Read Online Wexford 19 - The Babes In The Woods by Ruth Rendell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ruth Rendell
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they can’t understand. He’ll grow out of it and I don’t know if that’s a shame or something to be thankful about.’
He woke up in the night. It was just after three and rain was still falling. He went downstairs, into the dining room and over to the french windows. The lamp was out but when he turned out the light behind him and his eyes grew used to the dark he could see out well enough. The water had moved up to lap the wall.
Two men were unloading sacks of something on to the police station forecourt. For a moment Wexford couldn’t think what. Then he understood. He parked the car, went inside and asked Sergeant Camb at the desk, ‘What do we want sandbags for? There’s no possible chance of the floods reaching here.’
No one could answer him. The driver of the truck came in with a note acknowledging receipt of the sand bags and Sergeant Peach came out from the back to sign it. ‘Though what we’re to do with them I don’t know.’ He looked at Wexford. ‘You’re not far from the river, are you, sir?’ He spoke in a wheedling tone, though half jokingly. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like a few. Take them off our hands?’
In the same style, Wexford said, ‘I wouldn’t mind helping you out, Sergeant.’
Ten minutes later four dozen had been loaded into a van Pemberton drove to Wexford’s home. He phoned his wife. ‘I can’t get home to put up the fortifications till this evening.’
‘Don’t worry darling. Cal and Sylvia are here and Cal’s going to do it.’
Cal.. . He didn’t know what to say and came up with an ineffectual, ‘That’s good.’
It was. Especially as it was once more pouring with rain. Wexford checked on the calls they had received as a result of the media publicity but there was nothing helpful, not even anything that seemed the suggestion of a sane person. Burden came in and told him the out come of calls on the various friends and relatives of the missing children. In the main, negative. Giles’s and Sophie’s maternal grandparents lived at Berningham on the Suffolk coast, where in the seventies and eighties had been a large United States Air Force base. They seemed to get on well with their grandchildren but they hadn’t seen either of them since September when they came to stay in Berningham for a week.
Roger Dade’s mother, remarried since her divorce from his father, was apparently a favourite with the children. Her home was a village in the Cotswolds and she lived alone. The last time she had seen them was at their half-term in October when she had stayed for three nights with the Dades, leaving under some sort of cloud. A quarrel, Burden had gathered, though no details had been given. Katrina Dade was an only child.
‘How about Joanna Troy?’
‘No siblings,’ said Burden. ‘The present Mrs Troy has two children by a previous marriage. Joanna’s been married and divorced. The marriage lasted less than a year. We haven’t traced her ex-husband yet.’
Wexford said thoughtfully, ‘The answer to all this is with Joanna Troy, don’t you think? I don’t see how it can be otherwise. A boy of fifteen isn’t going to be able to persuade a woman of thirty-one to take him and his sister off somewhere without telling their parents or leaving any clue to where they were going. It has to be her plan and her decision. Nor can I see how she could have taken them away without criminal intent.’
‘That’s a bit sweeping.’
‘Is it? All right, give me a scenario that covers everything and in which Joanna Troy is innocent.’
‘Drowning would be.’
‘They didn’t drown, Mike. Even if it remained a possibility, what became of her car? Or, rather, her dad’s car. Who fell in and who rescued whom? If by a huge stretch of the imagination you can get that far, isn’t it a bit odd they all drowned? Wouldn’t one have survived, especially in four feet of water?’
‘You
He woke up in the night. It was just after three and rain was still falling. He went downstairs, into the dining room and over to the french windows. The lamp was out but when he turned out the light behind him and his eyes grew used to the dark he could see out well enough. The water had moved up to lap the wall.
Two men were unloading sacks of something on to the police station forecourt. For a moment Wexford couldn’t think what. Then he understood. He parked the car, went inside and asked Sergeant Camb at the desk, ‘What do we want sandbags for? There’s no possible chance of the floods reaching here.’
No one could answer him. The driver of the truck came in with a note acknowledging receipt of the sand bags and Sergeant Peach came out from the back to sign it. ‘Though what we’re to do with them I don’t know.’ He looked at Wexford. ‘You’re not far from the river, are you, sir?’ He spoke in a wheedling tone, though half jokingly. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like a few. Take them off our hands?’
In the same style, Wexford said, ‘I wouldn’t mind helping you out, Sergeant.’
Ten minutes later four dozen had been loaded into a van Pemberton drove to Wexford’s home. He phoned his wife. ‘I can’t get home to put up the fortifications till this evening.’
‘Don’t worry darling. Cal and Sylvia are here and Cal’s going to do it.’
Cal.. . He didn’t know what to say and came up with an ineffectual, ‘That’s good.’
It was. Especially as it was once more pouring with rain. Wexford checked on the calls they had received as a result of the media publicity but there was nothing helpful, not even anything that seemed the suggestion of a sane person. Burden came in and told him the out come of calls on the various friends and relatives of the missing children. In the main, negative. Giles’s and Sophie’s maternal grandparents lived at Berningham on the Suffolk coast, where in the seventies and eighties had been a large United States Air Force base. They seemed to get on well with their grandchildren but they hadn’t seen either of them since September when they came to stay in Berningham for a week.
Roger Dade’s mother, remarried since her divorce from his father, was apparently a favourite with the children. Her home was a village in the Cotswolds and she lived alone. The last time she had seen them was at their half-term in October when she had stayed for three nights with the Dades, leaving under some sort of cloud. A quarrel, Burden had gathered, though no details had been given. Katrina Dade was an only child.
‘How about Joanna Troy?’
‘No siblings,’ said Burden. ‘The present Mrs Troy has two children by a previous marriage. Joanna’s been married and divorced. The marriage lasted less than a year. We haven’t traced her ex-husband yet.’
Wexford said thoughtfully, ‘The answer to all this is with Joanna Troy, don’t you think? I don’t see how it can be otherwise. A boy of fifteen isn’t going to be able to persuade a woman of thirty-one to take him and his sister off somewhere without telling their parents or leaving any clue to where they were going. It has to be her plan and her decision. Nor can I see how she could have taken them away without criminal intent.’
‘That’s a bit sweeping.’
‘Is it? All right, give me a scenario that covers everything and in which Joanna Troy is innocent.’
‘Drowning would be.’
‘They didn’t drown, Mike. Even if it remained a possibility, what became of her car? Or, rather, her dad’s car. Who fell in and who rescued whom? If by a huge stretch of the imagination you can get that far, isn’t it a bit odd they all drowned? Wouldn’t one have survived, especially in four feet of water?’
‘You
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