Chapter Sixteen
Mrs B only had a few posters left, and she’d almost run out of tape. She looked down at the dog who sat obediently by her feet. “Well, little man, if you’re from this neighbourhood, someone’s going to call.”
She taped up the last of the flyers outside the convenience store just a few doors down from the office. As she headed back to work, a woman walked out of the store trailing a young child behind her.
“Look, Ty, it’s Duck,” the woman said, looking at the poster.
“Excuse me,” Mrs B called out, pointing to the mutt at her feet. “Do you know this dog?”
“Duck!” the woman called out.
The dog, who’s name appeared to be Duck, stood, faced the woman, and madly wagged his tail.
She approached the dog, bent down and scrubbed him on the head. “Where have you been, boy? You’ve lost so much weight!” She looked up at Mrs B. “He used to be a bit of a tub, but you’re lookin’ great now, boy, aren’t you?”
Mrs B smiled. The dog seemed genuinely happy to see this woman.
The little boy squealed with laughter, calling out “Duck-Duck-Duck-Duck.”
“Can I assume that this fellow is yours?” Mrs B asked.
“Oh, no. My husband’s deathly allergic to everything. Dogs, cats, ferrets…work. Duck here belongs to our neighbour Mr Willis. Or should I say ‘belonged to’ Mr Willis.”
She looked down at the boy before finishing in a quiet voice, “Mr Willis…passed a few weeks ago.”
“Mr Willis is dead,” the boy piped up.
The woman sighed. “They grow up way too fast. I’m Mary by the way…Mary Young. And this is Tyson, my grandson.”
“Joan,” Mrs B said, shaking Mary’s hand. “This fella,” she continued, looking down at the dog, “just showed up at our office the other day and, well, he just moved in. We had no idea who he belonged to.”
Mary whispered, “From what I’ve heard, Duck apparently snuck out an open door. If you ask me, Mr Willis’ landlord let him out so he wouldn’t have to deal with him.”
“Mr Willis’ landlord is a mean old man,” Tyson chirped.
“Now, Ty, how many times have I asked you not to say nasty things about people?”
“Sorry, Grandma,” he said, then turned his head up to Mrs B. “Other people say he was a mean old man.”
Mrs B tried not to laugh. Tyson’s grandmother just rolled her eyes.
“So, he’s basically homeless? The dog, that is,” Mrs B asked.
“So it seems,” Mary said.
“You could take care of him,” Tyson yelled out to his grandmother.
“No. No I cannot. Your grandad would die.”
“But… It’s Duck! They’ll send him away!”
The boy started to cry.
“I know, Ty, but Duck’s got a new home—with people that will love him and take care of him…doesn’t he?” she said, hopefully.
Mrs B smiled. “I promise you, Tyson, that I’ll take good care of him. And maybe, if it’s okay with your Grandma, you can come by and visit him when you’re in the neighbourhood.”
The woman seemed to relax. She mouthed ‘Thank you’.
Mrs B continued. “I think perhaps I can arrange for him to stay at my place, but I don’t want him to be alone, so I’ll probably have to bring him into the office on work days. It’s the detective agency just a few doors down.”
“You’re a detective?” Ty shouted.
“No, but I work with a few. You can meet them anytime you want. Especially if you’re visiting…Duck.”
When she used the name Duck, the dog looked up at her, its eyes wide.
“Duck,” she said again and the dog leapt into the air, twisting as it came down.
Ty laughed. “Call his name again!”
“Duck!”
The dog leapt higher and spun in the air, barking.
“I think you’d better take down those flyers, ’cause you’re definitely stuck with him,” Mary said as she took Ty by the hand. “Now, say goodbye to Joan and Duck.”
“Good bye, Joan. Good bye, Duck!”
Mrs B realised she now had a new permanent family member. One, she hoped her sister Irene would take to, because she didn’t want to give him up.
“Come on, Duck. Let’s take down the flyers and get back to work.”
She reversed her circuit of the neighbourhood, retrieved the posters, and led Duck back toward the office.
As she pulled down the last of the notices, she saw a man standing beside the window of Gwen’s shop.
He was dressed in a light rumpled trench coat.
His hair was long and matted. Even from a distance he appeared unbathed.
He looked her way and held out a shaky hand as she approached.
“Spare change,” he said, bobbing his hand up and down. He made no eye contact.
Duck positioned himself between Mrs B and the vagrant, his face toward the man. The dog pressed his body against her leg like it wanted to hold her back. She felt the vibrations of the growl in his ribs before she heard it. “Duck. Behave.”
The dog kept growling. “I’m sorry. He’s new,” she said to the man, feeling slightly ridiculous because it made no sense, given the situation. “I’m sorry, but I don’t carry any money on me.”
“That’s okay, ma’am. Have a nice day,” he said.
She was mildly taken aback by the voice, which seemed to be that of a much younger man. He must have had a terrible life.
She led Duck around him by walking off the sidewalk onto the street. Duck continued to growl, never taking his eyes off him.
“Duck. What’s gotten into you?”
She pulled the dog away and went up the stairs to the office.
* * * *
The homeless man waited until the woman had entered the building one door down.
Now, when did they get a dog? Interesting. I guess I’ll have to buy a nice piece of steak to calm him down on my next visit.
“Excuse me.”
The voice startled him. A woman stood in the door to the café.
“Here. Take these,” she said, handing him a bag and a take-out cup. “It’s a nice day. If you want, there are some seats in the park around the corner.” She pointed down the street.
“Thank you, ma’am. Much appreciated,” he said, taking the offering.
The Attercop straightened up and made his way down the block, away from the café and Declan Hunt Investigations. As he walked, he could feel her eyes on him.
Don’t worry, I won’t come back and disturb your customers. I’ll wait until after they’re all gone.