The sitting room of Woodside Cottage felt as warm as the day outside. There was no doubt the weather was getting hotter. Fethering residents mumbled darkly about global warming, with a complacent ignorance and the comfortable feeling that they’d probably be dead before it got really bad.
The two women sipped their wine gratefully. “So…” said Sally, “anything you can tell me that isn’t the usual Fethering inflated gossip?”
“Perhaps a bit. Carole and I were almost the first people to see the body.”
“Almost?”
“The chef at the Crown and Anchor, Ed Pollack, I think he probably saw Ray dead before we did.”
Sally Monks shook her head in pained disbelief. “I’m still having a problem taking it in. Ray, of all people. I can’t think of anyone who’s done less harm in his life.”
“That’s what everyone seems to say about him. Incidentally, what was his surname? I never heard anyone refer to him as anything other than ‘Ray’.”
“Witchett. Ray Witchett. He was one of the gentlest men I ever knew. I mean he was never going to be playing with a full deck, he’d got serious problems, but they didn’t manifest themselves in violence. I suppose he had a mental age of, I don’t know, under ten, but so long as he had his football and his television and all his magazines about people from the telly, he was fine. And that independent living scheme up at Copsedown Hall seemed to work very well for him. For all the people there. No, it’s a great set-up…” her brow darkened “…for as long as it lasts.”
“Oh?” asked Jude, picking up the hint.
“Funding threatened there, as well as everywhere else. Central government and local government both trying to close down places like that. Get more people out ‘into the community’…regardless of the fact that most of the people in places like that can’t cope ‘in the community’.” The social worker sighed with frustration. “Oh, don’t get me started on that. I’m afraid I very quickly lose my sense of proportion.”
“All right,” said Jude hastily. “Let’s not go there. Tell me, what actually was wrong with Ray? Is there a technical term for what he had?”
“Yes, there are lots of technical terms, lots of ‘syndromes’ describing various aspects of his condition, but basically he suffered the effects of being deprived of oxygen at birth. That’s where it all sprang from, his stunted growth, impairment of his motor functions and the mental incapacity.” Sally shook her head again. “I can’t believe he’s dead. Still, from all accounts it was total chaos up at the Crown and Anchor on Sunday. In that kind of mêlée anything can happen. I guess poor Ray was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I’m not so sure…”
Sally Monks looked up sharply. “What do you mean? Are you suggesting it wasn’t just a ghastly accident?”
“Well, there are a few odd facts about what happened. For a start, all of the fighting was round the front of the pub, and Ray’s body was found round the back. Carole and I looked, but there was no trail of blood. He hadn’t been moved. His body was lying where he had been killed. Also the weapon used was one of the knives from the pub’s kitchen. Well, all right, in the chaos it’s possible that some of the fighters out the front had raided the kitchen for weapons, but I don’t think it’s likely.”
“So you’re saying that Ray was deliberately murdered?”
“It looks that way.”
“But why?” Sally Monks’ pretty forehead wrinkled with confusion. “As I said, he hadn’t got an enemy in the world. He wouldn’t have knowingly done anything to upset anyone.”
“But he might have known something that somebody wanted kept quiet. I can’t imagine that Ray was the most discreet person when it came to keeping secrets.”
“No. He’d blurt out anything to anyone.”
“You seem to know him very well, Sally.”
“Yes, he was part of my caseload while he was still living with his mother. I used to visit them a lot. But she was getting so infirm that the situation couldn’t continue. So I arranged for him to go to Copsedown Hall, which, after a few initial hiccups, suited him very well. I thought I’d really got a result there, you know, giving him some independence before the old girl did finally pop her clogs. Copsedown Hall comes under another social worker’s remit…you wouldn’t believe the tangles of bureaucracy in our world…so I stopped seeing Ray on a regular basis, but I gather it was really working out for him.” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, suddenly teary. “And now this has happened.” But she quickly halted any potential slide into melancholy. “Anyway, Jude, you implied Ray might have known something that someone wanted to keep quiet. Am I allowed to know more?”
Briefly Jude filled Sally Monks in on her visit to Copsedown Hall the previous Saturday.
“So he admitted changing the trays of scallops round?”
“Yes. But he thought he was doing good. Whoever persuaded him to make the switch convinced him that he would be saving the Crown and Anchor from an outburst of food poisoning.”
“Whereas in fact he was doing the exact opposite. God, what kind of person would take advantage of someone like Ray in that way? Must have been someone who knew something about his character. The bastard was appealing to one of Ray’s most basic instincts. Ray was always trying to help out, trying to make things better. If he had a fault, it was his desire to please everyone. Which is why he hated it so when people lost their tempers with him. That used to upset him terribly.”
“And when he got upset, he went to his mother’s?” said Jude, thinking of the effect of Ted Crisp’s uncharacteristic outburst against Ray.
“Yes,” said Sally. But she sounded preoccupied as she continued with the chain of logic she had been constructing. “So Ray was stopped from telling you the name of the person behind the poisoning by the appearance of Viggo?”
“Yes. Do you know Viggo?”
“Come across him a few times. Fantasist, and I’d have thought pretty harmless. But I may be wrong about that. As I recall, he had an obsession with guns, watched lots of violent movies. I think he wanted to go into the army, but they wouldn’t have him. Big disappointment for him, I seem to remember. But are you suggesting that he deliberately stopped Ray from spilling the beans to you?”
“No, I think his appearance in the Copsedown Hall kitchen at that moment was just coincidence.”
“But you reckon whoever it was who got Ray to swap the trays of scallops was also the person who killed him to keep him quiet?”
Jude shrugged. “It’s a vaguely plausible theory. Only one I’ve got, anyway. Mind you, I don’t have anything in the way of proof…”
“Don’t be picky,” said Sally Monks. Her red hair swung as she shook her head at the enormity of what had happened. “God, I’d like to get the bastard who did this.”
“So would I.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help in any investigation you may be carrying out…?”
“Thank you. I’m sure there’ll be other things I want to ask you,” said Jude, ever mindful of the danger of Carole’s extremely sensitive nose being put out of joint. “And one thing I can ask you right now. Do you think Ray’s mother would talk to me?”
“I’m sure she would.” Sally Monks produced a Post-it note and scribbled a phone number down on it. “Nell will be absolutely devastated by what’s happened. I must go and see her too, but I can’t for a couple of days. Ray was her world, you know.”
Sixteen
Nell Witchett lived in a ground-floor flat near West Worthing station. She had been very pleased to get a phone call from Jude and keen that she should come round as soon as possible. She said that though it was only two days after his death, nobody wanted to talk about Ray, everyone avoided the subject.