Marlena kept her responses as vague as possible. In this she was helped by the fact that, as a result of the shock and concussion she had suffered, she was genuinely unclear about so much.
Perkins and Brandt asked her to describe the errant cyclist, whom they assured her they would do their best to find. Marlena thought it unlikely they would succeed. Certainly her description of a hooded creature of indeterminate sex and age was not going to be of much assistance.
Finally they asked her about Alfonso.
‘Mr Bertorelli, the principal witness to the incident, tells us that you and he are friends, is that so?’ enquired PC Ronald Perkins, the younger of the two policemen, a baby-faced blond who was already, and somewhat incongruously, growing a substantial belly.
Marlena agreed that it was so, and affirmed that she’d known Alfonso for several years, regularly meeting him socially.
‘So it was quite a coincidence then, Mr Bertorelli being first on the scene?’ continued PC Perkins.
‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ replied Marlena, wondering what the heck was coming next. ‘But Alfonso does work at the Vine, and the restaurant is only just around the corner. He was on his way to work. I’ve seen him before when I’ve been going to Soho. I go shopping at the same time every Monday, you see. Just the first time I’ve been horizontal, that’s all . . .’
‘All the same, a bit of a coincidence,’ persisted Perkins. ‘Perhaps a bit too much of a coincidence?’
Marlena stared at him. Whatever she was thinking privately, she had no intention of sharing her misgivings. Not at this stage. Not to some foot soldier of a PC anyway.
‘Absolutely not,’ she said, and such was the certainty in her voice that Ron Perkins did not further pursue his line of questioning, even though he looked as if he would like to.
Soon after the two officers finally departed, Marlena fell fitfully asleep. She woke to see Alfonso standing at the foot of her bed, again on his way to work, he said. Marlena did not share with him the seeds of doubt that PCs Perkins and Brandt had attempted to sow in her.
Instead she greeted him with the biggest smile she could muster.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, in answer to Alfonso’s anxiously expressed queries. ‘In fact, I’ve been told I shall probably be able to go home later today.’
‘That’s wonderful, darling, but you can’t go home on your own,’ responded Alfonso at once. ‘I’ll get them to phone me when you’re allowed to leave. We can take a cab to your place.’
‘I’ll be perfectly all right alone,’ said Marlena. ‘Besides, you mustn’t miss any more time at work because of this. You’ll lose your job.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Alfonso, who was quite convinced he was the Vine’s most valuable asset.
‘Maybe not, but you still shouldn’t be skiving off to look after a silly old woman who fell in front of a bus.’
‘You didn’t fall. I saw pretty much what happened, and the bus driver was quite clear about it,’ retorted Alfonso. ‘You were dragged along by a mad cyclist and dumped in front of the wheels of a double-decker.’
‘I didn’t think you saw all that,’ said Marlena. ‘Not that it makes any difference. The end result is, I’m still in this state.’
‘Yes, and you can’t go home alone. You should have someone with you for at least a day or two. Didn’t I hear you once mention a sister? In Scotland?’
Marlena’s features darkened. ‘If I did I must have been drunk,’ she said. ‘You will not attempt to contact my sister – not you, Alfonso, nor any of the others, nor the hospital.’
‘All right, all right.’
As I’ve already told you, I shall be just fine. They’re going to give me a lesson in using crutches and then someone will put me in a taxi. I shall be fine.’
‘Right,’ said Alfonso.
Outside in the corridor he went straight to the nursing station and asked to be contacted as soon as Marlena was able to leave.
On the way to the restaurant he called Tiny. Marlena was right. He shouldn’t miss any more work. Business was not as good as it had once been, even at the Vine. The restaurant probably carried a bigger staff than it could currently justify and Alfonso was almost certainly one of the most highly paid waiters. He’d been there for years, was held in considerable esteem by the management and by many of the regular clientele, including some of the most illustrious, but even though he still thought he was invaluable, you never really knew.
Tiny, already aware of what had happened to Marlena – as were all the group, thanks to Alfonso having spread the word the previous day – answered his phone on the first ring.
Knowing that the big man, aside from being a real favourite of Marlena’s who might just be able to cheer her up a little, was usually free during the day, the Fonz asked him if he wouldn’t mind collecting Marlena from UCH and taking her home. There seemed to be a pause before Tiny gave his answer.
‘Sure,’ he said eventually. ‘Of course I’ll do it.’
‘Great, I’ll be in touch as soon as the hospital call me,’ said Alfonso.
‘OK,’ replied Tiny.
It suddenly struck Alfonso how distracted Tiny sounded. Not himself at all. He hadn’t even asked how Marlena was.
‘What’s wrong, mate?’ he asked. ‘You don’t sound right. You aren’t letting all this business get to you, are you?’
‘No, well . . . I’m trying not to,’ said Tiny.
‘Look, Greg’s thing and this, well, like Greg himself said, stuff happens in inner cities. It’s got nothing to do with Sunday Club, surely? Those pranks had nothing to do with this. Though I do think it might help now if whoever played them just owned up—’
‘Fonz, stop,’ commanded Tiny. ‘I’m sure you’re right. It’s just, well, something else has happened . . .’
Alfonso waited for him to continue but there was silence on the other end of the line. ‘What? What are you talking about?’ he asked.
‘It’s Daisy, she’s gone missing.’
‘Oh my God. When? How?’
Alfonso wasn’t mad about dogs, but he knew both Tiny and Billy were devoted to their pet chihuahua, and that Tiny was generally considered to be the most besotted. The spectacle of the big man lolloping around Covent Garden with his tiny dog on the end of a shiny pink lead had become virtually a tourist attraction. Certainly he and Daisy were frequently asked by passers-by to pose for photographs.
‘I took her to the park as usual first thing this morning,’ said Tiny. ‘She was running around, like she does, in the bushes and everything. I lost sight of her for a bit and when I called her she didn’t come. I wasn’t worried at first. I thought she was having a poo or chasing a squirrel or something. Then after a bit I went looking for her. I scoured the park for her. There were other people there I knew, with dogs. They all joined in. We combed every inch of the place. She just wasn’t there. She’s disappeared, Fonz. Our little girl has clean disappeared. And with all these other incidents . . . Well, we’re afraid some bastard’s taken her. The same bastard who’s been responsible for everything else, more than likely.’
Alfonso could hear Tiny stifling a sob. Maybe Sunday Club members really were being targeted by some unknown antagonist. And maybe it was one of their own. Alfonso could not reasonably deny the possibility. Maybe even the probability. But he continued to explore all avenues.
‘Couldn’t Daisy have just run off?’ he asked. ‘On her own?’
‘She’s never run off before. Never. Well, not for more than a minute or two. It’s been hours now, Fonz. I’m worried sick.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Alfonso again. ‘Do you really think someone’s taken her?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Tiny. ‘I just don’t know.’
‘Oh shit,’ said Alfonso. ‘Look, don’t worry. I’ll get one of the others to pick up Marlena. If necessary, I’ll swap shifts with someone at work and do it myself.’
There was yet another brief silence at the other end of the line.
‘No,’ said Tiny. ‘I’ll do it. Really. It’ll give me something else to think about.’
‘But don’t you want to carry on looking?’
‘I don’t know where else to look, to be honest. Anyway, Billy’s coming home early from work. He can take over. He may bring some new ideas with him. That’s what I’m hoping for, anyway.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘I’m quite sure, yes.’
‘Maybe Daisy will have turned up by then.’
‘Maybe she will,’ said Tiny. But he didn’t sound at all convinced.
Later that day Greg received a call from George.
‘Have you heard about Marlena?’ asked Greg straight away.
‘Yes. It’s awful. I’m so sorry. Alfonso called me last night. I should have been in touch to see if I can do anything to help, only . . .’ George hesitated. ‘Only something’s happened. Chump’s disappeared.’
‘Are you sure?’
Greg was a dog person, and would have been devastated if anything happened to his and Karen’s pair of Westies, but unlike George, and indeed Tiny and Billy, he’d owned dogs all his life. When he was a kid people had still just let their dogs out on the street to exercise themselves. As a rule, Greg didn’t worry too much about dogs appearing to go missing. He also knew that George’s Maltese terrier was a rescue dog with an unknown past.
‘Of course I’m sure.’ George sounded tetchy. ‘I took him to Lincoln’s Inn Fields mid-morning. One minute he was there at my feet, the next he was gone.’
‘Couldn’t he have gone off chasing something? That place is full of squirrels.’
‘Yes, and Chump’s terrified of them. He might be quite an old boy now, but you know what a baby he is. God knows what went on in his little life before I had him. He’s scared of his own shadow. Sticks to me like glue.’
‘So what happened?’
‘My phone rang. We were by a wooded bit and Chump was sniffing about. I took the call because it was Marnie next door. You know how I look out for her. She can’t get about much any more. She rang to ask me to get some shopping for her, but I think she was lonely and just wanted to chat. I couldn’t get rid of her. When I eventually did, there was no sign of Chump. At first I thought he must be behind a bush or something, you know, doing his business. But no. I looked everywhere. No sign of him.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m in the park. I’ve just come back here. I went home to make sure he hadn’t taken off for there, and I’ve got Marnie waiting in my place just in case. So I thought it was best for me to be here. I’m making myself stay where I last saw him. That’s where he’d be most likely to return to, looking for me, isn’t it?’
‘Probably.’
‘Would you help me, Greg? Nobody knows this area like you do.’
Greg cursed. He had his own problems. But George knew he was a dog person, and Greg responded accordingly.
‘Sure I will, George,’ he said. ‘Where are you exactly?’
‘I’m by the bandstand.’
‘I’ll be there in fifteen.’
Greg lit a cigarette as he made his way along Long Acre. At least the walk gave him the chance to have a smoke. Karen thought Greg had given it up, but although he’d cut down he still couldn’t quite kick the habit. He found his friend exactly where he’d said he’d be, right in the middle of the park sitting on a concrete step beneath the old bandstand. George looked pale and drawn.
‘I don’t like this,’ he told Greg. ‘Looks like we can be damned certain now that some maniac is targeting us lot, can’t we? And it sure as hell ain’t funny any more.’
‘No,’ said Greg. ‘It’s not, if that is what’s happen—’
‘What else can it be?’ snapped George, before immediately apologizing. ‘It’s just that I’m in such a state. You hear about these cases of dog-napping and stuff all the time, don’t you?’ George continued.
‘Not all the time, no,’ said Greg. ‘Honestly, George, the odds are Chump’s just wandered off, got himself lost. He’s chipped, isn’t he?’
George nodded and looked as if he were about to speak again, when both men saw Billy walking towards them. Billy was talking into his phone and didn’t notice them until he was practically alongside.
‘Hiya, guys, you haven’t seen our Daisy, have you?’
George turned even paler. Greg stared at Billy. It seemed things were turning nastier by the minute.
‘Did you lose her here?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Billy. ‘Tiny was walking her . . .’
He stopped dead, staring at white-faced George. Intuition struck.
‘No, not you too? Not Chumpy?’
George nodded and explained how the little dog had disappeared while he was on the phone.
‘Tiny said he thought Daisy was chasing a squirrel,’ said Billy. ‘But she’s been gone for nearly six hours now. Oh my God. The Mr Tickle thing, Bob’s plants, Greg’s van, Marlena run over. Now two of our dogs are missing. It’s too much happening to one small group of people. More than a series of coincidences, surely. No one can think that any more, can they? What the fuck is going on?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Greg. ‘But, look, George and Bob both got their stuff back with silly notes. Maybe that will happen with the dogs.’
‘Even you don’t sound convinced, Greg,’ said Billy. ‘That was before your tyres were slashed and Marlena was hurt. And this just feels nasty.’
‘OK, OK, you’re probably right,’ said Greg. ‘I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but it probably is one for the bogeys. You should report the dogs missing.’
‘Right, yes.’
George looked bemused more than anything. Billy’s brain was racing, yet he couldn’t think clearly.
‘Where do you go to report missing dogs round here?’ Billy asked. ‘I know there’s no police station in Covent Garden any more. Do we just phone?’
‘I think we should go round, do it in person,’ said Greg. ‘Come on, Charing Cross is the nearest. Let’s get a cab.’
‘Hang about,’ said George. ‘Shouldn’t one of us stay here in case either of the dogs does turn up?’
‘Yes, good idea,’ responded Greg. ‘Look, why don’t you two go together? The station’s in Agar Street, just off the Strand. You should both go there to report what’s happened. The cops may want to ask questions about your dogs that I couldn’t answer. Don’t worry, I’ll stay here.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked George. ‘I mean, you’ve always got things to do . . .’
I certainly have, thought Greg, and neither of you two would be likely to guess what sort of things, thank God. But all he said was: ‘I won’t budge till I hear from you or you get back, I promise.’
George still hesitated.
‘What about Michelle?’ he asked. ‘Mightn’t she be able to help?’
Greg shook his head. ‘Not today,’ he said. ‘She’s away on some course. Fonz told me yesterday. He’d hoped she might help with Marlena.’
‘Right,’ said George, still not moving.
‘Go on, the pair of you, for Christ’s sake,’ said Greg.
He lit another cigarette as he watched the other two men make their way across the park to the gate on the lower west corner of the Fields. It was obvious from their body language how distressed they were. Funny what dogs can do to you, Greg mused. Big tough guys like Tiny, smooth operators like Billy, flash sarcastic bastards like George, even hard men like him – though he didn’t feel that hard at the moment.
Dogs turned you to effing mush. That’s what dogs did. And you never saw it coming.
Both Tiny and George were adamant their dogs wouldn’t stray, but Greg reckoned where dogs were concerned there were exceptions to every rule. Years of dog ownership had taught him that there were two phrases a dog owner should never use: ‘my dog never . . .’ and ‘my dog always . . .’.
This, however, was different. Two dogs going missing from the same park
within a few hours of each other didn’t sound coincidental. Especially after the events of the last few weeks. The dogs might yet be safely returned, but all the friends must be on edge now. No doubt about that. Greg was certainly on edge. His own situation was a particular one though, and he wasn’t sure how it tied in with whatever else might be happening. Unlike the other Sunday Clubbers who’d fallen victim, he had a shrewd idea who was responsible for what had happened to his tyres. And he didn’t see how it could have anything to do with the pranks played on George and Bob, Marlena being injured, or the disappearance of the two dogs.
Meanwhile, Karen was at home with their Westies. Greg had a sudden overwhelming desire to make sure she was all right. So he called her. And once he was sure she and their dogs were safe, he told her about Daisy and Chump going missing.
‘That’s awful,’ responded Karen. ‘What do you think’s happened to the poor little things?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Greg.
‘But it must be linked, there can’t be any doubt about that, can there?’
Greg tried to sound positive. ‘Look, all that matters to me is that my family’s OK. And don’t you worry, darling, I’ll make damned sure of that.’
‘I know you will,’ said Karen in a small voice.
‘Too damned right,’ said Greg.
‘But what do I do about our dogs?’ asked Karen. ‘They’ll need to go out again soon.’
Greg cursed. He’d pledged to look after his own family but he hadn’t thought about that when he’d promised the boys he’d stay in the park either until their return or until one or other of the dogs showed up.
He explained that to Karen, with apologies.
‘I’m really sorry, babe, I feel I should be rushing home to take our two out, but you’ll be fine as long as you keep them on a lead. And don’t bring them to Lincoln’s Inn. I know I’m here, but even so. Keep to the main drag – don’t go down any of the alleyways. Go somewhere that’s always busy: Russell Square, maybe. And if anything worries you, anything at all, call me.’
‘I will,’ said Karen. ‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll be fine. And you’re dead right to help those poor boys.’
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