The Poisoning in the Pub by Simon Brett Page B

on the empty one. Jude grinned. ‘That’s a bit of
luck, getting him sitting next to us.’
    ‘You going to pick up where you left off with him yesterday?’
    ‘Do my best. Have to choose my moment, though. I think this could be rather a rowdy occasion for intimate interrogation.’
    She was right. The noise level was by now very high. There was a buzz in the Crown and Anchor of something about to happen. The customers from outside were pressing in, squeezing up against each
other. The room was steamy with odours of sweat and beer. Thank God, both women thought, smoking was no longer allowed in pubs.
    Thank God, too, that they’d been lucky enough to get seats. It was a real problem hanging on to the one they’d saved for Ray. People kept coming up and asking if it was taken. One
man unceremoniously removed Carole’s handbag and was only just prevented from plonking down his large backside. Eventually Jude just raised her legs and laid them across the chair.
    Carole looked around, still surprised to see so many faces in the Crown and Anchor that she didn’t recognize. There were a couple, though, that she had seen before. One was the tall man
she’d recently observed getting into his BMW in the pub car park. Black hair was still swept back from his chubby face, and he had thick-rimmed glasses like the young Michael Caine. Maybe as
a concession to the weekend, he wore no jacket, but he still contrived to look as though he was wearing a suit. He sat at a table with a group of equally well-tailored young men. They were all
drinking Belgian beers from the bottle. The atmosphere amongst them was raucous, but the tall man seemed removed from the action, observing, not missing anything that was going on.
    Again, he looked very familiar, but again, frustratingly, Carole couldn’t recall the context in which they had previously met.
    The other person Carole recognized was over by the bar. Ted Crisp’s ex-wife Sylvia had taken up position on a tall stool near the stage area. She was dressed in tight jeans and a skimpy
white blouse, showing a deep cleavage and distinct signs of intoxication. The way she draped herself over the tall man on an adjacent stool looked proprietorial, but whether he was a long-term
partner or that evening’s pick-up Carole could not guess. He wore black leather jeans and had a black leather jacket slung over his T-shirted shoulder, so maybe he was one of the bikers.
    Ray scuttled out of the kitchen and claimed his seat next to Jude. He was sweating heavily and jittery with excitement. ‘They’re going to start,’ he said, ‘any minute. I
actually saw Dan Poke back in the kitchen there. He’s on the telly. I’m going round to get his autograph later.’
    He looked up as a huge figure in black leather elbowed his way through the crowd to stand behind him. Jude recognized Viggo from Copsedown Hall. Though the man moved with a swagger, his pose
didn’t look quite convincing. He lacked the raucous ease of the other bikers. None of them took any notice of him. He was not part of their gang. But his presence could still impress –
or possibly frighten – Ray, who stopped talking and kept looking up towards his housemate, as if searching for approval.
    Viggo, like most of the men in the pub, had a pint in his hand. He raised it in a toasting gesture towards the scarred man, who was now in the centre of the group of bikers, but he received no
acknowledgement. Viggo looked momentarily hurt by the lack of reaction.
    Carole could see Zosia worming her way through the churning crowd – and a barrage of sexist banter – towards the light controls. Though the spotlights were on a dimmer, the
pub’s ordinary lighting could only be snapped off. But when Zosia pulled the switches, the blackout was far from complete. It was one of those July evenings that never got properly dark. The
crowd, aware of the lighting change, shouted and barracked as they tried to nestle themselves into slightly