by Simon Brett
To her surprise, when she had come off the phone Jude almost felt hungry. Her ready vomiting must have thoroughly cleared all the poison out of her system. Maybe she fancied a little soup? Or even something more substantial? But just the mental image of food prompted another wave of queasiness.
She decided she’d better check how things were with Ted Crisp and was surprised by how long it took for the Crown and Anchor phone to be answered. Perhaps just busy in the bar, she thought, about to hang up.
But then she heard Ted’s voice. And there was no background noise of a busy bar.
“Sorry it took me so long. I was upstairs in the flat.”
“I thought you were just busy.”
He let out a hollow laugh. “Can’t be busy when the pub’s closed, can you?”
“What?”
“Someone made a complaint…you know, after what happened at lunchtime. I’ve been closed down by Health and Safety until they do an inspection.”
“And when are they going to do that?”
“Hopefully tomorrow. They may not be able to do it for a few days though. God, and I’ve got this Dan Poke gig set up for Sunday. It’s the bloody limit! The longer a place like the Crown and Anchor’s closed, the longer it’ll take to build up my trade again. And this is my busiest period. What I take this time of year offsets those endless winter nights when I’ve just got three old farts nursing one half of bitter all evening.”
Ted Crisp sounded so gloomy that Jude couldn’t resist inviting him round for a drink. An offer that he took up with considerable alacrity.
♦
He refused her offer of soup or anything else to eat. The fact that he asked for Scotch to drink and the despatch with which he downed it were measures of how upset he was. Ted had never succumbed to the temptation that has ruined the health of so many publicans. He didn’t normally sample his wares during the day, contenting himself with a single pint at closing time.
Jude had never seen him quite so desolate. She tried desperately to think of anything that might cheer him up. She sipped her water – her stomach didn’t yet feel up to anything stronger – and asked, “Are you worried what the Health and Safety inspectors will find?”
“No, they were only there last week. And I’ve never had any trouble with them before. Place is as clean as a whistle. Standards are higher then ever since I’ve had Zosia keeping an eye on things.”
“She’s worked out well.”
“Yeah.” He was always slightly grudging in any praise he gave to his bar manager. “Even though she is Polish.”
“Presumably the Health and Safety people will be checking your seafood supplier as well?”
He nodded and scratched his scruffy beard. “Which isn’t exactly going to make me popular with them.”
“Scallops are notorious…you know, if they’re slightly off…”
“I’m sure it’s not from the supplier. They’re a big company, and they’ve always had the most exacting hygiene standards.”
“Then how come you got a dodgy delivery from them?”
“I can’t work it out,” Ted Crisp replied wearily. “I’ve been through all the possibilities and…” he sighed “…I don’t know what to think.”
“It’s incredibly bad luck.”
“You can say that again. And I just don’t know how much more bad luck the Crown and Anchor can take.”
“How do you mean?”
He let out another deep sigh. “Licensed Victuallers’ trade’s always been an up-and-down business. Every week you hear of more pubs closing – or being bought up by the big boys, the chains. Gets increasingly difficult to make a profit – particularly if you borrowed as much as I did to get the Crown and Anchor in the first place. And there are constantly new problems. Another government clampdown on drink-driving and your trade drops off. Then the smoking ban didn’t help. Been a long time since you could make a living just by pulling pints, so you have to organize other attractions to get people through the doors. Darts, quiz nights, wall-to-wall football – though I don’t want to go down that route myself. Just like I don’t want to have that CCTV so many pubs have these days – looks like you don’t trust your customers. Then of course I used sometimes to get the punters in with live music, though that’s got hideously more expensive with the new entertainment licences the government saw fit to bring in a few years back. I tell you, Jude, it’s a bloody nightmare.”
“I’m sure it is.” She was good at supplying sympathy. “And you’ve got this Dan Poke comedy night coming up. That should bring them in, shouldn’t it?”
“Yes, assuming I’m open by then. But that’s a one-off. Dan’s just doing it as a favour, only charging expenses, because he’s a mate from the days when I was on the stand-up circuit. Yeah, I’m sure – if I’m allowed to open by then – Sunday’ll be fine. Dan says I’ll be able to judge from how it goes whether it’s worth having a regular comedy night, but that’s going to cost. No other comedians are going to do it for free, are they?
“So what you come back to is the food. You got to do food that’s better than the local competition. Which means you need a good chef…and they’re like gold dust round here. And you have to pay them as much as if they were bloody gold dust.”
“But I thought your new chef was very good. Word of mouth about the Crown and Anchor’s food has been great.”
“Yes,” Ted Crisp agreed gloomily. “I thought I’d turned the corner with him. And I had until those bloody scallops came in.”
“Who is the chef? I haven’t met him.”
“Boy called Ed Pollack. Trained at catering college in Chichester. Used to moonlight here a bit while he was finishing his course.”
Jude vaguely remembered Ted mentioning the young chef before, while she had Carole had been enquiring into an unexplained death at Hopwicke Country House Hotel. “But he’s fully trained now?”
“You bet. Been working in a very snazzy restaurant up in Soho, but his mum’s got ill, so he wanted some work down here to keep an eye on her. Sounds to me like the old girl’s on the way out, so I doubt if I’ll keep him long.” He sighed. At that moment every trouble in his life seemed insuperable. “Which means I’ll have to start looking for another chef…God, and what a nightmare that can be.”
“You don’t think Ed Pollack could have had anything to do with the dodgy scallops?”
“No, that generation are really picky about hygiene stuff.”
“How often do you have seafood deliveries?”
“Every day. Has to be every day, if you say you’ve got ‘fresh seafood’ on the menu.”
“And do you check in the deliveries yourself, Ted?”
“Depends what I’m doing. They deliver round the back. If I’m in the kitchen when they come, I’ll sign for the stuff. If someone else is there, they’ll do it. Not a big deal, happens so often.”
“And did you sign for the delivery this morning?”
“No, and obviously I’ve checked out who did. It was Ed. Van arrived just after ten. I was out front fixing a duff light switch in the bar.”
“And Ed didn’t notice anything odd about the scallops?”
Ted Crisp shook his head wearily. “If he’d thought there was anything odd with them, he wouldn’t have cooked them. Like I said, he knows his hygiene regulations inside out.”
“And the scallops would be delivered frozen?”
“No, Jude,” he replied patiently. “‘Fresh seafood’ means ‘fresh seafood’. They’re chilled for transportation, but not frozen.”
“So what did Ed do with them after they’d been delivered?”
“Put them in the fridge in a tray with a light lemon-juice-and-soy-sauce marinade. That’s what he always does for that recipe.”
“And was there anyone else around the kitchen that morning?”
“Well, Zosia would have been there…” Jude looked at Ted quizzically. She knew he had been less than welcoming when the Polish girl had started working for him. The landlord ha
d a rather unappealing thread of xenophobia in his make-up. But now he could find nothing in his bar manager to criticize. “Mind you, she’s about the most trustworthy staff member I’ve ever had.” He still couldn’t quite make the compliment sound whole-hearted.
“No waitresses around at the time of the delivery?”
“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?”
Three
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 hrief 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 pris-sily. “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 applie
d 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.”