by Rebecca Tope
‘But what about Spike?’
Simmy felt defeated by Bonnie’s constant difficulties. She gave the impression of a small harmless creature caught in a giant maze, where every turn led to a dead end. Her good intentions came to nothing, because people changed their minds or let her down or refused to allow her do something. She might as well have carried a large placard saying ‘Please rescue me’ – which was what Melanie had tried to do, of course. Even a simple act of persuading her to eat a biscuit felt like a life-saving feat. Enabling her to attend the funeral of a woman who had been kind to her felt like an automatic obligation.
‘I expect he’ll stay with me, won’t he?’ she answered her own question. ‘He seems to be incredibly well behaved.’ Already the handsome dog was stretched inconspicuously along the back wall of the shop, his head on his paws, eyes almost closed.
‘No, I don’t mean then. I mean, is it okay if he stays here this morning? I can take him to the funeral.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, haven’t you heard? Barbara left instructions that dogs will be welcome. Her Roddy’s bound to be there, and a few others, I expect. Barbara loved dogs. And she’d have known Valerie wouldn’t want to leave Roddy at the house. Not after what happened. She’s paranoid about losing him again, same as I am with Spike. He’s always been like their child, hers and Barb’s.’
Simmy shook her head. ‘I’ve never heard of dogs at a funeral, but I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time.’ Why not? she thought with resignation. People probably took horses and hamsters as well, for all she knew. Her earlier irritation came back, and a sense of being badly overloaded, just as she’d expected everything to feel a lot lighter, with the funeral flowers all delivered. ‘It would be the easiest solution. Now – sorry, but I’ve got a lot to think about, after yesterday, with worries of my own. It’s fine if you want to go to the funeral. I can manage quite well without you this afternoon. And tomorrow – well, don’t bring Spike in, okay? Come if you can. Otherwise, we’ll have another think, next week. Sorry, but that’s how I feel.’
The girl’s large blue eyes fixed on Simmy’s face, and filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. Then, in a louder outburst, ‘I know I’m a nuisance. I am trying, honestly. Corinne knows how important this job is. It could lead to a whole lot of new things for me, if it goes well. But she doesn’t think. She just selfishly goes off, and leaves me to sort everything out.’
‘Yes, I see that. I’m not blaming you at all. But I can’t just take on the role of your guardian. I’m not authorised, or qualified. I hardly know you. Maybe any other week, it would have been different. But coming at the same time as that murder, and the funeral, and my dad, and everything … well, it’s all too much.’
Bonnie blinked. ‘What’s happened to your dad?’ she asked.
Normally, Simmy would have let caution prevail. But she was affected by Bonnie’s despair, and her own sense of guilty inadequacy. ‘He had a letter last night. Threatening to burn the house down if he testified against the man we saw on Monday. Probably the man who killed Travis McNaughton. He’s extremely upset about it. I’m really worried about him. He was a complete wreck last night. I need to go and see how he is today.’
‘Burn the house down?’ Bonnie seemed to instinctively float to her dog’s side, where she sank down with an arm along his back. ‘I bet I know who that would be, then.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘What?’ demanded Simmy, towering over her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, God – I shouldn’t have said that. But we had something like it happen, a year or two ago. I mean – not really the same at all. Nobody was killed or anything. And it’s idiotic to think he’d do it again. But …’ She shivered, and the dog turned to nuzzle her face, his concern palpable.
‘What?’ Simmy fought an urge to shake the girl. ‘Who are you talking about?’
Bonnie whimpered and the dog made a low rumble. ‘I never should have said anything. It was completely stupid. Corinne would kill me if she knew. It was just one of those horrible neighbour disputes that got out of hand.’ She looked up. ‘I’m really sorry. It was a bad time. You reminded me, and it made me go all weak. I’m sorry.’
An ill-timed customer forced Simmy’s attention away before she could demand any further detail. Bonnie got to her feet with an embarrassed awkwardness.
The woman stood just inside the door, gazing at the new display in wonderment. Simmy realised this was the first person to see it, other than Ben, and wished she was in a better mood to accept any accolades. ‘Hello,’ she said.
It was a regular Friday customer, with preferences that Simmy had come to know. She wanted colourful arrangements for her hallway and living room, to celebrate the weekend with her husband who worked away from home during the week. A generous budget and a degree of knowledge made her a pleasure to serve.
‘What happened? It’s all different.’
‘I’ve got a new assistant. She’s very clever at design and that sort of thing.’ She waved an introductory arm at Bonnie, who was standing limply beside the till.
‘It’s like a pathway to heaven,’ said the woman romantically. ‘Although it’s going to make choosing something even more difficult than usual.’
‘Help yourself,’ said Simmy, who felt a need for a minute or two of deep breathing before she could effectively assist.
‘I hate to spoil the display.’
This had been a worry from the start, and Simmy sighed. ‘That’s what it’s for,’ she said. ‘We’ll refill any gaps.’
Slowly, the woman selected a dozen or so of rich red and purple blooms, and Simmy added fronds of greenery and deftly wrapped them. ‘It’s lovely,’ said the customer to Bonnie, before she left.
The hiatus had effectively defused the high drama of a few minutes before, and Simmy now faced the girl with complete calm. ‘I assume my father took the letter to the police this morning. They’ll examine it for any traces of the person who sent it. If you have a name to give them, they can make comparisons, and probably rule him out right away, if it’s not the right man. That means you have a plain duty to tell them the name. Do you see?’
Bonnie shook her head. ‘You make it sound so simple, when it’s not.’
‘Okay. So tell me the whole story. Was there a letter? A fire? Was anybody hurt? Did you go to the police?’
‘No letter. No fire. It was never as bad as that. The bloke next door to us, Mr Browning, got in a state about the noise the dogs made sometimes, and complained to the police about them. They came round and said we were within our rights and the noise was not excessive. But he didn’t leave it at that. He made threats, and one of them was that he’d come round one night and burn down the kennels. It was scary, but he never did anything. Nobody was hurt, but it was really nasty for a while. He moved away, soon after, and we downsized the dogs.’
Simmy recalled her mother’s description of the set-up. ‘My mum said you had about fifty dogs in the back garden, when she went to look at a puppy, only a few months ago.’
‘We never had that many. I told you, we had to get rid of most of them.’ Her face darkened. ‘We still miss them horribly. If you’re not a doggy person’ – she gave Simmy a knowing look – ‘you can’t really understand. They’re so amazing, you know. Sensitive and loyal and forgiving. And people let them down and hurt them and they can’t possibly work out why. It makes you feel sick all the time, knowing there are dogs being horribly treated, all over the world.’
Simmy looked at Spike. ‘You’re right – I don’t really get it. They’re just animals, after all. They don’t think like we do. People have turned them into toys for their own entertainment.’
‘Some people have,’ Bonnie agreed. ‘You should hear Corinne on that subject.’
Simmy gave up, conscious of being on shaky ground. It wasn’t her problem, anyway. But there were still pertinent details that she needed to clarify. ‘What was that story about one of your dogs almost being nabbed? I didn’t
get the whole thing straight in my mind. I’m not just being nosy, either. With my father so upset, I want to be sure we’re not missing any chance of helping catch the man who … who’s such a menace.’
The girl sighed and looked away. ‘It wasn’t anything much. It was just before Easter. I caught somebody climbing over the fence, looking as if he meant to nick one of our dogs. Millie and Spike were in the garden, so I presumed he was after them. Millie’s a great yapper, and was never going to be an easy catch. I was in the house and heard her, so I dashed outside and screamed at him. He ran away. That’s it.’
‘Was that after the authorities had closed you down for breeding puppies?’
‘It was in the middle of it all. We were trying to get good homes for the last two bitches. Corinne was in an awful state about it. I guess everybody knew we’d been accused of bad practice. They called us a puppy farm, which was stupid. We were never that.’
Simmy waved impatiently. ‘The man,’ she insisted. ‘Who do you think he was?’
‘Well, not your murderer, that’s for sure. Nothing like him. That’s assuming he’s the other man you saw in the car.’
‘How do you know what he looked like?’ Simmy felt a cold shiver at the girl’s comprehensive knowledge of something that surely ought by rights to be confidential between her and the police.
‘Oh – it was on the news. The police are looking for a man in his forties with short dark hair. Wanted for questioning, or something. Anyway, the man who went after the dogs was younger than that and fairer.’ She grimaced. ‘It’s all dreadfully complicated, isn’t it?’
Simmy remembered Ben’s admiration of the girl’s abilities, and suspected a false modesty was at work. The more she saw of Bonnie, the deeper her character appeared to be.
‘Was it really on the news? Did they say the man had been seen in a car with Travis McNaughton?’ She could not imagine that so much would be revealed to the world at large.
‘Not that part, no. But I just thought it must be him. It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Again the innocent gaze raised niggling worries.
‘I don’t know,’ said Simmy. ‘Police procedure is a complete mystery to me. It does sound as if questioning you this morning was a complete waste of time, and the last I heard, I’m meant to be trying to pick the man out, as well. Or two men in my case, I suppose. I’m hoping they’ve given up on the whole idea. Moxon never said anything about it yesterday.’
‘Have you told him about the threatening letter?’
‘My parents probably have by now. Let’s hope there are fingerprints all over it and they catch the wretched man right away.’
‘Yeah,’ said Bonnie without enthusiasm.
Simmy could see that a change of subject would be a good idea. ‘So what’s Corinne doing with her time, now she’s not breeding dogs? Singing and giving obedience classes – is that right?’
‘More or less. There’s still some fallout from the dog business. People keep turning up and telling her she should have fought it, and let them take her to court. And we probably could have fought the injunction and all that. But we’d had enough. The dogs weren’t properly house-trained or socialised. You can’t breed them on an industrial scale and produce animals that fit into a family. They did bark a lot, and smell. So we packed it in. The bloke who tried to steal them was just another annoyance.’
Simmy had an idea. ‘Do you think it was the same man who took Barbara Hodge’s dog for ransom?’
Bonnie looked fixedly at the floor for a long moment, leaving Simmy unable to read her thoughts. ‘Probably part of the same gang,’ she mumbled. ‘We’re not meant to talk about that, actually. Barbara and Valerie don’t want people to know they paid the ransom. They’re embarrassed about it.’
Simmy heaved another sigh of profound frustration and sent out a strong mental summons to Ben and his logical approach. Bonnie, despite her frank disclosures, seemed to wreathe everything in mist. There was nothing in her account that could be grasped and used to explain the immediate issues before them. She tried again to get it straight. ‘It matters, doesn’t it – because the police must have thought it could be the same man who murdered somebody on Tuesday in Troutbeck.’ Her voice had grown louder, reflecting the earlier desire to treat Bonnie with violence. ‘And perhaps it was him who threatened my father and almost gave him a stroke.’
‘Yeah,’ muttered Bonnie. ‘Maybe.’
‘So – could it have been this Mr Browning or not?’
‘Not. Forget I ever said that, will you? He’s not living here any more. And he’s old and pathetic. Why would he kill anyone? It was just the coincidence of the fire threat. And it could be that loads of people say that kind of thing.’
Simmy had no answer to that. She looked at her watch. ‘I’m having coffee,’ she said, with another surge of annoyance at this reminder of Bonnie’s frailties. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ve got a drink with me, thanks. Chocolate milk, actually.’
The front door pinged as Simmy was going into the back room. She glanced round, in the faint hope that it might be Ben. But it was someone much older and hairier. Before she could get a proper look, the recumbent Spike was up and snarling, flying down the floral avenue to launch what looked like a savage attack on an innocent customer.
Before Simmy or Bonnie could move or speak, the man had swiped the dog harmlessly aside. A fluffy crossbreed like Spike was no Rottweiler or pit bull. Its jaws were narrow and comparatively weak. ‘Stop it, will you,’ the man shouted. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Murray,’ said Bonnie tonelessly. ‘He still doesn’t like you.’ Spike slunk back to his patch at a silent gesture from his young mistress.
‘Why’s he here?’ demanded the man.
‘Never mind that. What do you want?’
‘I’m looking for Corinne. Thought you’d tell me where I might find her.’
Simmy wished she could leave them to get on with it. After all, the man had been a customer, sending funeral flowers for Miss Hodge. Despite his appearance, he was a known quantity and nothing to worry about. She tried to suppress an unworthy but undeniable perception of Bonnie as being connected to an array of undesirable individuals. She was clearly familiar with a whole underclass of whom Simmy had so far been entirely unaware. Surely even Melanie, with her unreliable family, didn’t mix with such as this man?
‘She’s going to that Lincoln thing. Music festival. She’s got a gig there. Last-minute decision as usual.’ Bonnie turned to Simmy apologetically. ‘Sorry about this.’ She looked sternly at her dog. ‘Spike’s not always such a great judge of character.’
‘Lincoln? Bloody hell! Don’t tell me she’s gone without a phone.’
‘Have you tried it?’
‘What d’you think? Turned off.’
‘She’ll be sleeping in a tent somewhere without the charger, so won’t bother to take it. Is it important?’
‘It won’t have to be, will it?’ He gave Simmy a nod that she supposed was intended to be friendly. ‘Sorry to cause ructions. Not that it was my fault.’ He straightened two or three pots of flowers that Spike had dislodged in his flying assault. ‘You ought not to let her bring the dog to work. It’s unprofessional.’
‘Shut up,’ said Bonnie. ‘And stop stalking Corinne. She’s never going to take up with you, and you know it.’
‘Stalking!’ He spat the word back at her. ‘Give over! I was trying to do her a favour, if you must know. It’s no skin off my nose if she can’t be arsed to take a phone with her.’ His brow creased. ‘She won’t be there yet, though, will she? What time did she go?’
‘Don’t ask me. She was still in the house when I left to come here. She’ll be driving, maybe. That’s why she’s not answering the phone.’
Simmy opened her mouth to query Bonnie’s words, which were entirely at odds with what the girl had told her. Then she closed it again and waited.
Murray became thoughtful. ‘Okay, then. Tell her I was looking for her, next
time you see her – okay?’
‘If I remember,’ said Bonnie rudely.
‘You’re as bad as her, you know that,’ he threw at her, and slammed out of the shop.
‘Who is he, exactly?’ asked Simmy.
‘I told you. Murray. He’s just a bloke that’s known our family for ever. He’s harmless, even if Spike doesn’t think so. You bad dog!’ she crooned, without a hint of anger.
‘You lied to him, when you said Corinne was at home this morning,’ Simmy pointed out.
Bonnie showed no unease at being caught out. ‘So what? I don’t want to make things easy for him, do I? Corinne hasn’t got time for him these days.’
Simmy gave up. ‘So are you going to the funeral or not? It’s not long now, is it?’
‘I suppose I should. I’ll be sorry later, otherwise.’ She spoke languidly, as if it hardly mattered. Simmy’s feeling intensified that Bonnie was little more than a patch of insubstantial mist. It was like trying to tell a cloud what to do. The girl just drifted along in her own sweet way and left everyone else to make the best of it.
‘After that, you might as well go home,’ she said, more angrily than she meant. ‘I can manage for the rest of the day. You need to find someone to mind Spike before you come here again. Sorry – but that’s the way it is.’
‘I know. You said that before.’
‘Sorry. I’m in a foul mood today. Listen – if you go home now, you can change into something more suitable for a funeral. I’m not blaming you, exactly, but now it’s gone quiet, and we’ve said everything we need to. Thanks for making the effort, when things sound so complicated at home.’ Simmy clamped her mouth shut, determined not to sound apologetic. Hadn’t she been a soul of patience and generosity?
‘They are complicated,’ Bonnie agreed. ‘Which is why I was hoping you’d let me use the flat upstairs.’
‘It’s not a flat, and I’m not getting into that now. Just go, there’s a good girl. I can’t cope with any more today.’
‘Okay, then. What time tomorrow?’