The Wild Wood Enquiry (12 page)

EACH DAY SEEMED to Deirdre to be hotter than the last, and she arrived home panting. A swim before lunch, she thought, and went upstairs to change into her swimsuit. Bert had loved the pool in the garden and said it was the best several thousand pounds he had ever spent. In his last weeks, he had found great relief in floating in the warm water, the strain removed from his aching limbs. Now Deirdre thought it should also be a good way of relaxing and thinking clearly about the morning’s work.

She brought out a canvas chair and put it beside the pool with the day’s newspaper and her spectacles, ready for when she came out of the water. A large gin and tonic and an ice bucket stood on a table by the chair, and she sighed with pleasure at the thought of a pleasant hour on her own.

She swam six lengths, then turned over onto her back and paddled with her feet, moving slowly backwards and looking up at the blue sky. Bliss, she thought. Why don’t I
do this more often? I could invite Theo or Gus to keep me company when I feel like it. She closed her eyes and felt the heat of the sun on her eyelids. For two pins, she thought, I could go to sleep. But maybe I would sink. Best not to try it.

Somebody cleared his throat loudly.

“Who’s that?” Deirdre said sharply, making swiftly for the edge of the pool and looking up at the man who stood there, watching her. His back was to the sun, and she could see only a looming black shape.

“So sorry to interrupt you,” he said. “You looked so relaxed and happy.”

“I was, until a perfect stranger turned up in my garden. What do you want?”

“To talk to you, if you have time. We met the other night at the ball, where I was one of Sid’s Swingers, God help me.”

“Oh, you!” Deirdre was too surprised to be frightened, and climbed out of the pool, grabbing a towel and wrapping herself in it defensively. “Well, that’s a bit of luck,” she added. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. But first I shall get dressed. Please wait here. I shan’t be long.” She felt safer with him out in the garden. Her neighbours were working just over the wooden fence, within call. She supposed he might run off if she left him alone, but that had to be risked. If he really wanted to talk to her, he would wait.

He was still there when she returned, and she noticed her gin was untouched. “Now,” she said, “you had better sit down on that bench and tell me what you want. I should point out that I have my mobile phone here, and my friends next door are within earshot.”

He stared at her, then burst out laughing. “Good heavens, Mrs. Bloxham, I am not an escaped criminal bent on rape and pillage!”

“I should hope not!” said Deirdre, not in the least discomforted. “So come on, spit it out. I’ve got a busy afternoon ahead.”

“First of all, I must introduce myself. My name is Sebastian Ulph, and I come from Lincolnshire. The family were from Holland centuries ago and came across to drain the fens. Miles and miles of bugger-all, my father used to say, and I do agree. The only redeeming feature is the sky, which is twice as big in fenland as it is anywhere else.”

“Except the Utah desert,” said Deirdre, who had been there on an adventure holiday with Bert.

“I see you are a much-travelled person, Mrs. Bloxham.”

“Yes, well, never mind about that. Just get to the point, Mr. Ulph.”

“I am, as you know, a saxophonist and am temporarily playing with Sid and his lot. This is not really my kind of music. I am classically trained and have played in one or two of the best orchestras.”

“So what went wrong?”

“Katherine Halfhide went wrong, I’m afraid. And in doing so, she dragged me down with her. You remember I mentioned her to you?”

“For God’s sake, don’t be so melodramatic! Just say what you have to say, and leave me to get on. As far as I can see, all this has nothing to do with me. If I can help, I will, but you must cut to the point.” He was like a dog that has been chastised, his head hanging down and hands limply by his sides. Now, Deirdre, watch what you’re doing! She heard Bert’s voice as clearly as if he had been beside her.

“So?” she said impatiently.

“I fell in love with her when she was still married. She said she reciprocated my love and took me for every penny I possessed. It was not all that much, admittedly, but all I
had. I’m the youngest son of a good but impoverished family, and have to make my way with little support.”

Deirdre stood up. “So you want money? Well, the answer’s no. So will you please leave now. At once.”

“I don’t want money, Mrs. Bloxham,” he said, not moving. “I understand your late husband was a skilful brass player? Played French horn in the Oakbridge Orchestral Society brass section? Quite a reputation, so I understand from Sid. All I want from you, if at all possible, is an introduction to the orchestra. I think this would give me a very useful platform from which I could proceed to an audition and hopefully a job with prospects.”

Deirdre sighed. She was well aware that here in her garden was one of the mysteries she was supposed to investigate. Handed to her on a plate, she thought. Maybe she should pursue him with the promise of help. After all, him being skint was no reason for an orchestra not to employ him. There was more to tell, she was sure. Such as why he did not ask Gus where Katherine was? But then, of course he did not necessarily know that Gus was living in Barrington. And even if he did, he would be very wary of the man whose wife he had stolen.

“Mrs. Bloxham?” He was looking anxiously at her, and she smiled.

“I may be able to help,” she said. “I still know some of Bert’s chums in the orchestra. Give me your phone number and I will let you know.”

He shook his head. “Can’t afford a phone,” he said.

“An address, then? I’ll drop you a note.”

“Sorry, but I’m here and there. Best if I call and see you again. Would a week be time enough? I really am grateful, you know.”

“That will have to do, then. I am very careful about who
I admit into the house, I’m afraid. So don’t be alarmed by bolts and locks before I get the door open. And the bull terrier wouldn’t hurt a fly, but don’t tell anyone I told you.” She paused, as if in thought. “Mind you, there was one time,” she added, “when he did take several pieces out of a man who was clearly a bad lot. Otherwise…” She left the sentence hanging in the air and could see from his expression that it had had its effect.

After he had gone, she reached for the phone and dialled Gus. She told him everything that had been said, and he said approvingly that she was a bright girl. “But Deirdre,” he asked, “since when did you have a bull terrier?”

FOLLOWING DEIRDRE’S CALL, Gus postponed any action he should take for a couple of hours while he thought carefully about her revelations. Sebastian Ulph. It was a name you couldn’t forget, and he clearly remembered teasing Kath about her young admirer. That was when they were still happily married, and he had yet to discover just how little she intended to honour her vows, made with such great solemnity at the altar of her mother’s church.

Ulph was one of Kath’s many attractive young men. She loved to hold court at what she called her soirées, where they would talk about art and life but mostly gossip about their circle of friends, many of them well heeled and idle. There were other women there, of course, but the object of the exercise was a mammoth ego trip for Kath. She was, at that time, rich and beautiful and, as Gus later discovered, ruthless.

If he remembered rightly, Ulph continued to woo her after the divorce, though he had heard no more of him since then.

He did, however, remember hearing of Ulph’s determination to see himself through a degree course at the Royal College of Music, playing any kind of music at sundry functions to pay his way. All that was some time ago, of course, and Gus could only guess at the reason for him turning up in a provincial town with Sid and His Swingers. He must have been very curious to know why Gus’s fickle ex-wife should show renewed interest in him. Though not curious enough, apparently, to be willing to meet her at the ball. Not the time or the place, possibly. But he might have been keen to see her elsewhere, if he thought she was good for a handout. “If so, Whippy girl, he must be really desperate.” And then a terrible thought struck him. How desperate? Desperate enough to silence her mocking voice forever and rob her lifeless body of its jewels, dropping one earring on his flight away from the body? Had it been Ulph who passed Miriam’s house in the middle of the night on his way to the woods carrying God knows what in bags?

Gus shook himself. This was ridiculous. He was becoming as overwrought as Miriam Blake! But before he could stop it, he had a vision of Ulph hastily digging a grave in the woods and burying his victim, making it look like a badgers’ home. But Ivy had described the freshly turned mound as being some way from where Miriam found the hand. Or imagined a hand?

Gus’s brain whirled, and he felt sick. “Come on, Whippy,” he said. “Before we do anything else, we’ll go for a walk and get some fresh air. The sun’s low in the sky now, and it should be cooler. Here, let’s put your lead on.”

As they walked out of the garden gate into the lane, Gus heard Miriam’s voice and cursed. Just when he wanted to be alone to clear his head!

“Going for a walk?” said Miriam chattily. “Mind if I
come along? It’s really nice now, in the cool of the evening. Even Whippy looks more lively, don’t you, doggy?” She patted the little head. Gus saw the dog’s curled lip and hastily shortened the lead and drew her to his other side.

They walked in a reasonably peaceful silence for a short while, and then Gus asked the question he knew he should ask. “Why did you lie about the earring, Miriam? You know it wasn’t yours. It was a very silly thing to do. I have a completely clear conscience, so there’s no need to worry about me. You had better give it to me to take care of. It will be safer in my strongbox if the new owner of the other one comes looking for it.”

Miriam shook her head quickly. “I’ve lost it,” she said flatly. “Sorry. It’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere, but it’s gone. Best to forget about it, Gus.”

“Miriam! You can’t have lost it! It might be a very important piece of evidence.”

“Too bad,” she said. “Nobody will believe me now. Not them police nor any detective. They didn’t believe me about the hand. So stuff them. I’d forgotten about it already, until you said.”

“But I saw it, Miriam. And I know where it came from.”

“If you don’t say nothing, nobody will ever know about it. Except the others, an’ we’ll tell them it was all a mistake.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Gus groaned. He seemed unable to get through to the silly woman. But then, most of his relationships with women were doomed to failure. He could only hope her infatuation with him would fade and enable her to see how necessary it was to tell the truth.

“Don’t worry,” said Miriam blithely. “Let’s enjoy our walk. Maybe we could go up to the woods? Whippy loves it in there.”

“IF YOU ASK me,” said Ivy, “it was a bad day we took on Miriam Blake as a client. You can’t trust anything the silly woman says, and it could all very well come to nothing.”

She and Roy were sitting comfortably in her room with the window wide open. It was all but dark now, and a couple of hundred yards up the street a security light lit up the front of the village shop. Every now and then, a dark form would walk under the light, and Roy and Ivy amused themselves trying to guess who it was.

“How do you mean, Ivy?” Roy was feeling ready for bed, but his beloved seemed chirpy as ever. He smothered a yawn and smiled at her.

“Well, that ex-wife of Gus’s will probably turn up somewhere, with two perfectly good hands, claim the pearl earring she dropped in the woods and vanish again.”

“Possibly, Ivy dear. But we still have the missing hand to resolve. After all, Rose Budd supported Miriam on that
one,” said Roy. “As to Katherine Halfhide, it looks to me that she may well have come to some harm. Her sudden departure from Miriam’s cottage was odd, to say the least. I know Miriam irritates you, my love, but no one says clients have to be pleasant.”

Ivy made no reply but looked steadily out of the window. “Look, there’s that Britwell woman, if I’m not much mistaken,” she said. “Going home from the pub, no doubt. She’s no better than she should be. Not married, and with all those children. Doesn’t need to work, with plenty of child benefit from the state. It’s a disgrace, Roy.”

He nodded. He knew by now when it was unwise to argue with Ivy and merely said he thought he would toddle off to bed. “And you will need your beauty sleep, my dear, if we are to be off investigating tomorrow.”

“Huh!” said Ivy. She helped him to his room and kissed him warmly. “Night, night,” she said, softening. “Sleep well, Roy dearest.”

She returned to her room, marvelling at how lucky she was. But even when she was safely in bed with the light out and only the soothing sound of hooting owls, she could not sleep.

THEO ROUSSEL HAD retired early to bed and swore when his telephone rang. He had been dozing after a hard day on the golf course and never found it easy to get off to sleep, however tired he was.

“Who is that?” he said sharply.