The Wild Wood Enquiry (20 page)

THE NEW COSTA coffee shop was now doing a roaring trade in premises that had once sold knitting wools, embroidery silks and knicker elastic.

“Haberdashery shops are almost gone,” Ivy said as they settled in a window seat. “The big do-it-all supermarkets have driven them out of business, more’s the pity. Katya was telling me she went all round one of those huge places
looking for a packet of pins, and there wasn’t one to be had. Mind you, I think those assistants, most of them look about twelve, and don’t know where to—Oh! That’s him!” she said suddenly, craning her neck to look up the street.

“Who?”

“The Green Man of the Woods! I am sure it was him. Perhaps he’ll come back this way, and I’ll point him out to you.”

“What, him that was digging for badgers?”

“Well, digging for something. I’d know him anywhere, with that funny walk.”

“You had a good look at him, then!” Roy smiled. “You said he limped, I remember. Did he by any chance have his empty left sleeve tucked in his pocket?”

“Couldn’t see,” Ivy said seriously. “And don’t mock. I think our Green Man may be a very important part of the Miriam Blake investigation.”

At this point, large, fluffy scones with lots of jam and cream were put in front of them, and they tucked in. The conversation changed to the likelihood of Deirdre ever getting married again, and Ivy said that if anyone asked her, she would say her cousin had enough sense to see that neither Theo Roussel nor Gus Halfhide would be good husbands. One was after her money, and the other clearly would be better staying a bachelor.

Fascinating as this was, Ivy’s eyes kept flicking back to the street outside. She and Roy had moved on to discussing Katya’s decision not to work up at the Hall when Ivy suddenly stiffened. “There he is!” she hissed.

“Don’t look now, but he’s coming in,” Roy said.

“So he is. I shall wave him over,” Ivy announced firmly. She half rose from her seat and called, “Yoo-hoo!” The busy restaurant stared at her, and the Green Man turned in alarm.

“Oh goodness, it’s my forlorn little maid,” he said without thinking, and approached their table.

“I
beg
your pardon?” Roy struggled to his feet, but Ivy took his arm and reseated him.

“Do join us,” she said. “And please allow me to treat you to a creamy jammy scone. I have never been able to thank you properly for rescuing me in the woods. Do you live in Oakbridge?”

“In and around,” he replied. “It is very nice to see you again. And this is?”

“Mr. Roy Goodman, my fiancé,” said Ivy. “We both live at Springfields, a residential prison in Barrington.”

“Did you say
prison
? Surely…”

Roy rescued him. “My beloved’s little joke,” he said kindly. “We are both able enough to escape into the outside world once or twice a week. You can have no idea how depressing it can be, cooped up like a couple of chickens, day after day.”

Ulph, who owing to rash bets on sure losers, had come close to the debtors’ prison himself once or twice, said that he had every sympathy and how pleased he was that they were able to live a relatively free life.

“And you, Mr. er… er? What is your work?”

“He’s a musician, aren’t you?” said Ivy, watching him closely. His reaction was interesting. He coloured, cleared his throat, and said she must be mistaken. He couldn’t play a penny whistle. “Tone deaf, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Ah, sorry,” she replied blandly. “I could’ve sworn you were playing at Springfields with Sid and His Swingers. Olde Tyme Evening, I think it was?”

“If only!” Ulph said heartily. “Could do with a few bawbees at the moment. Difficult to find work in my line of business.”

“Which is?” persisted Roy.

“Oh my goodness! Just look at that gorgeous confection!” Ulph said, gratefully receiving a plate of scones. “Well, here’s to the escaped prisoners,” he added, and lifted a fork piled high with whipped cream.

The conversation continued easily, especially when Ulph was discovered to have an enthusiasm for rare breeds of cattle. “My late father grew apples, mostly, but he also had a herd of Dexters,” he confided, studiously avoiding any more questions from Ivy. “Had to give them up, of course, when he got ill. I’ve always thought I’d like to take up farming when all else fails!”

“Couldn’t do better,” Roy said. “Hard work, not much profit, but great satisfaction,” he said, with a notable sadness in his voice. “I had some Belted Galloways in my day. Won first prize at the Dairy Show for years.”

Ivy was bored. Herds of cows were all very well, but they weren’t getting much in the way of useful information out of the Green Man. So far, they still did not know his name or where he lived.

“Well,” she said, looking obviously at her watch, “if we’re going to get everything done, we must be on our way.”

“Where are you heading?” Ulph said. He had really taken to this nice old man. It was a long time since he had had a pleasant conversation about farming.

“Up to the one remaining haberdasher’s,” Ivy said. “I need new hairnets, though I suppose you are too young to have seen such things, Mr. er… er?”

“Nonsense! I remember my grandmother putting on her hairnet before retiring to bed. Made her look like a football in a string bag!”

Roy laughed. “My dear Ivy looks even lovelier in hers,” he said loyally. “Are you going our way?”

“Part of the way,” he said. “Now, will you let me settle the bill?”

“Certainly not,” said Ivy. “My treat, Mr.… er…? Off we go, then.”

But Ulph was already on his feet. The pavement was too narrow for all three to walk abreast, so Roy and Ulph went in front, still chatting about pasture and the relative merits of cattle feeds, and Ivy followed behind. Ulph was carrying a briefcase, and she peered more closely to see the name label as they walked.

As they approached an adjoining road going off to the right, Ulph stopped. “I’ll say good-bye then. Perhaps we’1l meet again, Roy, and you can show me photos of your prize winners! Good-bye, Maid Marian.” He touched his forelock and was soon lost among crowds in the street leading to the market.

“Wasn’t that interesting, Ivy? What a nice fellow. Hey, wait a minute, Ivy, that’s not the way to the haberdasher’s! Wait for me, dearest.…”

IVY HAD SET off at such a pace that Roy had great difficulty in keeping up with her, even though his trundle was capable of more than four miles per hour. He had to stop frequently at first. More than once a young mother laden with shopping and children warned him crossly to watch where he was going.

For her part, Ivy had completely forgotten that Roy might have trouble. Full of zeal for what seemed to her like a golden opportunity to find out where Ulph lived, she stepped out, skilfully avoiding prams and pushchairs and, when forced into the road, waving a stern arm at oncoming cars. When she finally caught sight of the easily recognisable hairy-headed, limping figure in front of her, she stopped. A young boy crashed into her from behind, and to her annoyance said, “Look out, Granny!” in a loud voice.

Without taking her eyes off Ulph’s retreating back, she
set off more slowly, staying close to the kerb. Reminded of Roy, she took a quick glance behind her and saw him steadily approaching as the crowds now parted like the Red Sea in front of him. She matched her pace to Ulph’s, and proceeded carefully, pulling her black straw hat over her forehead in case he should look round.

The marketplace was tricky, and it was clear Ulph was not going to linger. Ivy took a deep breath and followed him, and Roy did his best to keep up. They found themselves in a narrow street of four-story houses, shabby and uninviting. Ulph stopped outside one of these and fumbled in his pocket. Ivy and Roy waited fifty yards back, their faces turned away. At last, their quarry found the key and let himself into the house, closing the door behind him.

“Ivy Beasley,” said Roy as they arrived outside Ulph’s house and he struggled to get out of his trundle, “you are to sit down here at once while I give you a stern lecture.”

“I am perfectly all right, thank you,” said Ivy, but nevertheless perched on the seat and adjusted her skirt. “First time I’ve tried one of these,” she said. “Very comfortable, aren’t they? Go on, then, speak up.”

Roy looked at her, sitting like Queen Victoria in her favourite dogcart. “I can’t think of anything to say,” he said with a sigh. “In the face of your triumphant expression, I can only think that your mission is accomplished. And if it is at all possible, my love, to give me a little more warning when you next decide to chase a known criminal through the streets of Oakbridge, then I shall be grateful.”

“He is not a known criminal! Not yet, anyway. And I was merely walking briskly in the same direction as Mr. Sebastian Ulph.”

“How do you know that is his name?” Roy frowned and
leaned against an overflowing rubbish bin. Without a word Ivy eased herself off the trundle and motioned him to sit in it again.

“It’s on his briefcase. A travel label. Just as well I had my new glasses, though it was quite easy to read as you walked along.”

“I might have known it,” said Roy. “And now, if you’ll accept a piece of advice from an old man, I think we should clear out of here pronto, before he comes out again and shoves a gun against your ribs.”

ELVIS STOOD BESIDE his vehicle, looking anxiously up and down the busy street. He checked his watch. A quarter to one. There was no sighting of his passengers. Had he been too late turning up? No, he had noted the time, and he had arrived at the meeting place at twenty past twelve. There had been no sign of them then, and there was still no sign.

“Now then, sir, you can’t park here,” said a uniformed parking attendant.

“Can’t you see I’m a taxi? Meeting a couple of elderly people, one in a shopping trolley thing, and they are late.”

“Sorry, but that won’t do. Still, as I can see you’re worried about them, I’ll give you another five minutes, and then you’ll have to move on.”

“Right. Thanks, mate. I’ll do the same for—Oh, there they are! Thank God for that.”

“Friends of yours, are they?”

“Um, yeah, I suppose they are. Anyway, cheers, mate. I’ll get the ramp down.”

Roy apologised profusely, and Ivy slipped a five-pound note into the driver’s pocket. “My fault, Elvis,” she said. “I
got too interested in the market. Right, are we ready, Roy? Off we go to face a grilling from La Spurling.”

“Did you get all you wanted?” said the driver.

“No,” said Roy.

“Oh yes,” Ivy said at the same time. “More than we expected, didn’t we, Roy?”

“If you say so, dearest, if you say so.”

ULPH, MEANWHILE, WAS thinking about his encounter. His daily craving for a cup of real coffee with cream and brown sugar had led him into dangerous waters. They had been a very nice old couple, Ivy and Roy. And what a chance meeting it had been with Ivy, his maid from the woods! He wished he had been able to answer with his own details, but he could not risk it. It seemed unlikely that two old pensioners would relay such information back anywhere that would do him harm. But if, by some extraordinary coincidence, his name and address filtered through to Katherine too soon, she would be only too anxious to do him harm.

But would she? She would want her jewels back, of course, and he was quite prepared to return them. At a price. He knew almost certainly that she would not go to the police, because of information he held about her claims for insurance. But Katherine Halfhide had always had access to some pretty shady characters. He would not put it past her to enlist the aid of one of her thugs to wrest her jewels back by force, not caring tuppence what happened to him in the process. And anyway, he was almost ready to confront her now. He had decided exactly what he would say to her and intended to learn it like a script, word for word, so she could not defeat him in argument. She would
see the sense of his proposal, and that would be an end to it.

So he had done the right thing with Ivy and Roy. In a way, he wished he had been able to arrange to meet them again. It had been so nice talking to the old fellow about rare breeds and his father’s Dexters. He should have stuck to farming, instead of playing the saxophone. How happy old Pa would have been!

“Mr. Ulph, can I offer you a bite of lunch?” It was his landlady, and not for the first time he wished he had had the presence of mind to give her a false name. With luck, that would have thwarted Kath’s network of contacts for as long as he needed.

“Not just now, thanks,” he said. “I’ve got a sandwich and some coffee. I’ll be fine. And once again, I’m sorry about the swimming trunks.”

Her face creased into a smile. “Don’t you worry about those. I’m not likely to be needing them, am I?” She disappeared, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Another nice person I am deceiving, he thought. Oh, what a tangled web, his grandmother would have said. His leg was hurting again, probably from hurrying over hard pavements. Maybe he should have a shot at cadging another swim with Mrs. Bloxham? He sighed. No, his life was fraught enough already. The best thing would be to take his sandwich and coffee out onto the rooftop and watch the birds.