A Small Hill to Die On: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (19 page)

“They’re not my lot! I’ve lived here so long I barely think of myself as Canadian. I don’t know what I am, anymore.” She gazed out the window as grey rocks and woodland flew by.

“And Ashlee,” she said a few minutes later. “Any news on that investigation?”

“Well, we have the DNA results on the fetus. The father isn’t someone we have on record. But the blood in the strong room was hers. You were right about that. Something very bad did happen there.”

He threw her a quick glance and then reached over for her hand. “I’m just so glad that two very bad things didn’t happen there.”

They drove on in silence for a few more kilometres, then Davies slowed down as he turned off the Betws Road, and they crossed the Waterloo Bridge and entered the town.

With its perfectly scenic location at the confluence of three rivers and three forested valleys at the edge of Snowdonia National Park, the town bustled from early spring to late fall with cyclists, climbers, hikers, tourists, and sightseers. In winter, the town was eerily quiet and locals were left to themselves. Passing a couple of grey stone hotels, they drove along beside the river until they reached the sign that marked the entrance to a Victorian guesthouse.

“Here we go,” said Penny, peering up at the grey gables through the slightly misted car window. The sound of the ringing doorbell triggered loud, deep barking from somewhere in the depths of the house. A few moments later, they heard the sound of approaching footsteps, accompanied by a man’s voice saying, “All right then, Hugo, settle down,” and then the door swung open, revealing a stocky, middle-aged man dressed in an old-fashioned pair of grey flannel trousers, a white shirt, green cardigan, and a striped tie. A handsome dog, its front paw wrapped in bright pink surgical bandage, which contrasted beautifully with its curly, black fur, waited beside him, panting and sizing up the visitors with expressive eyes.

“Good afternoon. May I help you?”

“I hope so,” said Davies. “We’ve not come about accommodation, but we’ve come about a dog.”

The man’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to one side as he echoed, “A dog? What about a dog?”

Davies explained the situation of stolen dogs and waited for the man to respond.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you. We do have a dog, but as you can see, he doesn’t fit your description.”

“Right,” said Davies. “Do you know anyone who has recently acquired a cairn terrier?”

The man pursed his lips and shook his head.

“No, sorry, can’t say as I do.”

They thanked him and returned to the car. After four more tries, they had reached the end of the guesthouses on the list Bethan had given them, with no luck.

“How would you feel about having dinner before we head back to Llanelen?” Davies asked. “I know it’s early, but the Royal Oak does a nice roast chicken. Might really hit the spot for dinner tonight.”

“I am getting hungry,” Penny agreed, “but I’m so disappointed we weren’t able to find Robbie. I really thought we might.”

“I know, love, but we’ll keep looking.”

They strolled along to the hotel and entered its comfortable reception area. A sign in front of the dining room giving the hours of dinner service let them know they had arrived about half an hour too early.

“Should we have a drink at the bar while we wait?” Davies asked.

“I think I’d rather have a glass of wine with dinner,” replied Penny. “How about a walk down by the river and perhaps along the boardwalk before it gets dark?”

“Sounds good.” Davies smiled as he held the door open for her. They crossed the street and made their way across the bridge that spanned the Llugwy River with its jagged rocks and churning water until they came to the raised boardwalk that meandered under the trees and sometimes even around them.

The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the trees, creating cascades of muted light and shadow.

“The days are getting noticeably longer now,” Davies observed, glancing upward at the boughs of evergreens shifting slightly in the wind.

“Hmm,” said Penny as she prepared to step to one side to let a woman walking two dogs pass.

Dressed in a burgundy coat, the woman, who appeared to be in her sixties, gave Penny a quick smile and then stopped in front of her, speaking to one of her dogs that had stopped to sniff a sandwich wrapper. “Come on, Pip, leave it. We don’t want to be late.”

“Hello,” said Penny, before bending down to give the dogs a pat. She straightened up and then spoke to the woman. “I wonder if you can help us. We’re looking for someone walking a dog that looks like this and wondered if you might have seen them out and about.” Penny showed her the photo of Robbie. “But I think from your accent you might be an American, so perhaps you…”

“No, I live here,” the woman said. “Well, in Conwy. My husband’s Welsh. We’ve just been having an afternoon out.” She looked at the photo and then gestured back the way she had come.

“A woman passed me about five minutes ago with a dog that looked a lot like that. A cairn terrier, is it? He was wearing a little red coat.” She smiled. “Or she. I just think of dogs as male because mine are.” A worried frown crossed her kind face. “Not lost, I hope?”

Davies and Penny exchanged quick glances. “Maybe if we hurry, we can catch her up,” Penny said.

“You may not have to chase after her,” the woman said, “because the boardwalk ends and she’ll have to come back this way.” She shrugged. “It’s a pleasant walk, but it doesn’t really go anywhere. Well, there is a footpath that continues after the boardwalk ends, but it goes through a sheep pasture and is bound to be terribly muddy at this time of year, so I doubt she’d go there.”

“So you think if we…”

“Well, you could walk on a bit and you’ll meet her coming back that much sooner, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” said Penny. “You’ve been really helpful.” She bent down again to give the other dog a pat. “And who’s this?”

“That’s Jocan. He’s part corgi, we think.”

They exchanged good-byes and the woman turned to go, with an encouraging, “Come on, boys, time to go home.” She met her husband in the car park, and as they were putting the dogs in the car the woman remarked, “I met a Canadian woman looking for a lost dog. You can always tell a Canadian by the way they say ‘about.’”

As she settled herself in the passenger side, her husband asked, “Well, I hope they find the dog. Now, then, Sylvia, what should we do about dinner?”

As the American woman had predicted, a few minutes later a woman leading a small dog came into view on the boardwalk. Penny clutched Davies’ arm and then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement, which she realized was him reaching into his breast pocket. As she approached Penny and Davies, the woman walked a little faster. She kept her head down and did not look at them, and then just as she was about to pass them, with a quick, unexpected movement, Davies blocked her path.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, holding up his warrant card. “I’d like to talk to you about that dog. We have reason to believe it was stolen.”

A fake smile slid across the woman’s lips.

“Nonsense. Now let me pass.”

“Can you tell me where you got the dog, please?”

“No, I don’t have to speak to you.”

“Very well, then. If you’d rather, we can continue this conversation at the police station in Llanelen. Or you can answer my questions now.”

She gave him a defiant look, but a few moments later her shoulders sank and she glanced down at the dog, who was wagging his tail with excitement while Penny stroked him.

“I didn’t steal the dog. We paid good money for him.”

“Did you get him from a couple of lads in Llanelen?”

The woman said nothing, so Davies repeated the question and added, “And if you did, would you describe them, please.”

Accepting that her best bet now was cooperation, the woman sighed.

“Well, there were two of them. Our other dog is getting on a bit, and we thought we’d like to get a younger dog but not a puppy. And then we saw an advert for a terrier on one of those Web sites, you know, where people buy and sell stuff. So we contacted the seller.”

“How did you contact him?” Davies interrupted.

“By phone. There was a phone number in the ad, so we rang the number and arranged to meet at the cricket ground. He said to bring a hundred pounds in cash, and if we liked the dog we could take him home with us—and that’s what happened.”

“Tell me about the boys.”

“They were young teenagers, one a bit older than the other. Chinese, he looked like. Or Korean, maybe? I don’t know. I hate to sound racist, but those people all look alike to me. I can’t tell the difference.”

“I don’t suppose they gave you a receipt or anything in writing to prove you paid for the dog?” The woman shook her head. “No,” said Davies. “I thought not.” Penny, who had been stroking the dog, gave him one last pat and stood up.

“Ma’am, we’re going to take this dog to a vet,” Davies said. “The dog we’re looking for is microchipped. If this is the dog we think it is, you’ll not be seeing him again. If it isn’t the dog, we will continue our investigation. Now, may I have your address, please?”

As she gave her address, Davies’ expression tightened. “We spoke to your husband earlier and inquired about this dog. Lying to the police is a serious offence, and he can expect a visit from a police officer to discuss that. But in the meantime, as I said, we’re going to get this dog checked.”

Penny glared at her. “How could you take a beautiful dog off a couple of lads and not know the dog had been stolen?” she demanded. “Where did they tell you they got it? What kind of story did they tell you?”

“I don’t think I’m going to say anything unless I have a solicitor present,” the woman said, as tears filled her eyes. “Can I say good-bye to him? We haven’t had him very long, but I’ve become so fond of him. I bought that coat for him. He’s a lovely wee boy.”

“His real owners, who are missing him terribly, also think he’s a lovely wee boy,” Penny couldn’t resist saying.

Davies held his hand out to the woman, and with obvious reluctance she placed the dog’s lead in it. As he handed the lead to Penny, he gave the woman a brief, tight nod. “You may go now. But do tell your husband to expect a visit. Lying to a police officer wastes time and in serious cases can put people in harm’s way. We take a dim view of it. And the officer will want to know where you got the black dog, so if you’ve got papers or a bill of sale for him, best dig it out.”

When the woman had taken a few steps, he placed a call. He listened for a moment, then rang off. “They’re making arrangements for Jones the vet to meet us at the surgery in an hour.”

He put a sheltering arm around Penny, and as the light began to fade and the first faint splashes of pink began to streak across the evening sky, they walked slowly to his car. He settled Penny and her precious bundle into the backseat beside Trixxi, and with one last glance to make sure they were all sorted, he climbed into the driver’s seat.

The pale pink darkened into a deep rosy glow, and dark shadows began to engulf the scenery around them.

*   *   *

Jones the vet ran a handheld scanner over the dog’s back. “This dog has been microchipped, so that’s a good thing,” he said, as a number came up. He entered the number into a database as Penny held her hand over her mouth. Jones gave the dog a little pat and smiled.

“Just as I thought,” he said. “This charming character is registered to the rector, but I suspect it’s really Bronwyn who owns him,” he confirmed. “This is Robbie.” A little sob caught in Penny’s throat as Davies put his arm around her.

*   *   *

Penny cradled Robbie in her arms, rubbing her chin on his head, as Davies knocked on the rectory door. They grinned at each other, and their smiles widened as footsteps approached. A moment later, Bronwyn opened the door, and seeing the precious bundle in Penny’s arms, she gave a little yelp and reached for him. She buried her face in his fur, and then, her eyes glistening, she gestured to the two to come in. She set Robbie down on the hall carpet and called for her husband.

“Thomas, come here at once! It’s our Robbie. Penny’s brought him home!”

As Robbie trotted off down the hall toward the kitchen, the rector rushed down the hall from his study, buttoning his cardigan.

Thirty-eight

“Run that by me again, Penny.” The two business partners had worked late, poring over the end-of-the-month accounts, and decided to stop in the local pub, the Leek and Lily, on the way home.

“I can’t see how the grow op and the dog thefts are connected to Ashlee’s murder, can you? But everything happened at the Hall, within the same family, so there has to be something.”

Victoria was about to speak and then tilted her head. “What’s that?”

“Sounds like someone shouting.”

As they rounded the corner into the town square, two men came spilling out of the pub. The larger man drew his fist back and smashed the smaller one square in the face. As his victim’s hands covered his gushing nose, the larger man shouted at him, “I catch you sniffing around my wife again, you bleedin’ sod, I’ll swing for you.”

Other men from the pub had now caught up with them and, pinning the larger man by his arms, pulled him back. “Come on, now, Glyn,” one of them said, “let’s be having you. Any more of this and the cops’ll be here. He’s not worth it. Leave him be.”

With one last glare over his shoulder, and muttering vague threats as he went, Glyn and his supporters disappeared back into the pub, leaving their victim standing unsteadily looking about. He leaned against the building and closed his eyes.

Penny reached into her handbag and pulled out a packet of tissues as the two women crossed the street.

“Here.” Penny held out a few tissues. “They’re clean,” she added as he opened his eyes. “Oh, right. Cheers.” He wiped his bloodied nose. “Hello, ladies. Ta very much.” He brightened. “Two lovely ladies to the rescue.” His eyes swept up and down Victoria, lingering for a moment, and then moved on to Penny.

“So what was that all about, then?” she asked.

“Oh, he thinks I’ve been eyeing up his missus. As if! Spent all her time in that tanning place while it was open. Tanning! Tannery, more like. Got an orange hide on her like a cheap handbag.”