Page 32 of A Perfect Devon Pub
‘I think there’s some wine missing.’
Rose gasped. ‘Expensive stuff?’
Fiona nodded. She had thought through her options. Rose knew how familiar her sommelier was with the cellar; down there Fiona was like a cat patrolling its territory. Rose would be slower, but if her investigation concluded the loss was worse than Fiona suggested, suspicion might fall on the sommelier. ‘I don’t know exactly how bad it is, not without doing a stock check, but it looks like there might be £10,000 worth of stock missing.’
Rose staggered backwards, dragging the hairbrush with her.
‘Ow, that hurts, Mummy,’ cried Timmy.
‘Stand still then. I need to brush your hair.’ Rose puffed out a sigh. ‘A lot of bottles or a few expensive ones?’
Fiona picked a splodge of cold, sticky porridge from Becky’s hair, telling herself this wasn’t her problem to solve, any more than the food fight was. She was just helping Rose with both. ‘Expensive ones.’Very expensive.
Rose’s eyes met Fiona’s, and there was an accusatory tone in her voice. ‘The thief knows their way around the cellar then,’ said Rose.
Fiona flinched, sensing the hairs stand up on her arms. ‘Or they’ve seen the wine list,’ she suggested.
A fleeting look of realization shot across her boss’s face. ‘Sorry, that sounded nasty.’ Rose was holding out the hairbrush towards Fiona, as if offering an olive branch. ‘It’s not you – of course it’s not. Anyway, why would you draw my attention to your own crime?’
Smiling weakly to acknowledge the apology, Fiona took the hairbrush and unthreaded Becky’s plaits. ‘Give your head a shake, that should dislodge the worst of it,’ she instructed the child.
‘We had this happen in London too. Champagne and spirits, no wine, thankfully we didn’t have a fine wine list then,’ Rosesaid.
‘Is that why you moved here? Because of a thief.’
‘No. It’s tough making a living in a London pub, so when the lease on this came up, we leaped at it. A new start, a bit more support with the kids. What I want to know is, what is the thief doing with the stuff? I get how you can fence a case of spirits or a bottle of champagne, but’ she screwed up her face, ‘who buys stray bottles of fine wine?’
‘Lots of places. There are dedicated auctions, or upmarket merchants will buy rare wine, provided it’s been properly cellared. They have light filters which can detect if it’s gone off.’
‘Which this has not. George’s uncle kept it in a temperature-controlled cellar. We left it where it was when we were in London.’ Rose groaned, ‘That wine was our nest egg. I wish we’d sold it.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
Rose licked a finger and rubbed at a splodge of porridge on Timmy’s trousers. ‘George wanted to sell it to a high-end merchant straightaway. But when he did the research, we discovered a bottle of top-notch wine costing £100 in a shop would only sell for £50 to a merchant, but I suspected we could charge £150 in a restaurant.’ She sighed, ‘It was my idea. When we knew we were moving somewhere with a reputation for fine dining, I suggested shifting it over time in the restaurant, and we arranged to have it delivered to the pub. I know it will take time, but the wines George inherited are from excellent vintages and won’t go off any time soon.’
Fiona gave a slight headshake. ‘It’s notallgood vintages. The 2017, for example—’
Fiona’s thoughts froze.There was a fluttery sensation in her stomach.She was clearly much more knowledgeable about the contents of the cellar than her boss. ‘Are you insured?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure they’ll pay up. We’ve been a bit lax aboutsecurity and too many people know where that key is hidden.’
Fiona blushed. Whichever way she looked at this, the prime suspect was the sommelier. ‘Will you go to the police?’
‘Not yet. I’d like to encourage the culprit to confess. Will you help me do a stock take when I get back from the school run?’
Fiona nodded. ‘This one’s ready,’ she said, patting Becky on the back.
With a child in each hand, Rose strode towards the flat door, speaking over her shoulder, ‘It’s got to be Josh or Ruben from the kitchen.’ Hearing Ru’s name, Fiona winced. Rose ushered Fiona into the corridor. ‘It’s just you and me from the dining room. Kim and the bar staff don’t know where the key is kept.’
Fiona grimaced. ‘Sorry, Rose. That list is actually a bit longer. When you had the flu, Trish, Kim and Ivy were shown where that key lives.’
‘Who took that decision?’ barked Rose.
‘Me.’
Rose tutted, then slammed the door shut behind them, leaving Fiona questioning how much longer her boss would believe her innocent.
As they descended the stairs, Fiona could see a sliver of light shining from the end of the corridor. The cellar door was ajar. She felt beads of sweat on her upper lip and stopped, clasping the stock list to her chest. Rose held a finger up to her mouth. ‘Wait here,’ she whispered, her voice wavering.
