Silence reigned in the Renault for the first twenty minutes of the journey back to Fethering. Then Jude announced, “I’m more certain than ever that they did it.”
“I agree,” said Carole. “But how on earth are we going to prove it?”
? The Poisoning in the Pub ?
Thirty-Seven
In the rush to Horsham that morning Jude had omitted to pick up her mobile, which had been on its charger in her bedroom. Presumably Zosia had tried that first, before leaving a message on the Woodside Cottage landline.
It was short and to the point. “Please call me. Ted has decided he’s going to sell the Crown and Anchor.”
Jude summoned Carole, and the two women went down to the pub straight away. No further tidying had been done to the frontage. The place looked boarded-up and condemned. Most lunchtime customers had kept their distance too, like animals steering clear of a dying member of their pack. The only ones who had visited the plague spot were sitting at the tables outside.
Which at least meant Carole and Jude could talk to Zosia in the bar without fear of eavesdroppers. The Polish girl looked exhausted; she had the expression of someone who had tried everything, and none of it had worked. Ed Pollack, who had dealt with the very few lunch orders, lolled against the bar, looking equally dispirited.
Carole’s first question was: “Where is Ted?”
Zosia shrugged. “I don’t know. He was here when we both arrived at ten thirty. That’s when he told us he was selling up.”
“Did he give you any details as to why?” asked Jude.
“He said he’d been fighting a losing battle for too long, and he was sick to death of the whole business. He said there had been an offer on the table for a while, and it was time for him to cut his losses and accept.”
Carole and Jude both felt certain that they knew where the offer had come from, but neither said anything.
“So that’s it,” said Zosia, and a tear glinted in her hazel eye.
Carole tried to reassure her. “Both you and Ed are highly qualified. I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty finding other jobs.”
“That’s not the point,” said the chef gloomily. “I came back down here because my mother was ill. But now she’s on the mend I’m going to stay. Zosia and I like working here. We like working for Ted.”
“Yes,” Zosia agreed. “He’s a…what’s that word you taught me, Jude? Curmudgeon? Yes, Ted’s a curmudgeon and he’s sexist and he’s a bit racist too, but his…what do you say? ‘His heart is in the right place’?” Jude nodded. “I do not like to see him being destroyed like this.”
“And, Zosia, you’ve no idea where he is now?”
“No.”
“He just told us the news,” said the chef, “and then said he had to go out. For a business meeting, I think he said.”
Carole and Jude exchanged looks, knowing that in both of their minds was the same image. Ted Crisp in the gleaming Horsham office of Will Maples, signing over the ownership of the Crown and Anchor to Home Hostelries.
“And you don’t know why suddenly he made the decision?” asked Carole. “Had anything changed? There hadn’t been any new trouble in the pub?”
Zosia shook her head. She couldn’t think of anything.
“It wasn’t anything new,” said Ed Pollack. “At least I don’t think it was. Just an accumulation of all the old stuff. I think mostly he was under pressure from his ex-wife about the divorce. That’s what he implied to me.”
Zosia looked at him curiously as he explained, “He said it this morning while you were putting the chairs out. He said, “She wants her pound of flesh, and the only way I can give it to her is by selling the Crown and Anchor.” I assumed he was talking about his ex-wife.”
“Sounds like it,” said Carole glumly. Then she sighed in exasperation. “All the effort we’ve put in, and we’ve got nothing to show for it. Ted’s going to sell the Crown and Anchor. Oh, I wish there was something we could do!”
“I think the best thing we can do,” said Jude, “is to take advantage of the fact that we’re standing in a pub, and order two large Chilean Chardonnays.”
While they were at it, they decided that they might as well order lunch too. Ed Pollack recommended the Dover sole, ‘nice and light in this hot weather’. They both agreed and went despairingly to sit in one of the shady alcoves. They were silent. Neither of them could think of anything useful to say.
They ate their Dover sole in silence too. It was excellent, but they were both too preoccupied to notice the taste. Another large Chilean Chardonnay each might have lifted their mood, but they both felt too listless to go up to the bar.
Eventually, Carole announced, “So Sylvia has won. She’ll get her divorce settlement – half the proceeds of the sale of the Crown and Anchor or whatever it is – and she’ll be able to marry the odiously boorish Matt, and live happily ever after.”
“Whereas poor old Ted…” Jude didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“Hm. I wonder if Sylvia knows yet about her good fortune…” Carole was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Maybe I should tell her. Could I borrow your mobile, Jude?”
Her neighbour looked on in astonishment as Carole focused her memory to recall the relevant number and keyed it in.
“Ah, hello, Sylvia. This is Carole Seddon speaking.”
“Carole Seddon?” asked the puzzled, nasal voice.
“The Carole Seddon whom you believe to be the current girlfriend of your ex-husband.”
“Oh yes.” Sylvia contrived to get a lot of contempt into the two syllables.
“I just wondered whether you had heard from Ted.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that he’s decided to sell the Crown and Anchor.”
“Yess!” came the ecstatic hiss from the other end. “A result – hooray! I must tell my solicitor. She’ll be as chuffed as I am.”
“About your solicitor…” Carole began.
“Yes?”
“How did you find her? Personal recommendation? Just going through the Yellow Pages?”
“No. It was a bit of luck, actually. I just had a flyer through my letterbox, saying that there was this solicitor who specialized in divorce where the participants in the marriage have been apart for a long time and, basically, screwing money out of ex-husbands. It came at a time when things were a bit tight financially…”
“When you’d just been kicked out by your double-glazing salesman,” Carole suggested tartly.
“Look, if you’ve only rung up to bitch at me – ”
Carole realized that she should have restrained herself from making the dig, and quickly said, “No, no, no. All I was ringing to say was…well, I suppose to congratulate you…You’ve got what you wanted.”
“I certainly have.”
“Your solicitor sounds quite a powerful person.”
“She certainly is. Really tough. I didn’t reckon I would ever get much out of Ted, but she amazed me with the sort of sums she was talking about. And she’s pretty sure she can run circles round the kind of solicitor Ted’s going to find. She’s very high-powered.”
“She sounds it. A useful contact to have. By the way, for future reference, what’s her name?”
Sylvia Crisp replied, “Melissa Keats.”
