Poisoning in the Pub, The. Simon Brett

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Poisoning in the Pub, The - Simon  Brett A Fethering Mystery

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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.’

      FOUR

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