K-9 (18 page)

‘I’m hoping for national coverage on this one. Anyway, I wanted you to be the first to know.’

‘Is there anything I can say or do to stop you?’ Darkus pleaded.

She looked him over, sizing him up. ‘Sorry, Doc, but this is bigger than both of us.’ She shrugged and slung her reporter bag over her shoulder, before delivering a parting shot. ‘Guess I’ll see you when you get back to school, whenever that is.’

She walked off into the darkness, leaving Darkus alone clutching the newspaper.

Chapter 14

Strict Confidence

When Darkus finally got himself back to sleep, just before dawn, it was a plunge so deep into the unconscious that a number of things happened around him  that he was completely unaware of. Upon waking, it took him several moments to realise that he was no longer dreaming. Tilly
had
materialised at the council estate the previous night and rejoined him as a partner in crime-solving. Alexis
had
arrived on Cherwell Place in the early hours and delivered a copy of
The
Cranston Star
, which remained protectively rolled up under Darkus’s arm, and which – much to his frustration – threatened to blow the whole investigation wide open. But most staggering of all, when Darkus opened his eyes and adjusted to the daylight, he found that his father was no longer lying unconscious on the sofa, and in fact the sound of his animated voice was clearly echoing up the staircase from the living room.

Darkus looked around, noticing that Tilly’s mattress had been folded away and Wilbur’s basket was empty. He checked his watch: it was nearly eleven o’ clock. Finding it hard to fathom how he’d slept so late, he struggled to his feet and thudded down the stairs.

Bogna was mopping the hallway when she looked up and saw him.

‘Master Doc. Alan is awake! They are having a meetings.’

She pointed the dripping mop head at the living-room door, where a large pair of Hunter wellie boots had been propped outside.

‘They are?’ Darkus asked, feeling oddly left out. Why had no one taken a moment to wake him? And who were they meeting?

Darkus turned the door handle and walked in to find a bizarre parlour tableau of characters. His father sat in an armchair with his feet on an ottoman, fully dressed and looking, it must be said, better than ever. Wilbur sat perfectly upright by his side, with Tilly next to him on the carpet with her legs crossed. A golden retriever was inexplicably curled up by the fireplace, watching the proceedings.

‘Good morning, Doc,’ said his father. ‘Nice of you to join us.’

‘I must have overslept . . .’ Darkus said, confused.

‘You might say I did too!’ quipped Knightley. ‘But for some reason I woke up right as rain. We allowed you some extra shut-eye to keep you fresh for the investigation.’

‘Dad, I need to talk to you. Urgently –’

Knightley held up his hand to shush him. ‘First, say hello to our distinguished guest . . .’

Another figure looked up from the armchair facing the fireplace. Darkus instantly recognised her as Fiona Connelly, the larger-than-life presenter of
Bad Dog
.

‘Doc, you remember Miss Connelly,’ Knightley announced.

Darkus wasn’t certain if he’d woken up – the whole scene had the strange quality of a dream.

‘Hello again, Doc,’ she replied in her dainty but strict upper-class tone, which resembled that of a headmistress at an all-girls school.

Without the dogs for cover, her physique was even more buxom than before. Her white hair was tied up in a bun, hovering over large-framed granny spectacles and a slash of red lipstick. Her figure offered great rolling hills of country tweed; her jacket looked like it might split open at any moment, barely able to accommodate her pneumatic bust. Her tree-trunk thighs were compressed into a thick woollen skirt with an oversized, decorative safety pin to guard her dignity and keep the folds closed. Judging by her sturdy, stockinged calves and double-socked feet, the Hunter wellies could only have belonged to her. All of this was completed with a sweet perfume that reminded Darkus of Victoria sponge cake. Wilbur must have concurred because he sat happily silent, his nostrils slightly raised to drink in the aroma.

Dazed, Darkus answered awkwardly. ‘It’s an honour, Miss Connelly. I see you’ve met my dog, Wilbur.’

‘Yes indeed,’ replied Fiona. ‘He’s a gorgeous fella, aren’t you, Wilbur.’

Wilbur wagged his tail cheerily.

‘
Good
dog,’ she cooed by way of a reward.

‘You may remember, Fiona mentioned a problem she needed assistance with,’ Knightley explained. ‘Upon waking from my slumbers, I got straight in touch, and, well, you’ll see that it’s a most curious and unusual case.’

Darkus continued to listen, mystified.

‘I take my security very seriously,’ Fiona went on. ‘So on your father’s advice I came over at once,’ she added.

Darkus looked to Tilly for some kind of affirmation. Tilly just shrugged and nodded, confirming that this was someone to be believed.

‘So to business . . .’ Fiona announced. ‘I propose to hire Knightley and Son to investigate an intruder on my property. The following conversation must of course be held in strict confidence.’

‘Confidence is our middle name,’ replied Knightley. ‘As you know, we charge a reasonable flat rate per day, regardless of the client. Plus expenses of course.’

‘Very well,’ Fiona agreed.

‘Proceed,’ said Darkus.

‘Being a public figure, and a woman living alone,’ she explained with a slight blush and a vigorous straightening of her jacket, ‘I find it necessary to protect myself and my family.’

‘I thought you said you lived alone,’ Darkus interjected.

‘My furry family,’ she replied, gesturing to her golden retriever, as if it ought to be obvious.

‘I see,’ said Darkus.

‘As well as hosting a successful TV programme about dogs, I am also a dog-lover. Perhaps, I am told, that is why I, myself, am still . . . unattached. And very much . . . available.’ She glanced at Knightley, whose eyes went wide, before he covered himself with an innocent smile. ‘For that reason,’ Fiona went on, ‘I have had installed at my home a state-of-the-art alarm and surveillance system. It is able to detect intruders and alert me of their presence. It is also able to display any visitors on a series of CCTV cameras that are linked back to my flat screen TV or iPad.’

‘I am aware of such systems,’ said Darkus. Tilly nodded, indicating that she was as well. ‘Do you live in a particularly high crime area?’

‘Not particularly, no,’ Fiona replied.

‘If you don’t mind, where is your property located, Miss Connelly?’ asked Darkus, building a case history in his head.

‘Overlooking Hampstead Heath,’ she answered.

Darkus looked to his father, who raised his eyebrows in a silent acknowledgement.

‘I see,’ Darkus continued, suddenly more interested. ‘And as you have the benefit of 24-7 surveillance cameras, might I ask why you haven’t been able to identify this intruder already?’

‘Because it’s not a person,’ Fiona responded, looking pale. ‘It’s an
animal
of some kind.’

Darkus, his father and Tilly all exchanged a glance.

‘Please describe it for me,’ Darkus said, reaching in his pocket for his ever-present little black book.

‘I can do better than that,’ she replied, reaching into her bulky handbag and producing a DVD, which she handed to Knightley.

Knightley knelt by the TV set and inserted the disc into the DVD player. A silence descended over the room, including both the canines, as the disc booted up, then the TV displayed a menu. Knightley pressed ‘Play’ and video surveillance footage flashed up on the screen.

The image showed a night-time scene of a walled back garden – except there was a particularly strong ambient light over the proceedings.

Darkus examined the date and time code running along the top of the frame and realised. ‘This was during the last full moon.’

‘Indeed it was,’ Fiona replied. ‘Just after two o’ clock in the morning as you can see . . . Here it comes now . . .’

On screen, a strange-looking beast dropped from the high wall and entered the frame. It was hairy except for the head, which hung out of sight below the shoulders in an almost Neanderthal pose. It appeared to be using the shadows to conceal itself and was walking mostly on all fours, but occasionally rearing up to stand on two. It half galloped, half crawled across the perfectly manicured lawn and followed a garden path leading around the side of the Gothic-looking property.

‘I assume,’ Darkus commented, ‘that your perimeter wall is adjacent to the Heath?’

‘Yes. Very observant,’ replied Fiona.

‘You’ll find he’s a chip off the old block – and more,’ Knightley commented with his usual mix of pride and the faintest hint of professional jealousy.

The dark shape continued along the path and out of sight.

The screen flicked to another camera angle, showing an alley along the side of the house. The creature pawed hesitantly at a drainpipe, again mostly obscured by shadow, then continued towards the front of the property.

The screen flicked to a third angle as the creature leaped into frame and shambled towards the front garden and driveway. It stopped, silhouetted in the moonlight. Its head – still steeped in shadow – looked towards the surveillance camera and up at the house. Then the beast appeared to sit back on its hind legs and let out a long, tortured howl – although the footage provided no sound.

After several moments, the beast returned to all fours, raced across the driveway, quickly scaled the front gate of the property and vanished into the night.

‘The hard drive stores around three weeks of footage,’ explained Fiona. ‘This is the only known appearance of . . .
it
. But as you can imagine, I’d like some answers.’

‘Naturally,’ replied Knightley.

‘Have you shown this to the police, ma’am?’ asked Darkus.

Fiona winced at this term of address, before answering. ‘They put it down to a prank . . . But I’m not so sure. That’s why I’m here.’

‘Did you hear a howl that night?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m an extremely deep sleeper.’

‘That makes two of us,’ said Knightley, before realising this information was completely irrelevant to the case.

‘You know what they say. Birds of a feather . . .’ said Fiona flirtatiously.

Knightley looked alarmed.

‘Dad, can you replay the footage, please?’

Knightley restarted the DVD and they watched the clip again.

As the beast shambled through the front garden, then sat back and howled, Darkus signalled to his dad.

‘Pause it there, if you will.’

The frame froze on the beast looking up at the house.

‘Might I deduce,’ Darkus began, ‘that your bedroom is situated on the second floor at the front of the house?’

‘Absolutely correct,’ Fiona replied, somewhat surprised.

‘Then I put it to you, Miss Connelly . . .’ Darkus went on. ‘Is it possible that this creature was somehow trying to
communicate
with you?’

‘In twenty years of veterinary work, I’ve never encountered such a thing . . .’

‘I understand this might sound odd, ma’am . . .’ Darkus persisted.

‘
Please
 . . .’ She held up a bejewelled hand. ‘Call me Fifi.’

Darkus continued. ‘Well, Fifi . . . From the creature’s specific path and the desperation of the howl, I can only deduce that it was making a personal appeal of some kind.’

‘To me?’ Fiona gasped in disbelief.

Darkus nodded. ‘If we were able to access footage from over three weeks ago – which sadly we can’t because the hard drive will have deleted it by now – I’m willing to bet this creature visited you at the previous full moon too.’

‘For what reason?’ Fiona demanded. ‘I train dogs, not . . .’

‘Werewolves . . .’ said Tilly, using the word that everyone else had been avoiding. ‘Well, that is what it looks like, isn’t it?’

‘Young lady, there are many breeds of dog to suit many different functions and tastes. But there is
no
such thing as a werewolf. Of that I am sure,’ Fiona concluded petulantly.

‘What about trained attack dogs?’ Darkus asked her.

‘Certainly, they exist,’ she replied.

‘And could they, in theory, be made “smarter”, and faster than they would normally be?’

‘Anything is possible with a canine if the proper amount of time and effort is put in.’

‘What about the use of steroids or pharmaceutical drugs?’ Darkus went on. ‘Such as those used in illegal dog fights.’

Fiona wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘I suppose it’s possible.’

‘Well, now the forum has been opened,’ Knightley carried on, ‘I think it’s entirely possible that this beast – whatever it is – was coming to you for assistance of some kind. In fact, I believe it has been inhabiting Hampstead Heath for several months at least. And it wouldn’t necessarily require a TV to know that a house full of four-legged friends is bordering its territory – or that one of the foremost dog-lovers in Britain is residing with them.’