Which is why, as you see, the houseboats along there are moored with rings around those tall poles, so that they can ride up and down with the tide.
“Now, although some of the houseboats look as if they’re about to sink into the river for ever, they are in fact all still inhabited by various Fedborough characters. The one nearest to us is, as you can see, the posh one. It’s a very fine modernization of a purpose-built Edwardian houseboat – kind of place where King Edward VII himself might have sneaked off for a dirty weekend with Lillie Langtry. It’s now the offices of a local architect. He’s another Chub, like me, actually…though I don’t know whether or not he uses his houseboat for dirty weekends.”
More merriment from the Japanese. And from the literal-minded Scandinavian, “Is it because there is so much mud on the riverbank that you call the weekend dirty…?”
The Pelling Arms had two bars, the back one refined and elegant for hotel residents and the front one, the Coachman’s Bar, more functional for the townsfolk. Since people had drunk there since the eighteenth century, it might have been expected that as many old features as possible would have been preserved, but that wasn’t the way the hotel’s latest designers had seen things. They had panelled over the old brick walls and wooden beams, and superimposed on to this a structure of false beams. From a hatstand by the log-effect gas fire hung a highwayman’s caped cloak and a few tricorn hats. On shelves were piled pieces of strapped leather luggage, dating from at least a hundred years later than the garments. Framed on the walls were ancient bills of fare and price lists for drinks, as well as prints of hunting scenes or of rubicund Dick- ensian coachmen cheerily flicking whips over their enthusiastic horses.
To Carole and Jude it all seemed a bit perverse, making so much effort to dress up a genuine eighteenth- century bar as a contemporary designer’s idea of what an eighteenth-century bar should look like.
James Lister had insisted they have a drink with him. He’d said the same to all of the group, but did little to disguise the fact that Carole and Jude were the ones he wanted to stay. Just Jude really, was Carole’s instinctive thought.
The offer of a drink had followed a little ritual, which again felt like a regular part of James Lister’s Town Walk routine. He’d made the ending of the tour very precise, leading them all back into the Felling Arms courtyard, and announcing, “Well, that’s it. As you’ve probably gathered, I’m extremely proud of this town, and I hope I’ve given you some interesting insights into its history. Do come and see us again – we’re friendly folk in Fedborough – enjoy the rest of your day and remember: be good, and if you can’t be good, be careful.”
The roar of uncomprehending laughter from the Japanese couple was followed by an awkward moment of silence. Then one of the Scandinavians reached into his pocket, prompting a bit of wallet-fumbling from the others. James Lister let the man come all the way up to him, proffering a fiver, before he said, “No, thank you. I do these Town Walks for the pleasure, not the money. I won’taccept your thanks in folding form, but if you were to suggest thanking me in liquid form, well, that’s another matter altogether.”
His syntax, however, was too confusing for the Scandinavians. Not understanding that he was asking them to buy him a drink, they backed off in some confusion. Within seconds, the rest of the group seemed also to have vanished.
“Oh,” said James Lister, somewhat put down. “Have to buy myself a drink then. Will you young ladies…?”
“I’ll get them,” said Jude, leading the way into the Coachman’s Bar. “What would you like, James?”
“Just say it’s a pint of Jimmy’s usual.”
Jude relayed the message. Unfortunately, there was a new barman on duty and James had to spell out that his usual was ‘a pint of Fedborough, in a jug’. Without consulting Carole, Jude also ordered two large whites.
James Lister took a long swallow from his pint, then did an elaborate lip-licking and moustache-wiping routine, before saying, “Ah, that hits the spot.” It was not spontaneous; it was learned behaviour. Both women felt pretty sure that, as a boy, James had watched his father John Lister go through exactly the same ritual.
He looked mischievously from side to side. “Well, aren’t I the lucky one – a thorn between two roses, eh? The old animal magnetism doesn’t seem to have let me down, does it?”
The Japanese couple were no longer there to laugh at this sally, so he cleared his throat and went on, “No, very nice to see you attractive young ladies.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Carole frostily. “We’re not young, James.”
“Jimmy, please. But let me tell you, when you get to my age, every woman looks young. And attractive. Except the wife, of course,” he concluded with a predictable guffaw.
Jude cut through the flannel. “Have you seen Roddy Hargreaves recently?”
“He was in the Coach and Horses lunchtime Friday. Didn’t see him in the evening, because I was on duty. The wife was giving one of her Friday dinner parties. You haven’t met Fiona, have you?” They shook their heads. “A treat in store, I assure you. But Roddy, Roddy, let me think…Oh, yesterday I was off doing a Rotary fundraiser, so I didn’t see the old devil then either.”
“But he’s quite likely to be in the Coach and Horses now, is he?”
“Imagine so. Virtually has his camp bed and sleeping bag behind the counter in there.” A chuckle. “I might go along and join him for a pint later.” He consulted his watch and changed his mind. “Or maybe not. Fiona does the full works for lunch on Sunday. More than my life’s worth to be late for that, eh?” He followed this with another meaningless chuckle.
Jude drained her glass. “Well, thank you so much, James, for – ”
“Erm…” He seemed to want to detain them.
“Sorry?”
“I mentioned my wife gave a dinner party on Friday…”
“Yes?”
“It’s something she does every Friday, you know.”
“Oh?”
“Roddy’s coming to the next one. It’s his birthday, so I actually persuaded Fiona to let me invite him.” The implication was that James Lister’s wife didn’t share hisenthusiasm for Roddy Hargreaves. “And the thing is…” He seemed to be having difficulty getting the words out. “Fiona’s always very interested in new people…I wondered whether you two would care to join us next Friday as well…?”
Carole flushed. “Oh, I don’t think I could possibly – ”
“Yes,” said Jude. “We’d like that very much.”
? The Torso in the Town ?
Thirteen
“Odd, isn’t it,” she said, as they walked from the Pelling Arms along Pelling Street, “how helpful everyone in this town is. For our investigation.”
“What do you mean?” asked Carole. “Are you worried about a conspiracy of helpfulness?”
“Well, think about it. We no sooner get a possible contact who may know something relevant about the mysterious torso than we get a chance to talk to them. You ring Debbie Carlton, she asks you round. We’re told Roddy Hargreaves frequents the Coach and Horses; first time we go in there, we meet him.”
“
“All right. Doesn’t change my point, though. Then for no apparent reason, James Lister, whom again we’ve hardly met, invites both of us round to dinner when we’ll get another chance to see Roddy Hargreaves. To top it all, we’re now going – by invitation – to Pelling House, the scene of the crime…or at least the scene of the body’s discovery.”
“Yes, when you spell it all out, it does sound a bit coincidental, I agree. So is this a conspiracy theory you’re putting forward?”
“I don’t know. Fedborough’s a small town. Everyone seems to know each other’s business. Maybe they’re alljust curious. Maybe they think we have some information about the case they don’t.”
“Mm.”
“Or maybe they’re just trying to find out exactly how much we do know about the case.”
“That would imply they’ve got something to hide.”
Jude’s lips pursed into a wry grin. “Somebody’s definitely got something to hide. Even if we’re not talking
