The Woodcutter (48 page)

‘No,’ said Doll. ‘Never paid much attention to the business news, or the gossip columns for that matter.’

Alva wasn’t sure if she believed her.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Funny though that Wolf didn’t get in touch with you himself when he came to live in London.’

Doll laughed and said, ‘Not really. I suspect JC had told him it wouldn’t do me any good if he tried to renew the connection.’

‘Why would he say that?’

‘He’s a very careful man,’ said Doll.

‘So why did Wolf renew the connection?’ asked Alva.

‘That’s the kind of guy he is,’ said Doll. ‘Wolf might have stayed away from paying a social call because he was warned off for my sake, but it would have taken an SAS regiment to keep him away when he heard that Ed was in serious shit.’

‘Couldn’t your friends at the Chapel have helped sort it out?’

‘JC was the first person I turned to,’ said Doll grimly. ‘He said they already had a watching brief on the situation and, if it got worse, the Chapel might have to protect itself. I got the message. They don’t like publicity. Any sniff of Ed’s connection with the Chapel, they’d treat like a gas leak: cut it off at the source. No, if it hadn’t been for Wolf . . . Anyway when it was all done, I resigned. Didn’t go down too well and I didn’t get a leaving prezzie unless you count a blunt reminder that the Official Secrets Act was operative till the end of time! I didn’t give a toss! I knew that Ed was going to need me close from now on in, so I went back to being a paralegal and kept his business ticking over till he came back to work.’

‘And Wolf, how strong were his links with the Chapel at that point, do you think?’

‘Don’t know, didn’t want to know. But, international businessman with contacts everywhere, I’m sure they’d have wanted to use him.’

‘So how might they have reacted when his troubles started?’

Doll said, ‘Their main concern would have been that something might come out that tracked back to them. Like with Ed, but Wolf was a lot more significant, of course.’

‘You sound bitter,’ said Alva, who saw no reason not to be as direct with Doll as she was with her.

‘Do I? Then I’m being silly. No taste for sentimental mush at the Chapel.’

The kind of mush that made you help a kid in trouble, the kind that brought that same kid riding to the rescue when you and Ed got in trouble, thought Alva.

She said, ‘They say in politics that loyalty’s a one-way street. So you no longer have any contact with the Chapel?’

‘Last time I heard from them was when Ed started acting for Wolf. Phone rang. It was JC. I thought at first he was going to try and warn us off acting for Wolf. Instead, when I told him how bad things were, what with the strong evidence and Wolf’s state of mind, he sounded genuinely upset. I made it clear I believed absolutely in Wolf’s innocence and he said, “So do I, Doll. So do I. But in this wicked world, innocence is sometimes not enough.” And that was that.’

‘No offer of assistance then?’

‘No way! But at least after talking to him I felt sure it wasn’t the Chapel who’d set Wolf up. Not directly, anyway. I know now they got their finger in the pie later.’

Alva made a note of that for future exploration, but she wanted to get the basic picture clear to start with.

‘What made you consider the possibility that it was the Chapel setting him up?’

Doll shrugged and said, ‘Wolf’s a man who likes to make his own choices. Like he did with Ed. If he’d done something that really got their knickers in a twist, the Chapel would have been quite willing and able to put him out of commission. Only it would probably have been less round-the-houses. Car accidents – they were very good at car accidents. So maybe he was lucky.’

‘Lucky? You call getting banged up for something you didn’t do lucky?’ said Alva.

Doll seemed to take this as a reproof.

‘We did everything we could for him,’ she said angrily. ‘Trouble was, back then Wolf just didn’t want to know. Imo divorcing him and marrying Estover, his friends deserting him, the accident crippling him. It was all too much. And it didn’t stop when he got to jail. First his old dad died, then his daughter. It was like Wolf had died himself.’

‘I believe Ginny’s death was the trigger that brought him back to life,’ said Alva.

‘Oh yes? Well, that’s your line of country, isn’t it? Ed did all he could, and went on trying to find out what was really going on long after Wolf went down. But we’re not detectives, and it’s hard helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped. We thought he was just going to rot inside for the whole length of his sentence. So when he got in touch and asked Ed to help him with the parole hearing, we were really delighted.’

‘But weren’t you surprised?’ asked Alva. ‘Ed must have told you that the whole basis of that hearing was his full and frank acknowledgement of his guilt and his willingness to undertake a course of remedial therapy.’

Doll laughed and asked, ‘How else was he going to get out, dearie?’

Then she stopped laughing and looked at Alva pityingly.

‘I’m sorry. It must have been a real shock to find out how he’d fooled you. But what else could he do when he realized the only way to get out early was getting you to testify that he was no longer a danger to anyone? He had to use you. You must see that.’

Alva nodded, unable to trust herself to speak. Being fooled was an occupational hazard; every therapy session with a patient was to some extent a contest in manipulation; but to feel personally betrayed was irrational, as if they’d been in some sort of relationship other than therapeutic.

Doll reached over and patted her on the shoulder.

‘Don’t take it to heart, dearie,’ she said. ‘He’d have tricked his own mother if that’s what had been needed to get him out.’

Alva was back in control now.

She drew away and said, ‘What bothers me is that he felt that getting out was worth admitting to the world he was as bad as he’d been painted. He’s not interested in proving his innocence, is he? All he wants to do is take revenge on the people he blames for putting him inside.’

Looking uneasy for the first time, Doll said, ‘It’s not quite like that. What he wants is to find out the exact truth of what happened.’

‘And then he’ll apply to get his case reviewed, is that what you’re telling me?’

Doll shook her head and said, ‘No. You’ve met him, ducks. You know what he’s like. And I don’t blame him, whatever he does. So long as it’s based on the facts.’

She spoke defiantly. She’s got reservations too, thought Alva.

She said, ‘So how does he intend to get these facts?’

‘Oh, he’s done that already,’ said Doll. ‘We’re well in to phase two now.’

‘Phase two! For God’s sake, tell me about phase one before we go there!’

Doll said, ‘We’re really getting to the edge of girl scout country here, dearie.’

Here it comes! thought Alva. She’d known from the start that sooner or later they were going to leave the ambiguous territory in which she could still persuade herself that keeping silent was a matter of personal choice. Now she was at the border.

She said carefully, ‘If Wolf has committed or is planning to commit an act of violence, then I will have no choice but to call in the authorities. But peccadilloes such as breaking the strict terms of his parole licence won’t bother me.’

‘Great,’ said Doll. ‘In that case it won’t bother you to learn that Wolf went to Spain over Christmas. There was an ex-cop living there, the one who arrested him. He thought he might know something that could help.’

‘You mean,’ said Alva, ‘that while Wolf was supposed to be staying with you over Christmas he was actually out of the country? And you helped him and covered up for him? You realize how much trouble you could be in?’

‘Ed’s a lawyer,’ said Doll indifferently. ‘Look, Wolf thought it might help if he talked to this ex-cop, Arnie Medler, who lived in Spain, so that’s where Wolf had to go.’

Medler. The name rang a bell. This was the arresting officer that Hadda had assaulted. Twice.

‘And did it help?’ she asked.

‘Oh yes. Wolf told Ed that Medler had been able to confirm a lot of what he suspected. And he got it all recorded. You can listen to the recording, if you like.’

‘I will do,’ said Alva. ‘Me and the authorities too. That should do the trick.’

But Doll was shaking her head.

‘Wish it was so simple, ducks. Thing is, not long after Wolf left him, this guy Medler had an accident and died. That’s really muddied the water.’

This got worse. Hadda leaves the country illegally to visit an excop he thinks might be withholding information and now the cop is dead. Alva knew how it sounded to her, so she didn’t have to take time out to guess how it would sound to the authorities.

‘How did Medler die?’ she asked.

‘His wife found him early on Christmas morning. He’d got so pissed he fell forward unconscious with his arm stretched out across the threshold of his patio door. He must have touched some control panel as he fell. Result, as he lay there some heavy security shutters came down. Chopped his hands right off. He’d bled to death.’

‘Oh Jesus,’ said Alva aghast. Just when you thought you’d hit rock bottom, the ground opened up again.

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Doll. ‘You’re thinking
Woodcutter.
But it’s not Wolf’s style, ducks. Might have chopped the bastard’s head off, if he deserved it, but not his hands!’

She seemed to think this comment should be reassuring. Alva did not find it so.

She said, ‘So what do you and Ed do when someone turns up with their head chopped off?’

Doll regarded her quizzically as if wondering whether the first of Wolf Hadda’s suggested methods for dealing with her might not have been the better option.

The door opened and Ed Trapp looked in and tapped his watch significantly.

‘I think that’ll do to be going on with, dear,’ said Doll. ‘You’ll want to get home to listen to that tape and I’ve got work to do.’

Ed was holding the door open invitingly.

‘I’ll walk you back to your car,’ he said.

They walked to the Fiesta in silence. As she unlocked the door, Trapp said gently, ‘Don’t worry about Wolf, Dr Ozigbo. He’d never hurt anyone that was innocent.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘There’s something in him, connected with something that happened a long time ago, I think. Maybe he did once. He won’t do it again.’

‘He shouldn’t be thinking about hurting anyone, Mr Trapp. Innocence, guilt, punishment, that’s the Law’s job. You of all people should know that.’

He smiled at her rather sadly.

‘Should I?’ he said. ‘When the Law kept an innocent man banged up for seven years despite anything I could do? When the only way he could get out was to deceive a woman he likes and respects? Should I? Good night, Dr Ozigbo.’

She got in her car and drove home.

She tried to put everything she had just heard into some sort of order, but every third thought took her back to Mr Trapp’s parting words.

A woman he likes and respects.

That had to mean something!

But not, she thought, all that much. Not while the memory of Imogen Ulphingstone was still burnt on his soul like a shadow on a wall left by an atomic explosion.

8

Monday morning dawned bright and very cold, with frost scaling the window panes and highlighting the bare twigs and branches of the trees and shrubbery in the grounds of Poynters
.

‘Where are you going, Johnny?’ demanded Pippa Nutbrown.

‘Just for a stroll through the spinney,’ said her husband. ‘Thought I’d see if I could pick up a rabbit.’

Pippa looked in scorn at the shotgun he carried broken in the crook of his arm.

‘As much chance of you coming back with a Siberian tiger,’ she said.

‘Sorry, old girl, was there something you wanted me to do?’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped dismissively. ‘What the hell would I want you to do that I can’t do better myself?’

Nutbrown could think of one thing but he knew better than to say it. Best policy was to make yourself scarce when Pippa was in one of her moods, which she seemed to be most of the time recently. It was a couple of weeks since she’d announced that she’d given Skinners their marching orders and done a private deal with Donald Murray. The news had filled Nutbrown with a dismay that not even his wife’s delight could compensate for. But as the days went by and she heard nothing more from Murray, her mood began to darken while her husband’s spirits began to rise, though he was careful not to let her see this.

As he walked away from the house, he began to whistle ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’, though not till he was sure he was out of earshot. He had neither the will nor the guile to resist Pippa’s insistence that they should sell Poynters and go to live abroad, but he did have a deep-rooted conviction that this was never going to happen. No logical basis, of course, but nothing new there! His motto had always been, Take the line of least resistance and generally speaking things would work out for the best.

He entered the spinney. The winter sun could hardly penetrate here and the temperature dropped by several degrees. He heard a twig crack and paused. All was silent again. Pity. It would be nice to surprise Pippa and actually come back with something in his game bag. The trouble was, on the odd occasion he’d managed to get something in his sights, he’d rarely been able to bring himself to shoot it. The wild creatures here were also inhabitants of Poynters and deserved as much as he did to pass their lives untroubled.

But not perhaps all of them.

Something growled, a deep threatening rumble, and standing at a bend in the track about fifty feet ahead he saw a dog.

Johnny Nutbrown quite liked dogs. (Pippa didn’t, so there were none at Poynters.) But this didn’t look like the kind of dog you called
Hey boy!
to and ruffled its ears when it came running up to you, tail wagging. It stood quite still. What light there was under the tree glinted off its yellowing teeth and from its eyes that seemed to have a reddish glow as they focused unblinkingly on the approaching man.