recollection of the Hare and Hounds in Weldisham. They remembered the decor, themed round some designer’s idea of a comfortable country house. Old tennis rackets in wooden presses, croquet mallets pinned to the walls, faded nineteen-thirties novels on shelves too high for them ever to be reached, gratuitous farm implements and saddlery hung from the beams.
But as soon as the Renault was parked opposite the main entrance, they could see that things had changed. No longer was the pub sign an eighteenth-century hunting scene. It was now a mulberry-coloured board with ‘Hare and Hounds’ written in grey calligraphy.
Inside again mulberry and grey dominated the decor. The bar, tables and chairs were again chunky pine. Carole and Jude remembered an interior of small rooms and snugs, but all the partitions had been removed, and the bar was just one large unbroken space.
“New owners, do you reckon?” asked Jude.
“Or maybe rebranding by the old owners. I seem to remember that this place was owned by a chain.”
“Which chain?”
“Look, I don’t have instant recall of everything,” said Carole, rather pettishly.
At the bar they bought two glasses of Maipo Valley Chardonnay from a girl dressed in mulberry and grey livery, and ordered salads. (It was noticeable that neither went for the seafood option.) Fortunately they managed to get a table outside the pub, sheltered from the sun by a big umbrella. As Carole had hoped, here some way above sea level, they could feel the gentlest of breezes. Gulliver, after a big slurp from the dogs’ water bowl by the front door of the pub, settled down comfortably to lie in the shade of their table.
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, led 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.
? The Poisoning in the Pub ?
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
Carole had picked up a
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
