Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,47

it was just done for kicks. There’s no logic to many things.’

‘Are the police looking for whoever did it?’ she asked.

‘Not that I’m aware of,’ I said. ‘I think the police are preoccupied looking for last Saturday’s bomber.’

‘You’re probably right,’ she said. ‘They’re certainly still here at the racecourse and we nearly had to cancel today’s wedding because of them, but thankfully we don’t use the Head-On Grandstand. That’s now going to be closed for months. But surely you should inform the police if you have suspicions about the dinner?’

‘Maybe I will,’ I said, although privately I thought they would believe the same as Angela Milne, that I had simply served undercooked kidney beans and was not prepared to admit it.

‘What else do you intend to do?’ she asked.

‘Probably nothing,’ I said. ‘A bit of food poisoning that didn’t do any permanent harm to anyone is not really important compared to the bombing.’ And, I thought, it might be better for my reputation and for the restaurant if I were to let the incident slowly fade from people’s memory rather than keep stirring it up.

‘Let me know if I can be of any help,’ said Suzanne.

‘Thanks, I will,’ I said. ‘And don’t forget the guest list and the agency details.’

‘On their way to you right now.’ I could hear her tapping away on a keyboard. ‘Gone,’ she said. ‘Should be with you any moment.’

‘Brilliant. Thanks.’ We hung up and I turned to my computer.

‘You have new mail,’ it told me, and, sure enough, with a couple of clicks, the guest list from the gala dinner appeared before my eyes. How did we function before e-mail?

I scanned through the list of names but I didn’t actually know what I was looking for, or why, so I printed it out and left it lying on my pile of stuff to be dealt with. I logged on to the Internet instead.

I made a search for RPO and soon I was delving into the details of concerts and operas of the Royal Philharmonic. Sure enough, the concert programme at the Royal Festival Hall was widely advertised and, if I wished, I could purchase a ticket with just a couple of clicks of my computer mouse. I noticed that tonight, and for most of the next week, the orchestra was performing the works of Sibelius and Elgar at the Carnegie Hall in New York City. Lucky Caroline Aston, I thought. I had been to New York in the springtime the previous year and had loved every moment.

I looked at Ms Aston’s telephone number on the notepad where I had written it on Wednesday morning when Bernard Sims had called. If she was in New York she wouldn’t be at home now. Three times I punched her number into my phone without actually pushing the button for the final digit. I wondered if there might be a voice message so I could hear what she sounded like. The fourth time I completed the number and let it ring twice before I lost my nerve and hung up. Maybe she didn’t live alone and someone would be there to answer after all.

I played with the phone for a while longer and then called the number again. Someone answered after a single ring.

‘Hello,’ said a female voice.

Oops, I thought, no recorded voice message. A real live speaking person.

‘Is that Caroline Aston?’ I asked, confident in the knowledge that she was, in fact, three thousand miles away.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Er,’ I said, sounding like an idiot, ‘would you like to buy some double glazing?’

‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘Goodbye!’ She hung up.

Stupid, I thought, as I sat there with my heart thumping in my chest. Really stupid. I put the phone down and it rang immediately.

‘Hello,’ I said.

‘Would you like to buy some double glazing?’

‘Excuse me?’ I said.

‘See. Why do you think I would want to buy double glazing from someone I don’t know who rings me up out of the blue? You don’t like it and neither do I.’

I didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry.’ It sounded ridiculous even to me.

‘Who are you anyway?’ she said. ‘You’re not very good at selling.’

‘How did you get my number?’ I asked.

‘Caller ID,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think you people would have a number that was visible. More importantly, how did you get my number?’

I could hardly tell her the truth, but whatever else I said now was going to get me into deeper trouble. I decided