“No, we were fine,” she said. “It was a lovely evening. But I always find these big evenings nerve-racking. I get so wound up, in case anything goes wrong.”
And it wasn’t even her firm doing the cooking, I thought, although they had been responsible for the guest list and all the other arrangements.
“So what’s the problem?” I asked innocently.
“I’ve had a letter this morning. It says”-I heard paper being rustled-“‘Dear Madam, This letter is to give you advance warning of legal proceedings that will be initiated by our client against your company to recover damages for distress and loss of earnings as a result of the poisoning of our client at a dinner organized by your company at Newmarket racetrack on Friday, May 4.’ ”
“And who is their client?” I asked.
“It says ‘Ref: Miss Caroline Aston,’ at the top.”
“Was she a guest on Friday?” I asked.
“She’s not on the guest list, but so many of them weren’t named. You know what it’s like, Mr. So-and-So and guest. Could be anyone.”
“You said people. Who else?”
“Apparently, quite a few,” she said. “I mentioned this to my secretary just now when I opened it and she says that lots of people were ill on Friday night. Her husband is a doctor, and she says he had to see quite a few of his patients. And she said there was an article in the newspaper about it yesterday. What shall we do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “At least, nothing yet. If anyone asks, tell them you’re looking into it.” I paused. “Out of interest, what did you and Tony have to eat on Friday night?”
“I can’t remember,” said Suzanne. “What with all this bomb business, I can’t think.”
“It is dreadful, isn’t it?” I said.
“Dreadful,” she agreed. “And I am so sorry to hear about your waitress.”
“Thank you. Yes, it has been an awful blow to my staff. Louisa was much loved by them all.”
“Seems that a bit of food poisoning is irrelevant, really,” she said.
I agreed, and silently hoped that the episode would be soon forgotten. Who was it who tried to hide bad news behind a much bigger story? It had cost them their job.
“So what shall I do about this letter?” Suzanne asked.
“Could you make a copy and send it to me?” I said. “Then, if I were you, I’d just wait to hear from them again. Maybe they’re just fishing for a reaction and will forget about it when they don’t get one.” Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking.
“I think I ought to consult higher,” she said. The local racetrack catering company was just part of a national group, and I suspected that Suzanne was not sure enough of her position to simply sit on the letter. She would want the parent company’s lawyers to see it. I couldn’t blame her. I’d have done the same in her position.
“OK,” I said, “but could you send me a copy of it first.”
“I will,” she said slowly, as if thinking, “but I will send it to you with a covering note officially informing you of the letter, as the chef at the event. And I will also send a copy of that covering note to my head office.”
Why did I suddenly get the feeling that I was being distanced here by Suzanne? Was I the one that the catering company was preparing to hang out to dry? Probably. After all, business is business.
“Fine,” I said. “And if you can remember what you ate on Friday, let me know that too, will you?”
“Tony is a vegetarian,” she said, “so he would have eaten whatever you had for them.”
“And you?” I asked. “Would you have eaten the vegetarian dish?”
“What was it?” she asked.
“Broccoli, cheese and pasta bake.”
“I can’t stand broccoli, so I doubt it. Let me think.” There was a short pause. “I think I had chicken. But I was so nervous about the evening, I hardly ate anything at all. In fact, I remember being so hungry when I got home I had to make myself a cheese sandwich before I went to bed.”
Not really very helpful.
“Why do you want to know?” she asked.
“Just in case it was some of the food at the dinner that made people ill,” I said. “Helps to eliminate things, that’s all.” Time, I thought, to change the subject. “Were all your staff all right on Saturday?”
“Oh yes, thank you,” she said. “Some of them were pretty shocked, though, and one of my elderly ladies was admitted to the hospital with chest pains after having been told by a fireman to run down four flights of stairs. But she was all right after a while. How about you? How did you get out?”
We spent some time telling our respective war stories. Suzanne had been in her office on the far side of the weighing room and she hadn’t even realized there had been a bomb until she heard the fire engines arrive with their sirens, but it didn’t seem to stop her from having a lengthy account of her actions thereafter.
“I’m sorry, Suzanne,” I said during a pause in the flow, “I must get on.”
“Oh sorry,” she said. “Once I start, I never stop, do I?”
No, I thought. But at least we had moved away from talking about food poisoning.
“Speak with you soon,” I said. “Bye, now.” I hung up.
I laid my head back on the pillow and wondered who Miss Caroline Aston was, and where she was. I could wring her bloody neck. Distress and loss of earnings indeed. How about me? I’d suffered distress and loss of earnings too. Who should I sue?
THERE WAS ANOTHER letter from Miss Aston’s lawyers waiting for me when I arrived at the Hay Net. It confirmed that she was suing me personally as well as the racetrack catering company. Great. I could wring her neck twice, if only I knew who and where she was. What did she think? That I had poisoned people on purpose?
I sat in my office reading and rereading the letter. I suppose I ought to find a lawyer to give it to. Instead, I called Mark again.
“Send it to me,” he said. “My lawyers will look at it for you and they will give you a call.”
“Thanks.”
I faxed it to the number he gave me, and his lawyer called me back within fifteen minutes. I explained the problem to him.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “we’ll deal with this.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “But please let me know who this woman is so I can make a voodoo doll of her and stick pins in it.”
The lawyer laughed. “Why don’t you just poison her?”
“Not funny,” I said.
“No. Sorry,” he said. “I’ll be able to do a search and find her within the day. I’ll get back to you.”
“I could wring her neck,” I said.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” said the lawyer, laughing. “Suing is done in civil court and you can only lose your money, not your liberty.”
“Thanks, I’ll try and remember that when you find her.”
He laughed again and hung up.
I wondered what I would do if he did find her. Probably nothing. It just annoyed me that she wanted to claim damages from me for a minor bit of accidental food poisoning when the lovely Louisa had lost her life due to some deranged madman bringing his grudges two thousand miles from the Middle East to Newmarket.
Carl arrived and I shared the good news with him.
“Will they lock you up?” he asked hopefully.
“Sod off,” I said.
“Charming,” he said, smiling. “So the boss has returned in both body and mind. Shall we get this show on the road?”
“Indeed, we shall,” I replied, returning the smile.
There is a lot more to running a restaurant than cooking a few meals. For a start, the customers want a choice of dishes, and they want them without having to wait too long. At the Hay Net, we usually offered between eight and ten starters and about the same number of main courses. Some of the starters were hot and some were cold, but everything was prepared fresh to order, and our aim was to have a dish ready for the table within fifteen minutes of the order being taken. Ideally, main courses should be ready ten minutes after the starters have been cleared from the table, or, if no starters are ordered, within twenty-eight minutes of the order arriving in the kitchen. I knew all too well that if a customer was kept waiting for longer than he or she thought reasonable, it didn’t matter how good the food tasted when it arrived, only the wait would be remembered and not the flavors.