Down in the Woods

by Gary Philpott

  “I need to eliminate the possibility from our enquiry.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “What is it, Mr Hetherington-Jones?”

  “Nothing. No, Andrew would not do such a thing. I will leave you to it, detective. If you want me, I will be getting some air in the orchard.”

  Harrington lifted his mobile out of his pocket and called Cusack.

  “Hi, Chas, how’s it hanging?”

  “Dave, it was you who interviewed the pharmacist, wasn’t it?”

  “If you mean the one the Latvian chick used, yes.”

  “He could be our man.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “What do you mean, oh, fuck?”

  “He wasn’t a suspect in our case. All I was doing is completing the picture on the dodgy prescriptions scam, and seeing if he could point us in the direction of the massage parlour where that Rashida woman worked. Or even the street corner she stood on.”

  “No one is going to blame you, but I thought you would like to be the one to tell George.”

  “I’ll go back and have another chat with the guy.”

  “No, Dave. Tell George, and have Simpson brought in. Search his house and his chemist shop. He has others as well.”

  “I know that, Chas. I’m not totally useless.”

  “Stop taking it personally. We all read your report, and none of us picked up on anything. Start with the chemist shop where he dispenses at on Wednesday evenings. Back in his university days he was trying to develop a drug to make women want sex. To make them gag for it.”

  “Bloody hell, I might nick a bit of that if we find it.”

  “Tell George, and get back to me with anything you come up with. I am with Hetherington-Jones as we speak, and Simpson stayed here this weekend.”

  “Well done, Chas. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”

  Harrington pulled out his notebook and started writing down all the key points from his conversation with Hetherington-Jones.

  Felicity dismounted and took a long length of string out of her pocket. She then used the string to secure Lester to a fence post. Andrew waved and beckoned her over.

  “Be good, Lester. There is some nice grass for you there.” She patted him on the side of the neck and walked across the field to join Andrew

  “Did you find it okay?”

  He grabbed her round the waist and pulled her towards him. “I missed the lane the first time, but found it on the way back. It is so good to see you.”

  They fell into a passionate embrace.

  “Thank you,” he said, pulling back to admire her.

  “Thank you? Thank you for what?”

  “For coming, for making the effort, you look and smell gorgeous.”

  “I have to say, Andrew, I do not like the look of this weather.”

  He bent down and touched the ground. “No, the grass is too damp for the picnic I had planned. Why don’t we sit in my car for a while?”

  Felicity looked over to the vehicle parked beside the old control tower. “Oh, what happened to your Audi?”

  “As you can see, I have a Range Rover as well.”

  An image of Phillip shagging Sarah in his, shot into Felicity’s head. It was an image that convinced her that she was not going to do the same in this one. “Well, maybe for ten minutes or so. Lester will start to get restless if I leave him any longer than that.”

  When they got to the vehicle, Andrew opened the passenger door for Felicity. As she climbed in, he put his hand on exactly the same spot as Daniel had placed his hand earlier. “You have such a nice rump.”

  Felicity usually enjoyed such compliments, but her ardour had cooled during her ride over to the airfield. She pulled the door closed before Andrew had the chance to close it for her. No, I can’t do this, she said to herself. Feelings of regret filled her head as she watched Andrew walk round the front of the vehicle.

  “How did the funeral go?” He clunked his door shut.

  “I beg your pardon, Andrew. How do you think it went?”

  “Sorry, I was only trying to make conversation. Here, have some wine.” He reached behind her seat to an open picnic basket.

  After passing her a glass, he twisted the top off the bottle and poured her some wine.

  “Are you not having any?”

  “No, I am sticking to mango juice. I have to drive remember.”

  “I also have to drive home from the stables.”

  “I can just imagine the hive of activity this must have been during the Second World War. There would have been Spitfires and Hurricanes hurtling down the runway. The WRAFs would have been scurrying up and down that staircase in their grey uniforms, holding sheets of paper that were flapping in the wind.”

  “I don’t think it is close enough to the English Channel for that.”

  “Do you know what aircraft were stationed here?”

  “I have always assumed some sort of transporter plane, but please don’t be asking me what they were called.”

  “It is still romantic in its way.”

  Felicity took a second sip of her wine.

  “I am sensing you do not find it so,” he said.

  “Rosemary has always held this airfield in some affection, but I prefer to ride the forest tracks. Still, perhaps I should make the most of it while it is still here.”

  “Is something brewing?”

  “I think the only debate now is which developer will get it, and what they will build on it. The local villagers are worried about them building a high proportion of social housing here.”

  “I can see their point. It would rather lower the tone of the area.” His hand went onto her thigh.

  Felicity brought her knees together. “In my mind, any form of housing will be a blot on the landscape.”

  “You would prefer to keep it as a place for an illicit encounter or two?” His hand ventured towards her groin.

  “Look, Andrew,” she said sharply. “This is simply not going to happen.”

  “Did you wear black underwear?”

  “I did, but as I say…”

  “That is all I wanted to know, Felicity.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable with this anymore.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “My relationship with Daniel has improved.” This time, she took a large gulp of wine.

  “Your relationship with Daniel?”

  “That is right. We are getting along a lot better now. I want to work on my marriage and this will not help with that.”

  “Please don’t make excuses. I know the real reason. You are just like all the other women.”

  “Andrew. Dear oh dear, I think I need some air. Sorry, what was I saying? Oh yes, I am not making excuses.”

  “I thought you enjoyed sex with me. It did not affect my performance, did it?”

  Felicity pushed the button to lower the window and took two deep breaths. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I made you moan like the whore you are, did I not?”

  She pulled at the door handle, but the door would not open.

  “I have locked it,” said Andrew smugly.

  Felicity was struggling to take in what was happening, but she was just about alert enough to see the evil in his eyes. She desperately wanted to get out of there, whatever it took. “Okay Andrew, one more time, and then that’s it.” Her hands went onto the buttons on her jodhpurs. “I will show you my black knickers.”

  “Suck my cock first.”

  “No, I am not going to do that.” She undid the zip down the front of her riding trousers.

  “I knew you would not. That is why you avoided it last time, just because I only have one testicle.”

  “You only have one ball?”

  “Don’t lie to me Felicity, you must know about it.”

  “No, I had no idea. You turned the lights off. And as you say, I didn’t go down there. Now please, let me out of here, I think I am going to faint.”

  �
��You will not faint, you will be awake. You may feel lightheaded. It worked perfectly with the last one.”

  “Andrew, you are scaring me.”

  “Recline your seat for me. Actually, before you do that, let me get something.” He reached back into the picnic box and pulled out a pair of trauma shears.

  A look of horror crossed Felicity’s face.

  “Do not look so frightened, they will only cut your clothing. As long as you don’t struggle that is.”

  She tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her trousers. “Fuck me Andrew, just fuck me.”

  “Leave them where they are,” he snapped. “I want to cut them off you.”

  “You’re sick.”

  “It is not I who is sick, it is sluts like you. Now recline your seat or I will cut through your pretty red lips.”

  Felicity electronically reclined her seat, trying, but failing to keep the shears in focus. “Don’t do this to me. Let me suck your cock for you.”

  “No, I want to rape you.”

  “No you don’t, Andrew. You have my permission to fuck me. It will not be rape.”

  “Yes it will be. You will not be in control of your decision making.”

  “What have you drugged me with?”

  “Nymphomaniacium. I am still working on the happy elements, but it is an improvement on neat Rohypnol, don’t you think?”

  “I have absolutely no fucking idea, you sick bastard.”

  “Close your eyes if it helps.” He started to cut one trouser-leg around the top of her riding boot.

  “Just fuck me, and be done with it,” said Felicity wearily.

  “Not yet, I enjoy this bit. It makes me so hard.”

  Harrington flipped his notebook shut and tucked it into his pocket. He then went in search of Hetherington-Jones.

  When he finally found his way out of the house, he emerged onto a formal terrace looking out over a large lawn surrounded by colourful flowerbeds. He paused to take in the beauty of the view.

  To the left was a fountain with a Greek goddess spurting out gallons of water. The oval pond spilled into a channel with stone slabs on each side. To the right, all he could see was an eight foot high hedge with a path cutting through it half way down.

  Impressive, Mr Hetherington-Jones, he said to himself as he headed for the gap in the hedge. When he got there, Harrington realised it was not a gap, but the entrance to a maze. He continued on down the garden to an arbour made from yew.

  He turned full circle, looking for anything that even vaguely resembled an orchard. It was then that he noticed an archway through a fence on the far side of the lower pond. He followed the path towards it.

  “How did I know you would all be there?” mumbled Harrington to himself, staring down at numerous koi carp basking in the pond. As he walked towards the archway, his eyes tracked a dragonfly hovering over a clump of water lilies.

  The archway led to exactly where he wanted to be. Hetherington-Jones was sitting on a wooden bench at the far end of the small orchard.

  “It looks like rain, detective.” Hetherington-Jones looked up to the south-western sky.

  “It does.” Harrington walked towards him. “When did Simpson leave?”

  “He left not too long after afternoon tea yesterday.”

  “What would that be three? Four?”

  “No, no, we did not finish Sunday lunch until gone two. He probably set off about six. He spent a little time in his room before departing.”

  “Did he say if he was going straight home?”

  “Well, he said he was looking forward to dealing with some unfinished business. I took that to mean he wanted to be into work early this morning.”

  “What was the purpose of his visit?”

  “We usually go for a ride and sometimes we go to one of the better pubs in town. I think I felt a drop of rain. We should go inside.”

  “And is that what you did this weekend?” They walked slowly back the way Harrington had come.

  “No, actually, it is not.”

  “Well, what did you do?”

  “Andrew turned up at the funeral on Friday morning. He then disappeared again until about seven. Katherine prepared us a bite to eat and we had a few snifters in the local pub. Andrew went into town on Saturday. And as for Sunday, chatting and eating seemed to take up most of it.”

  “Is that a maze?” asked Harrington.

  “Not really. The hedges form concentric rectangles with paths cutting through them. They look quite good from the air. Katherine has a swing chair in the middle of a small garden at the centre of it. It is where she goes to read and get away from me. Would you like me to show you?”

  “I would like to have seen it, but I’m not exactly dressed for rain.”

  “You should wear a trench coat and a trilby, like all the TV detectives do. That would make you look like a proper detective.”

  “As it happens, I have a trench coat, but I only carry it in winter.”

  “Well, I think we have seen the best of the summer.”

  “Did we have a summer then?” joked Harrington.

  “Perhaps you were having an afternoon nap at the time. Do you live in London?”

  “I do, yes. Kingston upon Thames.”

  “You could do a lot worse than that.”

  “I like it. I have a boat, you see.”

  “Old Andrew has a boat. I think he said it was a Laser.”

  He’s definitely our man, thought Harrington. “Mine’s a motorboat. A Laser is a sailing dinghy. Where does he sail it?”

  “On one of the Lee Valley reservoirs.”

  “Are they the ones not too far from Epping Forest?”

  “Yes, they are.” He paused for a moment. “Are you still thinking he is responsible for the murders?”

  “It looks increasingly likely.”

  “No, there has to be some mistake.”

  Harrington’s mobile went off just as they were entering the house. “Hello, Dave, what do you have?”

  “George has called every available person into the station, so Doyley and I are on our way back now. We have a briefing in ten minutes. But I can tell you, Simpson is our man.”

  Harrington deliberately let Hetherington-Jones go through to the drawing room ahead of him. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Oh yes indeedy. Stuart and I turned his house over. There is more porn in there than in a bloody sex shop. There is an entire roll of rope in the garage. And the guy is well into Dracula movies. He’s even converted an upstairs bedroom into a mini-pharmacy, syringes, drugs, and all sorts. There is a row of six specimen jars with what look like pubic hairs in them. The guy is a total nutter.”

  “But you haven’t tracked him down?”

  “No, but operation Red Riding Hood is about to kick off.”

  “Let me know if there is anything I can do from here.”

  “That is bloody typical of you, that is. The afternoon we have to search the whole of London, you are down there hobnobbing it with the toffs.”

  “As I say, let me know if there is anything I can do.”

  “You just take things easy.”

  “Call me after the briefing.”

  “Will do, Chas.”

  “Sorry, I could not help but overhear. Are you onto something?”

  “Yes, your nice friend, Druggie, is definitely the killer. If you don’t know where he is, do you know anyone who might?”

  “I am afraid not. Are you sure it is him?”

  “As certain as you can be, yes.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “There is something you are not telling me, isn’t there?.”

  “I hope this is not of importance, but I did mislead that Collins chap a little when he interviewed me.”

  “I would advise you to tell me now, Mr Hetherington-Jones.”

  “The spot where we discovered the dead woman, it was Andrew who stumbled upon it originally. Well, it was he who put the idea of getting her to ride naked into my head when I showed
him a photo of Felicity. To say stumbled, is probably also misleading. He actively went in search of such a place on my behalf.”

  “Let me make sure I have got this right. The first time you were in that spot, you were out riding with Andrew Simpson, and you did not tell us that.”

  “I am afraid not. It did not seem important at the time.”

  “After that, you took Sarah, the stable girl, there?”

  “I did, yes.”

  “Followed by Lady Felicity Wilkinson?”

  “Correct again.”

  “How many other times have you been there? And who with?”

  “No other times, I have come totally clean.”

  “You have cost at least one life, and who knows how many others.”

  “There have not been any others, have there?”

  “Who knows how many young women are out there, tied to trees, waiting to be discovered.”

  “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

  Katherine burst into the room. “Phillip, did you not hear the telephone?”

  “No, I did not. Is it for me?”

  “Yes Phillip, it is for you. It is that stable girl you rate so highly.”

  “Katherine, this is Detective Sergeant Charles Harrington. He’s here looking for Andrew. I will be back in a mo.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you. Charles was my grandfather’s name.”

  “I prefer to be called Chas.”

  “Nonsense, Charles suits you so much better. Denigrating such an esteemed name only betrays your pedigree. My advice would be to revert back to Charles. It will open doors for you. What did Phillip say your reason for being here was?”

  “Originally, it was to talk to your husband. But events have unfolded and I now desperately need to find Andrew Simpson.”

  “What possible reason could you want Andrew for?”

  “It is just that I suspect him of being a serial killer.”

  “I do not appreciate such a morbid sense of humour. Perhaps Chas is more appropriate after all.”

  “I am not joking, madam.”

  “You are not?”

  “No. I believe Andrew Simpson to be responsible for the death of the woman found in the forest. And others.”

  “Oh dear, what have I done?”

  “I don’t know. What have you done?”

  “It is all so devilish. I directed my husband’s mistress into the arms of another.”