July 16th 2006
I answered the front door. Pollitt was standing there, all surly. He looked me up and down. â€œWho are you?â€
â€œHavenâ€™t we got this the wrong pay someone to do essay way round,â€ I said. â€œShouldnâ€™t you be telling me who you are?â€
â€œWayne Pollitt,â€ he grunted, and cocked a thumb in the direction of his house. â€œFrom Number 36. Now who are you?â€
â€œAtkins.â€ I cocked a thumb in the opposite direction. â€œFrom number 12.â€
â€œWell whereâ€™s whosit, whatâ€™s-is-name, who lives hear?
â€œMr Ravenscroft? Heâ€™s on holiday in Lanzarote. Iâ€™m looking after his house for him while Iâ€™ve got the Decoratorâ€™s in drinking tea and not Decorating my house.
â€œWhat? Oh. Only he was interested in taking our dog for a walk, he even bought it a collar and a lead, and now itâ€™s gone missing, and I was thinkingâ€¦..â€
â€œWell Mr Ravenscroft is hardly likely to have broken his holiday in The Canneries to come all the way back to England to take your dog for a walk, is he?â€
â€œWell I didnâ€™t know heâ€™d gone to Lanzarote.â€
â€œWell he has. But if thereâ€™s anything I can do to help?â€
â€œWell have you seen anything of it. Our dog?â€
â€œYes I shot it.â€
â€œAnd berried it in the back garden in a shallow grave I dug in the lawn which I then planted a rose bush in so it looks like a flower bed.â€
He looked at me gone out for about ten seconds. Then he gave a silly grin. â€œYouâ€™re having me on, arenâ€™t you?â€
â€œWell of course Iâ€™m having you on. If Iâ€™d shot somebodyâ€™s dog then berried it in the back garden in a shallow grave I dug in the lawn Iâ€™m hardly likely to tell the owner of the bloody dog, am I?â€
â€œNo. Course you arenâ€™t. Right then. Just thought Iâ€™d ask.â€
And off he went. â€œIâ€™ll keep an eye out for it,â€ I called after him.
I went back into the living room content that whatever suspicions of what had happened to his dog Pollitt might have in the future they would not include it having been shot and berried in Razzaâ€™a garden.
â€œI thought it was women who were supposed to be Devious,â€ said the wife, whoâ€™d obviously overheard my conversation with Pollitt.
â€œWho do you think I learned it from, my sweet,â€ I replied.