Free Eat, Drink and Be Buried by Peter King Page B

herring?”
    â€œS’ right.”
    â€œNo salmon?”
    He shook his head. “Only smoked.”
    â€œScottish?”
    He nodded.
    â€œWhat about tilapia?”
    Another shake.
    â€œIt’s the fish they fed the workers who built the Pyramids. It went out of style for many years, but recently they have been cultivating them in the Caribbean. You see them in Florida more and more.”
    â€œNot here,” said Dennis Violet.
    We chatted a few minutes longer. The input to the conversation was ninety-eight percent to two percent, with me contributing the vast majority. He had little to add and I was getting increasingly skeptical. Dennis began to fidget, clearly anxious to usher me out. I sniffed as I turned to go. “Do you smoke any fish?”
    â€œNot allowed here.”
    â€œThat smell…”
    â€œWe burn some rubbish. Heads and tails get in with it sometimes.”
    I thought that surely that was not allowed either, but he was not a man to pick an argument with. I thanked him and headed down the corridor. He made no attempt to show me out but watched me every step of the way. Outside, the smell was stronger. I walked around the back of the building.
    There was a stack of boxes. They carried a stenciled name in Cyrillic lettering and had been shipped from Riga in Latvia. The smell seemed to be a little stronger here and I scrutinized the roof. A strangely shaped conical projection was emitting the very slightest amount of smoke. In the gusty air over the Thames, it was almost unnoticeable, and then only in a rare moment of calm.
    I hurried toward the Docklands Light Railway terminal. Seven Seas was buying salmon from the Baltic, where it is significantly cheaper because it is an inferior fish in taste and appearance. They were smoking it illegally and no doubt selling it as prime Scottish smoked salmon. I increased my hurried pace. The staff of Seven Seas would not be gentle or forgiving if they learned that an outsider knew their secret.

CHAPTER NINE
    I TOOK THE 4:45 TRAIN and was back at the castle soon after six. The gates had just closed to the daytime crowds and those attending the evening joust and banquet had not yet started to arrive. I did as I was bid—I reported to Inspector Devlin.
    She was in the main hall, talking to two uniformed police, when I located her. She held up a hand to restrain me until she finished, then beckoned me over. I wanted to say something mildly humorous, but after considering various possibilities, I just said, “I’m back, Inspector.”
    â€œAh, the Gourmet Detective. I hope you haven’t been detecting.”
    â€œI went to a meeting of a club I belong to, then to Smithfield Meat Market, then to a supplier of seafood in Docklands,” I said.
    She nodded briefly.
    â€œAny progress in the case?” I asked.
    â€œWe’ll be making a press release tomorrow.” So much for being a Gourmet Detective—I was not going to get any special treatment. I took my leave and ran right into Felicity Harlington, who was also leaving.
    â€œCongratulations,” I said. “You’ve succeeded in escaping from the ogre’s den too.”
    She laughed. It suited her classic face. All her features were pleasing.
    â€œIt’s hard to believe there’s any crime in Hertfordshire,” she said. “Inspector Devlin must terrify every criminal in the county.”
    â€œLet’s hope she has the same effect here and can settle this terrible business.”
    She nodded. “How’s your project coming along?” she asked.
    â€œFair. A couple of things I wanted to ask you, so I’m glad I’ve run into you.”
    â€œSurely. Glad to help.”
    â€œI was just about to head for the bar,” I said. “Care to join me and I’ll tell you what they are?”
    â€œA fine idea.” She smiled.
    The large bar that adjoined the main dining room was empty except for a couple of