‘I think Rex deserves a half pint of stout and a packet of crisps,’ Albert declared. Rex looked up at his human approvingly and got a pat on his head and scratch behind his ears as added reward while they waited for the bar lady to serve them. Albert ordered a gin and tonic and a pint of lager for Gary, then sagged into a chair at a table near the door.
From his backpack, the trusty metal dog bowl appeared once more. He gave Rex the crisps first, bacon flavour because he was convinced that is what a dog would pick. Eight seconds later when the crisps were gone, he poured the stout into the now empty bowl and ruffled Rex’s fur while the dog lapped away at the black liquid.
Before they left the competition venue, there had been much discussion about what might now happen to the event. Two separate, and potentially unrelated murders, were still two murders. Albert’s argument that Mr Pumphrey might have slipped into the mixer by himself was given no credence, not even by Gary. The deaths happened within an hour of one another, making the venue or the event appear to be the catalyst. Was there something about the Yorkshire pudding competition that was driving people crazy?
Albert noted the detectives either were not aware or had not yet made the connection with the earlier incident that saw Alan Crystal hospitalised. His bout of terrible vomiting could, yet again, be completely unrelated. It most likely was, but what if it wasn’t? Calin and Heaton had not factored it in, and they appeared unconcerned about the ingredient tampering which might have been a factor in Brian Pumphrey’s death.
Their boss arrived shortly after the second man was pronounced dead at the scene, and it was his arrival that sparked the discussion about the event. In the marquee, the poor bakers, still reeling from the arrest of Beefy and the possibility that he had chosen to kill the show’s organiser, were trying to continue with the preparation for the giant pudding. There were thousands of people due to arrive in the morning: competitors, visitors, vendors, and happy shoppers, plus the man from Guinness.
Chief Inspector Doyle, a thin, balding, morose man in his late forties, wanted to shut the event and declare the whole thing a crime scene.
‘If you do that, the killer will be gone,’ argued Albert at the time. He and Gary were not involved in the conversation, they were standing a few feet away where Albert was close enough to overhear what the policemen were saying. His comment elicited an explanation from the two detectives about who the old man, his dog, and son were.
Turning his attention their way, CI Doyle asked, ‘Why will the killer be gone? Isn’t he already gone?’
Albert figured he had one shot at this, an exhaled breath ruffling his cheeks as he stepped forward to explain his thoughts. ‘You suspect there is more than one killer?’ he sought to have them clarify out loud.
DS Heaton fielded the question with a bored tone, ‘There has to be. We took Botham into custody twenty minutes before the second victim was stabbed.’
As kindly as he could, Albert said, ‘You are assuming Botham killed Mr Pumphrey.’
His response caused Heaton’s eyes to flare, so too those of DS Calin, but CI Doyle was interested in what Albert had to say. ‘I thought Botham was a good fit?’ he accused his two sergeants.
‘He is,’ argued Calin. ‘He threatened to kill the man in public in the exact way the victim then met his end. He also made sure he was alone in the marquee by sending the rest of his bakers away. He is the one member of that team who cannot account for his whereabouts and he is the one who found the body.’
Albert didn’t need to be reminded that the one who last saw a victim alive is usually the killer. Beefy would have to come up with an explanation for his whereabouts when the death occurred if he wanted to prove his innocence. What he said was, ‘Regardless, he denied the murder.’ As all eyes swung his way, he followed his comment up with, ‘Consider this: Botham could not have killed both victims, but the second victim’s killer could have. What you have is two deaths without clear reason, but the likelihood they are both something to do with the event being held here tomorrow.’
The chief inspector was frowning deeply at the old man. ‘Which is precisely the reason why the event should be cancelled. It’s not like it is a major mark in the calendar, it’s just some daft competition to bake a giant Yorkshire pudding.’
Albert shook his head. ‘If I may be so bold, I feel you are missing the point.’ The chief inspector’s brow furrowed deeper yet, but he didn’t interrupt Albert when he said, ‘For the people involved, the event and the competition is important enough to kill for. Are you aware the prize for the best Yorkshire pudding is a contract to supply the high-end supermarket chain Bentley Brothers?’
The chief inspector’s expression betrayed his lack of knowledge on the subject. ‘I don’t see what that has to do with …’
‘The winner will have their recipe for Yorkshire puddings in every Bentley Brothers store. There is also a ten-thousand-pound prize for winning, the money for which has been put up by Ethan Bentley himself, but the chance to supply Bentley Brothers for the foreseeable future is worth how much?’
No one knew the answer, but their exchanged glances all said the same thing: however much it was worth, it was a lot. Ethan Bentley was well known for being the lead entrepreneur on the television show Brilliant Business Ideas, where undiscovered
