She agreed, with a pitying look at the two women, that it wouldn’t.
Will Maples’s smile grew broader. “I must congratulate you on the power of your imaginations, ladies. Were there any other allegations against Home Hostelries that you wished to make?”
“I am certain,” said Jude, “that the fight at the Crown and Anchor after Dan Poke’s gig was started deliberately.”
The Acquisitions manager’s neatly suited shoulders shrugged. “Aren’t all fights started deliberately? Someone takes offence at something another person has said or done, they throw a punch. The punch is returned, a fight ensues. I’d say that was deliberate.”
“I mean that Derren Hart and his bikers deliberately started the fight to give the Crown and Anchor a reputation for rowdiness.”
“And, once again, the small matter of proof…? Did your Mr, er, Hart come to you on penitent bended knee to confess his anti-social behaviour?”
Again, Carole could not pretend that he had.
“We seem to be shooting down your allegations at a rate of knots, don’t we, Mrs Seddon? Is there anything else you wish to raise?”
“Just the fact that what’s happening at the Crown and Anchor is a carbon copy of what had happened at the Cat and Fiddle a few months previously.” There was momentary eye contact between the two men at this, but they quickly covered it up. “Shona Nuttall definitely believes that she was bullied into selling her pub at a reduced price.”
“Does she?” said Will Maples.
“And would she be prepared to stand up in court to make that allegation?” asked Melissa Keats.
“No. I think she’s too demoralized by the whole business.”
“Ah,” said the solicitor with something that wasn’t far from satisfaction. She then looked sternly at the two women. “I think, if you have nothing further to add, I should clarify the legal position to – ”
“We do have something further to add,” protested Jude. “We haven’t yet mentioned the biggest allegation of all – the murder of Ray Witchett.”
Will Maples raised a languid eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that one of us stabbed him?”
“No. The murder was done by a friend of his called Viggo.”
“Well, maybe you should be looking for a confession for this Viggo, rather than from us.”
“Viggo is dead.”
“Oh, how unfortunate.”
“As you well know.”
Will Maples gave another shrug, neither confirming nor rebutting her assertion.
“But we believe,” Jude went on, “that Viggo was put up to the stabbing by Derren Hart, who was acting on orders from you!”
That did it. The floor was handed to Melissa Keats, who gave Carole and Jude a very thorough dressing-down. She quoted at them from the laws of slander and defamation. She spelled out to them the dire consequences of their repeating any of their allegations in any forum, public or private. And she left them in no doubt that, if the situation were ever to come to a court of law, the not inconsiderable resources of the Home Hostelries group would be deployed against them.
Carole and Jude left the building feeling like schoolgirls who’d just had many strips torn off them by their headmistress.
Silence reigned in the Renault for the first twenty minutes of the journey back to Fethering. Then Jude announced, “I’m more certain than ever that they did it.”
“I agree,” said Carole. “But how on earth are we going to prove it?”
Thirty-Seven
In the rush to Horsham that morning Jude had omitted to pick up her mobile, which had been on its charger in her bedroom. Presumably Zosia had tried that first, before leaving a message on the Woodside Cottage landline.
It was short and to the point. “Please call me. Ted has decided he’s going to sell the Crown and Anchor.”
Jude summoned Carole, and the two women went down to the pub straight away. No further tidying had been done to the frontage. The place looked boarded-up and condemned. Most lunchtime customers had kept their distance too, like animals steering clear of a dying member of their pack. The only ones who had visited the plague spot were sitting at the tables outside.
Which at least meant Carole and Jude could talk to Zosia in the bar without fear of eavesdroppers. The Polish girl looked exhausted; she had the expression of someone who had tried everything, and none of it had worked. Ed Pollack, who had dealt with the very few lunch orders, lolled against the bar, looking equally dispirited.
Carole’s first question was: “Where is Ted?”
Zosia shrugged. “I don’t know. He was here when we both arrived at ten thirty. That’s when he told us he was selling up.”
“Did he give you any details as to why?” asked Jude.
“He said he’d been fighting a losing battle for too long, and he was sick to death of the whole business. He said there had been an offer on the table for a while, and it was time for him to cut his losses and accept.”
Carole and Jude both felt certain that they knew where the offer had come from, but neither said anything.
“So that’s it,” said Zosia, and a tear glinted in her hazel eye.
Carole tried to reassure her. “Both you and Ed are highly qualified. I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty finding other jobs.”
“That’s not the point,” said the chef gloomily. “I came back down here because my mother was ill. But now she’s on the mend I’m going to stay. Zosia and I like working here. We like working for Ted.”
“Yes,” Zosia agreed. “He’s a…what’s that word you taught me, Jude? Curmudgeon? Yes, Ted’s a curmudgeon and he’s sexist and he’s a bit racist too, but his…what do you say? ‘His heart is in the right place’?” Jude nodded. “I do not like to see him being destroyed like this.”
“And, Zosia, you’ve no idea where he is now?”
“No.”
“He just told us the news,” said the chef, “and then said he had to go out. For a business meeting, I think he said.”
Carole and Jude exchanged looks, knowing that in both of their minds was the same image. Ted Crisp in the gleaming Horsham office of Will Maples, signing over the ownership of the Crown and Anchor to Home Hostelries.
“And you don’t know why suddenly he made the decision?” asked Carole. “Had anything changed? There hadn’t been any new trouble in the pub?”
Zosia shook her head. She couldn’t think of anything.
“It wasn’t anything new,” said Ed Pollack. “At least I don’t think it was. Just an accumulation of all the old stuff. I think mostly he was under pressure from his ex-wife about the divorce. That’s what he implied to me.”
Zosia looked at him curiously as he explained, “He said it this morning while you were putting the chairs out. He said, “She wants her pound of flesh, and the only way I can give it to her is by selling the Crown and Anchor.” I assumed he was talking about his ex-wife.”
“Sounds like it,” said Carole glumly. Then she sighed in exasperation. “All the effort we’ve put in, and we’ve got nothing to show for it. Ted’s going to sell the Crown and Anchor. Oh, I wish there was something we could do!”
“I think the best thing we can do,” said Jude, “is to take advantage of the fact that we’re standing in a pub, and order two large Chilean Chardonnays.”
While they were at it, they decided that they might as well order lunch too. Ed Pollack recommended the Dover sole, ‘nice and light in this hot weather’. They both agreed and went despairingly to sit in one of the shady alcoves. They were silent. Neither of them could think of anything useful to say.
They ate their Dover sole in silence too. It was excellent, but they were both too preoccupied to notice the taste. Another large Chilean Chardonnay each might have lifted their mood, but they both felt too listless to go up to the bar.