The Sedgemoor Strangler and Other Stories of Crime

The Usual Table

Two weeks after Ella and Gavin opened their restaurant on Bodmin Moor they heard someone say there would be shooting for the next three weeks on Harrowbridge Hill, just up the lane. Bad news. When they bought the business no one mentioned military exercises or field sports in the area. You can’t serve relaxing meals to the sound of gunfire. Mercifully it turned out that the only sounds were a call for action followed by actors speaking lines. They were shooting a film. And even better news followed. The American film star Mikki Rivers spotted the restaurant sign and decided she would risk a meal there one evening. Danny Pitt, the director, made a reservation for two.

“Mikki Rivers! Brilliant!” said Gavin. “What a stroke of luck.”

“It is the Mikki Rivers, is it?” said Ella, feeling both excited and terrified.

“We couldn’t ask for a better endorsement,” said Gavin. “Everyone for miles around is going to know she ate here.”

“Please God she likes it,” said Ella. “The menu is a bit thin.”

“They’ll know it isn’t the Ritz. A limited choice, maybe, but what we serve is second to none.”

Gavin didn’t lack confidence. He was a trained chef, and a good one. The restaurant was tiny, just two rooms in a private house. You knocked at the front door, hung your coat in the hall and drank aperitifs in the small space in front of the bay window. But each item on the menu was cordon bleu.

Mikki Rivers came in on Wednesday evening with Danny Pitt. A photographer from the Cornishman got a shot of her stepping out of the Porsche in her mink. Ella was worried that Mikki would object to being photographed, but she gave her wide-screen smile and said she was used to far worse from the paparazzi.

They had the table closest to the log fire and everything was perfect. They ordered champagne and Gavin’s special, the roast duck and black cherry sauce, and said it was the best meal they’d had since they arrived. At the end, Mikki Rivers said she wanted to come back Saturday.

She meant it. Danny Pitt made the booking before they left. Mikki’s photo was on the front page of the Cornishman with the comment: “I’ll be back Saturday. Try and keep me away!” By mid-morning on the day the paper appeared, every table was reserved. The phone rang through the day. Gavin and Ella could have filled their little restaurant five times over.

“We’re made. It’s a dream start,” said Gavin.

“I hope they won’t all gawp at her,” said Ella.

“Not when they see the food you put in front of them. This is our chance, Ellie. Can you cope, or shall we hire an extra waitress for the evening?”

“If you can cook all by yourself, I’m sure I can manage my part.”

They opened at seven on Saturday evening. Mikki Rivers didn’t arrive until later, thank goodness, because there was a problem with some other customers, who had booked in the ominous name of Hellings.

“There must be a mistake.”

“What’s that, madam?” Ella asked with proper concern.

“Some people are sitting at our usual table in the conservatory.”

Ella had never seen them before. She remembered with an effort that the restaurant had been in business for some years before she and Gavin took over. “The con — which, madam?”

“Conservatory. Out there.”

“Oh, the sun room.”

“It’s the conservatory. It’s always been the conservatory.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ella said humbly. “We haven’t been here long.”

“If you had,” said the woman, a senior citizen with three rows of paste pearls that lent symmetry to the triple bags under her heavily made-up eyes, “you would know that we always have that table for our anniversary dinner.”

“They’ll have to move,” said her companion in a combative voice. This burly man with a red bow-tie looked uncomfortable in his suit. His weatherbeaten face suggested he’d worked outdoors most of his life.

Desperate as Ella felt, she knew she must humour these people and get them settled before her star guest arrived. “Did you say it’s your anniversary? Congratulations. Is it a special one?”

“They’re all special to Wilf and me,” said the woman. “Actually, this is the thirteenth. We come every year.”

“And sit at our usual table,” added Wilf. He wasn’t to be sidetracked. “We’re not sitting anywhere else.”

“We asked for our usual table when we booked,” said the woman. “That’s the whole point of coming here, that table. There are better restaurants, with better food and better service, but that table has associations.”

And Wilf chimed in, “So will you tell those people to move their arses, or shall I?”

Fortunately, he’d lowered his voice. Normally if you took the trouble to listen you could hear anything anyone said in the tiny rooms. How tempted Ella was to show the door to this obnoxious pair. On any other evening, she would have risked it.

She glanced across at the young couple sitting in the sun room. They were still looking at the menu. They might be persuaded to move. They appeared amenable.

“Listen,” she said to Wilf Hellings and his lady, “I’m sure we can sort this out. Please have an aperitif with our compliments, while I speak to my husband.”

“You can stuff your aperitif,” Wilf told her. “We want action, not farting around.”

Ella went into the kitchen and told Gavin about these appalling people. He was terribly busy cooking whitebait for starters. “Who took the booking? Did they mention a special table?”

“Does it matter who took the booking?” Ella said. “The point is, we’ll have a riot if they don’t get that table. Mikki Rivers could arrive any minute.”

Gavin pulled the pan from the flame. “I’ll speak to the people in the sun room, then.” He moved off at speed.

Happily — and with the bribe of a bottle of Chablis, courtesy of the management — the young couple were willing to move.

So the Hellings, the customers from hell, took possession of their usual table. Ella handed them the menu just as Mikki Rivers and her companion Danny Pitt drove up.

“So pleased to be back in your wonderful restaurant,” said Mikki as she slipped out of the mink. She was in a gorgeous glittery top and black skirt slashed to the hip.

“We’re a little busier than last time,” said Ella apologetically.

“No problem,” said Danny Pitt. He winked. “Good to see fine cooking appreciated.”

“If it is the cooking.”

Ella showed them to their table by the fireplace and left them with the menu while she took other orders.

“Give me the wine-list,” said Wilf Hellings, when she reached him. “The drinks are on Gus this evening.”

“The whole meal’s on Gus,” said his companion, giggling.

“He’s got no choice, has he?” said Wilf.

“Gus was my husband,” the woman explained to Ella. “I still have his money in the bank.”

“Is your husband,” Wilf corrected her. “In theory, anyway.”

Ella didn’t show it, but her fury at these obnoxious people increased. They’d made a scene because they were supposed to be celebrating their thirteenth anniversary. And now it appeared they weren’t even married.

“He disappeared one day,” said the woman. “Gus, my so-called better half, vanished.”

“Sank without trace,” said Wilf, and for no obvious reason threw back his head and guffawed, and the woman joined in.

All of this was audible to anyone who cared to listen. The woman’s piercing laughter must have got through to those with no interest in listening.

“He was a pig,” she said of her husband. “You couldn’t have brought him to a place like this.”

“You wouldn’t need to. He never left it,” Wilf said in a cryptic aside, and earned another shriek.

“I wouldn’t want him back,” she said. “I don’t mind spending his money, though.”

Ella glanced nervously towards the table by the fire. Thankfully Mikki Rivers and her escort seemed to be oblivious of all this.

Wilf glanced at the wine-list. “Got anything unusual in your cellar?”

This won the customary hoot of amusement from his companion.

“Everything we stock is on the list, sir. Perhaps you’d like a little longer to make up your mind.”

“What’s on the menu?” the woman asked.

Ella went through the specials.

“Now tell us in plain English,” Wilf said.

Ella knew he was winding her up, testing her, trying to find her breaking point. In her time as a waitress she’d never met anyone so unpleasant.

The woman said to Ella, “Come here, love. No, really close. I want to whisper something in your ear.”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get any closer, but she had to appear friendly, so she dipped her head and heard the woman say, “Play along with him and you’ll get a socking great tip.”

The tip was the last thing on her mind, but she gritted her teeth and explained what each dish consisted of.

“Right,” said Wilf. “I’ll have the pie.”

“And would you care for a starter?”

“Just a big portion of fish pie and plenty of veg. I’ve had you for my starter, had you over a barrel, and very tasty it was. Might have some more before the evening’s through.”

The woman shook with mirth. “He’s a wicked man. Don’t take any notice. I’ll have the pie as well.”

In the kitchen, Ella told Gavin, “Two saumon en croute, and I feel like spitting in them. Those people in the sun room are horrible.”

“Don’t let them get to you.”

“It’s all right for you. You don’t have to speak to them.”

“Better change their knives and forks if they’re having the salmon.”

“Oh, God, yes.”

Probably her state of mind had something to do with the fumble she made with the cutlery at the Hellings’s table. A fish-knife slipped from her hand and dropped on the floor.

“Watch it!” said Wilf, at once. “Careful of my floor.”

“Careful of your floor,” his companion said, simpering at him. “It’s not much of a floor if a fish-knife cracks it.”

“Six inches of hardcore and six inches of concrete,” said Wilf.

“Mostly hardcore anyway,” she said, nudging him as if they had some private joke.

Ellie picked up the knife and said, “I’ll get you another.”

“And a bottle of house white,” said Wilf.

“Mean bastard,” said his lady.

When Ella returned with the knife and the wine, the woman said, “You must be wondering what Wilf was on about, talking about his floor as if he owned it. You see, he’s a builder. He built this conservatory thirteen years back.”

“You must have seen my name on the trucks in big red letters. Hellings,” said Wilf with pride. He addressed this remark to the room in general, turning to see if anyone responded, and several nodded their heads to humour him. There was general interest in what was being said.

“He’s very well known,” said the woman, pitching her voice higher to involve more of the diners. “This building was my home, see, before it was a restaurant. I lived here with Gus, my lawful wedded pain in the arse. He always wanted a conservatory, and we weren’t short of money, Gus being a garage owner, so we got the planning permission and hired the best builder in West Cornwall, and that was Wilf.”

“That’s why I called it my floor just now,” said Wilf, looking around the room. “I built it, but it belongs to Pearl really.”

“And Gus,” said the woman now revealed as Pearl.

“Specially Gus,” said Wilf, and got a giggle from Pearl.

Ella went to Mikki Rivers’s table and took their order. The film star still seemed perfectly at ease, faintly amused by what she and everyone else had overheard in the last few minutes.

In the kitchen, Ella passed on the orders to Gavin and updated him on what had been said. “That woman with Hellings lived here, apparently,” she told Gavin. “This was her house.”

“If it is,” said Gavin, “she’s still the owner. We lease it through the agents, but it’s owned by some company with a woman as managing director. Must be her.”

“The husband left her, and I’m not surprised. He disappeared thirteen years ago, after Wilf Hellings built the sun room for them. She seems to have taken a fancy to her builder and moved in with him.”

Gavin said, “Their salmon is ready. Got your tray?” He transferred the food to the plates. “Be nice to them, Ellie. I know it’s difficult.”

She carried the tray to the table with extreme care and set the plates in front of them.

“Right,” said Wilf. “Let’s see if the cooking is up to standard. The trouble with salmon is the bones.”

“It’s filleted,” Ella assured him.

“Better be. There’s nothing worse than finding bones when you don’t expect them, eh, Pearl?”

“Shut up, you old fool,” Pearl scolded him, half-smiling, and blushing, too.

“Relax,” said Wilf. “I wouldn’t embarrass you. We’ve been coming all these years and I’ve never said a word out of turn, have I?”

“He’s not used to eating out,” Pearl told Ella. “We have this anniversary meal once a year, and that’s enough for him.”

“The anniversary of the day her husband Gus disappeared,” said Wilf, and once again he had the attention of just about everyone in the room, including Mikki Rivers. “He was a toe-rag, was Gus. Treated her like something the dog dragged in. I saw it at first hand when I got the job here, building the conservatory. How long was I working here, Pearl — six, seven, eight weeks? I say it myself, I’m a master builder. He knew he was hiring the top man around. It was purpose built, this conservatory, not one of those ready-made things that let in the damp. As I say, I saw him knock her around.”

Pearl said, “You don’t have to go into details, Wilf.”

“He was a rich bastard and he thought that gave him the right to do as he liked,” Wilf pressed on relentlessly, pouring himself more of the house wine. “She would have put up with it, wouldn’t you, Pearl, if I hadn’t come on the scene? She didn’t know he was seeing other women.”

While Wilf regaled the room with Gus’s deplorable behaviour, Ella did her best to take the orders and serve the meals. It was difficult to get anyone’s full attention. Even Gavin had the kitchen door open and was trying to listen. “Do you think they bumped off the husband?” he asked Ella when she came to collect some meals.

“They wouldn’t talk like this if they had.”

“It could be the wine talking. Maybe this anniversary of theirs is the anniversary of the murder.”

“What a gruesome idea.”

“They’re a gruesome pair.”

“That’s true.” She picked up her tray and took another order out.

In the sun room Wilf was saying in his carrying voice, “It all came to a head one Saturday morning thirteen years ago. I’d just finished digging the foundations, right here where I’m sitting. Back-breaking work. Pearl said she’d make me a coffee, and I don’t turn down good offers from the ladies. We got talking, as you do, and I happened to mention I’d seen Gus the night before in the Jamaica Inn with a gorgeous redhead. Now, I swear I wasn’t making trouble. I wouldn’t have said a word about it — except I thought this girlie had to be his daughter. She was so much younger than old Gus, you see.”

His story was interrupted by the doorbell, but like all good raconteurs, Wilf turned it to advantage.

“The front door opens, and in walks the man himself — Gus. He doesn’t ring the bell, it’s true, cause he’s got a key, hasn’t he? Just walks in. He’s obviously been on the job all night. Looks a wreck. No prizes for guessing where he spent the night. They say it’s really comfortable up there, and the cooked breakfasts are out of this world. Pearl asks the old stallion where he’s been, and he tells her to shut up asking questions and get him a black coffee — and I decide it’s time to get back to my foundations. I know when to make myself scarce. The trouble is, Pearl asks me to stay. She wants him in the dock, with me as witness for the prosecution. Isn’t that a fact, Pearl? Am I telling it right?”

“You shouldn’t be telling it at all,” said Pearl, getting a word in at last. “People come here for a nice meal. They don’t want to hear about my two-timing husband.”

“They want to know what happened.”

“It’s no business of theirs.”

“They’re interested.”

“Shut up and eat your dinner. And I don’t think you should have any more of that wine. You’re not used to it.”

So for an interval, Wilf was gagged.

Back in the kitchen, Ella asked Gavin, “Did you go to the door just now?”

“Yes. Just some customer who came in at lunchtime and thought he left his umbrella.”

“You let him look for it?”

“And missed part of the story. Where did Gus spend the night?”

“The Jamaica Inn, with a redhead half his age.”

“I’m even more convinced they murdered him.”

“What would they have done with the body?” asked Ella.

Occasionally two people who know each other intimately have the same thought at precisely the same time. In this instance, the shared thought was so horrific that neither spoke. Ella gasped and Gavin stared.

Finally Ella said, “The foundations.”

Gavin, pulling himself together, said, “You’d better take the dessert trolley round.”

Mikki Rivers opted for the raspberry mousse. She said the food had been delicious again.

Ella said, “I just hope you weren’t disturbed by the loudmouth in the sun room.”

Mikki said, “We adored it. What a strange couple. We’re dying to hear the end of the story.”

Feeling slightly more relaxed, Ella pushed the dessert trolley into the sun-room.

Wilf Hellings put up two hands defensively. “Don’t bring it over here. We’re supposed to be dieting.”

“It’s tempting, though,” said Pearl.

“If you fancy something, go ahead,” said Wilf. “You won’t get another crack at it till next time the anniversary comes around.”

“I’d better not. Why don’t you settle up now?”

“A coffee, perhaps?” Ella suggested.

They shook their heads.

From the other room, Danny Pitt spoke up. “Before you go, would you mind telling us what happened between you and Gus, the lady’s husband?”

There were murmurs of support from all around the room.

Wilf looked at Pearl, who shrugged.

“There isn’t much more I can tell you,” said Wilf. “He called me a liar and I called him a rat and soon after that he disappeared. Who knows where he ended up? Someone suggested he may have gone down under, and there could be some truth in that.” He paused and looked at the floor, milking the line for all it was worth.

Pearl began to giggle again.

“Anyway, it cemented our relationship.”

Pearl found this uncontrollably funny.

“I don’t think he’ll surface now,” added Wilf. “So we come here once a year and sit here at our usual table and have a meal on Gus, and, do you know, we feel quite close to him?”

Soon after, they paid their bill in cash and left. Ella got a ten pound tip. The money was unimportant. Her suspicions meant she would never feel comfortable in the house again.

Which didn’t matter, as it turned out, because she and Gavin left soon after, even though the police convinced them that the story of the missing husband had been just a clever con. It was the bad publicity over the stolen mink coat that did for them.