The Woods of St Francis – 3

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” said Knowles, “you are even more pleased with yourself than normal, what’s causing the broad smile?”

“Good morning, sir, and good morning to you, DC Smythe. I haven’t become used to saying that, Linda, and congratulations once again on the promotion, it’s well deserved. As for smiling, sir, well it’s because you seemed so happy when I told you that Bingo hadn’t discovered the body.”

“It was relief more than anything.”

“He did save your life, sir, up at the Black Hill Hotel.”

“He did, you’re right, I should be more grateful. Anyway, I’ve a feeling you have more to say on the subject. Please continue.”

“Yes, I am not sure how to put this…a dog discovered the body.”

“What?”

Linda Smythe turned away and smiled. She knew her boss didn’t appreciate canines in the slightest.

“A dog discovered the body, and it’s a dog owned by Adelaide Hills.”

Knowles opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

“You mean she’s bought another dog? I presume Bingo’s OK? Is he?”

“Bingo is in fine form, sir, and has been training his accomplice.”

“Oh my lord, so what’s this dog called?”

Barnes laughed before saying, “It’s not much different from Bingo…the new dog’s called Banjo.”

“Banjo….Banjo, what’s with the names?”

“Banjo is a 2-year-old retriever obtained from the dog shelter in Scoresby as a Christmas present for Bingo. Mrs Hills thought Bingo needed some company, some social connectedness as she called it.”

“Right, well…well..well, Bingo and Banjo, short and snappy names I suppose. It means we have to go back to Goat Parva and see Adelaide once again in relation to a murder enquiry. I suppose Bingo will have to be out of the room whilst Banjo gives his story.”

“He will, sir, we must follow procedures. Anyway, please follow me to view the body of Andy Booth, a 70-year-old former waiter from this village. Let’s walk on the grass as there are some footprints on the path. They smacked him on the back of the head with a sharp object, a brick or large stone. The PCs are standing guard outside his cottage, so we can have a look later. He’d been in the Dog and Duck and was taken short on his way home, hence the willy hanging, or more accurately peeping, out of his trousers.”

“Really? It’s only fifty yards to the pub and their toilets are out the back in the beer garden, so he could have just run back there, though by the looks of him, that might have been too far. He’s overweight, even from this angle.”

“There might be another explanation,” said Smythe, “though looking at him, I doubt it.”

“And that is?” said Knowles.

“How do I put this,” said Smythe, “there might have been a lady involved.”

Our Cats in Amsterdam – 8

“Can I have some books, please?” I ask politely, “a nice variety of books, fiction, geography, comedies, business, that sort of thing.”

“Yes, we’ve heard you’re a devoted reader, Freddie,” says Arabella, “so that’s all arranged.”

“Good,” I reply, “and no Virginia Woolf or Joseph Conrad, as they’re not my favourites. Perhaps Brave New World as we’re going to be going on an adventure?”

“We’ll surprise you, Freddie,” says Aubrey smiling, “you’ll have more books than you can possibly read.”

“I can read too,” says Gemma, “though I prefer military books myself, not the sort of books that Freddie likes reading.”

“You mean Sven Hassel?” asks Arabella.

“No, factual books about convoys across the Atlantic during WWII or about the Battle of Stalingrad, that sort of thing. Or about ancient battles such as Thermopylae where the traitor Ephialtes of Trachis betrayed those brave Spartans. ”

Aubrey looked at Arabella and nodded his head. 

“OK, factual military books for Gemma.”

“Yes, the more facts the better,” says Gemma, “Frederick doesn’t like facts as much as I do. He prefers fiction.”

“You must be descended from Thomas Gradgrind, even though he is fictional. Now what I want is facts is how Hard Times begins, and I think you should read that book Gemma, you’d enjoy it.”

“Yes, I will get round to it, Freddie.”

“I think that’s everything for now,” says Arabella, “we’ll come back on Sunday, after your humans have gone away, and we’ll be with Mrs Elkins, who is your cat sitter. We’ll share the details of your itinerary with you then.”

“How will we be transported to the destination?” I ask.

“There will be some time spent in cat carriers, but your minders will endeavour to let you out on the train from London, as you’ll be travelling in an area where there are few humans,” says Aubrey.

“I’m sure we’ll pretend to be asleep most of the time,” says Gemma, “especially when we’re in The Channel Tunnel and there’s not much to see. Can we make sure there are no dogs. I don’t like dogs, they’re so gullible and easily led.”

“The train sounds like a good time to meditate,” I say, “I’m looking forward to that already. And I like your joke about dogs being easily led.”

“Right, we should be going,” says Aubrey, “and we’ll see you in two days with Mrs Elkins.”

Aubrey and Arabella flew off and were soon replaced by Rufus who headed down his tree and jumped onto the fence.