The Woodcutter (45 page)

She must have looked a little doubtful, for he smiled mischievously and added, ‘I daresay he will also be delighted to have my signature on the fat cheque I shall be enclosing with the volume.’

Alva smiled back at him and said, ‘I’m relieved to hear it. Universities are full of books, but hard cash is always in short supply.’

She sat down at the desk as he excused himself and headed back down the stairs.

There was a pen in a small jug that acted as a desk tidy. She picked it up and opened the book and tried to think of something witty to write.

She recalled a remark of R. D. Laing’s:
Few books today are forgivable.
Yes, that would do, followed by
I hope you will find something to forgive in this one. Good luck and Happy Birthday!

She picked up the pen and started writing. Or at least tried to. The pen was dry. The only other writing implement in the tidy was a red pencil, which would hardly do.

Without thinking she pulled open the nearest drawer of the desk in search of a more suitable implement.

There were several pens in there. There was also a framed photograph.

She took it out and stared from it to the gap in the line of photos displayed on the wall, then back again.

It was a face she knew, though not like this.

She heard a distant clink of crockery on the stairs.

When the door opened, the desk drawer was shut and Alva was just putting the final flourish to her signature.

‘All done?’ said Childs, entering with the tea tray.

‘Yes, all done,’ she said brightly.

Too brightly? She hoped not. But she reckoned she’d done very well to answer him with even a semblance of normalcy while her mind was bubbling with the question: What the hell was John Childs doing with a photograph of the young Wolf Hadda hidden in his desk?

5

Davy McLucky was whistling as he turned into the quiet Chingford street where the Trapps’ cosy suburban villa was located. He hadn’t been too delighted when it turned out Hadda was serious in his suggestion that on his next trip to London he should stay with the solicitor, but it had turned out fine. The absence of alcohol apart, Ed and Doll were his kind of people, and the hip flask he always carried made up for that single deficiency.

But it wasn’t pleasurable anticipation of the warming cup of cocoa and large wedge of chocolate cake awaiting him that put the bounce in his step and the music on his lips, it was the memory of the evening he’d just spent with Morag Gray.

He’d started by coming clean, or at least as clean as he felt he could. She’d shown no surprise when he told her his real name and profession. They’d exchanged biographical details over a couple of drinks, and then they’d gone back to her flat where the exchange became more biological.

Now here he was, striding along the quiet suburban street with a lightness of heart he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager.

He reached the Trapps’ villa and turned in at the gate.

As he took the key out of his pocket and inserted it in the front door lock, he heard the sound of a footfall behind him. It had nothing of the menacing speed of attack, nevertheless he spun round, his forearms raised defensively.

‘Good evening, Mr Murray,’ said Alva Ozigbo. ‘Why am I not as surprised as I should be to see you here? Or is your sat-nav on the blink again?’

Doll Trapp’s reaction when she saw Alva following McLucky into the old-fashioned lounge where she and Ed Trapp were sitting reading the Sunday papers was to smile widely and say, ‘Dr Ozigbo! I was hoping you’d show up. Take a seat, dearie. Ed, you make us a cup of tea. Davy, why don’t you give Wolf a bell? See what he thinks, OK?’

Alva thought,
Davy
. There’d been a Scottish cop looking after Hadda in hospital. They had seemed to get on well.
Davy McLucky.
That was it:
D.M.

The Scot followed Ed Trapp from the room.

Doll said, ‘I know you said it was natural, but I thought I’d give it a go anyway. What do you think?’

She shook her head to draw attention to her hair, whose pink tinge had been replaced by pale straw.

‘It’s very nice,’ said Alva.

‘Yeah, but now I see you again, it’s nothing close, is it? Hard to carry colours in your head. You buy a scarf thinking that’ll go with my blue jacket and you get home and it clashes like a skullcap in a mosque. Why’s it so hard, do you think?’

‘Perception’s an inexact thing. That’s what makes witness evidence so dodgy. Mrs Trapp, is that man David McLucky who used to be a detective constable in the Met?’

‘Now how on earth do you know that?’ said Doll.

‘Wolf wrote about him.’

‘Oh yes. And you’ve put two and two together. He said you were sharp.’

‘Not sharp enough, I’m beginning to think. Listen, Mrs Trapp –’

‘Doll. Call me Doll. I think we’re going to be friends. And leave the questions for a moment, Alva . . . I’ve got that right, I hope? Such a pretty name. How long does it take a man to make a pot of tea? No wonder it takes for ever to get a plumber. At last!’

The door opened and Ed Trapp entered carrying a tray that bore the tea things and a plateful of biscuits.

‘Just look at the way he’s arranged those biscuits,’ scolded Doll. ‘“Arranged”, did I say? I think he’s stood at one end of the kitchen and thrown them at the plate.’

But even as she scolded him, she was smiling affectionately at her husband. This was a very close-knit couple, guessed Alva.

She noted there were only two cups on the tray. As Doll started to pour the tea, Murray/McLucky came into the room.

He said, ‘It’s OK.’

‘Is that all? Come on, he must have said more than that!’ protested Doll.

‘Aye,’ said the Scot. ‘What he actually said was, you can either tie her up, gag her and keep her in the attic for a few weeks, or you can tell her anything she wants to know.’

‘That Wolf, he’s such a joker,’ said Doll.

Alva felt she wouldn’t have cared to be here if Doll hadn’t thought it was a joke.

‘Right, you two, off you go and watch some footie or something,’ the woman continued. ‘Me and Alva have got things to sort out.’

Obediently the two men left.

‘Milk? Sugar? Bikky?’ said Doll. ‘No? No wonder you keep your lovely figure. Too late for me.’

She added a couple of teaspoons of sugar to her tea and helped herself to a biscuit which she dipped into her cup.

‘So what made you decide to come round to see us?’ she said.

Because I want answers, thought Alva. And because I couldn’t think of anyone it’s safe to ask except you, and I’m not all that sure about you!

But a good psychiatrist never reveals the depths of her own ignorance. She’d impressed this woman with her identification of McLucky. Build on that.

She said, ‘I need to fill in some gaps in my files before I decide whether to go to the authorities or not.’

Doll gave her a wry grin as if she didn’t believe a word of it and said, ‘Then we have a problem, dearie, as I can’t tell you anything without your assurance that nothing you hear here will go any further. Like you were listening to one of your patients.’

Alva said, ‘If one of my patients told me he was planning to blow up Parliament, and I believed him, I’d have to tell someone.’

Doll let out a cockatoo screech of laughter and said, ‘Me, I’d ask the bugger if he wanted any help! But I take your point. Makes things difficult, though. Up to you, dearie.’

She ate another biscuit, regarding her guest expectantly.

Alva blanked her out and focused on her problem. With everything she did it seemed the gap between the professional and the personal was widening. Her reaction to Luke Hollins’s letter had started the rot. Instead of taking it straight to the probation service, she had shot off to Cumbria. All very unprofessional.

On the other hand, until very recently the authorities she was threatening to go to would have included Homewood and Childs, so what was she hesitating for? She’d returned to her flat from tea at Childs’s house, her mind sparking with speculation that she knew could lead nowhere except a restless night. She needed more information and the number of people she could approach in search of it was very limited. In fact, the only ones in reach were the Trapps.

Pointless wasting more time on futile thought. She’d dug out Doll’s card and headed straight for Chingford, arriving there just in time to see Murray/McLucky walking along the pavement towards the house.

She said, ‘If you tell me unequivocally that a crime is about to be committed, then I’ll have to speak. Otherwise you’ll get maximum discretion.’

Doll screwed up her face and said, ‘I suppose that’ll do to be going on with. All right, dearie, sitting comfortable? Then I’ll begin right at the beginning. Here’s how Ed and me first met Wolf. He was just sixteen and me, God help us, I was just turned thirty!’

When Doll fell silent twenty minutes later, Alva said, ‘I’d just like to make sure I’m not missing anything. You’re saying Ed met Wolf in his capacity as duty solicitor, guessed the boy was under age, believed he was guilty as charged, knew he’d absconded from a Remand Centre and broken into his office . . . And despite this, Ed made no attempt to involve Social Services, got him off the charge, and covered up the absconding and the break-in. Then you took him into your home and found him a job. Have I got it right?’

‘Word perfect, ducks,’ said Doll. ‘Though, I got to admit, hearing you spell it out so precise, it does sound a bit weird.’

‘Weird!’ said Alva. ‘It sounds . . . I’m not sure how it sounds, except I’ve had patients whose fantasies came over as more down to earth than this.’

‘Yes, well, the thing is, you
are
missing something, dearie. Though the fact that you’re here at all makes me think maybe you’re not really missing it at all, you’re just not facing up to it. The thing is, Wolf was . . . is . . . very attractive, I mean, not just in the usual boy– girl way, though that too. But most people just
like
him! Even the cops put in a bit of effort with him. And Ed was full of him when he came back from their first meeting at the nick. I recall saying, “I hope you’re not on the turn, Ed!” He just laughed and said, “If you met the lad, you’d see what I mean.” Never thought I would meet him, of course. But I did. And I saw. This making any sense to you, dearie?’

It was. Alva thought of what she knew of Wolf’s childhood. A loner, yes. But through
his
choice, not other people’s exclusion.

In fact (why hadn’t she spotted this before?) it was the fact that he was so attractive that had permitted him to go his own way so merrily. The evidence was all there: his teachers cutting him an enormous amount of slack at school; the girls trying to date him; Sir Leon ruffling his hair and talking to him in wolf-language; the mountain rescue men taking him under their wing; Johnny Nutbrown not taking offence when this uncouth yokel punched him on the nose; Imogen pulling her clothes off on the mountain and inviting him to fuck her; and even after his disgrace, a hard-nosed cop like Davy McLucky finding something in this damaged paedophile to like and sympathize with. And Luke Hollins clearly took a more than pastoral interest in his new parishioner.

Then there was herself . . .

Doll, as if following her thoughts, said, ‘Yes, and he might have lost an eye, a few fingers and his good looks, but it’s still there, isn’t it? Don’t be ashamed of admitting it, dearie. Impossible not to like him, right? Well, imagine what he was like way back, a young lad adrift and in danger on the streets of wicked old London. Even if I hadn’t liked him, it would have been hard to throw him back. But we couldn’t keep him living with us for ever. It was before we bought this place. Tight little high-rise flat in Whitechapel. Lots of temptations there for the idle young. He needed a real job.’

‘So what was it you found for him to do, Doll?’ asked Alva, glad of a diversion from her own feelings for Hadda.

‘Thing is,’ said Doll, ‘to get some idea about Wolf’s job, you’ll need to know a little about mine. As it was back then, I mean. Now, of course, I work with Ed. But my first connection with the law was I started out as a secretary to a barristers’ clerk. Meaning I was mainly an office skivvy. Made a lovely cup of tea, though.’

She smiled reminiscently.

Alva said disbelievingly, ‘You’re not saying you got Wolf a job in a law office?’

‘Not quite the way you mean it,’ said Doll. ‘Though he’d probably have done better than me eventually. To start with, I had ambitions to become a fully fledged clerk in a top chambers. Lot of money in that game, if you play your cards right. And despite them trying to keep me at the tea urn, I set out to learn the job; after a few years, I reckoned I was good enough to start applying for real clerks’ jobs. Some hope! Talk about glass ceilings. This one was bulletproof and electrified at that! After a year of getting nowhere, I was ready to relocate to a cash desk in Tesco’s. You ever feel like that, dearie?’

‘I’ve been very lucky,’ said Alva. ‘But you kept out of Tesco’s?’

‘Yeah. That was down to Geoff Toplady. He was the one barrister in chambers I really got on with. At first I thought he was just after squeezing my tits. Didn’t mind that, so long as he listened to my moans as he squeezed. One day he said if I fancied being more appreciated there was this outfit he knew about who were always looking for talent. I said, I don’t fancy lap dancing, and he laughed and said no, this was very respectable, sort of the civil service really. Sorry, dearie, you want to say something?’

‘This barrister, Geoff Toplady, he’s not a judge now, is he?’

‘The very same. Done well for himself, has Geoff. Up in the Appeal Court now. Sky’s the limit for Geoff. You know him?’

‘Not exactly. Sorry. Do go on.’

‘Can’t say I fancied being a civil servant, but anything was better than going nowhere, so I attended an interview Geoff set up. I soon realized I wasn’t being invited to work in a Whitehall department, I was being recruited into something a lot less high profile. They knew everything about me. I’d filled in a form, told the usual lies, made the usual omissions. They picked them all out one by one, but they didn’t seem to care. In fact they asked me if there was anything they’d missed that I’d managed to get past them!