At least he hasn’t apologised for the lack of a body in the freezer. That’s becoming rather tedious and predictable during hygiene inspections.
“Noel, I’m not looking for dead bodies – just your impression of how the place is run.”
He looks disappointed, but soon perks up. “Marina Rudolf runs Nightingales like a high security prison. She installed cameras everywhere, watching to make sure no one walks off with a stick of celery. Then she accused me of wasteful practices.”
“Like what?”
“Ordering too much food, throwing too much out. It happens when you have too many choices on the menu. Anyway, I couldn’t work with her watching me all the time, so when I heard Doug was looking for a new chef, I came here. He doesn’t pay as well as Nightingale’s but he lets me get on with my job.”
Noel gives me a few more details, but it’s clear they’re pet grievances and frustrations. I have enough of those already thanks to my boss, Dannielle Frost. At four o’clock on Christmas Eve, when everyone else had gone home, she called me back to announce a merger of teams and a saving of three posts to cut costs. When I challenged her plans, she told me I could bring new ideas and fresh impetus as manager of the new team.
That means officers will complain to me when they return to work the day after tomorrow and read the email Danni sent out.
“Thanks for your help, Noel.”
He nods. “If you need any more inside information, you know where I am.”
Upstairs, the bar’s filling with locals and a few hardy ramblers. Columbo’s making friends with everyone, looking for treats as usual. When he spots me, he bounds over and follows me outside.
In the car, I lean back and sigh, realising how close I came to starting a wild rumour about Nightingales. What’s wrong with me? When did I start believing elderly men with dementia? What happened to evidence and proof?
Columbo settles on the parcel shelf and gives me an encouraging bark. He’s right. I need to move on. I have enough problems to deal with. Thankfully, none of them will be as awkward as the merger of the Food and Pollution Teams.
Then Niamh rings. “I hope you haven’t forgotten about Gemma’s engagement party tonight.”
No Bodies Page 31
