Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,26

with the idea of putting a ‘chef’s table’ in a corner of the kitchen to allow diners to watch us at work. But, as my limited star had risen over the years, I did tend to be elsewhere for an increasing number of the service periods in any given week. Also, I knew that, even now, the customers were apt to complain and be disappointed if I wasn’t actually there in the flesh, so I decided it was probably less troublesome overall to keep the clientele eating in the dining room only.

I thanked James Ward and saw him to his car and off the premises. Even though he was pleasant and helpful, there is something about health inspectors that gives all chefs the willies, so I was glad to see him depart.

Carl and I spent the next hour removing all the ‘CLOSED FOR DECONTAMINATION’ stickers, which seemed to De stuck on with Superglue. Then we tried our best to remove the remaining padlocks without causing too much damage to the fabric of the building. At last it was done and we sat together in the bar and pulled ourselves a pint each.

‘We reopen tomorrow then?’ Carl asked.

‘If we have any customers left,’ I said.

I showed him the newspaper.

‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘No one who comes here reads that.’

‘They will have done so today,’ I said. ‘Like me, they’ll have bought it to read about those killed on Saturday. They’re all bound to have seen it.’

‘Nah, don’t you worry, our regulars will trust us more than a newspaper.’ But he didn’t sound very convincing.

‘Most of our regulars were at the dinner on Friday and will know it’s true,’ I said, ‘because they were throwing up all night.’

‘Ahh, I’d forgotten that.’

‘How about those you phoned earlier?’ I asked him. ‘You know, to say we would be closed tonight.’

‘Well, most said they weren’t going to be coming anyway.’

‘Did they give a reason?’ I asked.

‘If you mean, did they say they weren’t coming because we were akin to a poison factory, then no, they didn’t. Only one person mentioned it and she said that she and her husband wouldn’t have come only because they hadn’t fully recovered from a bout of food poisoning. Most simply said it would be inappropriate for them to enjoy an evening out while the bodies of those killed had hardly gone cold, or words to that effect.’

We sat in silence and finished our beers. The thought of the bodies getting colder in the commandeered refrigerated truck had been drifting around the periphery of my consciousness for most of the day.

I called Mark Winsome. I thought it was time my silent business partner knew that we might have a spot of bother ahead. He listened carefully as I told him the whole story about Friday night and also about the bombing on Saturday. He knew, of course, about the bombing but hadn’t realized how close his investment had been to biting the dust.

‘I’m so sorry about your waitress,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘It’s been very distressing for the other staff. I sent them all home this morning.’

‘But you say the restaurant will reopen again tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I don’t expect there to be much business, and not only because of the food poisoning incident but because the whole area is in shock and I don’t think people will be eating out much.’

‘So you might have a bit of time this week?’ he asked.

‘Well, I think I should be here for those who do come,’ I said. ‘Why?’

‘I just thought it’s time you came to London.’

‘What, to see you?’

‘No. Well, yes, of course I would love to see you. But what I really meant was that it’s time for you to come to London permanently.’

‘What about the restaurant?’

‘That’s what I mean,’ he said. ‘I think it’s time you opened a restaurant in London. I’ve been waiting six years for you to be ready, and now I think you are.’

I sat in my office and stared at the wall. I had called Mark with considerable trepidation as I feared he might be angry that I had seemingly poisoned a sizable chunk of Newmarket society and damaged his investment. Instead, he was offering me … what? Fame and fortune, or maybe it would be humiliation and disaster. At the very least, Mark was offering me the chance to find out.

‘Are you still there?’ he said at length.

‘Mmm,’ I replied.

‘Good, then come and see me sometime later this week.’ He paused.