Free The Food Detective by Judith Cutler Page B

they’ve gone. Like this pub and the village shop.’ Maybe it was time to hop off my hobby-horse . I grinned. ‘And you could have seen the stream for yourself .I called the water company but they couldn’t have been less interested.’
    ‘That’s officialdom for you. Good sandwich,’ he said, heaving himself to his feet. ‘I’d best be off – I ought to unpack a few more boxes.’
    ‘You could check the stream, too – it rises on Bulcombe’s land. At least, it’s not really his, of course, any more than the campsite is – he rents it from the Greville estate. And this morning he was off in his waders with a spade.’
    ‘Problem?’
    ‘Only that the consequence is that the stream is hardly flowing at all now.’
    ‘So where has all the water gone?’
    ‘You tell me, Copper. You tell me.’
     
    Telling Sue Clayton about our joint triumph over the hunt was the least I could do. In private, not with a couple of dozen parishioners milling round shaking hands and smiling after morning service. Should I beard her in her den, possibly catching her unawares, or do the decent thing and ask her back to my place when I accidentally met her as we were buying our
Guardians
?
    Any plans had to go by the board, however, when I arrived to find the shop seething with gossip. It seemed that Fred Tregothnan had disappeared. I didn’t think he’d been so upset by our tiff that he’d have flitted. But one or two people looked surreptitiously in my direction, and one or two quite pointedly, so I took care not to mention it. In any case, I pointed out when it was clear I had to shove my oar in, he was a grown man and, like the rest of us, was allowed to take a break when he needed it.
    Barbara Coyne was standing by the counter, hand held out for her regular papers – the
Mail
and the
Telegraph
. ‘Totally irresponsible ,’ she declared. I wasn’t sure whether she meant Fred or me. ‘You’ve obviously no idea how much a rural community depends on its vet. Just skipping off without a locum. Poor Caroline Greville had to take her dog all the way to Taunton.’
    Mention a dog in the village, and of course everyone goes doolally. The topic of Tregothnan was swamped in enquiries about the animal’s health and anecdotes about dogs – and vets –the speakers had known. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by offering my real opinions of what Tony used to call mobile poo factories, so I simply took my paper from Claire, Lindi’s older and more responsible sister, and slipped out. Sue was just parking – or rather, abandoning her poor vehicle with its front wheels jammed into the kerb. The rear ones were still calling for help from the middle of the road. It would have made an interesting project for Nick to teach her a few police driving skills. Even cleaning the headlights – necessary on a day as dark as this – might have made a difference.
    She got out slowly, hunching her shoulders and turning up her raincoat collar. The wind lashed her hair across her face: she had to pick strands from her mouth between sentences, which meant her coat flew open. Why didn’t she simply button it and have done? But that was Sue for you.
    ‘What’s this about you and the hunt, Josie?’
    ‘You’ve heard already?’
    ‘From about ten different people.’
    ‘Pleased or otherwise?’
    ‘Mrs Coyne was chuffed. But too disgusted with you to admit it. I suppose the rest were divided fifty-fifty. I’m surprised no one buttonholed you after morning service yesterday.’
    I wasn’t. I’d long since perfected the art of catching only the eyes I wanted to catch.
    ‘Sunday lunch to supervise,’ I said tersely. ‘Anyway, there’s more news to put mine in the shade. Fred Tregothnan’s done a flit.’
    If only there’d been enough light to read her face. Or less wind, so I could have worked out whether she really was swaying on her feet. ‘Why?’ she asked after a perceptible delay. Though it might have been caused by that