Chapter 21
Preparing to set out the next morning to see Sven, Julia wished Tabitha was going with her.
Tabitha had to be at work, of course – it being Friday, and a working day – but Julia would have enjoyed her company and support on this mission.
Calling on Sven Olafson, aka the Lunatic Dog Walker, aka Husky Man, felt rather daunting.
From what she’d heard, he was grumpy and confrontational.
And he had three large dogs. And there was the possibility that he was involved in one or both of the recent deaths.
Not that Julia had any intention of mentioning the murders when she went to find Sven. While drinking her morning tea, she had decided on a way of sounding him out without raising his suspicions.
She delayed the mission a bit further by freshening the pot and pouring herself another cup of tea.
She did the Wordle and then the Sudoku (brilliantly, if she said so herself).
By then, Chaplin had taken up residence on her lap, and everyone knows it is impolite to move a cat once it’s got itself comfortable.
Julia stroked his warm, rumbling black back for a few minutes, while he kneaded her thighs with his claws.
In a final act of procrastination, she tried out a couple of the confusing off-brand word games that the algorithm kept sending her way. Most unsatisfactory, they were.
‘Right!’ she said sternly. ‘You’re wasting your brain and wasting your time.
Enough of this cowardly procrastination, Julia Bird.
’ She knew she was in trouble when she addressed herself by her full name.
She got up, cleared the tea things and gathered her keys and handbag, and a light cardigan, just in case.
Jake was lying in the doorway between the kitchen and the garden, a favoured spot from where he could keep an eye on both his beloveds – Julia and Henny Penny – at the same time.
He lifted his head and followed Julia’s every move with his limpid amber eyes.
She could almost hear his brain working.
‘What’s she doing? Is she going out? She’s wearing walking shoes.
Where’s she going? Will she take me with her?
Ooh, she has the car keys. Is this good for the dog or bad for the dog? ’
‘Come on, Jakey,’ she said, slapping her palm against the side of her thigh, thus answering his question – yes, it was good for the dog – and putting an end to his worries.
He was up and on his feet in a second, hurling himself about the place, giving the occasional excited, sharp bark, his toenails scrabbling and scraping on the kitchen floor.
She opened the front door to let him out, and he bounded to the car.
She followed him at a more sedate pace and opened the car door, saying, ‘In you get,’ although he needed no encouragement.
Julia followed the directions she’d received the previous day from Ingrid.
Ingrid was one of those people who gave instructions without reference to a single road name.
‘Left after the big oak, past the house with the three poodles, the road curves round to the right, and it’s just across the road from the Children crossing sign’.
Such instructions sound scarily unspecific, and Julia imagined herself going home in defeat, but the landmarks appeared obediently in order – oak, poodles, curve, sign – and she drew up outside the house.
She recognised it by its sturdy fence and gate – like Ingrid’s, designed to keep large dogs inside – and a sign saying Beware of the dogs.
Again, exactly as Ingrid had described it.
Husky Man’s house was, in fact, so close to the meadow that it would be a matter of less than five minutes’ walk for him and his dogs.
It must be a convenient and happy arrangement, and she could imagine how much he would miss it.
Julia left Jake in the car with the windows open.
‘Won’t be long,’ she said, patting his dear head.
She was pleased she didn’t have a dog which necessitated a Beware of the dog sign.
She hesitated a moment at the bell, butterflies doing little loop-the-loop manoeuvres in her belly, and pressed it firmly with her thumb.
A cacophony of howling and barking followed the long buzzing sound.
Sven Olafson lived up exactly to Julia’s expectations.
He was tall and long-limbed and Nordic-looking, with an angular face and a shock of straight hair currently engaged in turning from pale blonde to silver-grey.
His eyes were the same icy blue as those of the husky she had seen at Ingrid’s.
Julia felt that strange little twinge of satisfaction one gets when expectation meets reality.
She could imagine him on skis. Or a sled, pulled by huskies, over an icy landscape…
‘Hello,’ he said in accented English, interrupting her snowy imaginings. He smiled a big-toothed smile.
‘Hello, Mr Olafson. I’m Julia Bird.’
‘Wait. I call him.’ He disappeared into the house.
Minutes later another fellow appeared. He was short and stocky, tubby but strong-looking. She couldn’t imagine him on skis or a sled.
‘Hey. I hear you are looking for me?’ he said, running his hands through his dark curls, shot through with grey.
‘Yes, hello. Are you Sven Olafson?’ Julia asked, trying to keep an uptick of disbelief from her voice.
‘Indeed, I am,’ he said, sounding as English as Julia herself.
Julia recovered her poise and spoke. ‘I’m sorry to turn up unannounced, but I heard you are the person to speak to about the shopping centre that’s going to be built in the meadow. I believe you started a petition to have the development stopped.’
‘I did. It is an abomination. It will be a blight on the landscape.’
‘I wanted to sign the petition. I hope I’m not too late. I must say, that development really doesn’t seem like a good idea.’
‘It’s an affront to the neighbourhood, and in complete disregard of the rights and preferences of local people, dog owners in particular.’
‘Yes, I can imagine the dog owners aren’t happy.’
‘And justifiably so!’ His round face was red and his dark eyes gleamed angrily. ‘It’s an outrage. We’ve been walking our dogs there for years. It’s one of the reasons I bought this house. Proximity to the field.’
‘Gosh, this is all very bad for you.’
‘Very bad. Very bad indeed. Those people at the council, the so-called environmental officers. Utterly useless. And that so-called consultant. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were both in the pay of Big Property Development.’
‘Do you mean Basil Crow and Esmeralda Gray?’
He paused his rant to look at her properly for the first time. ‘You know their names?’
‘Basil Crow was murdered. It was in the papers. And I heard that Esmeralda had an accident. You know what it’s like in the village. News travels.’
‘Well, it’s a pity that it had to come to this,’ he said. ‘But the fact is, this whole development needs to be reassessed. Maybe that will happen now. It’s never too late. So, do you want to come in and sign?’
The meadow, as Julia had last seen it, was most decidedly beyond saving, but she wasn’t going to point this out.
She followed Sven into a small house and through to the kitchen, where the tall, angular chap was smearing mayonnaise on a large slice of rye bread.
Thin slices of tomato and onion, a few lettuce leaves and a packet of ham stood at the ready.
‘This is Casper, my cousin. Well, our fathers are cousins. Casper is visiting from Norway. This is… Sorry…’
‘Julia.’
‘Julia. She is going to sign the petition. It might be too late, I don’t know. With the accident, and the… the death… Who knows.’
‘Ah, good, you sign,’ said Casper, smiling at Julia. ‘One more for your side, Sven. Maybe you will get your field back.’
Sven looked grumpy. ‘It’s a meadow, but yes. Maybe. Everything’s very up in the air. I had hoped we would have resolved this by now. But they seem to have started digging. Illegally, no doubt. There was a body there, after all. But everybody is corrupt these days.’
Casper laid a slice of ham on the mayonnaise and addressed Julia. ‘My cousin is very upset about the field… the meadow… very angry, he is. He has very big dogs.’
Casper pointed to the window with his knife. Two large dogs dozed in the sun. A third trotted along the fence, sniffing for clues to who-knows-what.
‘Ah, I see. You have huskies.’
‘They are not huskies,’ Sven said tetchily. ‘They are Malamutes.’
‘Of course, I see that now,’ said Julia. ‘They are larger than huskies. And, of course, Alaskan rather than Siberian.’
Sven looked at her with surprise and admiration. ‘I see you know your dogs,’ he said. Julia smiled in a modest way. It was sort of true. She knew Jake and Leo.
Casper continued, ‘They need very much exercise and, as you see, they are three. Which is a large number for large dogs. My cousin, he likes to walk his dogs in that field, the meadow, every morning and then every evening.’
‘I’m sure he does. It’s a very pretty field, nice and big, and so close by.’
‘Exactly,’ said Sven, nodding. ‘It is extremely convenient, and there’s plenty of space, so you’re not always finding yourself nose to nose with a Nervous Nelly with a Pekinese.’
‘There must be other places to walk, no?’ Casper said nonchalantly and placed a couple of slices of tomato atop the ham. ‘This is the countryside, as you say.’
‘There are, but not as nice and not as close. And I would need to drive the dogs there in the car. Do you have any idea what it is like to drive around with three Malamutes?’
Casper shrugged and added slices of onion to the pile.
‘Noisy, I would imagine. The river walk in the woodlands is quite close and it’s nice,’ said Julia, pleased to have found a way to introduce the place that Esmeralda died and monitor Sven’s reaction. ‘Do you know it?’
‘I do. It’s nice, but not as good as a meadow for big dogs.’
‘Have you been there recently?’ Julia said. ‘I was there a week or two ago, and the path is nicely cleared.’
‘I’ve been there recently,’ Sven said curtly.
Casper had layered his sandwich with additional ham and a topping of large lettuce leaves. Julia and Sven watched, mesmerised, half expecting a collapse of the towering sandwich, but Casper plonked a piece of bread on top, placed his palm on it and pushed it gently down with a satisfied sigh.
He took the sandwich in both hands and raised it to his mouth. He opened his mouth wide but stopped just before taking a bite, the sandwich hovering in front of his face. He put it back down on the plate. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I should have offered. Would anyone like a sandwich?’
Julia shook her head. Sven looked sad, and said, ‘Not for me. I’ll be having a salad. Stupid eating plan…’
‘Poor Sven. No sandwiches for him. He is on a diet,’ said Casper cheerfully. ‘For losing the fatties.’ He patted his own non-existent tummy and picked up the sandwich.
‘It’s not a diet,’ grumped Sven. ‘It’s an eating plan from the doctor.’
‘My poor cousin has to lose the fatties. For the diabetes,’ said Casper and sunk his big white teeth into the sandwich.