The setting was stunning. Weldisham nestled into a fold of the Downs, an archetype of the kind of serenity which was expected from an English country village. Of course, as Carole and Jude had cause to know, the image of serenity could be deceptive. Seething passions lurked beneath that harmless exterior.
The thought prompted Jude to say, “Difficult to be here without remembering the murder we solved, isn’t it?”
“Yes. What was the name of that slimy specimen who managed the pub then?”
“Will something, wasn’t it?”
“Will Maples,” Carole pronounced with satisfaction at having remembered. “Thin, shifty character, wasn’t he? I wonder where he went.”
“As far away from here as he could get. When his bosses found he’d been peddling drugs at the Hare and Hounds they can’t have been best pleased. And what was the name of that girl with M.E. whose parents lived up here?”
“Can’t remember. Anyway, never mind that.” Carole was much more interested in the current investigation than in nostalgia for an old case. “Tell me what happened this morning at the Crown and Anchor.”
Jude gave a quick summary, and got the sniffy response that if Ted Crisp had been poisoning the people of Fethering then his pub deserved to be closed down.
“But it’s not his fault. He and I are both convinced he’s been the victim of sabotage.”
“Oh really, Jude. I think you’re being a little melodramatic, Ted has broken the law and he must face the consequences. It must have been a foul-up in his kitchen. Some past-their-sell-by scallops must’ve been served up by mistake.”
“That seems very unlikely. He’s used the same supplier for years – their stuff’s always been perfect. And his staff are very reliable.”
This was treated to a sceptical – “Huh. So the place gets inspected tomorrow?”
“Yes. Unless the Health and Safety people delay it yet again.”
“And if something is found to be wrong, what kind of penalties might he be liable for?”
“I don’t know in detail, but Ted talked about a hefty fine. In the worst-case scenario he could be closed down for good.”
“And what would make it a worst-case scenario?”
“I’m not sure. If somebody died from the food poisoning, perhaps?”
“But nobody has, have they?”
“Well, we know you and I haven’t, but the old lady who was carted off to hospital…I’ve no idea what’s happened to her.”
“Bettina Smiley,” said Carole.
Jude looked curiously at her neighbour. “You speak as if you know her.”
“I do. Well, know her in the sense that I know who she is. The way one does know people in Fethering. You nod politely if you see them, but you don’t actually socialize.”
“But I didn’t see you nod politely when you saw her in the Crown and Anchor yesterday.”
“Oh, I did. You didn’t notice because you were up at the bar getting drinks. Yes, I’ve spent quite a few bring-and-buy coffee mornings with Bettina and Alec Smiley…even one in their house.” In response to her friend’s interrogative expression, Carole went on, “For the Canine Trust. You know I’m a member of that.” She looked down at Gulliver snuffling contentedly under the table. “We dog-owners all know each other. We’re a kind of local Mafia.”
“Oh.” Then Jude said, “But you didn’t say anything when Bettina collapsed.”
Carole’s pale cheeks reddened. “At that moment I was in no condition to say anything.”
“No. Well, do you reckon you know Eric Smiley well enough to ring up and ask how his wife is?”
“Certainly. And since I was there when it happened, it would only be polite for me to make such an enquiry.”
“Do you want to use my mobile?”
“No, thank you,” said Carole primly. “I have my own.” And she took out the fairly recent acquisition.
But the call had to be deferred. There was no signal up in Weldisham. So they settled down to enjoy the beautiful setting and their salads. Afterwards they strolled over the Downs, which for Gulliver was a nirvana of unfamiliar and intriguing smells.
When they returned to High Tor, Carole called the Smileys’ number from her landline. (She never used her mobile at home – the monthly bills were already expensive enough.) Jude pieced together most of what was said from the half of the conversation she could hear, but at the end Carole confirmed it. Bettina Smiley had been kept in hospital the previous night for observation, but she was now safely back at home in Fethering, a bit frail, but seeming to have suffered no lasting damage.
So the poisoning in the pub had not caused any deaths. Yet.
Five
The Health and Safety inspection did happen on the Wednesday, and it brought good news for Ted Crisp. Nothing was found wrong with the standards of food hygiene in the kitchen of the Crown and Anchor. The remains of some of the Monday’s pan-fried scallops with spinach and oriental noodles, which had been punctiliously preserved according to instructions, were taken away for laboratory analysis (which might take some weeks). But the Health and Safety officials could find no reason why the Crown and Anchor should not reopen for business on the Thursday.
This good news, however, was counterbalanced the following day, when the Fethering Observer was published. The main headline read: CROWN AND ANCHOR SHUT DOWN IN POISONED SCALLOPS SCARE. The ensuing article contained all the righteous indignation of a local cub reporter with delusions of being a crusading journalist. It concluded: “Following complaints from customers, the Crown and Anchor will be closed until further notice.”
Carole had picked up a Fethering Observer from the local newsagent on her way back from Gulliver’s morning walk on the beach. (She did not believe in the indulgence of having papers delivered.) The headline couldn’t be missed; a paraphrase of it also appeared on the felt-tipped display boards for the Fethering Observer all around the town.
After she had towelled off Gulliver’s sandy paws and made herself a cup of coffee, she sat down at the kitchen table and read the whole item. It was another scorching day. The door to the garden was open, but the air didn’t seem to move at all.
Once she’d finished reading Carole phoned next door, but there was no reply from Woodside Cottage. Then she remembered that Jude had said something about going off to ‘a day’s conference on alternative therapies in Brighton on Thursday’. Probably the reason why Carole had forgotten that was the instinct her brain had to switch off whenever she heard the words ‘alternative therapy’.
She was surprised at how much the Fethering Observer report had upset her. In spite of the ‘serve him right’ attitude she had expressed earlier in the week, she felt terribly sorry for Ted Crisp. Though their brief affair had ended long before, she didn’t like to think of him suffering. So she rang through to the Crown and Anchor to commiserate.
The landlord was in a predictable state of fury. “I get the all-clear from Health and Safety yesterday. They say I can open up today, and then what bloody happens? The Fethering Observer only tells everyone from here to Fedborough that the Crown and Anchor’s ‘closed until further notice’! I think I can be excused for feeling paranoid. It’s not my imagination. Everybody bloody is picking on me!”