Читать книгу Poisoning in the Pub, The - Simon Brett - Страница 12

On the Friday morning Jude rang one of her friends in the social services, a woman called Sally Monks, who owed her a favour. Jude had once used her healing skills to help out a couple of Sally’s more difficult teenage clients, and so the social worker was more than happy to return the favour. She readily supplied an address for the Ray who sometimes worked at the Crown and Anchor. ‘But I happen to know that he’s not there today,’ said Sally.

‘Oh?’

‘He tends to go back to his mother’s from time to time. She’s quite old and infirm, so she can’t look after him full-time, but she can manage for a few days.’

‘You don’t know where she lives, do you?’

‘Yes. Worthing. Do you want me to give you her address? I will if it’s something really important, but Ray’s mother’s an old lady and …’

Sally Monks sounded reluctant, and Jude was forced to ask herself how important her quest actually was. Yes, she wanted to help Ted Crisp, but not to presume too far on the social worker’s goodwill. Anyway, Ted himself had tried to cover up Ray’s involvement in what had happened in the Crown and Anchor. He might not welcome her investigating.

As it happened, what Sally Monks said next simplified things. ‘If you really do want to contact Ray, I know he’ll be at the flat tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’

‘Saturday. Football. He loves his football. His mother doesn’t have Sky, but they have it in the communal sitting room at the flats.’

‘Oh, thank you for telling me. Maybe I’ll try and contact him tomorrow.’

‘That’d be better.’ The social worker sounded relieved. ‘I don’t want to put any more pressure on his mother.’

‘More pressure? What do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s just that Ray only goes to see her when he’s upset. She has quite a problem calming him down sometimes.’

‘You’ve no idea why he might be upset at the moment, do you?’ asked Jude, keen to advance her investigation.

‘Jude,’ said Sally patiently, ‘I haven’t seen Ray for months. I’ve no idea what’s upset him this time. It’s could be anything. He gets hurt very easily, always worries that people are against him. He’s one of those people who seems to have been born with too few layers of skin.’

As she thanked Sally and rang off, Jude realized that any approach she made to Ray would require all of her considerable tact and gentleness.

Because it was so hot that Friday, Carole delayed taking Gulliver for his afternoon walk until the evening. She felt sorry for him. A Labrador’s coat wasn’t designed for this kind of weather. He was still full of enthusiasm to tackle the invisible monsters of the beach, but he tired quickly and his long tongue lolled from panting mouth.

He looked so hot and pitiful in the fading light that she thought she would find him a drink before they got back to High Tor. There was always a dog bowl of water outside the Crown and Anchor, so she walked back from the beach that way. The route would also give her a chance to see whether Ted’s trade had picked up at all since his enforced closure.

The noise as she approached the pub answered her question. A lot of customers – and not just the smokers – were drinking outside, and all the windows and doors were open. The crowd seemed much bigger than it would have been for an ordinary Friday night; the atmosphere was positively rowdy. Her destination, the dogs’ water bowl, was just outside the main doors, but the density of the crowd deterred her. Also the nature of the crowd. Despite the evening heat, there were a lot of black leather jackets with gratuitous chains attached. Carole decided Gulliver could wait for his drink till they got back to High Tor.

As she walked through the car park back to the High Street, she noticed a surprising number of motorbikes. She also saw someone who looked vaguely familiar leaving the pub and approaching a sleek pale blue metallic BMW.

He was a tall man, probably in his early forties. The immaculate cut of his suit could not completely hide the fact that he was spreading to fat. Though his face was chubby, its features were small, thin lips, slightly beaky nose. He wore glasses with thick black rims. His hair, longish and swept back, was too black to be natural.

Carole felt sure she had seen him somewhere before, but the context wouldn’t come. She racked her brains as she walked back home, but her memory didn’t oblige. Finally, with a mental shrug, she gave up trying to place the man. He probably just looked like someone she had once met.

After eleven, as Carole Seddon prepared for bed, she heard the screeching, whining and revving up of motorbikes departing. Rather than following the coast road, where there was little residential property, they had chosen to drive up Fethering High Street. Through the open windows of the bedroom of High Tor, the noise was very loud.

If that kind of thing continued, Carole Seddon reckoned that Greville Tilbrook might find his petition filling up rather quickly.