Imposture (DI Gardener 6)

“Terrible, terrible business, but you shouldn’t work yourself up, Alan. I mean this in the nicest possible way but I suspect your army days are well behind you,” said Wendy. “Anyway, I shan’t keep you any longer. I’ve walked Pouch and I think we’re both ready for a hot drink and a few biscuits.”

Both of them glanced over at their dogs but only Pouch was sitting on the grass verge in front of the electric box.

Braithwaite turned his head in all directions but he saw nothing of Spike.

“You didn’t see him wander off, did you?” he asked Wendy.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Spike!”

Pouch stared at both of them but if Spike was around he wasn’t letting on.

“He can’t be far away,” said Wendy. “I’ll help you look for him.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, love, it’s bitterly cold.”

“We’ve been out half an hour already, a few more minutes isn’t going to make much difference.”

“Spike!”

Pouch lifted himself to his feet and wandered closer. Wendy Higgins placed his lead back onto his collar, as if something bad had happened to Spike and she didn’t want Pouch going the same way, wherever that was.

Braithwaite stared beyond the electric box at the overgrown field. “He can only be in there, surely.”

“You go and have a look and I’ll try around here.”

Braithwaite nodded. He scurried to the fence, standing on the first rung, gaining some height. Peering into the field wasn’t helping. The grass was way overgrown and even if Spike was in there he wouldn’t see him.

But then he heard a growl.

He turned back, shouting to his friend.

Wendy and Pouch came over.

“I think he’s in there. I’ve just heard him growling.”

“Is he okay?”

Braithwaite yelled a couple more times with no luck. On the third shout, the dog barked. He climbed the fence, dropped into the field, where the grass reached up to his waist.

“Careful, Alan, you don’t know what’s in there.”

“I know Spike is.”

“Yes, but we don’t know what else.”

Braithwaite decided to risk it on the basis that Spike didn’t sound hurt. He continued to call the dog’s name, hoping it would carry on barking.

Within minutes he found the terrier sitting in front of an expensive brown leather attaché case. The steel locks were tarnished and the grainy exterior was ravaged, indicating it had been in the field for some time; nothing a decent clean wouldn’t put right.

Braithwaite bent down to retrieve the case, wondering where it had come from? He couldn’t open it because the latches would require the correct numbers. Apart from that it had a set of tumblers that needed keys. If they were anywhere around here he wasn’t going to look for them, he’d freeze to death.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said to Spike.

He found Wendy Higgins waiting for him when he reached the edge of the field.

“Everything okay?” she asked.