The Wild Wood Enquiry

by Ann Purser

  “Hope her teeth are good, then,” she said.

  As she turned to go, James said, “No trouble down Hangman’s Lane, I hope. I heard there were police cars down there yesterday.”

  “One police car,” said Miriam. “I can’t tell you more at present. Tomorrow, if you don’t mind, I’ll know more then. I’m sworn to secrecy at the moment.”

  James, too, was familiar with Miriam’s love of a drama, and he laughed. “Fine with me,” he said. “Just as long as everybody’s still alive and kicking. So I’ll see you as usual tomorrow. Give my regards to Miss Beasley. I don’t suppose the secret had anything to do with Enquire Within?”

  Miriam shrugged and left quickly, before James could break down her defences.

  When she arrived at Springfields and was shown up to Ivy’s room, she was surprised to see Mr. Goodman there, too. Miss Beasley explained that he was part of the team, and it was always useful to have a second pair of ears to pick up anything she failed to hear.

  “Not that I am hard of hearing, goodness me, no. But you are a real mutterer, Miss Blake, so we would appreciate it if you could speak clearly and not into your boots.”

  Not a good start, thought Miriam, but asked if Miss Beasley was aware that Gus’s ex-wife had been staying with her. Ivy replied that of course she knew, and what had that to do with anything.

  “Nothing, I hope,” said Miriam, and explained as clearly and loudly as she could, looking Ivy straight in the eyes, that she and Rose Budd had been collecting plants and things in the woods and had seen a hand under the bracken. At this, Ivy chuckled. “The hand of the Baskervilles, I suppose,” she said, and Roy smiled at her witty riposte.

  Miriam frowned. “It is not a joke, Miss Beasley,” she said. “I naturally told the police and took them to the place where we’d found it. But, to my horror, it had disappeared. Needless to say, the police were not impressed and went away, as good as saying I had imagined it.”

  “Not surprising,” commented Ivy, but Roy was not so sure.

  “Didn’t Mrs. Budd substantiate your story?” he said.

  So Miriam had to explain why she had not told the police about Rose and what they planned to do next. “But I have a feeling it won’t make much difference,” she said. “They’ll think it’s a practical joke. I reckon Rose will get the same dusty answer as me.”

  “So what would you like us to do?” Roy said. He had a soft spot for Miriam Blake, suspecting that, for all her faults, her heart was in the right place. What is more, he believed her.

  “I would like you to find out who that hand belonged to and who killed him or her. I’m sure it was a human hand,” Miriam answered.

  “And are you sure it wasn’t one of those plastic things from a joke shop?” Ivy said, still sceptical. “It wasn’t a severed hand, was it?”

  Roy smothered a smile, and asked seriously if they had tried to uncover an arm attached.

  “Look here!” said Miriam crossly. “I have come here with a genuine job for you to do. I’m prepared to pay good money for an investigation, so if you don’t want to take it on, just say so, and I’ll get back to what me and Rose have to do.”

  “Of course we’ll take it on,” said Roy hastily. “It is just part of our professional approach to make sure we shall not be taking your money with no chance of success. Now, if you are agreeable, we’ll get our full team together, and perhaps you will by then be able to tell us what further steps are being taken by the police.”

  Mollified, Miriam said she would be in touch, and left Springfields with a lighter step. Everyone said Miss Beasley’s bark was worse than her bite, and Miriam knew that the team had had some real success in the past. She had no confidence in the police taking it further, even with Rose’s call, and Ivy’s question about a joke hand had convinced her that this was probably what the cops had thought.

  By the time she reached the Budds’ house, she had begun to have doubts herself. There was a gang of youths in the village who found it hilarious to frighten old people living alone. But she was not old! And anyway, the ringleader had been warned by the police, and there had been no recent incidents. Besides which, why would the kids half bury a joke hand in a place where it was most unlikely to be found?

  ROSE DIALLED 999 and waited for the answer. “Police, please,” she said, and nodded to Miriam. “She sounded really nice,” she whispered.

  After that, Miriam said nothing while Rose told her story. She had obviously taken trouble to give a clear and truthful account, probably rehearsing it with David, and Miriam’s heart sank. It sounded exactly like a rehearsed speech, and when questions were asked, Rose stuttered and hesitated and said she was sorry, but she had fainted and could remember no more.

  She did not want to upset Rose again and so said she thought that had been fine and no doubt the police would want to take the matter further. What had they said before she finished the call?

  “Nothing much,” Rose said. “They thanked me for calling and said they would look into it. That was it.”

  “I thought as much,” said Miriam, and told Rose about her meeting with Ivy and Roy. “If we don’t hear anything more from the police,” she said, “at least we’ll be doing something on our own account. Don’t think you have to be part of this, Rose, if you’d rather not,” she added. “I’m quite capable of handling it myself. And I’ve always got Gus next door.”

  Eleven

  DEIRDRE SWORE. WHEN the telephone rang, she had been struggling with her head stuck in the slinky evening dress she planned to wear at this evening’s grand occasion at the Hall. She was to act as Theo Roussel’s hostess, and the great and good of the area had bought expensive tickets, comforted by the thought that profits were to go to the local branch of the RSPCA. As many of the guests were members of the Barrington Hunt, and since hunting with dogs was officially banned, this was a blatant attempt to sweeten the opposition.

  Her dress now had a smear of lipstick on the front, and she grabbed the phone and said crossly, “Hello? Oh, Ivy, it’s you. What do you want? Yes, I am going to the ball. And no, not at all like Cinderella. No, I do not have to be home by midnight!” The old thing was losing her marbles, Deirdre thought. But Ivy’s next words reminded her that whatever else was aging with her cousin, it was not her sharp brain.

  “I suppose you’ll be staying for breakfast, then,” Ivy said. “Still, it will be Sunday, so you can make it in time to confess in church. But enough of all that,” she continued. “You are an unattached female and must do what you like. Are you taking Gus? No, I thought not. Anyway, the reason I’m ringing is to warn you that we shall have Miriam Blake looking in on our meeting on Monday. Yes, Miriam Blake. She has a case for us, and Roy, in his wisdom, has decided it is genuine and not another of Miss Blake’s alarums and excursions.”

  “I suppose it is not the vexed question of what to do about Gus’s ex-wife,” Deirdre said sourly.

  “I hope not,” Ivy said, and then added that she was sure Deirdre had more titivating to do, so she would see her on Monday at the usual time.

  Ivy’s next call was to Gus, who was also getting cleaned up to go out, but for him the trip was no farther than next door. Miriam had tempted him once again with a Lancashire hot pot, followed by plum pie and custard.

  “Hello, Ivy,” he said politely. “How are you, my dear, and Roy, and what can I do to help?”

  “A new case for us. Roy thinks it will be interesting and fruitful as far as fees go. Miriam Blake has been to see me and she will explain all when she comes to our meeting at Tawny Wings. Must go. Care assistant knocking at the door to come in and tuck up the old biddy! See you Monday, Augustus.”

  Roy frowned at Ivy. They were sitting cosily in Ivy’s room, with hot chocolate and biscuits on her bedside table. “My dear,” he said, “you are certainly not an old biddy. I wonder if this would be a suitable time for me to remind you that we should fix a date when I can do all the tucking up that will be necessary.”

  BARRINGTON HALL
WAS looking its festive best. Bathed in late sunshine, the golden stone façade welcomed the procession of cars up the long drive. Theo and Deirdre stood in the flower-decked entrance engaging guests in cheerful banter about fox cubs and how many had mysteriously vanished.

  Finally the last car had parked, and Theo said why didn’t they have a secret snifter in his study before mingling with the throng. Deirdre knew exactly what the snifter would lead to and said she really felt like dancing at the moment. Perhaps later on, when she would be tired and glad of a rest.

  Sid and His Swingers were playing with gusto, and with alcoholic drinks flowing and a substantial buffet supper laid out in the dining room, the ball was clearly a success. Before the break for refreshments Deirdre approached Sid to remind him that food for the band would be in the library. As they put down their instruments, the saxophone player, a serious-looking man with a shock of dark hair, came up to her.

  “Um, er, hello,” he said, and his voice was pleasant, his accent far from what Deirdre would have expected. Eton or Harrow, she thought, and was immediately intrigued. “I wonder if you can help me?” he continued. “A friend from London sent word to say she would be here and we were to look out for one another. Haven’t spotted her yet, thank goodness. I am anxious to avoid this meeting, if possible. You know, old flames and all that. No messages, I suppose?”

  “If you give me your name, I can make some enquiries. And who is it you are hoping to avoid? I know most people here, so I am sure I can help.” Sounds a bit screwy, thought Deirdre. I bet he fixed the meeting and has now thought better of it.

  “Her name is Katherine Halfhide,” he replied. “I believe her ex-husband lives around here.”

  Deirdre drew in her breath. “Ah,” she said. “I’m afraid you have me there. I have heard of her but never seen her. Perhaps Theo might help. Look, he’s over there waving to me. Why don’t you try him?”

  WHEN DEIRDRE AND Theo finally escaped to his study, she at once asked him about the saxophone player. “What was his name? He dodged my question. Were you able to help?”

  “Not really. I knew the chap, of course, son of an old friend. But I have never met Katherine Halfhide, and quite frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn about the ex-wife of my Hangman’s Row tenant. She sounds a frightful bore, and a nuisance to poor old Gus. If she’s reduced to hiring reluctant saxophone players who look like Rudolph Valentino, then he’s well rid of her, I would say. Come on now, my treasure, drink up and we can start to enjoy ourselves.”

  “And his name?”

  “Oh Lord, Deirdre, I’ve forgotten for the moment. Ask me later. Now, my lovely, forget about Valentino and come to your Theo.”

  Twelve

  THERE HAD BEEN no word from Katherine, and Miriam had wondered about her for a while. Then she decided that Gus’s ex-wife was an impulsive woman and had gone back to London. Selfish, too, to leave without explanation. The only recurring thought she had now about her irresponsible guest was relief at her own lucky escape! No wonder Gus was so anxious about her turning up. She saw that two-faced Katherine could easily have been responsible for his original flight to Hangman’s Row in search of a hiding place. All the mystery surrounding him was now explained, wasn’t it?

  “Now we’ve sorted that out,” she said to Whippy, who had come in from next door, hoping for titbits, “we can concentrate on the identity of that poor unfortunate person in the woods.”

  Whippy rubbed her head against Miriam’s leg, and she responded with a biscuit from the cache she kept out of sight of Gus. He was strict with his dog’s diet and would not have approved. Miriam stroked her velvety back and reflected that if she couldn’t have Gus to stroke, at least she could borrow his dog. She liked Whippy but was hurt by the dog’s reaction when on her own territory. Then she would bare her teeth and behave as if Miriam was a dangerous trespasser.

  She looked at the kitchen clock and took off her apron. Time to go to Tawny Wings for the meeting with Enquire Within. She asked Rose if she would like to come, too, not expecting her to say yes, and she had refused, saying that David did not want her to be involved unless it was absolutely necessary. They had to think about the little boys and did not want them unduly alarmed.

  Miriam had very little hope of police interest and squared her shoulders. It was to be a one-woman campaign, then. All the more reason for employing Enquire Within to take on the donkey work. And she intended to help. She knew she should not be excited about something as frightening as a murder but was quite convinced that this was what the half-hidden hand had meant, and she relished the challenge. The added bonus, she admitted to herself, was that Gus would see how clever she could be, and following on his bad experience with his ex-wife, he would be only too pleased to allow Miriam to look after him on a permanent basis.

  She gently pushed Whippy out into the garden and locked her back door. Then, collecting the notebook in which she had detailed the discovery and disappearance of the hand, she set off for Tawny Wings.

  THE FOUR TEAM members were settled in Deirdre’s upstairs office, and Ivy ran through once more what Miriam had told her and Roy. “If you ask me, it’ll all turn out to be a storm in a teacup,” she said. “Probably a fallen branch with a twiggy bit showing.”

  “A twiggy bit?” said Roy. “You couldn’t mistake twigs for a hand, surely?”

  “Depends what the light was like,” Gus said. “It is surprising how deceiving things can be in a poor light. Rose saw it first, did you say? She’s a lovely girl but a little on the nervous side.”

  “Well, we shall be able to ask Miriam,” Roy said. “I must say I was convinced by her story. There was the ring of truth about it.”

  “Oh yes,” said Ivy, “she undoubtedly thought she was telling the truth. It’s not in Miriam Blake’s nature to be willing to shell out money unless she really believes in what she’s doing. But that doesn’t mean it was a real hand, severed or otherwise.”

  Roy patted her arm, mildly reproving. “Perhaps best not to use that word, dearest, until we’ve talked to Miriam again.”

  On cue, there was a firm knock at the front door, and Deirdre went off to admit their client.

  “I’ve never been in your house before,” Miriam said chattily as she followed Deirdre upstairs. “It’s ever so nice. I know it’s not really old, but it looks like it, with all those beams and wood and stuff. You’ve got the best of both worlds, haven’t you?” She laughed. “Olde worlde and all mod con as well!”

  Deirdre opened the office door, and said, “Here’s Miriam, everybody. You know all these people here, don’t you,” she added, as Miriam was suddenly struck down with a momentary shyness.

  “Oh yes, of course I do,” she said.

  “Why don’t you sit yourself down,” Ivy said, “and then Augustus and Deirdre can hear what you have to say. Roy and me have filled them in, but they’d like to hear it in your own words.”

  “There’s more to tell since I saw you, Miss Beasley. Shall I begin at the beginning?”

  Ivy looked at Gus and saw miserable apprehension in his face. Worrying about what she’s going to say about his ex-wife’s confidences, she thought. She decided to forestall Miriam and said would she please start at the point where she and Rose were going for a walk in the woods.

  There were inevitable embellishments, and Ivy had more than once to interrupt and guide Miriam back on track. But on the whole, she gave a good, if dramatised, account of what had happened.

  “And then, after I came to see you and Mr. Goodman,” she addressed Ivy, sensing that she was the boss, “I went in to the Budds, and Rose phoned the police. She was very clear an’ that, but it sounded a bit like we’d rehearsed it together, which we hadn’t. I always think it’s best if evidence is given spontaneously,” she said knowledgeably.

  “Let’s get back to what the police said to Rose,” Ivy said.

  “Not a lot,” Miriam answered. “Just thanked her and said if she saw anything more untoward in the woods, she was to t
elephone them. In other words,” she added, her voice rising to a crescendo, “they ain’t going to do nothing!” She sat back in her chair, folded her hands and looked expectantly at the others.

  “You can understand their reaction,” said Gus quietly. “After all, if there was no trace of a hand, or anything attached to it, there was not a lot more they could do.”

  “Except,” said Miriam, with emphasis, “it had been there! You can say what you like about joke hands and silly games, but it was a real hand, a human hand, and that person was dead or I’m a banana.”

  “Which you clearly are not,” said Roy soothingly.

  “One thing,” said Deirdre. “I know you are certain, Miriam, but can you remember what the light was like in the woods? It was a sunny afternoon, but those big trees can shut out a lot of light.”

  Miriam frowned. “I couldn’t swear to it, but when we were walking along, I remember Rose saying how pretty it all was, with the sun coming through the trees. Dappled sunshine, she said. But it wasn’t a shadow, I’m sure of that. We wouldn’t both have noticed a hand if it was a shadow, would we?”

  “Did you see a wedding ring or anything particular on the hand?” Gus said.

  “No, not really. I did look, because I always look to see if people are married,” Miriam said uncomfortably. “Not being married myself, an’ so on…”

  “Of course. Naturally,” said Roy. “Very well considered, if I may say so.”

  She looked gratefully at him. “I think that’s about all I can tell you. Except for one more thing,” she added, as if she had been saving the best until last. They all looked hopefully at her. At this stage, not one of them had a constructive thought how they could begin to investigate.

  “On Friday night, around about eleven o’clock, I heard footsteps outside in the lane. I looked out of my bedroom window, and I saw a man. Tallish, with a lot of hair. He was going up towards the woods. Probably nothing, but I thought it was a bit odd. Hangman’s Lane is usually deserted after dark.”