Chapter Twelve
Mrs B began typing.
Dear Mr Slate,
At a meeting with your daughter, Jules, this morning, it was agreed that Declan Hunt Investigations—
She was interrupted by the sound of a chair hitting the wall, and what she guessed was a young detective falling into a garbage can.
“Get out!” Charlie yelled. The dog raced out of his office, its claws click-clacking on the wooden floor, as it sought refuge under Mrs B’s chair.
Declan stepped into the main room and called out to Charlie. “When you’re done with playtime, I need you. I just got a call from Mickey and he’s found the CCTV footage from the night Angel was attacked. He wants us to come over to the bar and have a look at it.”
Charlie walked out of his office, plucking a piece of a banana peel off his shoulder. As he caught up to Declan near the main door, he pointed at the dog, looked over to Mrs B and said, “Good luck with that one.”
“He’s just lonely,” she said. “Maybe when you leave, he’ll follow you and sense his way home.”
Declan opened the door and motioned for the dog to follow, but it gave no indication that it was willing to go.
“Never mind,” she said, patiently. “I’ll deal with him. In the meantime, I’ll finish sending the contract to Mr Slate.”
“Thank you, Mrs B,” Declan said as he gently closed the front door.
She looked down at the dog. “Oh, you are a trouble maker, aren’t you?
” She gave him a scrub behind the ears and pondered what to do about him.
In time, he’d probably get hungry enough to find his way back to his home and supper.
Until then, there was no harm in letting the dog rest in the cool office for a few more hours.
Mrs B completed typing out the contract and pressed send.
She forwarded the invoices for the firm’s other clients to their accountant, Mr Attwal, and tidied up her desk.
The dog had fallen asleep at her feet. She decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet of the empty office, making herself a cup of coffee and taking it over to the couch.
Mrs B glanced at the coffee table and realised that she hadn’t even had time to browse through the magazines that Charlie had picked up for her.
As she sipped her coffee and flipped through the pages of Mountain Leisure, the dog sidled up to her.
“Yes?” she asked.
It let out a gentle woof, looked toward the door, then back at her.
“Oh, now you want to go out, do you?”
The dog barked again, panted, then walked over to the door.
“Well, I guess it’s time to set you free. I’ll go with you. I need a stretch.”
She put down her half-finished coffee, grabbed her handbag and led the dog down to the street, heading north, away from the busy Kensington Road.
As she walked away, the dog cocked his leg and relieved himself on a lamppost then quickly caught up to her, heeling at her side as if they had been together for years.
They walked in silence, taking in the sunshine of the late summer afternoon.
If the dog was intending to go back to his owners, he certainly wasn’t making much of an effort to do so.
Whichever direction she went, he followed.
She wasn’t sure how long they had been gone, but after several twists and turns, she rounded the corner onto the street in front of the office and was surprised to see a man standing at the office door, rattling away at the knob.
He certainly is persistent.
“May I help you?”
The man turned to face her. It was Harold Vanstone, the company’s lawyer. She checked her watch. “I’m sorry. I was so caught up in my walk that I completely lost track of the time.”
Harold shrugged. “I was beginning to think that whatever legal issue you wanted to discuss had driven you into insolvency before I had a chance to help you out.”
“No. It was the call of nature,” she replied, glancing down at the dog.
“Ah, you’ve acquired a four-legged accomplice. Well, that certainly is a good reason to close up shop,” he said, reaching down to scratch the dog’s head.
The dog squinted his eyes and seemed to smile, letting his impossibly long tongue drop out of his mouth.
“I think you’ve made a friend, Harold.”
“Nothing like a good dog to put life into perspective,” he replied. “We get all fussed up about things, when all we really need is a pee and a good scratch behind the ears.”
“Truer words were never spoken.”
“So,” he said looking up toward the second-storey office, “is it safe to assume that Declan’s not around?”
“He and his assistant are both out for the rest of the afternoon, but come upstairs. I’ve got the summons Charlie received and you can take a look at it.”
She unlocked the door and they proceeded up to the office. Harold settled into the couch, and the dog sat on the floor opposite him.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Mrs B asked. “Or a glass of water, or perhaps something a little stronger?”
She saw the glint in his eye as a sly grin crept across his face.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, heading for Declan’s office. She returned a moment later with a cut-crystal glass holding a healthy shot of Scotch.
“Mrs B, you are the veritable human incarnation of Soteria, the Greek goddess of salvation.” He accepted the glass and took a long sip. “Now, let’s have a look at this threatening missive.”
She retrieved the summons from her desk, then sat on the couch beside him.
Harold took his time as he read through the short document. He muttered “Hmm” a few times, adjusting the glasses on his face before reverently placing the document on the table. After taking another sip of Scotch he looked up at her. “My first question is, who is this Charles Watts?”
“It’s Charlie Watts,” she politely corrected, “and he’s a new detective working for the company.”
“Things are obviously looking up for the firm.”
She smiled. “Things have been better as of late.”
“And this Mr Watts… Is he a seasoned investigator?”
“No, he’s pretty new at it.”
He pointed to the summons. “Is the young man a licenced private investigator, or, at least was he at the time of the investigation that’s referred to in this document?”
“He certainly was,” she answered.
“I’ll have to confer with him, but we must be able to assure ourselves that he was acting within the scope of his practice, as we say.”
“I can guarantee you that if there’s a rule out there, Charlie would be abiding by it. He’s so proud of getting his licence. I don’t think he’d do anything to jeopardise it.”
Harold pursed his lips. “I’ll have a talk with him and look over his case notes and any other documentation he has.
If he’s as meticulous as you say he is, then he has nothing to worry about.
This is just a nuisance suit. I’ll prepare a response to this summons that will shake the plaintiff down to his very socks. ”
“Thank you, Harold. I knew I could count on you,” she said, placing her hands on top of his.
“Joan, you know I’m always here for you.”
He leaned over and gave the back of her hand a kiss. The dog quickly moved between them, letting out a low growl. Harold jumped back, spilling some of his Scotch on his jacket.
Mrs B looked crossly at the dog, then at Harold. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into him.”
“Well, you have a good protector at least. If you’ll just excuse me for a moment, I’d like to wipe off my jacket.” He stood and headed to the washroom.
Mrs B looked at the dog, then scrubbed him behind his right ear. He yowled with delight. “You don’t need to protect me. I can take care of myself.”
The lawyer returned, brushing off his jacket. “There. Clean as a whistle, no thanks to your little friend.” He leaned in to give Mrs B a hug, then paused. The dog stood beside her, eyeing him. He stayed where he was. “Until next time, Joan.”
“Thank you again, Harold. Let’s not leave it as long for your next visit.”
“Indeed.” He opened the door and left the office.
She looked down at the dog. “Okay, mister—it’s time. Don’t look at me that way… You know you can’t stay. We’re going to have to take a trip down to the pound to see if you have an identification chip.”
The dog took a few steps away in the direction of Charlie’s office.
“Your owners have probably already called the pound about you.”
He looked back at her.
She walked up to him and knelt. “They probably miss you a whole bunch.”
He let out a soft plaintive yowl.
“It’ll be okay. I promise.”