The Wild Wood Enquiry (27 page)

Then he told them that Katherine had been intending to visit Oakbridge and Barrington very soon and did not want to have any contact with him. If he saw her, he was not to acknowledge her.

“She had business to conclude, she said,” he added. “After she had ended the call abruptly, I could not help thinking the worst. I convinced myself she was intending to see Ulph, threaten him with exposure of crimes unknown to us, and retrieve her jewellery. She’s very tough, and what would have happened next I have no idea…”

His voice tailed away, and the others murmured sympathetically.

Then Ivy spoke up in her usual sharp tones. “So you didn’t see her at all?” she asked. “You didn’t even meet accidentally?”

“Oh dear,” Gus said. “Now I see what you have been thinking. No. I did go into Oakbridge but to the hospital. As I was forced to own up to Miriam Blake, I suffer with piles. You know the sort of piles I mean? Ah, Roy, I see you do. Well, I had an early appointment with the specialist, and then I did some shopping, had a snack lunch, walked around the park for some fresh air and then came home. Met Deirdre in the lane, and she will no doubt know what time that was.”

And now, he thought, my decision to tell all will have ended for good any chance of a permanent romance with the widow Bloxham. Who would want fun in bed with a man with piles?

“SO, ARE WE digging or not?” asked Deirdre, hoping that Gus had changed his mind about excavating holes on private ground. Several new avenues of enquiry had been decided upon by the team. Ivy and Roy had agreed to go back to Folgate Street and have coffee in the same restaurant where they had met Ulph. They would get into conversation with regulars, maybe even one they recognised from before and see what was being said around town about the possibility of a murder having happened in their midst. Then, if the street was now open, they would meander down Folgate and once more buttonhole a likely looking source of gossip.

Meanwhile, Deirdre had said firmly that she and Gus would search in the woods for any further clues. After all, if it had been Ulph burying jewellery, he was obviously in a hurry and might well have dropped another piece somewhere close to the mound. Ivy said helpfully that she could
still remember roughly where the mound was and could give them directions. And then perhaps Whippy could do a retrieving job?

“All you have to do,” she advised, with very little knowledge of dogs, “is give her the scent of something belonging to Ulph, and she’ll lead you to the jewellery.”

Gus had smiled. “Not as easy as it sounds, Ivy. First, where do we get something belonging to Ulph? And second, I don’t know about other whippets, but Whippy has never retrieved anything in her life. She is much more likely to make for home.”

“That could be interesting,” Ivy had muttered, and Gus had changed the subject.

Now Deirdre said she would fetch a spade from the gardener’s shed. Gus, still reluctant to excavate, proposed a better plan. “Let’s walk down Hangman’s Lane and collect a walking stick from my house. I doubt if Theo would object to me thrusting a stick into the ground in the appropriate place. We’d soon know then if there was anything solid buried there.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Deirdre said. “Don’t be such a wimp! Theo won’t suspect us of poaching! I didn’t know you would be so law-abiding. But still,” she added, seeing a bleak look on Gus’s face, “we’ll do as you say.”

Gus nodded gratefully, and they set off.

Halfway through the village, they met Miriam on her way to the shop.

“Hi, Gus!” she said cheerfully. “Good meeting? Are we anywhere near finding the solution to the missing hand? I’ll be pleased to assist, if you need help. There’d have to be some adjustment to fees, of course. But it might speed things up?”

Deirdre kept quiet, and Gus politely refused Miriam’s offer.

“She’s a frightful woman, isn’t she,” Deirdre said, when they were safely on their way.

“Oh not really. She’s a very generous person, and quite lonely, I think. I know she is unstoppable and has a hide like a rhinoceros, but as a neighbour, she could be worse.”

“Point taken,” said Deirdre. “Goodwill to all men. Come on, let’s venture into the wild, wild woods.”

MEANWHILE, BACK AT Springfields, Roy said he would book the taxi for the next day, having apparently convinced Ivy that there was not much chance of seeing regulars in the café, unless they went there at roughly the same time as before.

“I am sure there are useful things to do here in Barrington this afternoon,” he said, and Ivy finally agreed. “I shall have my usual rest,” she said, “and think of a line of enquiry we can follow up today. In fact,” she added, mounting the stairs to her room, “a good idea is already germinating.…”

Roy once more marvelled at the resources of his beloved and retired to the lounge, where he happily indulged in a nostalgic conversation with his friend Fred. During the course of their talk, with both of them yawning and rubbing their eyes, Roy suddenly snapped awake at something Fred had just said.

“Did you say your father was a woodman?” he asked.

“Oh yes. He did other jobs for the Roussels, of course. Full-time employed there. But he always did all the wooding necessary, clearing away the underbrush and keeping an eye on the saplings. He loved it, did Dad. Knew all the birds and animals. You should’ve heard him on the subject of badgers! He knew every sett in those woods. Used to
stay up all night, just to watch the young ones come out and play around. Just as well he’s dead and gone, what with all this talk of culling. A bloomin’ disgrace, if you ask me.”

“So did you know your way around in there, in amongst the trees?”

“Good God, boy, yes! Used to go with Dad, when he’d let me. Young Roussel would come, too. Mind you, he weren’t supposed to. Used to sneak out without telling. He was a dab hand at creeping about unseen like.”

“You mean the Roussel who’s still up at the Hall?”

“O’course. Mr. Theodore, it was. He was only a lad then. Even now, he keeps a close eye on those woods. Trespassers beware!”

Roy could take a hint. He left the lounge quietly, and made for his own room, thinking it was just as well Gus had won his point about spade versus walking stick.

IVY LAY STRETCHED out on her bed, with her shoes neatly tucked away where she wouldn’t trip on them when she got up. Her eyes were closed, but she was not asleep. For the first time, she strongly disagreed with her Roy, though she had not argued. I’m learning! she said to herself. If, instead of waiting until tomorrow, they had got their taxi to take them to Oakbridge straight after lunch, they could have had coffee or, if too late, a cup of tea in the café and started asking around. The waitresses, for instance, would surely have remembered Ulph, with his shock of dark hair and hunted look.

Still, she had given way, remembering her mother’s unlovable habit of always being in the right, positively, unassailably in the right. So now, what could they be doing usefully today? Gus and Deirdre had gone down to the
woods, so that was out. What about Roussel? Hadn’t somebody said Ulph’s father had been a friend of the Roussels? Perhaps Mr. Theo would remember some useful snippets of information. Deirdre had already done some enquiring in that direction, but Ivy suspected two percent of her time with Theo Roussel was devoted to enquiring and ninety-eight percent larking about upstairs.

Yes, that was it. She and Roy would go for a casual walk through the Hall park and maybe bump into the squire. It was not open to the public, but Ivy did not believe in
STRICTLY PRIVATE
notices. What harm could two old persons possibly do to a park that had been there for hundreds of years?

She and Roy met at the top of the stairs, and she told him what they would be doing until suppertime. “We can skip tea, or, who knows, if we meet Theo, he might ask us in for a cuppa? After all, he happily opened up the gates for us once before.”

Roy smiled. “Highly unlikely this time, I’m afraid, my dear. He is much more likely to send us packing. Very politely, of course. Anyway, the chances of meeting him are slim, but I do agree with you that we should be out taking the air, after being cooped up in Tawny Wings all morning. Give me five minutes, and I shall be ready.”

The two were a familiar sight in the village now. People smiled and greeted them warmly. Several elderly people said they wished they could afford to live in Springfields. It must be such a splendid place, if that pair was an example of Mrs. Spurling’s brand of care.

As they approached the park gates, Roy was hoping to see them closed. He was not a natural trespasser. But they were wide open, and Ivy sailed through as if she lived there. He followed a few yards behind but soon could see
the familiar figure of the squire standing on the flight of steps that led up to the main door of the house.

“Good afternoon, Miss Beasley, Mr. Goodman,” Theo said politely. “Can I help you? We are not actually open to the general public.”

Ivy frowned. “We are not the general public. We are here on Enquire Within business. We were hoping you could perhaps help us with a case we are investigating?”

Theo thought hard. He remembered Ivy Beasley only too well as the fierce old duck who had helped to solve the big problem he had had with his housekeeper. And dear little Deirdre had asked him something to do with the enquiry agency quite recently. He could not for the life of him remember what it was about. He was, he recalled, fully occupied with something else at the time! Was it about his friend Ulph’s son?

“Well, now, I haven’t much time, I’m afraid, but fire away. What was it you wanted to know?”

Grasp the nettle, thought Ivy, and said firmly, “I believe you were a friend of a Mr. Ulph? He’s dead now, so we have learned, but his son is known to have been in the village and around, and we are anxious to contact any of his friends.”

“You mean Sebastian? The one who jumped off a roof to his death in Oakbridge? Terrible business! Glad his father is dead, you know. Such a nice family, but Sebastian was a bit of a black sheep. Got mixed up with an appalling woman, I remember.”

“That’s the one,” said Roy, who was now feeling reassured by Theo’s willingness to listen. “He played the saxophone rather well.”

“Played up here, at the hunt ball, didn’t he? I was too busy for a chat, but you could tell he was streets ahead of
the other so-called musicians. Frightful business. Now, what was it? Oh yes, do I know any of Seb’s friends. I’m afraid not, unless you count Sid and His Swingers. Oh, and yes, there was this woman. Something to do with one of my tenants in the cottages. Halfhide, wasn’t it? Divorced, of course, but someone said he’d had a visit from her. Stayed overnight with Miriam Blake—might have been Miriam who told me. Memory going, you know! Advancing old age—might be joining you in Springfields soon! Mind you, Miss Beasley, even as a schoolboy I could never remember things. Dates, kings and queens, that sort of thing. Now, I really must be going. You’ll be fine with the gates. We won’t shut them until after you’ve gone. Good day to you both!”

UNAWARE THAT THEIR colleagues were also out collecting evidence, Gus and Deirdre had reached the woods and plunged in. In no time, they were completely lost, circling round and round, arguing about which way to go. Then they began to see odd holly bushes and a rabbit warren that they recognised and found themselves in exactly the spot where Miriam and Rose had seen the severed hand.

Gus stopped, and said, “I remember Miriam said it was by this tree. See? It has been marked in blue paint as one to be felled. Diseased, she said, and a danger to the others.”

“I reckon these woods are a danger to more than just trees,” Deirdre grumbled, picking her way through brambles and nettles. She was happier in an urban jungle, with pavements and signposts.

“Hold my hand, Deirdre love,” said a sympathetic Gus. “If we go straight ahead from here, like Ivy said, I guarantee we will come across the badgers’ sett.”

“Okay, I’ll believe you, though thousands wouldn’t. But oh, hang on a minute, Gus.”

“What is it?” said Gus, as he watched Deirdre bend down to pick up something half buried by brambles. “Here, let me do it. You’ll scratch yourself to pieces.”