“Typical, isn’t it?” said Carole. “Just when we think we’ve identified our murderer, someone blows him away.”
“So you think Viggo was murdered too?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m not so sure. I mean, he could have been, but then again playing a macho game of Russian roulette…well, it would have been in character. He was so obsessed with all that hard-man stuff. Did you see the titles of all those DVDs and videos? And he did mention Russian roulette when he came here.”
“Yes, but nobody plays Russian roulette with six bullets loaded into the gun.”
“They might if they wanted to be sure of the outcome.”
“How do you mean?”
“Look, let’s say Viggo did murder Ray…”
“Which seems very likely from what Greville Tilbrook saw.”
“I agree. Well, say he did do it. And he thought he was being brave and macho, living up to the image of all his hard-man heroes, but then slowly he realized what he’d done, that he had actually killed a man. Not just a man, but someone he knew. For a man like Viggo, who spent so much of his time in fantasy, that reality could be pretty shocking.”
“And he might have killed himself from remorse?”
“It’s possible.”
Carole’s sniff made clear how much she thought of that idea. “I think it was a set-up. Somebody else shot him. The Russian roulette business was just set-dressing.”
“Maybe. But why would someone want to kill him?”
“Well, for the purposes of argument, let’s make two assumptions…First, that Viggo did stab Ray and, second, that he didn’t do it off his own bat. That someone set him up to do it.”
“Gave him the order by text on his mobile phone?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Pity we haven’t got Viggo’s mobile phone to check his messages, isn’t it?” said Jude ruefully.
“Yes, very selfish of the police always to keep that kind of evidence to themselves,” Carole agreed. “But, moving on…Let’s say we’re talking about one villain, who, while possibly not actually committing either of the crimes, set them up, in both cases taking advantage of particularly susceptible and pathetic men…”
“All right. I’m with you so far.”
“So this person takes advantage of Ray’s good nature and desire to make everyone happy, and persuades him unknowingly to introduce the dodgy scallops into the Crown and Anchor kitchen. But then our villain hears, probably from Viggo, that you’ve been snooping around Copsedown Hall, asking Ray questions. Suddenly poor Ray becomes a security risk, there’s a danger he might tell you everything. So the same person – our villain – takes advantage of Viggo’s love of cloak-and-dagger stuff, underground operations and all that, and issues the order for him to kill Ray.”
“I agree that all of this is possible, but I still don’t see – ”
“I haven’t finished,” said Carole severely. “This person arranged to have Ray killed before he could spill the beans about what had been going on. And he arranged to have Viggo killed for just the same reason.”
“So what’s the common factor?”
“Jude, you are being particularly dense this morning. The common factor is you. Or us, if you like. Ray was murdered just after he’d nearly told you who’d set him up to swap the scallops. Viggo was murdered just after you and I revealed our suspicions of Viggo – or at least showed an unhealthy interest in him – to Derren Hart in Fratton. I think we should be very careful from now on, Jude. We’re up against someone ruthless enough to kill two men with mental-health problems. I don’t think he – or she – would be too bothered about adding a couple of middle-aged women to the list.”
Jude was silent. She took a long sip of coffee. It didn’t dispel the woolliness in her head as much as she had hoped. The she asked, “How much do you think Ted is involved?”
“I don’t think he’s involved in the murders.”
“Not in actually committing them, no. But he’s holding out on us. He’s definitely got more information than he’s letting on about. He complicated things at the start by trying to protect Ray – and look how that ended up. I think he could tell us a lot more.”
“I’m sure he could, but since he currently won’t talk to us at all, I don’t see how we’re going to get it out of him.”
“Maybe not, but I think it’s worth another call.” Jude dialled the number of Ted’s flat, then the Crown and Anchor main line. Answering machines on both. Maybe the landlord wasn’t there. She thought it was more likely that he just wasn’t taking calls. For a moment she contemplated leaving a message informing him of Viggo’s death, but she decided against it. If Ted Crisp was as involved, as he was in her worst imaginings, he’d already know what had happened.
Jude, uncharacteristically gloomy – she needed her sleep – looked at Carole and shook her head. “I just don’t know where we go next.”
“Well, I do,” said her friend. “We follow up the only other lead we have.”
“I didn’t know we’d got another lead.”
“Something we got from Derren Hart.” Jude still looked bemused, but the confidence in Carole’s pale blue eyes was growing. “Do you fancy a pub lunch, Jude?”
“I don’t think Ted’s any more likely to talk to us face to face than he is on the phone.”
“I wasn’t thinking of the Crown and Anchor. I was thinking of another pub.”
“Oh?”
“The other one where Derren Hart said Viggo used to go drinking with the bikers.”
“Ah, yes.” There was now a matching sparkle in Jude’s brown eyes. “Of course, I’d forgotten about that.”
“So I think lunch at the Cat and Fiddle, don’t you?”
“Excellent idea.”
“It’s not as if we don’t know where it is.”
Carole and Jude had been to the Cat and Fiddle before, because Zosia’s brother Tadeusz Jankowski had worked there before his premature death. They remembered how little they’d liked the place. Though it had a perfect position, right on the banks of the Fether, and did very good business, particularly in the summer, they had recoiled from its phoney, country-and-western-influenced style. They winced inwardly as they remembered the bar staff, dressed-in red-gingham shirts and dungarees.
Carole and Jude also remembered the pub’s over-the-top landlady, Shona Nuttall. She’d had no inhibitions about talking to them before, even though the thing she had most wanted to talk about was herself. But maybe she’d have some useful recollections of Viggo’s and Derren Hart’s biker crowd.
The interview they were anticipating was, however, not to be. As Carole slowed the Renault down to enter the Cat and Fiddle car park, she found her way barred by a high gate of solid wood. The frontage of the pub itself was also fenced off and its windows boarded up.
But the site looked very neat and under control. What was happening was a makeover rather than a close-down. This was confirmed by a printed board on the fencing, which read:
THE CAT AND FIDDLE WILL BE RE-OPENING ON 1 OCTOBER AS ANOTHER WELCOMING AND LUXURIOUS HOME HOSTELRIES TAVERN.
Thirty-One
So they did end up having lunch in the Crown and Anchor, exactly two weeks after the food-poisoning incident that had started them on their current investigation. There were a few more customers – mostly holidaymakers – than there had been on their previous visit, but the pub wasn’t doing anything like the volume of business it should have been in the middle of a hot July.
Ted Crisp was there, but without being overtly rude, he made it clear that he didn’t want to engage in conversation with them. After a friendly enough wave on their arrival, he suddenly had urgent things to do in the kitchen.