Copacabana: International Crime Noir: Liverpool - Rio de Janeiro

by Jack Rylance

  Finally, reaching the outer fringes of Cambridge, I found myself no more than a mile from Steve Winter’s place. Located within a large estate of near identical streets, it was an easy place to get lost in. But whether because of my canine intuition, or basic survival instinct, I knew exactly where I was going. And so I honed in on Waverley Avenue, trusting that my old school friend would be at home.

  Of course, there was no knowing for sure, but Steve was as safe a bet as any. Somebody who conducted most of his life over the internet and didn’t even like venturing as far as the corner shop. It was something I’d lectured him about before, suggesting he should really broaden his horizons. But right now I was awful glad he was stuck in his ways.

  That said, Steve Winter did have a very open mind when it came to weird phenomenon and was not one of life’s sceptics. Matter of factly, he allowed for the existence of ghost, elves, yetis, leprechauns, aliens, and a great many other strange beings. Basically, if it was uncanny and implausible then you could count Steve in.

  Now I was hoping to tap into this same openness by turning up at his door in the dead of night and declaring the shocking truth to him. Due to some genetic jiggery-pokery, I’d been spliced with a small dog and turned into the most unlikeliest type of half-breed you were ever going to see.

  Reaching No.34, I stopped and looked up at the window to Steve’s upper floor flat. There were no lights on, which wasn’t hugely surprising (it was past three in the morning), although it was also true that my friend was a notorious night owl.

  Despite running on empty, I leaped up onto the dividing wall and walked the length of it until I was face to face with the house front. There I got up on my haunches, lifted my right front paw, and gave Steve’s buzzer a press.

  Having rehearsed these moments countless times, I ran through a few of the options.

  Impossible casual – “Alright, Steve, how’s it going?”

  Terribly earnest – “Now I know this is a bit insane, and will take some believing, but before you say anything, please hear what I have to say. . .”

  Jokey – “You know that coven of local witches you were telling me about the other week?”

  But at the moment I had no need of any explanation, because no answer came. Starting to panic, I rang the bell again, and then again, and then a fourth time as my fears started to kick in.

  Finally, the hallway light came on and a shadowy figure descended the stairs, looming ever larger, and for a few seconds I thought I was saved. Then a woman in her thirties opened the front door. Tousled red hair, fluffy dressing gown, sleep in the corners of her eyes. Slightly startled, she looked down and batted her eyelids as if this was one more dream she might blink away. Then she looked about her for other signs of life. Finding none, she frowned slightly and examined me all the closer.

  “Did you just ring the door bell?” she said doubtfully.

  Of course, the woman wasn’t expecting an answer – and I didn’t give her one – but this was a human tendency I’d become acutely aware of. Ever since I’d found myself on its receiving end. People loved talking to dogs and delighted in asking them open-ended questions. Either that, or else sharing their lengthy opinions on every subject under the sun.

  Back at the research facility, I’d tuned into this strange habit and gathered plenty of useful intelligence that way. Sitting in front of various scientists, I would adopt the look of an eager canine listener, encouraging them to level with me.

  Now I wore that expression once more.

  “Was that really you? Well aren’t you a clever boy!” Applauding my talent for ringing doorbells, the woman gave a delighted laugh.

  “Clever boy” was a slight improvement on “Good doggy” – and at least she seemed to mean it – but I still wasn’t in any mood for compliments and so I gave her a sobering look.

  Could this be Steve’s new girlfriend, I wondered. Yes, I was clutching at straws and couldn’t see how my bachelor friend had ended up with such a partner (with any partner, really), but that was the best case scenario here. As I considered the possibility, the woman leaned down and looked at me searchingly, her head tilted to one side as dogs themselves are meant to do.

  “What is it? Are you looking for your old master? Was it that hairy oddball that lived here before me? Well he’s not here now. Buggered off round the world as I understand it.”

  My mouth hung open as I tried absorbing the staggering truth. The thing was, my friend had been threatening to do this for as long as I’d known him – set off on a worldwide adventure. But there was no way I could believe it, given his reluctance to set foot outside the front door. For years then I’d thought nothing of it other than to tease him good naturedly (“Marco Polo”, I’d called him. “Bear Grylls”. And even “Scott of the Antarctic”). Now I realised I should have kept my mouth shut and my jokes to myself.

  For the first time, the October cold really got to me and a shiver went down my spine. At the same time I peered inside at the hallway, imagining myself stretched out on the thick carpet, able to sleep there until morning. Waking with a fresh burst of energy and my spirits somewhat restored.

  It was a longing that the new tenant picked up on but then rejected.

  “Sorry, boy – the landlord couldn’t have been any clearer when I moved in here. No pets allowed. It would be more than my leasehold is worth to let you into the building.”

  Having reached my wit’s end, I thought about trying to reason with her human to human. But despite the soundness of my argument, I couldn’t see that appeal ending well. So it was, accepting my fate with slumped shoulders, I turned around and headed off into the night with nowhere to go and no Plan B to fall back on.

  No wonder I felt the first stirrings of despair.

  Dog Rough

  Available via Kindle and Kindle Unlimited HERE

  Spy Versus Pooch!

  When a disgraced British spy goes under the knife at a secret research facility, he’s as surprised as anybody to wake up on four legs instead of two. But barely has the shock registered before a scientist is trying to stick a needle in his canine butt and put him out of his newfound misery.

  Still, escaping from the lab is only the first hurdle that Tony Dodds will have to scamper over if he’s to clear his name and reclaim his manhood. And after being adopted by a young couple, and developing dubious feelings for his new mistress, all hell starts to break loose . . .

  Spanning cozy mystery, romantic comedy, and thrilling adventure, this is a feel-good story about friendship, espionage, and the tail that wags the dog.

  The Purpose of a Man

  Available through Kindle and Kindle Unlimited HERE

  Meet Michael Galvin, the luckiest man in town, living with the woman of his dreams and completely at ease with this big slice of good fortune. So maybe he hates his job at UK Avionics, and loathes his larger-than-life older brother, Robert, but all in all, there’s a lot to feel thankful for and little reason for complaint.

  Unfortunately for Michael, things are about to get a whole lot more interesting as his comfort zone unravels spectacularly and the forces of love and hate go toe to toe.

  ★★★★★ – If you like David Nicholls and Nick Hornby, you’ll love this – it’s SO well written, intelligent without being either self-consciously so, or overly wordy; it’s funny, realistic, beautifully observed, sad in parts. Easily as good as other works of this genre. – Terry Tyler (Author of Dream On & You Wish)

  ★★★★★ – So, one the one hand you could find yourself a gorgeous girlfriend and a creepy family and psychotic brother and work this all out for yourself, or you could enjoy this author’s playful, touching, and supremely well-crafted version while sitting on your couch. – Pop Bop, Amazon Top 50 Reviewer

  ★★★★★ . I enjoyed it so much that at 70% read on my Kindle, I felt a bit like you do on the Friday morning of a great week’s holiday, happy, but tinged with a little sadness that soon the search for an equally compelling book would have t
o start. – Andrew Hersh

  ★★★★★ – Brevitt brings Michael’s voice to life in such a natural, engaging way that it was easy to keep reading even after 1am had come and gone. – The Book Tart

  ★★★★★ – A thoroughly enjoyable read, down to earth and witty. Loved the characters, the articulation, the setting. I just loved this book. – B.L. Hewitt, author of CiCi McConnell Thriller series

  Other Books by The Author

  Dear Reader,

  Finally, if you would like a compete rundown of those titles I currently have available for sale and borrow, please check out my Amazon Author Page here:

  http://smarturl.it/john-minx

  Many Thanks,

  J.M