Fethering 02 (2001) - Death on the Downs Read Online Free Page A

Fethering 02 (2001) - Death on the Downs
Book: Fethering 02 (2001) - Death on the Downs Read Online Free
Author: Simon Brett, Prefers to remain anonymous
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we’re getting there,” Freddie went on. “Pam has the worst of it, of course. She’s been up and down from town like a bloody yo-yo this week. Trying to stop the builders treading wet footprints all over the bloody kitchen. Waiting in for deliveries of fridges and what have you from men who never bloody turn up when they say they’re going to.”
    “Still, early days.”
    Carole was beginning to wonder whether Will Maples had a stock of bland responses to every kind of customer’s remark and moved a mental dial round to the right one as required. Maybe it was a skill all landlords had to develop. She wondered whether Ted Crisp, owner of the Crown and Anchor in Fethering, had a similar range of programmed responses. Not for use with her, of course, but with the general run of his customers. Though she wasn’t by nature a ‘pub person’, Carole Seddon tentatively liked to think of Ted Crisp as a friend.
    “Oh yes,” Freddie agreed. “Less than a month since we moved in. Rome wasn’t built in a day, eh?” Once again the ‘eh?” cued a fruity laugh, and a dutiful echo from the landlord.
    The duologue was then opened up by the arrival of another regular, though this one’s credentials seemed more authentic than Freddie’s. Dressed in jeans and a thick plaid workshirt, the newcomer had a thin face, scoured red by exposure to the elements, over which hung a hank of tobacco-like hair. The fingernails of his large hands were rimmed with black. His mouth was a lipless line that didn’t look as if it opened more than it had to. His age could have been anything between thirty and fifty.
    “Evening, Will.” The words were the minimum politeness required, and were delivered with a nasal West Sussex twang.
    “Nick, hi.” No order was given, but the landlord reached instinctively to a tall glass which he started to fill with Heineken lager.
    “Hello, Nick.” Freddie’s voice was full of common touch. “Now let me get you that drink.”
    “I buy my own, thanks.”
    Freddie’s face got even redder in the silence that continued until the pint of lager was placed on the counter. The man called Nick put down the right money, picked up his drink and moved to a stool as far away from Freddie as possible, at the end of the bar nearest to the Snug. He showed no signs of having seen Carole.
    She looked across at Will Maples as Freddie embarked on a monologue about how careful you had to be with companies who did fitted kitchens. “Always offer you special offers and discounts, but when you come down to it, you end up paying through the bloody nose for all kinds of extras, things they never actually thought to mention until it’s too late for you to tell them to get packing.”
    On the manager’s face, too thin to be quite handsome, Carole could identify an expression of deep boredom. That, coupled with the young man’s smart suit and metropolitan manner, suggested that he didn’t see the future of his career in pulling pints. The Hare and Hounds was a temporary measure, a stopgap, or perhaps an essential staging post to the next promotion.
    The disguised gas fire and the brandy were having their effect. Carole still felt sodden, but it was now a warm dampness. Though she could see no sign of it, she felt as though she were quietly steaming. Drowsy, but more as though she were drugged than about to fall asleep. Sleep, she knew, would not come easily that night. She would keep waking to the image of bones in fertilizer bags, a picture made more disturbing by its simplicity and anonymity. She would be haunted not by what she had seen, but by the implications of what she had seen. Detective Sergeant Baylis had been right. Carole Seddon was in shock.
    The pub door clattered open again. The new arrival was thin and so tall that he had to stoop under the low entrance. He wore a three-piece suit in greenish tweed. It had cost a lot when collected from the tailor’s. But that had been many years before. The elbows and the
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