What was going on? Did he charge them or not? Why were they acting like they could win this fight? There were lots of them, but not enough to do a dog his size any damage. If they bit him, would he even notice?
Before he could reach a decision, another stepped forward, this one driving a tiny fist up into the air as it screeched a battle cry. Rex felt his legs twitch. Suddenly, he wanted to run away.
‘Daft dog,’ muttered Albert as he swung his legs out of bed. ‘Whatever are you dreaming about to be twitching like that? It looks like you are running away from a monster.’ Twisting and tilting his neck and rolling his shoulders, Albert got himself ready to get to his feet. Rex’s paws were twitching like crazy as the dog’s jowls spasmed with excited high-pitched barks. Whatever dream he was having looked like it involved running.
Albert slept soundly after opting to stop in the bar, when he finally made it through the rain, for a swift gin and tonic that turned into two. He got a packet of crisps each for him and the dog and idled away nearly an hour pondering the Kate Harris case. There wasn’t much to go on. There certainly wasn’t much in Kate’s favour yet, which was something he needed to try to correct today. His conversation with Randall had gone better than the one with Selina. It had been more productive certainly, and he knew a little more about the Joel Clement murder now. Rounding off the conversation, Randall promised to get a message to Kate Harris – something he could do with a phone call – and bade his father goodnight with a promise to email more information overnight.
With all that in mind and possessing the singular goal of proving Kate Harris’s innocence, Albert determined he would start in earnest after breakfast. First, he needed the bathroom and Rex would need a walk.
Like the three previous stops on his tour around the country, Biggleswade was abundant with green spaces. Where he lived in Kent was too, the small village of East Malling sitting amid lush farmland, orchards, vineyards, and open countryside. In Kent, he knew he wouldn’t have to go far to find himself in an urban sprawl of concrete and high-rise buildings, or in a purpose-built commercial district of firms. Here though, he didn’t think there was anything like that for miles and when a more populated area was found, it wasn’t like at home, where the houses were stacked on top of one another for mile after mile, it was ancient and beautiful towns and cities with interesting architecture.
Walking Rex through Biggleswade now, he marvelled at how many of the buildings appeared to have stood for more than a century. There were leaflets for local attractions in the reception of the pub. Leafing through the rack last night, he’d found one which provided a written guided dog walk that would take in the nearby river. The drizzle of the previous evening was gone, the skies clear again so, time permitting, he wanted to test his endurance with a longer walk before he left. For now though, he planned to let the dog do what he needed and get back for breakfast.
Rex had his head down, sniffing his way along the pavement and stopping periodically to mark his scent. However, he stopped when they reached a crossroad because a very familiar scent assailed his nostrils – it was the annoying dachshund!
Albert saw Rex stiffen. ‘What is it, boy?’
With his head lifted and turned to the wind, Rex snuffled in a deep pocket of air. He was right about the dachshund but there was something else he recognised there too. He tried again, but the scent proved elusive. When he reopened his eyes – he always shut them to heighten his sense of smell – he could see Hans coming toward him.
Albert grinned and waved. He’d taken Victor’s number the previous evening before they went their separate ways but hadn’t asked the man where he lived. Since he was out walking the dachshund this morning, it had to be somewhere close.
Rex kept his mouth shut and waited for Hans to come to him. The small dog was powering forward, doing his best to drag his human along in his need to close the distance. Would he pick up with the insults and bad attitude from last night? Or would a little sleep have mellowed him?
‘Hey, wolf. Yo momma smells like a lamppost and she likes it.’
Sleep didn’t help then, sighed Rex to himself, looking at his human. ‘Do we have to hang out with the dachshund? He’s a little annoying.’
Albert, aware that his dog was able to smell things he couldn’t, had begun to wonder over the last week if Rex might actually be trying to draw his attention to things he was missing. The dog had a habit of looking right at him and making noises; sort of a combination of barking, whining and an odd chuffing noise. He looked down at him now with a frown. ‘Are you trying to tell me something, Rex?’ he asked, perplexed that the dog might be that clever while simultaneously annoyed that he couldn’t understand it if he was. ‘What is it?’
‘The dachshund is an annoying, mouthy little butt weasel. I’d rather hang out with a cat,’ explained Rex, saying it slowly so his human might understand.
‘The dachshund?’ asked Albert, guessing that might be what had his dog all excited.
Rex couldn’t believe it! His human was not only paying enough attention to know Rex was telling him something,
