I smiled winningly at her. ‘Actually, Letty, I do have another job on tomorrow, so I’ll be far too busy with that to go after home invaders.’
‘Really? And what job would that be?’
‘I’m looking for a lost dog.’
Daniel’s eyes sparkled for a moment, and the merest echo of a smile twitched the corners of his adorably kissable mouth. My mind raced. Had we told Letty anything at all about Alasdair and Geordie? I couldn’t remember doing so.
Letty’s hypnotic eyes held ours for long, dragging moments. We radiated innocent helpfulness.
‘I see,’ she said, her tone laced liberally with scepticism. ‘A lost dog.’
‘Yes.’ Daniel drained his cup and put it on the table. ‘There’s a bloke staying with me who’s lost his dog and we’ve been looking for him.’
‘That’s why I went on the Soup Run last night,’ I put in. ‘To see if anyone had heard anything.’
She frowned horribly. ‘To see if anyone had heard anything. Right. Fine. Now, before I leave, Daniel, I would like to know what you can tell us about your unauthorised interrogation.’
‘Sure. Let’s see. His name’s Narek; he works for a group of scary people whom he won’t name – at least to me – but I rather suspect that we are looking at Petrosian and Associates, that well-known firm of pharmaceutical suppliers.’ He glanced at the detective to see if this produced any reaction.
She merely nodded. ‘Go on, Daniel. I’m sure you found out more than that.’
‘Why he keeps breaking in here is still unclear. He wouldn’t tell me outright, but I’m sure he’s visited twice: once here and once at Professor Monk’s. All he said was: “We’re looking for the Holy Thing.” And I’m afraid none of us has any idea what it is.’
‘Could it be Professor Monk’s Dead Sea Scroll, or whatever it is?’
‘Maybe. But I really don’t know.’
‘And do any of you here have any other Holy Things you’re not telling me about?’
‘No, we really don’t,’ I assured her. ‘We don’t do Holy Things here. At least, not things that would interest Armenian crime gangs. So, if it isn’t the Professor’s scroll, then I have absolutely no idea at all what they’re after.’
‘So you’re going to look for a lost dog instead. Fine. Just don’t get in my way tomorrow. Or any other day.’ She stood up. ‘One day you are going to go too far. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. No, I’ll let myself out.’
And with that she was gone.
Daniel lifted his hand, took mine, and led me decorously back to bed.
Philomela: Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord? Maybe. Or not.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
and vice sometimes by action dignified
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, ROMEO AND JULIET, ACT 2, SCENE 3
I awoke, blinking sleepily and fashionably late, and inhaled the unexpected scent of Jamaica lime and – something else. Blood orange? I believe I had one of these new allegedly green planet cleaners in my cupboard. It appeared that all the chemistry nerds of Australia had banded together to devise new organic cleaners and sell them to supermarkets under the proud heading of 100% Australian Owned and Sourced. I was only too happy to give them custom. I guessed Daniel had been up before me, and was overlaying the distressing odours of essence du burglar with something less obnoxious. It certainly was an improvement. I also detected sounds and smells of plunger coffee, poached eggs and fried zebra. I stretched my toes in sensual luxury and opened my eyes fully, to see Horatio stretched out in lordly splendour across my queen-sized bed. I stroked his cheeks and flanks. He was purring in noisy ecstasy, but did not bother to open his eyes.
I emerged to see Daniel already dressed for the day’s work in dark blue jeans and a short-sleeved shirt in a fetching shade of light grey. He grinned at me and waved me to my chair. A tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, with ice, and a plate of large-yolked eggs from contented hens with two gleaming rashers of fried zebra, two Cumberland sausages and half a tomato, all laid over my very own toasted bread (from Friday). I leant over the brimming table and kissed him.
We ate in companionable silence until Horatio emerged, sleepy-eyed and enquiring. I placed munchies in his bowl and he curled his tail around his front paws, crouched down and addressed his attention to the amenities of the moment. My beloved finished his own plate, placed it in the sink and resumed his seat.
I looked at him. ‘Well, my beloved, what is the plan for today? Is it D-day?’ I wanted to know. ‘Are we going in?’
He grinned.
‘And do please note my restraint in failing to cross-examine you last night,’ I added. ‘I hope you made notes.’
He took my hand and kissed it. ‘Yes, today is the day. My reconnaissance as an unreal estate agent was very useful, and so was my chat with Narek – who, it transpires, was one of the dognappers. I know, or believe I know, where Geordie is. Though I am going to visit Uncle Solly one last time before we go in – I want to ask him about the Petrosians.’
‘Have they got Geordie?’ I stared at Daniel, bewildered. ‘But why? I could understand wanting a dog to sniff out drugs, but why would they need him for that? They’re dealers! They know where the drugs are, surely?’ I shook my head in frustration. ‘Nothing about this case makes any sense!’
Daniel leant back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head and sighed. ‘I was quite wrong about that. They didn’t want him for sniffing out drugs at all.’
‘Well? Were they going to enter him in a dog show? Don’t keep me in suspense!’
He shook his head. ‘Explosives. They knew Geordie was an army dog, and they think a rival gang intends to blow up their headquarters. They’ve done it before.’
I exhaled. ‘Well, that does make some sort of sense. Would it work?’
‘I don’t know. Army dogs don’t freelance, and the Petrosians won’t know any of the correct commands. If Geordie did detect explosives, he might let them know. Or he might not. Narek thinks they’re safe from being blown up. But they may not be.’
‘Oh, good. So we’re trying to burgle a house which may blow up. And did the Petrosians kill Philomela’s sister, or was that the opposition?’ Outrage was causing my voice to tremble.
He squeezed my hand briefly. ‘Narek says not, but I don’t know for sure. They may have. If they did, Narek wasn’t involved. He is just a small tropical fish in a think-tank of sharks. His uncle Tigran is the mastermind.’
‘All right.’ My wrath subsided, without disappearing. ‘So what time do you think? Late at night? Not too late, please, I have to bake in the morning.’
He patted my arm. ‘No. They’ll be more alert at night. Today’s going to be hot. I’d say mid-afternoon would be best.’
‘And what, if I may ask, is the plan? We drop in to a heavily guarded fortress, knock on the door and ask if we can have our doggie back?’
‘Well, no. But I did pay attention on my visits. These palatial dwellings all look very impressive from the street …’