The Spotted Dog

by Kerry Greenwood

  Point the third: why could I not remember what I had unveiled when I ripped down the ninja mask? What could have been so incredible as to make me completely drop my guard? After all, I had gained much the better of our duel until then. Yet I had been so taken aback that I had allowed this vile intruder the chance to give me a Gorbals kiss. My forehead still throbbed like a long-remembered insult.

  Point the fourth: unlike Miss Marple, Sherlock Holmes and all the televisual sleuths with nothing to do all day but solve crimes, I had bread to bake, staff to administer, and a business to run. I drained my coffee, staggered into the bathroom and examined myself. External blood? None. Complexion? Pallid, verging on sepulchral. Eyes? Far too much Count Dracula there, with added bruising manifesting around the margins even as I watched. The phrase Black Eye never does justice to the multicoloured splendour which often occurs. I was due for a pair of beauties. I washed my face, changed into my work clothes and returned to the kitchen for boiled eggs and sourdough soldiers.

  Down in the bakery I resumed my morning rituals. Heckle and Jekyll were rewarded for their haul (three mice, one undersized rat and two moths) and had sauntered out for their morning adventures. It was now Thursday. I fervently hoped that I might make it to the weekend without another attempted burglary. Jason seemed sleepier than usual, and had not paid me much notice at first, but when at last he did he stared as though I had turned into someone completely different.

  ‘Captain? How’s the other bloke?’

  I explained, in brief, and he shook his head in bewilderment. ‘But why? What’s so special about Insula every burglar in Melbourne wants a piece of us?’ he demanded. ‘Why does this keep happening?’

  ‘If I knew, I would tell you, Jason. I’m working on it.’

  He made me another cup of coffee and we set to work. By the time the first loaves emerged, I felt a little better. We inserted the Thursday olive bread, and I was just mixing the date scones when I laid down the wooden spoon and gasped.

  ‘Captain?’ Suddenly he was at my side. For some reason he reminded me irresistibly of my beautiful tabby cat Horatio. I have no idea what’s happening to you, he seemed to be saying, but I’m here, at your side, ready to repel boarders. I resisted the urge to stroke his hair and ears.

  ‘It’s all right, Jason. But staring at all this white bread dough has triggered my memory. I’ve remembered what I saw when I dragged down the ninja’s mask.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘There was no face under it.’

  Jason’s mouth twisted at the corners. ‘Really no face?’

  ‘I assume he has a face in there somewhere. But all I saw was a pure white mask, with two eyeholes, and deep brown eyes glaring through them.’

  ‘Whoa! That’s really creepy.’

  ‘It certainly was. But that is how I come to be sporting a pair of black eyes. I dropped my guard because you just don’t expect someone to have another mask underneath their mask.’

  ‘No. I can see that. Let’s have some bread and honey,’ he suggested.

  We had a moment or two to spare, so we did that, as dawn grew bright outside the louvre windows.

  Shortly after dawn broke its bleary way through the somnolent fug of inner Melbourne, I heard scratching on the outer door. I looked up from my mixing bowl. ‘Midshipman? Go see who that is, will you? And if it’s Jordan again, dong him one with the ladle.’

  As always, Jason took me completely at my word. ‘Aye-aye, Captain.’ He selected the largest ladle we had, and opened the door.

  It was the Mouse Police, smelling of Japanese takeaways. Heckle and Jekyll were still licking their lips, but they had decided that they were better in than out this morning. I had no idea why they wanted in so early, but … whatever. I saw Jason look down, and then askance. It was the most completely askance look I’d seen in my vicinity all week, and we’d had a few.

  ‘Jason? What is it?’

  He walked back inside, picked up a tea towel, bent down to pick something up in it, then walked back to me with a wild surmise in his eye. ‘Captain? Look what I found in the alley.’

  I stared at it. Yep, that was the mask all right. The plain white one with two eyeholes and nothing else. I noted with approval that my redoubtable apprentice had not needed to be told to preserve the purity of the DNA samples that the Victoria Police were possibly going to extract from it. Assuming that Detective Senior Constable White did not simply wash her hands of me and my constant home invasions.

  ‘Well done, Midshipman. Box it up and we’ll hand it over when the cops get here.’ I watched with approval as he stowed the mask in a half-carton and sealed it up with masking tape.

  I looked at the wall clock. (Analogue, not digital. I wanted one clock in my workspace that told the time using hands and angles. I don’t know why.) Nearly seven am. In an hour, it would be time to ring the police – again. Letty White might be expected to be at work by eight am. Just time to get the paprika and onion bread baked and ready – because it was Thursday, and Thursday was goulash day at Magyar Kitchen. But first, I had to get into my Meeting the Staff and Customers clothes. I had another quick wash upstairs, donned my summer trousers and a light blouse, and descended to the shop to see Kylie and Goss settling in to work. They gaped at me.

  ‘How was the bus?’ Kylie asked.

  So much sympathy from my staff. ‘Long story, and I’ll tell you some other time. Exec summary: yes, I got burgled this time. Our persecutors are clearly equal opportunity crims and they thought it was my turn. Yes, the guy got me a beauty. But I’ve left several dents in him and with any luck he’ll remember me with a curse for the next few weeks. Time to sell some bread, ladies.’

  At eight sharp I called Letitia White again and outlined my early-morning adventures. There was a long silence on the other end of the line, punctuated by heavy breathing. I believe there were muttered remarks addressed to her Maker, calling on Him to give her strength.

  ‘Again, Corinna?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. And no, I have no ideas. Oh, by the way, there was one other invasion I didn’t tell you about.’

  The strangled yelp on the other end of the line suggested that Senior Constable White had been attacked by feral ducks. ‘What?! When was this?’

  ‘Yesterday, early. Look, I’m sorry. I just forgot, because Ma’ani dealt with it, and … it’s hard to keep count these days.’

  ‘Who the hell is Ma’ani?’

  ‘Maori enforcer for the Soup Run. You’ve probably come across him.’

  ‘Oh, him. Right. Six axe-handles across the shoulders; looks like he bench-presses Mack trucks. Okay, I’m on my way.’

  The rest of my working day passed in a blur of faces. I tried to give Letty a reasonable account of myself. It didn’t help that she took one look at me and said, ‘What does the other bloke look like?’ But she made extensive notes, accepted Jason’s gift of the mask and told me that the SOCOs would be around, yet again, in due course and that I should keep my apartment locked until then.

  Meroe came into the shop mid-morning to give me a quiet blessing and a quick but remarkably soothing hug before drifting out again in a waft of incense. Megan the courier came for the bread; customers came, went, shopped and slowly emptied my shop of comestibles; Kylie and Goss chattered of this and that, and more personal remarks were made about my multicoloured eye shadow. I allowed these to pass. Every time I passed a mirror my black eyes seemed to be more spectacular. In a brief lull I rang Daniel and apprised him of my misadventures.

  There was a short, pregnant silence then he said, ‘I think I might go and see Uncle Solly. This is getting out of hand.’

  Near closing time, Gossamer was adding up the day’s takings while Kylie, reunited with her phone, scanned it anxiously for any world-shattering news she might have missed. And apparently there was some. ‘Goss!’ she shrieked. ‘Come and look at this!’

  At once, Gossamer was at her side, and they both began to coo like a pair of pigeons discovering an unexp
ected source of free grain.

  ‘What is it?’ I enquired.

  Kylie showed me the phone and I read the following:

  BEST FRIENDS REUNITED

  Two years ago Geordie saved Alasdair’s patrol by barking furiously and causing the driver to stop just short of an IED buried in the middle of the road. Today they were reunited in Townsville, after Sinclair decided to settle in Australia after leaving the British Army. ‘I love Aussies,’ he said. ‘They’re great to have beside you in a scrap.’ Geordie was his sniffer dog in Afghanistan and was discharged along with his master. The pair will settle in Melbourne. ‘Geordie doesn’t like aeroplanes, so we’re going to drive there.’

  Underneath was a photo with the caption: Returned soldier Alasdair Sinclair with his devoted canine Geordie.

  I wondered for a moment whether I should tell Kylie and Goss that Alasdair and Geordie had since been parted, but decided against it. I love them both, but as far as they were concerned discretion was something that happened to other people, and the fewer people who knew about our lost dog the better. I noticed there was nothing in the article about the traumatic end to Alasdair’s tour of Afghanistan. The journalist had not discovered it, and presumably Alasdair didn’t want to talk about it. I smiled at the girls and contented myself with saying, ‘Very sweet.’

  As soon as the shop was closed, and Gossamer dispatched to the bank with the day’s takings, I went back to bed and slept until six o’clock. I awoke to find Daniel leaning over me and offering a gentle hug. ‘Ketschele, you look very well for someone as much in the wars as you have been,’ he whispered.

  Since I now felt about two hundred years old, he carefully helped me out of bed and escorted me to the kitchen. We drank coffee and ate croissants spread with plum jam, and I looked at him with adoration.

  ‘The world has gone a bit random on us,’ he observed.

  ‘It certainly has.’ I put down my cup and sighed.

  ‘But I do have some additional information.’

  ‘Which mystery? The dognapping?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. I found Big Charlie and had a Serious Talk with him.’

  ‘Don’t tell me he did it after all?’

  ‘No. But he did witness it. He refused to say much about it, though, except that they were Bad Men and he didn’t want to get involved.’

  ‘Does he have any idea where they come from?’

  ‘All he said was “up north”. I pressed him harder, but he clammed up completely. I think he knows the men who assaulted Alasdair and took Geordie, and he’s scared of them.’

  ‘I thought you said Big Charlie wasn’t scared of anyone?’

  He scratched the side of his forehead and frowned. ‘Until now I would have said so. It would appear these are serious villains. And I’ve been to see Uncle Solly. I mentioned that Alasdair was a fellow spy. Or, rather, “a fellow member of the intelligence community”. I thought it might help. But I didn’t learn anything much of consequence, I’m afraid. Tell me more about your ninja visitor.’ I told all. He didn’t interrupt, but took my hand and held it tightly in his own. When I’d finished my recital he kissed me and smiled. ‘You must have been a considerable shock to him. Most people don’t fight back when they have home invasions, you know.’

  ‘I don’t even know if it’s advisable to fight back. I just did it.’

  ‘And I think you did splendidly.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve known even very old ladies to get stroppy when their houses were being burgled. One of them belted her teenage attacker with a bedside lamp and tied him up with the power cord.’

  I laughed merrily. ‘Good on her! I’m with that. Why the hell should we let perfect strangers help themselves to the contents of our homes?’

  ‘Why indeed?’

  ‘The question is: who was he? And what was he after?’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘I don’t know where your ninja visitor fits in with our other mysteries. Is he is connected to Jordan’s one-man Crusade? It’s hard to imagine our burglars aren’t looking for the same thing. But why? Who even knows? As for the rest?’ He put both hands in the air and gazed heavenwards. ‘Who knows? Maybe they’re looking for Alasdair? Maybe they’re looking for Philomela? It’s wildly improbable, but it looks like all bets are off. Any updates on her, by the way?’

  ‘Nothing about her, I’m afraid. But I do have something else. Kylie found it today.’

  I took out my phone and searched for ‘best friends reunited’. After trawling through a few false leads I found it, and handed the phone to Daniel. He read the article and pursed his lips.

  ‘I see. So we can probably assume that our dognappers have read this, and that’s where they got the idea. The fact that Alasdair and Geordie are famous for being best friends may point to an attempt to pressure Alasdair into … what? As far as we know no one has sent him a ransom demand. Then again, since he’s at my place and nobody knows where he is, that would be hard.’

  ‘They could leave a ransom demand here,’ I suggested.

  ‘Only if the dognappers and the burglars are the same people. Otherwise there’s nothing to connect Insula with Alasdair. And what are they after? Drugs? Probably. We don’t have anything like enough information, do we?’

  I shook my head, and he shook his, shaggy curls fringing his beautiful face like attendant cupids. ‘We have too much evidence, too many cases, and we don’t know where we stand. It’s … perplexing, nu?’

  ‘Let’s go to Ceres,’ I suggested. ‘And there we shall rest from our labours.’

  Five minutes later, we were sitting side by side inhaling the mixed aromas of the garden. I poured out two gin and tonics, with lemon and ice, and handed him one.

  ‘Are you sure you should be drinking after being concussed?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘I was not concussed! Anyway, even if I was, the hell with it. This G and T has my name on it.’

  ‘And this has mine.’

  We clinked glasses, and he reached into his shoulder bag and produced a paper package. He unwrapped it and revealed an oblong block of honey cake. It smelt intoxicating: of summer bees and thyme thickets. ‘I got this from Uncle Solly,’ he explained. ‘He says it will make you feel better.’

  I ate a piece. It tasted every bit as good as it smelt. He nibbled at a piece himself, and kissed me. ‘When I started to learn Hebrew, my parents gave me honey cake just like this.’

  ‘Because learning should be sweet?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  Philomela: Soon! But I have lost my words, and I cannot find them! But I must, and will.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Remember thy swashing blow.

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, ROMEO AND JULIET, ACT 1, SCENE 1

  ‘All right, Daniel, how was your visit to Alasdair?’

  We were sitting in my kitchen/living room. Dinner had been savoured: gnocchi with pumpkin sauce, a light garden salad and crème brûlée, washed down with a Marlborough sauvignon blanc. For once I’d had a completely uneventful day at work. Bread and other related farinaceous products had been baked, delivered, bought and taken away by eager customers. The shop had experienced a busy Friday, and by one-fifteen Kylie had been dispatched to the bank with the day’s takings. I’d had one of my diurnal ambitions abundantly fulfilled: a day entirely without crises or attempted burglary. My other ambition, I hoped, would soon be fulfilled too. I looked across at my brown-eyed love and saw that he was smiling.

  ‘Good and ill, but better than I expected,’ he announced, picking up his half-empty glass of New Zealand’s most famed bottled sunshine. He clinked it against mine. ‘Poor Alasdair is still pining, and close to despair. But he brightened up a little when I told him what I suspected.’

  ‘Don’t keep me in suspense! Tell me!’ I implored.

  The corners of his mouth turned up in an adorable crinkle. ‘Last night I scoured the local streets again and turned up nothing of interest. If Alasdair’s doggie were being kept anywhere in the middle of town, I think I would have found him
by now. So we have to look further afield. One of the things you may have heard about criminal investigation is that people usually remember more than they know. It takes time for the subliminal memories to well up from underneath, especially if something you’ve heard makes no sense at the time. And Alasdair now remembers something about the gang who nabbed his dog. He says they spoke to each other in a language he couldn’t recognise. That means we can probably rule out any connection with Afghanistan. He knows enough Pashto and Dari to get by; he’s pretty good with languages. And that’s not all he has remembered.’

  I do love Daniel, but his way of approaching his point with slow relish can be infuriating. I reminded him of this. ‘Daniel, if you don’t get to the point right speedily, I may brain you with a pepper grinder. That one.’ I indicated my foot-long polished-wood top-loader, which had been in frequent use during the gnocchi phase of dinner. It was sitting in the middle of the table lording it over the other condiments. He grinned, took my hand in his and clasped it firmly.

  ‘One: someone mentioned the name Kilmarnock. He forgot about that at the time, because Kilmarnock is in southern Scotland and he didn’t think it was relevant. Two: he now recalls that they said the word ‘Insula’. At the time, that meant nothing at all to him; but when I mentioned your apartment was called Insula he had a light-globe moment and said he was sure they had said something about a building called Insula. And the other thing he overheard was something that sounded like vorteh nizaky. It was said in a hissing whisper, but he has no idea what it means and nor do I. But Kilmarnock on the other hand …’

  I shook my head. ‘Sorry, but that’s not ringing any bells for me.’ ‘That’s because you’re an innocent inner-city girl and the far-flung suburbs of Melbourne’s badlands are a closed book to you. But far to the north, across many miles of dusty, windswept plains and shopping malls, lies the mythical land of Kilmarnock. A new and rapidly growing suburb within the City of Hume. And I now think that somebody in this building comes from there, and has inadvertently brought trouble with them.’