by Adele Abbott
Okay. See you then.
***
I couldn’t afford to keep eating out, not even at the Gerbil and Oyster’s prices, so on my way home, I called in at the local mini-market, which was just down the road from my flat.
When I’d first moved to the area, I’d thought the name of the shop, ERIC’S for EVERYTHING, was a bold claim for such a small establishment, but since then, I’d come to respect that claim. No matter what you might need, Eric had one somewhere. And, on the few occasions that he didn’t have something, he could usually lay his hands on it within twenty-four hours.
Eric had a weird habit of waving to everyone who walked into the shop. You could always spot new customers because they looked a little nonplussed by this unusual ritual. Regulars, like myself, had come to embrace it.
“Hiya, Eric.” I returned his wave.
Like everyone else, I called him Eric, but he’d once confided in me that his real name was Jimmy. When I’d asked why he hadn’t called the shop by that name, he’d explained that JIMMY’S for EVERYTHING didn’t alliterate.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for, Kat?”
“Just something for tea.”
“You mean dinner, don’t you?”
“Not where I come from.” Up north, in Leeds, you have your dinner at midday, and your tea around five or six. Despite having lived in the capital for several years, I refused to bow to the pressure to call tea dinner. “What have you got that’s quick and cheap?”
“Eggs are on offer.”
“I had egg on toast for breakfast. What about microwave meals? Anything in particular you’d recommend?”
“The Mrs and I are partial to the lasagne.”
I wasn’t in the mood for lasagne, so I searched through his other offerings and eventually settled on a frozen chicken dinner, which if the photo on the packet was to be believed, would have fed a family of five. Based upon past experience, I thought that very unlikely.
“Anything else, Kat?”
“No, thanks.”
He put the frozen meal and the bottle of diet cola through the till. “What about these? They’re on special offer.” He held up a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits—my favourites. “Two for one.”
Damn the man. He knew it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“Go on, then.”
Back at my flat, I wasn’t too surprised to discover that the chicken meal was barely enough to feed one. In fact, for a few moments there, I thought they’d forgotten to include the chicken, but then I found it underneath one of the potatoes.
Still hungry after finishing the microwave feast, I munched my way through several of the BOGOF chocolate digestives. They never failed to hit the spot.
I was just about to put my feet up, ready to enjoy an evening of mindless TV, when there was a knock at the door. It was the Widow Manning, accompanied by my least favourite canine.
“He was supposed to go out thirty minutes ago, Kat. Where were you?” she demanded.
“Sorry I—err—” If truth be told, I’d forgotten all about it. “I was just on the phone.”
“You’d best hurry up.” She handed me his lead. “Otherwise he’ll do his stuff in here.”
“But I haven’t got my shoes—” Too late—the Widow Manning had disappeared in the direction of her flat. “Stay!” I wagged my finger at the lab, in the hope that would get the message across.
When I went in search of my trainers, I made the mistake of not closing the door behind me. When I returned, the dog was nowhere to be seen.
“The Brick! Where are you?” I went out onto the landing, but there was no sign of him there. Had he got fed up of waiting and taken the lift himself? Get a grip, Kat. How could he have called the lift?
So, where was he?
That’s when I heard him. He was under the table, trying to get into my chocolate digestives, and had knocked one of the kitchen chairs over. Fortunately, I got to him before he managed to get any out of the packet. “Don’t you know chocolate is bad for you?”
The Widow Manning’s assessment proved to be accurate. Upon arriving at the park, The Brick spent the first five minutes emptying his bladder, and the next five minutes, doing the other.
What would aliens make of all this, I wondered. If the first thing they saw was a human picking up dog poop, they’d no doubt conclude that the dog was the master and the man its slave.
And they wouldn’t be far wrong.
“Where’s The Wall?” It was Graham and his dog, Miles.
“His name is The Brick.”
“Sorry. How could I forget?”
“Do you have a tent in this park? How come you’re always here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“You wouldn’t like to adopt him, would you?” I gestured to The Brick who had wandered off down the park.
“No, thanks. I didn’t even want the one I’ve got.”
“What’s wrong with Miles?”
“Nothing, but I’m not really a dog person.”
“So how come you have him? Did you mistake him for a packet of fish fingers while you were doing the weekly shop?”
“Getting him was my fiancée’s idea. Then, a few months before we were due to get married, she dumped me for a guy in her office. Apparently, he’s allergic to dogs.”
“It looks like we’ve both ended up with dogs we didn’t sign up for.”
“What do you do when you aren’t picking up dog poop? For work I mean?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Jeez, Kat, are you always such hard work? I’m just making small talk.”
“Sorry. I’m a private investigator.”
“Always the joker.” He laughed. “Are you ever serious?”
“I’m not joking. I really am a P.I.”
“Let’s see your business card, then.”
“I’m waiting for them to be printed.”
“Of course you are.”
“Okay, then. What about you? What do you do?”
“What do you think I do?”
“Something in the city. You have that look about you.”
“What look?”
“That, I’m minted and you’re not look.”
“I’m a lawyer, as it happens.”
“What did I say? Minted.”
“I work for an NGO, so not so minted.” As he spoke, he seemed to be distracted by something behind me. “What are they doing down there?”
I followed his gaze and saw three boys, teenagers by the look of it, who appeared to be taunting The Brick.
“I’ll have a word,” Graham started towards them.
“Don’t bother. I’ve got this.”
As I got closer, I could see that the tallest of the three boys was poking the dog with a stick.
“Hey, you! Stop that!”
“What are you going to do about it?” The boy with the stick poked the dog again, but this time The Brick reacted. “He bit me!” The boy screamed.
I grabbed the dog by the collar and attached his lead. “You shouldn’t have been taunting him.”
The boy had pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and much to my relief, there were no visible wounds. The Brick must have just had a hold of his sleeve.
“I’m going to report him!” The boy screamed in my face.
“Go home, little boy, and take your friends with you.”
“I’ll get him put down,” he shouted, as he and his buddies made their way to the park gates.
“Are you okay?” Graham said.
“Yeah. Horrible little sods.”
“Did he bite the lad?”
“No, just his jacket, but to hear him scream, you’d have thought he’d taken his arm off.”
“So, are you going to tell me what you do for a living or not?”
“I’ve already told you. It’s not my fault if you don’t believe me.”
“Okay, let’s say I believe you’re a P.I. What cases are you working on at the mome
nt?”
“I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality and all that.”
“How very convenient.” He grinned.
“If you don’t believe I’m a P.I, what do you think I do?”
“I would have had you down as working in a shop. Maybe a sandwich shop. You look like you know your way around a bacon cob.”
“You got me. That’s exactly what I do.”
“Really?”
“No, of course not.”
“How come your boyfriend doesn’t take turns walking the dog?”
“Is that your not so subtle way of trying to find out if I’m with someone?”
“Possibly.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not.”
“In that case, would you be open to the idea of having a drink with me sometime?”
“Why would I want to have a drink with someone who doesn’t believe a word I say?”
“What if I said I believe you’re a P.I?”
“Too late.” I turned to the dog. “Come on, boy. It’s time to get you back to the Widow Manning.”
“Did you hear that?” I said to the dog on the walk back to my flat. “He asked me out.” It was obvious that The Brick couldn’t have cared less. He was far too focussed on getting back to the Widow Manning, where his dinner would be waiting for him. Despite the fact that I’d turned Graham down, it made a pleasant change to be asked out by someone who wasn’t either married, ugly or the wrong side of fifty.
It had been a long time.
Back at the flat, I gave Sheila a call, and passed on the good news about my plans to keep on the agency. I’d expected her to be thrilled, but she was very subdued, and barely reacted to the news.
Chapter 6
I couldn’t put it off any longer. My underwear drawer was practically empty, and I had precisely one clean t-shirt. I always used to do my own washing, but after the door broke on my last washing machine and flooded the kitchen, I swore never to buy another. These days, I preferred to avail myself of the full-service wash offered by Suds, the launderette across the road, next door to the greengrocer.
My plan was to sneak out of my flat so that the Widow Manning wouldn’t hear me. Although she wasn’t in the best of health, she wasn’t exactly housebound either. She managed to get to bingo three or four times every week, so there was no reason why she couldn’t take The Brick out occasionally. If I had to walk the dog and call in at the launderette, it would be mid-morning before I made it into the office. It might be my business now, but I couldn’t just turn up at any old time of day. What kind of message would that send to potential clients?
I’d managed to squash all of my dirty washing into two giant black plastic sacks, and I was just about to leave the flat when someone knocked on the door. Crap! Had the Widow Manning anticipated my early morning manoeuvrings?
It wasn’t her. Instead, standing there was a young boy, wearing a green blazer and grey trousers.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Have you got Rexy?”
“I think you must have the wrong flat.”
“Someone told me you’d taken him in.”
“Who’s Rexy?”
“A dog. He used to belong to that man who sat on the steps down the road.”
“Do you mean The Brick?”
“That’s what the man called him, but it’s a silly name, so I always called him Rexy. The man used to let me take him for a walk.”
Just then, as if on cue, the Widow Manning came out of her flat with the old lab at her feet.
“This young man reckons Walt used to let him take the dog for a walk.”
“How do we know we can trust him?” The Widow Manning wasn’t renowned for trusting anyone.
“Rexy!” the boy called. “Come here, Rexy!”
The dog hurried over to the boy.
“It looks like this young man was telling the truth,” I said. “The dog even answers to the other name.”
“Can I still take him for a walk?” The boy was stroking the excited dog.
“I don’t see why not. How often did you used to take him out?”
“Most mornings before I went to school, and sometimes after school, depending on how much homework I had.”
“That’s fine by me.” I looked over to the Widow Manning. “Unless you have any objections?”
She shrugged.
“That’s settled, then. What’s your name?”
“Luke Grimes.”
“Are you Robbie’s boy?”
“Yeah. I live over the greengrocers.”
“And you’re sure your parents are cool with this?”
“They don’t mind as long as I’m not late for school, and I get my homework done.”
“Okay then, that’s settled. Off you go.”
Luke and The Brick, or maybe I should call him Rexy now, made their way to the lift. This was a definite result for me. It meant I would only have to walk the dog when Luke couldn’t do it.
***
“Hi, Kat.” Elsie, who managed the launderette, always had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth, but it was never lit. “I was beginning to think you’d died or gone and bought yourself a new washing machine.”
“I’ve been meaning to come over for the last week, but things have been a bit hectic.” I held up the two black bags. “I’ve got twice the usual amount.”
“No problem. Do you want to pick it up on your way home as usual?”
“Yes, please.”
“That was a rum old business with Walt across the road, wasn’t it? I heard someone threw him a tenner and the shock killed him.”
“You’re awful, Elsie.”
“If I didn’t laugh these days, I’d spend all of my time crying. Is it right you’ve taken on that old fleabag of his?”
“The Widow Manning took the dog in, and she browbeat me into agreeing to walk him occasionally. Mind you, Robbie’s boy has just volunteered to take over most of the walking duties.”
“Luke? He’s a good lad, that one. Not like a lot of the youngsters these days. Some of them come in here, throwing the washing around. Mind you, they don’t stick around once I show them this.” She walked over to the corner of the room, and leaned down to pick up a baseball bat, which had been hidden behind one of the driers. “I call it Bruiser.”
I didn’t blame them for running away. I wouldn’t have fancied going up against Elsie and Bruiser.
***
When I arrived at the office, Sheila was already at her desk and she didn’t look very happy.
“Are you okay, Sheila?”
“There’s something I have to tell you, Kat. I should have said something when you phoned last night, but I wanted to do it face to face.”
“What’s wrong?
“I’m really sorry. If there was any other way—”
“What is it?”
“I have to give up this job.”
“Why? If you’re worried I won’t be able to pay you, I’ve—”
“It isn’t that. It’s Don. I’ve been deluding myself. He’s really poorly, and he isn’t going to get better any time soon.” She hesitated, and for a moment, I thought she was going to cry, but she managed to compose herself. “I’m really sorry to let you down like this. I know it’s terrible timing.”
“Don’t worry your head about it. Don has to come first. Couldn’t you just take a few weeks off, and see how it goes?”
“I appreciate the offer, Kat. It’s very kind of you, but it wouldn’t help. This could go on for ages.”
“What will you do for money?”
“We’ve got Don’s pension. It isn’t a lot, but when you add in the benefits we’ll be entitled to, we should just about get by.”
“When do you want to leave?”
“Now if that’s okay with you? I just came in to clear out my stuff.”
“Of course it’s okay.”
It didn’t take her long to gather her things together; twenty minutes later, she was ready to leave.
>
“Take care, Sheila.” I gave her a hug. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Kat. I know you’re going to make a success of the business. If it hadn’t been for you, this place would have gone to the wall ages ago.”
This wasn’t exactly the start that I’d been hoping for. There was no way I could run the business by myself. I needed someone to answer the phone to potential customers, and to do research. Where was I supposed to find someone who would be prepared to work for peanuts, be willing to take a chance on a new business, and who was available to start immediately? Sonya was one possibility, but she’d only be able to work part-time, and I needed someone full-time.
That’s when I remembered the strange young man who had handed me his CV in the school canteen. Where had I put it?
I eventually found it, screwed up at the bottom of my bag, and I gave him a call.
“Is that—err—Zero?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Kat Royle. You gave me your CV yesterday.”
“I’ve given a lot of people my CV.”
“I was the one who asked if you like broccoli.”
“Oh yeah.” He laughed. “I remember you. Have you got something for me?”
“Possibly. You said you were good with computers and numbers, does that mean you can do bookkeeping?”
“Piece of cake. Profit and loss, balance sheet, management accounts—what do you need?”
“I don’t know, but probably some of those. What’s your telephone manner like?”
“You tell me. You’re talking to me on it.”
“I guess I am. Look, I’m not sure if what I have in mind would be suitable for you or not. Why don’t we meet for coffee and we can talk about it?”
“Okay. When and where?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Handing out more CVs.”
“Do you know Joe’s Café? It’s close to the Sidings Business Centre.”
“I’ll find it. I can be there in half an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll see you there.”
***
