Disappointed, Albert thanked Randall for taking the call and disconnected. He moved on, poking in the waste bin, then lifting the lid to get a better look. He found takeaway cartons amid the torn-up envelopes, apples cores, and teabags. Going through bins could yield results but he wasn’t of a mood to try that now. He opened drawers and poked in cupboards, scratched his head, and tried to think of things that would show she was here and not somewhere else murdering Joel Clement.
He finished his tour of the house in the master bedroom. Feeling like a peeping tom as he went through her underwear drawer, he was now sitting on the foot of the bed and wondering what to do. After an hour of searching, he’d accepted defeat: it was time to try something else.
The only problem with that approach was that he couldn’t come up with anything else to try. Trudging back down the stairs, he found Rex still facing the front door though the dog had laid down at some point and was asleep. Hans was on the couch, most likely in his usual spot, and fast asleep also.
‘Come along, dogs. I think it’s time we checked on the café and Victor. Maybe he is nearly finished.’ Hans opened an eye but didn’t move. Further encouragement by Albert only succeeded in getting the dachshund to open his other eye. He was comfortable and saw no reason to go outside. It was getting dark and it smelled like the rain was back.
Unable to get the sausage dog to move, Albert went to him, clipping the lead to his collar and then lifting him from the couch to the floor where the dog finally gave in and started using his paws. Rex was on his feet, keen to leave having had enough of being ignored by his human. There would be a reckoning later, or there would be an edible treat of sufficient value for his human to earn forgiveness. Rex wasn’t sure which he hoped for most.
Albert paused in the doorway, making sure he had all the things he came in with, especially the spare key to Kate’s house which he had to search for. It was in his right front trouser pocket, buried beneath a folded handkerchief.
With a dog lead in each hand, he set off back to the centre of town. The rain was back, but it was fine misty droplets. Enough to dampen his clothing and leave a sheen on the dogs’ coats. But not enough to make him hurry.
More than a mile ahead of him, Victor was getting ready to lock up. He and the rest of his colleagues at the café had done the best they could. It had been a testing week with one thing and another, a fire in the bakery was really just the cherry on top of what had been a run of terrible events they all wanted to forget.
Someone joked that if bad luck ran in threes, they were already onto number four or five depending on how one chose to count. Someone else commented that April storming out was a good luck omen not bad. With a vote to go to the pub as they were forced to close the café early and they felt it was needed, the crowd of café staff trudged away through the rain which was beginning to pick up its pace.
Victor stayed behind to lock up, promising to meet them there in a few minutes and placing his beverage request. Across the courtyard behind the café, once the staff had rounded the corner, a muscular shadow in combat fatigues detached from the wall and held a weapon aloft.
Dead in the Gutter
The rain was beginning to come in sideways by the time Albert made it back to the B road that ran through the centre of town. It was late afternoon and the sun had all but set, making the temperature drop yet further. At the edge of the road, he had to wait for a gap in the traffic before he could cross and got even wetter from the rain being splashed up by the passing cars. Heavy trucks and vans were among the cars going past, reminding Albert of back home before they built the Kings Hill bypass. This town clearly needed a ring road too.
Both dogs had their heads down, hiding their faces from the rain and powering on to wherever they were going while hoping it would be somewhere dry. Periodically, one of the dogs would pause a step to shake their coat, ejecting a shower of water onto the pavement all around them but also onto Albert’s legs so he now had one very wet left ankle from Hans and one very wet right outer thigh and calf where Rex’s superior height and coat length had ejected water that hit everything on the side up to and including his eyebrows. Discouraging Rex from shaking himself seemed to just make the dog do it more as if he were purposefully lining himself up to get Albert wet.
Rex was muttering under his breath. It was the second day in a row he’d been taken for a walk in driving rain. Once was bad enough; the second time was just an insult and it came on top of a bevy of insults already delivered. At least the rain was getting the dachshund too who was having a devil of a time trying to avoid the puddles which were over the top of his paws in places.
Wishing he had timed things a little better, Albert pressed on. The option to seek refuge in a public house until the rain passed or eased was no longer viable – he was just too wet. He would have to drop Hans back with Victor and carry on to his room in
