pub door opening. Zosia had omitted to relock it after letting Jude in. The man who entered was a kind of dapper hippy. He wore
jeans, a flowered shirt and cowboy boots, but they were designer jeans, the shirt was too well cut to be cheap, and the cowboy boots had been buffed to a high gloss. Their substantial heels made
some compensation for his shortness. There was a neat square of grey beard on his chin and his long grey hair was gathered in a ponytail. From some context Jude could not immediately place, he
looked very familiar.

The newcomer took in the empty pub and his lip curled into a cynical smile. ‘I thought you said the place was doing good business, Ted.’

He moved forward and flashed the whitened teeth of a professional charmer at Jude and Zosia. ‘Hello, ladies. Dan Poke’s my name. You probably recognize me from the
television.’

Jude now knew exactly who he was. Zosia, who didn’t even possess a television because she had no time between her studies and work at the Crown and Anchor, gave a polite grin that implied
she did too.

‘So, Ted, how’s tricks – which is the one thing you mustn’t say at a convention of conjurors!’ The lip-curled smile reappeared as he enveloped the landlord in a
bear hug which somehow didn’t seem as spontaneous as it was meant to look.