The Wild Wood Enquiry

by Ann Purser

  “Afternoon, Halfhide! Miriam.” Theo raised his hat politely. “Out for a walk? I hope I haven’t interrupted anything,” he added, with a wink at Gus.

  “Absolutely not!” answered Gus, firmly detaching himself from Miriam.

  “Are we in for a storm? I do hope not. Best get home, I think, all of us.” Theo turned to go but then said, “Oh, and by the way, I am expecting a visitor. If you see someone lost in the park looking for me, kindly say I am on my way. Thank you so much. Good afternoon!”

  So not Deirdre, then, thought Gus as he and Miriam hurried on, looking up every few paces at the approaching heavy bank of cloud.

  By the time the two of them were back in the park and heading for Hangman’s Row, large drops of rain had begun to fall, and Miriam chirped that she did hope Theo’s visitor would have found him by now and would be safely warm and dry inside the Hall.

  “Oh, look, Gus,” she said, pointing at the kitchen door as they passed. “There they are. Just in time,” she said.

  Forty-eight

  “I AM AFRAID I can’t give you much time, Miss… er… Now, what was your name?”

  Theo stood in his study, facing his odd-looking guest, whom at first he had taken to be a young man. However, he had turned out to be a woman, with inexpertly dyed red hair and a thin, sunburned face. Or was it heavy makeup? He thought of Deirdre’s attractive apricot curls, so natural-looking, and her fresh, smooth complexion. She would no doubt have known exactly where nature had been improved upon. He was vaguely aware that hermaphrodite people existed and wondered if this masculine-looking person was one of those. The clear blue eyes fixed on him were cold, stone cold.

  “Elizabeth Woodville,” she said. “My father is Sir Richard, MP for Dennington, in the north. I expect you have heard of him.”

  The name was certainly familiar to Theo, but he could not place either the woman in front of him or her illustrious father. “How can I help you, then, Miss Woodville? I am afraid I have to be somewhere else in half an hour or so.”

  “I need a place to live for a couple of years, and you were recommended to me as having an empty cottage on your estate. I am willing to pay six months’ rent in advance and can assure you that I shall be a very well-behaved tenant!” A wintry smile flickered across her face and then disappeared as she opened her bag and took out a letter.

  “This is a reference, and I can give you more if required.”

  Theo opened it. It was written on House of Commons paper, and the handwriting was bold and firm. It was not, as he first thought, from her father, but from a woman whose name he did not know. Signed with a flourish, he noted. Well, he could check her out on the internet.

  “Um, well, I am not too sure,” he said finally. “My cottages in Hangman’s Row are all taken, but I do have a gamekeeper’s lodge at the edge of the woods. Hasn’t been occupied for a few years and would need a bit of attention. Could you get in touch in a month or so, and I could be more certain?”

  The woman shook her head. “Sorry, no. I need somewhere more or less straightaway. Like today! But don’t worry about the cottage. I am very good at do-it-yourself, and would happily make any necessary improvements at my own expense.”

  Good grief! thought Theo. This was all too good to be true. He could certainly do with the extra rent, and it would be a very handy way of getting the cottage smartened up.

  “Well, Miss Woodville, if you are prepared for spiders and mice, then of course you may have the cottage. I will get my farm manager to show you where it is. He might give you a hand, if you ask him nicely!”

  She did not smile. “I shall manage perfectly well on my own. And I think I know the cottage. At the end of the track through the woods, on the Oakbridge road?”

  Theo nodded. “Come with me to the kitchen,” he said, “and I’ll give you the key.”

  He walked ahead of her and felt as if he was being swept along by an unstoppable force. When she left, he went into the drawing room and watched her walking smartly down the drive. How extraordinary! And she really did look faintly familiar. He tried to imagine her without the lurid red hair but gave up. Tonight was bridge night at the Conservative Club in Oakbridge, and he turned his thoughts to hoping he would be partnered with someone who knew how to win.

  Must warn David Budd about the gamekeeper’s cottage, he remembered, as he folded the reference and tucked it into his pocket. Maybe ask him to keep an eye on Miss Woodville.

  IVY AND ROY arrived at Tawny Wings at exactly four thirty and were ushered up to the office, where a tray of freshly made tea and coffee cake awaited them. “Not my own baking, I’m afraid,” said Deirdre. “I gave up wrestling with sponge cakes that sink in the middle years ago. No,” she added, picking up the cake to show them. This is from the village shop, believe it or not. They have homemade cakes once a week now. And guess who’s the baker?”

  “Miriam Blake,” said Ivy flatly.

  “Got it in one! Oh, that’ll be Gus at the door.” Deirdre set down the cake and went downstairs to let him in.

  “Can’t say as I fancy cakes handled by that Blake woman,” said Ivy.

  “You liked her Victoria sponge. But don’t worry, little love, I’ll have your slice,” said Roy with exaggerated concern.

  “Oh well, I suppose it’ll look funny if I don’t eat it,” Ivy backtracked. “I just hope she washed her hands.”

  “Afternoon all,” said Gus, appearing with a smile. “Nice drop of rain. Did you two go to Oakbridge as planned?”

  “Oh yes, we went,” Roy answered, “and I’ll leave Ivy to tell you what we achieved.”

  “Sounds good,” said Deirdre.

  “Well, it was certainly worth the visit,” Ivy began. “I’ll keep it brief, but there’s a lot to tell. The waitress in the coffee place remembered Ulph and said she and the girls liked him. Felt sorry for him, as he always looked sad. He talked to them a bit, now and then. Said he was divorced and living on his own. Then she was called away, and so we set off for the market.”

  She paused and Roy took up the story. “We went down Folgate Street, and then Ivy had a moment’s inspiration. We had been speculating on how noisy it must have been in the days of horse carriages. It was noise that triggered her good idea.”

  So then Ivy carried on and explained about Mrs. Feather and going up to the linen cupboard, which had a window with a view across the terrace roof. “I said I was curious to see again where he had lived,” she said. “Thankfully, she agreed to take me up. Not to his old room, which was let again, but to the linen cupboard next door. Oh, and by the way, I asked Mrs. Feather if she could describe Ulph’s mysterious visitor the day he died, but she said her husband never got round to fixing the light in the hall and stairs, and it was too dark to see anybody clearly. If you ask me, it was lucky for her nobody fell downstairs.”

  “I’m lost,” said Deirdre. “Why on earth should you want to go up there?”

  “To see what would have happened if he yelled as he went down,” said Ivy bluntly. “If he jumped, he’d have more than likely gone quietly, but if he was pushed? He’d have yelled, all right. Screamed, I’d say. So, noise, you see, Deirdre. If he’d made a noise, would anyone have heard him? No doubt the police questioned all around for anyone seeing anything, but heard?”

  After that, the others were quiet as she told them about the boy in the window opposite, and him being the son of a fruit seller in the market.

  “So,” said Roy, with a mock sigh, “my beloved’s next idea is to revisit Oakbridge next week on market day and chat up the boy. Can’t mistake him, Ivy says, as he’s a regular Billy Bunter.”

  “Heavens,” said Deirdre, “I think we all need stronger refreshment. Anyone fancy a buck’s fizz alongside their cuppa? Got some in a bottle, ready mixed. Ivy? Gus?”

  Ivy refused, but Gus and Roy nodded vigorously. Deirdre got up to go downstairs and paused at the door. “D’you reckon he really was married and divorced? That would put a whole new complexion on things, wouldn�
��t it?”

  DAVID BUDD WAS having his tea when Theo Roussel knocked at his door. Rose got up to open it and greeted the boss with a big smile.

  “Hello, Mr. Theo,” she said, “just in time for a cup of tea. Come on in.”

  David thanked God he had just finished a nice piece of cod and chips so was able to give his full attention to Theo. He had a habit of calling at mealtimes, and David was subject to indigestion if interrupted while eating.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Theo,” he said. “Will you have a cup of tea with us?”

  Rose had already refilled the pot and handed Theo a cup of tea so strong that it was a vivid orange colour. He sipped it cautiously and said that there was nothing urgent, but there would be a new tenant in the gamekeeper’s cottage, and he would be glad if David could offer help if needed.

  “She’s a strange sort of woman but with a good reference and makes a fair impression. What’s more, she’s offering to do some restoration on the cottage at her own expense.”

  “Goodness!” said Rose. “We’d better be extra nice to her, then. Will she be living there on her own. It is rather a lonely spot.”

  “I don’t think that bothered her at all. In fact, she seemed to like the idea. One of those ‘I want to be alone’ people, I expect.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, I’ll pop up and offer help but not be too pushy,” said David.

  “And I’ll go with you. We won’t take the kids, though! She doesn’t sound like she’d appreciate their little ways!” Rose added.

  Theo drank his tea manfully, and got up to go. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” he said. “Oh, and you can’t mistake her. She’s a Miss Woodville, and she has the reddest hair I’ve ever seen. Cut very short. Looks like a man. Quite awful! Thanks for the tea, Rose. Bye, children.”

  Rose saw him to the door and then returned to David. “So,” she said, “at least she doesn’t sound like another candidate to add to Theo’s list of conquests.”

  “What’s conquests, Mum?” said their eldest.

  “Never you mind. Go and wash your hands before you watch telly. Off you go, now.”

  Forty-nine

  GUS HAD BEEN feeling restless since coming home from Tawny Wings. It was not just the missing hand turning out to be a rubber glove. That had now been generally accepted. Coupled with the fact that no dead body had been found, and no missing person reported, he had put Miriam’s case to one side. That would leave him with Kath and Ulph, and he decided to review what he knew.

  First, Ulph was dead. That was sadly irrefutable. Then he, Gus, had had a connexion with Ulph through Kath. He had never seen him in Barrington until that whoopee swim with Deirdre. Both of them had been tipsy. Kath spoke of him as being an ex-lover, and now it seemed they might have been married. It was certain that Ulph had played in Sid and His Swingers’ band and that he had left on a trumped-up excuse about going abroad but had not gone, since he turned up at Deirdre’s soon after. Playing in the band had perhaps been too public?

  Unless Kath was lying through her teeth, she had definitely had her jewels stolen by Ulph and was being blackmailed by him. That much she had told him in Scotland. But she could have been lying? He would list only what was certain. Whippy looked up at the biscuit tin, and Gus gave her three. He couldn’t remember whether she had had her daily six, so gave her three more, just in case.

  Now, back to known facts. Gus settled in his chair with a small whisky and considered. The pearl earrings found in the woods were Kath’s. Gus had designed them for her and had had them made by a London jeweller for a small fortune. They were found near the rubber glove site and could well have been part of the hoard moved to the mound for safer keeping. More speculation but useful.

  The mound. It was reasonable to decide that the rest of Kath’s jewellery had been hidden in the woods and, considering Ulph’s earthy spade, more than likely in the mound at some stage. This mound, according to countrywoman Ivy, was very much like a badgers’ sett. But no further jewellery had been found around the site, and now it had been raided, and nothing remained except a used tissue.

  As he proceeded with his list, Gus could see more clearly where the next step would have to be. He reluctantly admitted to himself that everything seemed to rest on whether Katherine was telling the truth about any of it. And that was unfortunately doubtful. He would have to find Katherine and question her more closely, though this did not give him much hope. She was the best liar he had ever met. He was painfully aware that some unfriendly person, even his own ex-wife, could still attempt to trace back Ulph’s death to himself. He had already had a call from Inspector Frobisher asking him to call in at the police station as soon as possible.

  He sighed, poured himself another drink, and turned on the television. Nothing caught his attention, and he turned it off again. He looked at his watch. Eight thirty. Perhaps he would have an evening stroll with Whippy. The woods would be cool and quiet, and he shook himself into action.

  “Come on, small dog,” he said. “Let’s go and clear our heads. The rabbits will be out in the woods now, so lots of fun for you.”

  Miriam, sitting by her front window, saw him go and wondered whether to run after him to keep him company. Poor old Gus, he looked like a man with the cares of the world on his shoulders. She turned away and looked up the television programmes. Her favourite quiz was about to start, with the acid-voiced quiz mistress making fools of the contestants, and she decided to stay at home. Perhaps she would catch him later for a nightcap.

  GUS WAS SOOTHED by the evening chirruping of roosting birds, and his pace slowed. Whippy was having a fine old time down rabbit burrows, wriggling round and then emerging covered with sandy soil. She seldom caught anything, and he hoped this would not be the one time she presented him with a small half-dead baby rabbit.

  The trees were dense now, and light was going from the sky. Lost in his thoughts, Gus strolled on, not watching out for landmarks to find his way back. He came to a fork in the path and stopped. Which way? He had no idea, so took the footpath that seemed most used and carried on his way, calling Whippy to follow him. This time, there was no answering scuttle through the dried leaves. He called again, but Whippy did not appear. He walked on, fairly sure that she would follow his scent and find him without too much trouble.

  He came out into a grassy clearing and stopped again. This was completely new territory for him. He looked across the clearing and saw a small cottage with a broken wooden fence and an open front door. A man stood by the gate and, to his surprise, turned swiftly and retreated into the house, slamming the door.

  How odd, Gus thought, and walked forward towards the cottage. He had been hoping to ask for directions, so he went through the broken gate and knocked at the door. Perhaps when the man saw he was nobody’s idea of a gamekeeper, he would answer. A few minutes elapsed, and Gus was about to leave, when the door opened a crack. A man—or was it a woman?—peered out at him, then opened the door wider. It was a woman, with bright red hair, cut very short. She was wearing jeans and a man’s shirt and was not smiling.

  “So it’s you,” she said. “You’d better come in.”

  He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and stepped through the open doorway. “Good God, Kath!” he said. “What on earth do you think you’re doing here? And what the hell have you done to yourself?”

  Fifty

  “WHAT DO YOU want?” Katherine said coldly.

  Gus shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “And please don’t think I was looking for you. Pure accident. I’ve lost Whippy. Must go and find her.”

  “Are you all right, Gus?” she said. “You sound a bit fuzzy. Not been at the bottle, I hope.”

  He shook his head. He felt a bit fuzzy, but his head was clearing. It had been a shock, and not a nice one, to see Katherine with her good looks deliberately concealed, if not destroyed. She was thinner, and her face had unsightly patches of dry skin.

  “Oh, look, Gus,” she said. “There she is! Here,
Whippy! Here, little one!”

  Whippy approached in hangdog mode, ears back and tail down. She was expecting chastisement from Gus, but he picked her up protectively and stroked her head. “There, now,” he said. “We must go straight home and give you a nice drink of milk. Poor little thing’s shivering, Kath.”

  “I’ve got milk,” she answered, opening the door wider. “Come in, Gus, and don’t be so stupid. I’m not about to take you prisoner.”

  “Katherine,” he said sadly, “I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

  “Never mind,” she said, “you’ll win one of these days. I need to talk to you, so please come in.”

  “But why here? The place is falling down.”

  “No it’s not. And I’m renting it from the lord of the manor. I shall restore it to its former glory, which frankly is not very glorious. I had a vague idea, sown by a friend and more or less confirmed by a conversation with Seb, that my jewels are hidden in these woods. I mean to recover all of it, Gus, if I have to dig up every square yard. And, equally important, the cottage will be a bolt hole when I need one. Like now. I suppose I can rely on you to forget you’ve seen me?”

  She disappeared inside, and Gus reluctantly followed, still holding Whippy in his arms.

  “Now, Whippy, if your foolish master will put you down on the floor, here is a nice drop of milk. I found an old bowl. Not very clean, I’m afraid, but the milk’s fresh. I bought a few supplies at the supermarket.”

  Gus put the dog down, where she shivered and failed to drink. “She’s not sure about it,” he said, and bent down to dip his fingers in the milk. He offered them, and Whippy licked his fingers, then began to drink.

  “Just like the king’s chief taster,” Katherine laughed. “Well, no poison in there, Whippy-dog.”

  “So, as there’s nowhere to sit, and I really must be getting back, will you please tell me whatever else you have to say.”