My Neighbours Are Stealing My Mail

by Ian Edwards

  James held up a photograph.

  ‘That’s Dawn and Joy.’

  James studied the picture again. ‘Which one’s which?’

  ‘Dawn’s the blonde one…Actually no, she’s the one with dark hair.’

  James looked at the picture again.

  ‘Show me,’ Alan said appearing at James’s shoulder and snatching the picture out of his hands. ‘Dawn’s the blonde one. Definitely,’ he added, somewhat unconvincingly.

  ‘And Joy?’ James asked.

  Alan sighed. ‘The other one obviously. Shoulder length black hair.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ James placed the picture back on the counter.

  Alan leaned on the counter and sighed. ‘If you’d been stealing your neighbour’s post, where would you hide it?’

  James frowned. ‘I wouldn’t steal it in the first place. Why would I? Why would anyone steal their neighbour’s mail?’

  ‘Yes, but if you did.’

  ‘I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Just humour me.’

  ‘Well…’ James closed his eyes in concentration. ‘If I’d stolen my neighbour’s mail, it would be because I was looking for something. So, I’d keep it in my den and go through it there. If I couldn’t find what I wanted I’d dump it,’ he finished off by nodding as if he was in agreement with himself.

  Alan found himself nodding along with him. ‘Brilliant mate. Let’s check out the spare room and if it’s not there then we’ll look in the bins.’

  *

  James stood and watched as Alan climbed the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Right,’ Alan said. ‘That’s the hell hound taken care of.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  Alan grinned. ‘I found one of those big rubber dog bones in a cupboard. He’s going at it like a pensioner sucking a boiled sweet. He should be busy for a while.’

  James pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘Let’s get started then.’

  Alan looked at the phone in James’s hand. ‘What are you doing?’

  James held the phone out and lit up the landing. ‘Torch app,’ he explained. ‘We can have a dig around without drawing attention to ourselves by turning the lights on.’

  Alan stared at his friend. ‘You get that I’ve got the keys to get in. I’m supposed to be here. It’s not the slightest suspicious. In fact, if you start flashing that torch around it’s guaranteed to draw outside attention to us.’

  James shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’ He turned the torch app off, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

  Alan shook his head. ‘You look in there,’ gesturing at the closed door at the end of the landing. ‘I’ll try this one. I looked inside the other two when I was here last. There’s nothing in them.’

  ‘OK,’ James said. ‘I’ll give you a shout if I find anything.’

  Alan opened the door, switching the light on. He had been hoping there would have been at least one bulging mail sack in the corner of the room. Or at the very least a pile of letters casually left on the window sill. Instead there was nothing. Just a single bed pushed into the corner of the room and a small wardrobe.

  More in hope than in expectation, Alan opened the wardrobe and found a pile of folded towels but no letters.

  From along the landing James called out. ‘Mate, you’ve got to see this.’

  ‘What have you found?’ Alan shouted as he joined his friend.

  ‘Just take a look at this,’ James took a step back so that Alan could get a better view.

  What am I looking at?’ Alan asked, looking round the room.

  ‘Up there,’ James pointed to a glass display cabinet stretching from floor to ceiling. Look at the top shelf.’

  ‘Are they displaying my post? That’s weird.’

  ‘No, look. Top shelf.’

  Alan took a step back to get a better view. ‘What’s that?’ He asked. ‘It looks like a…a metal face mask?’

  ‘It is,’ James confirmed. ‘I was trying to remember where I’ve seen something like this before and then I saw all these books.’ He stepped across to a desk and tapped at the pile of literature. ‘They’re all about witchcraft. That mask is likely to be part of some bizarre witchcraft ritual.’

  ‘Are you saying that Dawn and Joy are witches?’

  ‘They’re certainly into witchcraft,’ James gestured around the room. ‘Look at all the evidence.’

  Alan leaned back against the wall. ‘When you think about it, it all begins to make sense. We’ve assumed they’re lesbians but…’

  ‘No, you’ve assumed,’ James corrected.

  ‘When in fact they’re witches,’ Alan finished.

  ‘This must be their coven,’ James said. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t notice.’

  ‘I know. You would have thought with all the flying broomsticks, the boiling cauldron and their cackling keeping us up all night, we would have realised something was going on.’

  James stared at Alan, oblivious to the levels of sarcasm to which he’s just been exposed.

  ‘How were we supposed to know, you idiot?’ Alan snapped. ‘It’s not like we’re getting their post addressed to the ‘Wicked Witch of the East…’

  James held his hand up. ‘Hang on a minute, I’ve just had a thought.’ He flicked through one of the books on the desk.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve just reminded me of something.’ He stared at the page open in front of him. ‘Here, look.’ He passed the book to Alan.

  ‘It’s a chapter on voodoo.’

  ‘I know. It says that witches practice voodoo.’

  ‘Go on,’ Alan prompted.

  ‘The book says that to cast a voodoo spell on someone, all they need is some personal property of the person they want to cast the spell on.’

  ‘And?’ Alan said patiently.

  ‘Your post.’

  ‘Are you…’ Alan paused for a moment, his brain slowly clicking into gear. ‘…saying that they’re putting a voodoo spell on me?’

  ‘It makes sense.’

  ‘Shit.’ Alan leaned back against the wall. ‘They’ve been using my post against me.’

  James took the book back off him and placed it on the desk. ‘Sorry mate.’

  Alan sighed. ’What do you think I should do?’

  ‘I suppose you could try being extra nice to them. But when that doesn’t work you’ll have to find a counter spell, but…’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Well, you’ve seen Buffy, it might cost you your soul.’

  ‘Bugger, I hate being nice.’

  ‘Hang on, aren’t witches supposed to have black cats?’ James said. ‘Only I haven’t seen one around.’

  Alan laughed. ‘It was probably scared off by the Hell Hound downstairs…Ahh.’

  ‘What’s up?’

  Alan looked towards the landing. ‘The Hell Hound…’

  ‘What about him?’

  Alan stepped further onto the room and shut the door behind him. ‘What if, instead of having a cat, Dawn and Joy had Mr Licky?’

  James frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’

  Alan sighed. ‘Instead of having a creepy black cat, they have an evil black dog.’

  ‘You could be right. It’s too much of a coincidence that the local neighbourhood witches have an evil dog.’ James frowned. ‘What do you want to do about him? Drive a stake through his heart?’

  ‘That’s a good idea, James. Well done. That’s just great. I’m supposed to be nice to these people. But I’m pretty sure if they come back from their weekend away and find that I’ve driven a wooden stake through their dog’s heart and left him impaled to the kitchen floor they’ll struggle to find the funny side.’

  Alan sighed. ‘Where do you get these ideas from?’

  ‘I told you. Buffy. And the Horror Channel.’

  ‘That’s not really much help.’ Alan shook his head. ‘But thanks anyway.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  Alan rubbed his face. ‘Well, they don’t know what
we know, so I reckon the best thing to do is get the hell out of here. If I avoid Dawn and Joy they’ll probably get bored of me and focus on someone else.’

  James nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan. So, shall we be off then?’

  Alan opened the door and stepped onto the landing. ‘Hopefully he’s worn himself out chewing that…’

  ‘What’s up?’ James asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  James looked over the bannisters. Mr Licky was sitting half way up the stairs chewing noisily on his rubber dog bone.

  ‘Has he eaten the toy you gave him?’ James asked.

  Alan took a step forward and looked at the dog. ‘I think so. It’s definitely much smaller than I when I gave it to him.’

  Mr Licky stopped slobbering over his toy, looked at Alan and started growling.

  ‘Good boy,’ Alan said and took another step forward.

  He reached out to pat the dog, who grabbed the toy in his mouth and scampered back to the kitchen.

  ‘Time for bed,’ Alan said in a sing song voice designed, he thought, to placate the animal, and followed Mr Licky down the stairs.

  The dog growled at him from his basket as Alan entered the kitchen.

  ‘There’s no need to be like that.’

  The dog glared back at him.

  Alan poured some dog treats into a bowl, this one emblazoned with the slogan – Every Dog Has His Day - and put them on the floor.

  ‘That should keep you going over night. Just in case you get a bit peckish.’

  Mr Licky stared at the bowl, growled and shut his eyes.

  ‘Well done,’ James said. ‘You didn’t even have to read him a story.’

  ‘Nearly done,’ Alan reached across the island, took the picture of Dawn and Joy and slipped it into the basket. ‘In case he wakes up and misses them.’

  ‘Can we go now?’ James asked.

  ‘Quietly, I don’t want to wake him up,’ Alan whispered.

  He glanced briefly at Mr Licky and ushered James out of the kitchen.

  As they were about to leave, James’s attention was drawn to something on the kitchen floor.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Look at this,’ James passed Alan a square of cling film.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It looks like food packaging,’ James told him, taking back the cling film. ‘Look there’s still a bit of label left.’ He turned it round so he could see more clearly. ‘This is from a piece of gammon…’ He passed it back to Alan.

  ‘This wasn’t here earlier. I would have noticed.’

  They exchanged looks and stared around the kitchen.

  ‘You know that chewy toy you gave him to play with?’ James said.

  ‘The one shaped like a piece of meat?’

  James nodded. ‘Which cupboard did you get it from?’

  Alan took two steps to his left and put his hand on a cupboard door. ‘This one.’

  James opened the door. ‘It’s a fridge.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, it’s a cupboard. Look.’ Alan shut the door. ‘Just like a cupboard.’

  ‘Mate, it’s integrated. It’s a fridge designed to look like a cupboard, so it blends in. There’s another fridge over there. This is probably an over flow fridge.’

  Alan pursed his lips. ‘So, I’ve given him the hell hound a lump of gammon?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  Alan turned back to the counter and picked up another sheet of paper. ‘According to the list here, I’m not to give him any uncooked meat.’

  ‘Does it say why?’

  Alan cast his eyes over the rest of the instructions. ‘No.’

  ‘It might be nothing,’ James said. ‘Or…’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘It could cause a reaction.’

  ‘Like what?’

  James shrugged. ‘Not sure. It could be anything’ an upset stomach or…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It may cause an allergic reaction. He may be gammon intolerant.’

  Alan frowned. ‘Gammon intolerance. Is that even a thing?’

  ‘I don’t know, but you were told not to give him uncooked meat.’

  Alan frowned at the sleeping dog. ‘What’s going to happen to him do you think?’

  James took a deep breath. ‘Well people can die from food allergies.’

  ‘Shit,’ Alan said and peered more closely at the prone pug. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘You have a pet. You understand animals.’

  ‘I have a llama. They’re completely different creatures. I’m not Dr Dolittle.’

  Alan looked down at the snoring dog. ‘He looks quite peaceful now. Maybe we should just leave him to sleep it off.’

  James pursed his lips. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What if he takes a turn for the worse overnight?’

  ‘That’s rich coming from the man who wanted to drive a wooden stake through his heart five minutes ago,’ Alan scoffed.

  On the floor, Mr Licky growled in his sleep.

  ‘That was before I knew you fed him gammon.’

  Alan groaned and slumped back against the cupboards. ‘This is turning out to be a really crap weekend. First, I’m press ganged into looking after a dog, then I discover the lesbian post stealing neighbours are in fact running the local witches coven, and have probably put a voodoo curse on me. And then if the day couldn’t get any worse, I manage to poison their dog.’

  James nodded. ‘When you put it like that it doesn’t sound so good. Still, could be worse.’

  Alan stared at his friend. ‘Tell me how it could be worse.’

  ‘It stayed dry. It would have been a pain taking him for walks in the rain.’

  ‘Oh thanks for that. Yeah, you’re right it, could have been a lot more difficult trying to explain to the Wicked Witches of the East why there’s muddy footprints over their kitchen floor and a dead dog. Those muddy footprints would flip them right over the edge.’

  James put his hands up in mock surrender. ‘I’m just trying to stay positive.’

  ‘OK, OK, sorry mate. I’m just getting a bit panicky.’

  Mr Licky opened his eyes, gave a yelp and went back to sleep.

  ‘Right, that settles it,’ Alan said. ‘We’re going to have to stay the night. Keep an eye on him, ring the vet if he gets worse.’

  ‘You’re on your own with that, mate. Amy’s expecting me home soon. We’re having a quiet night in front of the telly with a bottle of wine.’

  ‘Why don’t you get her to come over here? We can make a night of it.’

  James laughed. ‘That’s ridiculous. You know Amy hates cruelty to animals. If she finds out you’ve poisoned a dog she’ll go spare.’

  Alan looked down at the snoring dog. ‘Oh well, I suppose it’s just the two of us. Do you think I should read to him? Like you do with people in comas?’

  ‘You can give it a go. It can’t do any harm.’

  Alan nodded, reassured. ‘Anyway, the witches said I could help myself to some beer.’

  ‘OK then mate, I’ll be off. I’ll give Rosie a knock, tell her what happened, and that you’re staying here with him.’

  ‘For God’s sake don’t do that. She thinks I’m irresponsible at the best of times. If she thinks I’ve poisoned him…’ Alan looked down at the very still dog. ‘She’ll go mental.’

  James nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘OK, I’ll see you later.’

  Alan gave James a less than enthusiastic wave and watched his friend leave the kitchen. A few seconds later the front door closed and he turned to Mr Licky.

  ‘It’s just me and you now, so can you do me a favour and not die or anything silly like that?’

  He walked over to the counter where several bottles of lager had been left. He picked one up, glancing at the label. ‘Not one I’ve heard of. Still never mind.’

  A bottle opener had been thoughtfully left alongside th
e bottles, so he prised the lid off and took a mouthful. ‘Not bad.’

  He sat down beside Mr Licky and prepared for a long night.

  Chapter 27

  Rosie blinked several times before fully opening her eyes. She rolled over and focused on the alarm clock on the bedside table. It read 07:36. Far too early for a Sunday morning she thought, no need to get up just yet. So she took a handful of duvet and pulled it over her body.

  The duvet was immediately and sharply pulled back.

  She grabbed another handful and pulled it more forcefully.

  Again, the duvet yanked from her prone form.

  Sighing, Rosie raised herself up on her elbows and looked over at Alan. ‘Will you stop hogging the duvet?’

  ‘I’m cold.’ A muffled voice came from under the covers.

  Rosie pushed her pillows against the headboard and settled back down.

  ‘What are you doing back here anyway?’ She asked. ‘I thought you were on dog duty next door?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Alan said from under the duvet, his voice sleepy. ’About that…’

  ‘Finally too much for you, was he?’

  ‘No, I think I killed him.’

  Rosie arched an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean you think you killed him? What are you talking about?’

  Alan poked his head out from under the covers. ‘Mr Licky. The dog. I think I killed him.’ He stole a look at Rosie, who stared into space.

  ‘That’s not funny, even by your standards,’ she finally said.

  ‘I’m not joking. I wish I was. Seriously, I think I killed him.’

  Rosie maintained silence for moment before exploding.

  ‘What the hell have you done?’ She bellowed at him.

  Alan shrunk back into his pillow. ‘There’s no need to shout. It’s early, you’ll wake the neighbours.’

  ‘They’re on holiday, remember? You were supposed to be looking after their bloody dog.’

  ‘It was an accident. I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s not like I drove a wooden stake through his heart or soaked him in holy water.’

  Rosie put her head in her hands. ‘Oh my God. What am I going to tell Dawn and Joy?’

  ‘Tell them he missed them so much he committed suicide.’

  She ignored him and rocked gently back and forth on the bed.

  ‘What did you do to him?’ She finally asked.