A Bitter Feast(24)

She’d been dead set against Viv doing this charity luncheon for Addie Talbot, but now that they were committed, she didn’t want anything going wrong that would reflect badly on the pub. Viv’s van was gone from the yard, so at least she’d got off for Beck House. She’d just check with Jack to make sure Fergus hadn’t been in.

But when she walked into the dining area, there was no one at the bar, and she could hear raised voices in the kitchen. The few patrons at the bar tables were looking up curiously.

Bea gave them a nod and a tight smile before charging through the swinging door.

The kitchen smelled of scorched coffee and burning garlic. Ibby and Jack stood facing each other, both bristling and up on the balls of their feet.

“You stupid git,” Ibby shouted. “How the hell could you let the police tell her?”

“Keep it down in here,” Bea snapped at them. “And tell who what?”

“Chef,” said Ibby, turning to her. “Some cops came in, talking some rubbish about a car crash with—”

“Nell Greene,” broke in Jack. “They said Nell was in an accident last night. She’s dead.”

“What?” Bea felt her stomach tighten. “But she can’t have been. She was here for dinner—”

“It must have happened right after she left,” Jack went on. “And that bloke, the poncey one that came in the kitchen, was with her.”

“What? Do you mean Fergus O’Reilly? With Nell?” Bea shook her head against the fog that seemed to be invading her brain. “That’s insane. Why would O’Reilly be in Nell’s car?”

“Well, you can’t ask him, can you?” Ibby picked up his knife and turned back to his cutting board, slamming the flat of the blade down on a head of garlic so hard that cloves shot out and skittered off onto the floor. “The fucker’s dead, too.”

“What?” Bea whispered. “But—but he can’t be—”

“And Jack here took it on himself to send the cops to ask Viv to identify him. Chef can be a right bitch sometimes, but she didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t know,” Jack protested. “I thought—”

“You didn’t think. You’re a freaking idiot.” Ibby whacked the garlic again. He looked dangerously piratical with the red bandanna he wore over his hair in the kitchen, his dark olive skin glistening against his whites. But there was something more than fury in the tight set of his mouth and the forceful wielding of his knife. It was a moment before Bea recognized it as grief.



It was Roz who seemed to recover from the shock first. “Viv, darling, I am so sorry. This must be dreadful for you.”

Viv shook herself as if coming up from deep water. “I can’t believe it. Surely there’s been some mistake?”

“What are you talking about?” asked the young man with the salad greens. “You okay, Viv?”

When no one else spoke, Gemma took it on herself to explain. “A chef Viv used to work for. In London. He was killed last night.”

“Along with Nell Greene,” said Addie. “You remember Nell, Joe?”

Joe looked blank.

“I’ll just go fetch the children,” Gemma began again, jumping up, when there was a chorus of barks and the two girls, followed by the dogs, came running from the direction of the glasshouse.

“Mummy,” said Grace, tugging at Viv’s apron. “Joe left us. You said he should stay with us.”

“I was coming right back.” Joe shot her a frown.

Always quick to pick up on tension in the air, Charlotte attached herself to Gemma, burying her face in Gemma’s shirt.

“Well, you’re all here now,” Addie said briskly. “And we’ve some decisions to make. Viv, I know this must be terribly upsetting. If you feel you can’t go on—”

“No.” Viv stood, too. “No. Of course I’m not going to let you down. But we’ve got to get moving. I’ll—I’ll deal with all this later.”

“Right.” Addie nodded her approval. “It’s eleven o’clock. The guests are due to arrive at twelve thirty. Roz, can you get your village ladies here to help with the serving? And, Viv, what do you need us to do?”

Viv’s back grew visibly straighter. “Joe, we’ll need more greens. And someone to wash and dry them, then arrange them on the plates. We need the tables completely set, and the jugs and ice ready for the prelunch Aperol cocktails. Addie, if you could—”

“Mummy.” Grace tugged at Viv’s apron with more force. “What happened? Why were the police here?”

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” Viv wrapped an arm round her daughter. “There was an accident. Last night. You know Mrs. Greene, the nice lady with the collie—?”

“Of course I do,” interrupted Grace. “I’ve helped Mark with Bella’s training.”

“Of course you have.” Viv turned Grace to face her. “I’m afraid Mrs. Greene died in the accident.”

Grace digested this, her small face creased in a frown. “Who’s going to look after Bella?” she asked.

“She’s with Mark,” Addie told her. The penny dropped for Gemma. Mark was the man that Addie had called last night. “I’m sure he’ll take good care of her until someone can be found to take her—”