It was a man in his early thirties, and he was royally angry. ‘Hey!’ he bellowed. ‘Take your hands off her! What’s the meaning of this?’
Demonstrating the seasoned nature of his career, the DS Craig swivelled around to face the new threat. ‘Stay back, sir. This person is under arrest for the murder of Joel Clement.’
‘Don’t be so absurd,’ the man snapped in reply. He wore chef’s whites and a hair net, but it was his face that stole Albert’s attention; there were facial resemblances between his features and Kate’s, and he was willing to bet they were siblings.
DS Craig wasn’t in a mood to be messed about. ‘Stand back, sir. Or I shall have you arrested for obstructing me in the course of my duties.’
‘You are not taking my sister,’ the man growled. ‘She hasn’t done anything wrong.’ Albert closed his eyes and sighed. It was the wrong thing to do. Even if the police had this all wrong, challenging them now, and so directly, was foolhardy.
‘Take her to the car,’ snapped DS Craig, essentially challenging Kate’s brother to stop them. When the officers moved, each holding one of Kate’s arms, the detective stared at the chef effectively daring him to intervene.
Albert thought he was going to and breathed a genuine sigh of relief when the brother made the right decision and backed down.
When the café door closed, the people inside could still see the police and their suspect through the windows which dominated the entire front aspect of the building. It was deathly silent inside until the stern-faced woman said, ‘Get back to work, the lot of you. Nobody’s paying you to gawp.’
The staff didn’t move though, not immediately. Most of those Albert could see were looking at the brother. He appeared to still be debating going after his sister, but upon hearing the stern-faced woman’s orders, he spun around to challenge her instead. ‘Who do you think you are, April? You’re not in charge.’
His response was quickly followed by a woman standing behind the counter, whose meek voice wanted to know, ‘Is anybody paying us at all now?’ Her question stopped everyone in their tracks. ‘They just arrested Kate for Mr Clement’s murder. If the owner of the café is dead, what does that mean for the rest of us.’
Now that his eyes were drawn to the huddle of staff behind the counter, Albert saw just how upset most of them looked. The split between men and women was about even, and the age range ran from teenagers up to three people who looked to be in their mid-sixties. The stern-faced woman was one of the oldest. Albert counted twelve staff in total. Their conversation became a mess of noise as everyone spoke over the top of everyone else.
Watching them, Albert wrinkled his nose as he thought about what he wanted to do. He was still holding the woman’s dog and needed to give it to someone before he left but he was currently in no hurry to do so. He was also in no hurry to leave and though he was booked to stay for only one more night in Biggleswade, he knew the pub wasn’t fully booked if he chose to stay.
Stroking the dachshund absentmindedly, the sound of a chair being dragged across the tiled floor brought his attention crashing back to his own dog. ‘Rex!’ he yelled as he looked about for the large German Shepherd. Rex was not where he’d been left, and nor was Albert’s chair which was weaving between tables on its way to the window.
Ha! Got you! thought Rex, pouncing on the forgotten piece of pastry with glee. His human could disapprove all he wanted now that it had been swallowed.
Albert caught up to his great brute of a dog, grabbing his collar and yanking his head out from under a table. They were right over by the door, his dog under a table at which two men sat.
‘Sorry about that,’ mumbled Albert, getting nothing but a stiff nod in response. Albert dragged his dog away, Rex letting him as he licked his lips joyously. Neither Albert nor Rex intended to notice the two men, truthfully neither of them really did, but their brains logged their details anyway.
They were on the large side, both in height and girth, but the girth was mostly muscle, honed from many hours in the gym. They were dressed very differently, one in a smart grey jacket, with a white shirt and plain dark grey tie. His trousers were black, the effect of his outfit making him look like someone who succeeded in life and needed to dress smartly to meet clients or customers but had no need to wear a suit. Opposite him, drinking tea from a small china cup, his pinky finger extended as he lifted it to his mouth, the second man wore combat fatigues as if he were an extra from a war movie.
Rex recorded them not by their appearance but by their smell, his nose sifting and sorting constantly whether he wanted it to or not. Neither man nor dog realised at the time how significant that early encounter would prove.
Motive for Murder
Rex wanted to remain ambiguous to the dachshund, but found he genuinely felt sorry for the little guy.
‘What’s happening?’ the little guy asked, thoroughly confused by the sudden absence of his human, especially given the circumstances of her departure, and how upset she had been.
‘She was taken away by the police,’ Rex replied. ‘Did she hurt someone?’
The dachshund spun through a hundred and eighty degrees, baring his teeth, and growling with a deep snarl. ‘Don’t you cast dispersions on my human! I’ll … I’ll …
