Chapter Thirty-Three
What seemed like fifty hours later, Love finally pulled into Gaisford Street.
His mind was already beginning to work overtime.
All the questions he wanted to ask Heinrich the following day were flicking through his mind like a… just like a… he shook his head. He couldn’t think of a suitable simile not that he was bothered.
He had more important things on his mind to care about.
He swung over to a free space on the opposite side to his flat. He got out of the car, he looked down, pointed the key, the car bleeped and clunked. He glanced up. A couple further down the road on the corner had caught his attention. They were chatting together, laughing, crossing the road possibly to go into the Lion & Unicorn. Friendly sort. The pub and the couple. Love knew the young man and woman on nodding and brief exchange terms.
He looked up at his flat. A breeze rustled in the trees. The sound of traffic filtered through to where he was standing. He glanced at his Timex. The luminescent hands read 18:53 hours. Julie would need taking out. And he needed a strong drink, the company of a good woman and a cigarette.
Isn’t this where he came in?
He’d settle for a strong cup of tea, the company of a good dog and as for the cigarette? That was the one thing he could accommodate.
He crossed the road and walked down the path, opened the main door, flicked the light switch and proceeded up the stairs. The bulb’s soft glow gave the hallway and staircase an old romantic glow. Ghosts of the past. Shabbily chic but gentile. It was quiet. The only sound was Love taking the stairs two at a time. He reached his landing and walked across the beautiful old Victorian tiles. He approached his door, key in his hand.
And that’s when he sensed it.
Something was wrong.
He acknowledged an unknown energy and his gut wrenched. This wasn’t how he’d left his apartment earlier that afternoon. Something was different. He felt it with every fibre of his being.
Slowly, he pushed his hand inside his jacket, pulled out his gun, flicked the safety catch, put the key in the lock and turned it, pushed the door open. He waited and listened. He slipped inside keeping his back against the wall as he edged towards the archway into the living area.
He heard a muffled noise. His hand reached round the corner he flicked the light switch on the wall ducked down and rolled into the room ending up with his back against the sofa. He swung round, gun pointing in front of him. He cleared the room and the kitchen beyond.
He rose to his feet, edged along until he came to the door of the bathroom nudged it open gun at the ready, cleared it, which left only his bedroom.
He pushed the door open with his foot, flicked the light switch, rolled into the room, quick as a flash he dropped to his knees pointing his gun into the face of a dog looking very satisfied with herself.
There in front of him was Julie. And she wasn’t alone. Love looked on in astonishment. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Wriggling and pushing with their paws to get to the milk bar were three tiny tan and black puppies.
He stood up, flicked the safety catch, walked over to the wardrobe and stowed his gun. He shrugged off his holster, chucked it on the chair and walked back to Julie.
‘You, madam, are one amazing dog.’
He grinned as he gazed down at the fat bundles, squeaking and making that endearing noise only puppies seem able to do. He sat down carefully on the edge of his bed. ‘Is this your way of giving me an early Christmas present?’ he said. ‘Giving birth on my bed?’
He laughed as he stroked her soft head. She moved her paw in Love’s direction. He picked it up and held it in his hand. ‘Aren’t you a clever girl?’ He glanced at the blood and afterbirth covering his brown faux fur throw. He was philosophical about it. He guessed Julie had got herself a new bedcover along with three new puppies.
‘Just don’t expect me to use your pink duvet thing in return,’ he said, and smiled. ‘It’s not my colour.’
Love stroked her head and watched as the three figures pushed with their paws against Julie’s tummy like they were kneading bread.
He could already tell they had their mother’s distinctive good looks and markings in the shape of her face and tan-coloured coat. And he couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the telltale black markings, snub noses, and indications of what would eventually be large feet such as those belonging to a Rottweiler.
Good old Jake, now there’s a surprise.
Well, he guessed he’d put a call through to Esther and if not this evening time enough tomorrow or even Monday.
He took another peep at the puppies lying on his bed. Julie had produced two bitches and a dog which left him with one dilemma.
Which one did he get to keep, if any?
He figured the sensible thing to do would be to keep a close eye on the situation and check out if any of them seemed to favour either him or Julie or if Julie herself showed a preference, although, as he stroked the soft silky back of one of the bitches he reckoned he’d already made up his mind.
‘Come on, Julie,’ he said.
At the sound of her name, Julie lifted her handsome head from her prostrate position on the bed.
‘I know you don’t want to leave your puppies but you have to go outside and do your business.’
She flopped her head back down on the bed with a sigh.
‘Come on, girl,’ Love said. ‘We’ll be quick.’
She didn’t move. Loyal mother to the end. Love smiled as he leant over and gently pulled a puppy away from its milk bar. It gave a loud squeal of protest causing Julie to whip her head round in alarm.
‘It’s all right, girl, no need to panic.’ The puppy started to whimper, Julie whimpered in return, and Love simply groaned.
He placed the little creature to one side where it began to scramble blindly wriggling away with its legs outstretched like it was swimming underwater. Gently he pulled the next one, hugged it close to his body, grabbed “Mark Spitz” and strode into the lounge where with infinite care he placed them both down on Julie’s princess bed cover.
He ran back to collect the third puppy only to find Julie standing on his bed sniffing the air and looking most concerned. He grabbed the protesting creature, told Julie to get down which she did, pulled the throw from his bed, ran back into the lounge, faux fur throw under one arm puppy under the other and promptly deposited the dog on the head of Cinderella.
He then strode into the bathroom where he removed the afterbirth, mopped up the small amount of blood, folded the throw in half so the clean side was face up and hurried back into the lounge to where Julie was about to settle down on her bed.
‘Not so fast,’ Love murmured as he whipped up all three puppies in his arms placed them on the floor where Julie began to lick them, arranged the throw on Julie’s bed and deposited the puppies on top. They appeared to settle down once they smelt their familiar scent on the cover.
‘Right,’ he said to Julie. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
Love walked into the hall grabbed Julie’s lead from where it was hanging by the front door, jingled it, which usually resulted in Julie running round the corner on two legs eagerly awaiting her walk. Nothing happened. Love popped his head round the corner to see Julie looking back at him.
Love nodded, walked over to her, picked her up, walked to the front door and opened it, placed her down on the landing outside, attached her lead, picked her up again and walked with her in his arms down the stairs and outside.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘We walk, we’ll make it a quick one to the corner, do our business, and the sooner we do that the quicker we can get back to the puppies.’ He grinned down at her and ruffled her ear. ‘All right, sweetheart?’
Julie appeared to understand when a moment later she positively ran down the road where Gaisford met with Hammond, on the corner of which a convenient tree with a surrounding dirt area sufficed for Julie to do what she had to do. Love took Julie t
here on the odd occasion when she needed to stretch her legs but time was short. Love cleared it up and a minute later they were walking back up the stairs and into the flat. Love bent down to let Julie off the lead. She almost catapulted to the other side of the room to where her puppies were waiting.
Moments later, she snuggled down. She was happy, the puppies were happy, and Love was exhausted. He figured chasing criminals was far less tiring than looking after newborn puppies and their assertive mother.
Love spooned some meat into Julie’s bowl gave her some fresh water and looked about him.
She’d get round to eating something later, he reckoned, and if not, to tempt her he’d cook that fresh meat he’d bought earlier.
He ran his hands through his dark blond hair and sighed. He could do with a shower. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It read 19:32 hours. He walked back into his bedroom. In one swift movement he knelt down, his hands reaching for the laces of his chukka boots, a great pair of shoes, Anatomic & Co from Arthur Knight, costing £114.95. A pair of stylish and fashionable shoes that would last for years. Super quality and elegant footwear with a flexible rubber gel insert and antibacterial sheepskin lining - all handcrafted by experts.
They could have been made with Love, or Stuart, in mind.
Perfect for the man doing a lot of walking, tracking, chasing criminals, chasing puppies, on his feet a lot, but didn’t like to compromise on style or quality.
He whipped off his black socks, one hundred per cent cotton. He undid the tiny black cufflink-like buttons, lifted his arms and leant over, his muscles rippling as he pulled off his M&S pure cotton shirt with double cuff and threw it in the wicker wash basket tucked away in the corner of his room.
His hands moved down to his waist where he undid the button, pulled down the zip, and slid out of his black cotton twill skinny fit chino trousers. Quality, sexy, Burberry at £150.00. He folded them and laid them on the back of the chair.
Standing only in his underpants he walked to the window, reached up and closed the wooden venetian blind. He turned round placed his hands on his hips gripped the waistband tightly in his fingers and peeled off his snug-fitting black Doreanse boxer briefs in a cotton modal-mix, smooth, stretchy and soft, plush double layered pouch, velvety interior seams, an elasticated waistband with Doreanse in oversize written in grey. He eased them down over his crotch, his muscular thighs, knees and finally his ankles. Picked them up and threw them in the basket with one swift movement. He strolled naked over to the other side of the room, shrugged into a dark blue towelling bathrobe hanging on the back of his door, slipped on a pair of Muppet slippers complete with a picture of Animal with the caption above his wild-looking face saying “100% ANIMAL”.
Last year’s Christmas present from Fitch. In return, Love had given him a copy of The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio.
He padded silently into the lounge and through into the kitchen. Flicked the switch for the kettle, reached in his pocket pulled out a pack of cigarettes, put one in his mouth, grabbed a box of matches from the other pocket, struck the match, the flame fired and he held it to his face, the glow from the fire echoing and dancing in his dark blue eyes, inhaled deeply, shook the match.
As Love waited for the kettle to boil he leant against the worktop smoking his cigarette. Thinking, contemplating. He took another drag. He pulled the smoke deep into his lungs held it there letting it escape in wisps and swirls from his nose. He opened his mouth, exhaled the rest and at that moment, his telephone rang. Love strode into the lounge and over to his desk.
‘Dick Love.’
‘Love,’ said a well spoken voice.
‘Yes, sir,’ Love said. He leant forward, placed his cigarette in the blue pottery ashtray in front of him. ‘I take it you’ve heard?’
‘I have indeed,’ Sir George replied. ‘Good work, Love.’
‘Thank you, sir, but it was a team effort.’
‘I appreciate that,’ he said. ‘I tried ringing Le Fanu but there was no answer from either his home phone or mobile.’
‘No, I imagine there wouldn’t be,’ Love said. He explained what had occurred and that hopefully Stuart was now being well taken care of courtesy of the Savoy.
‘I see,’ Sir Charles said. ‘I don’t expect to see him tomorrow would you pass that on.’
‘I’d be happy to but I doubt he’ll take any notice.’ Love smiled. ‘I did call you right after the event but your wife said you were out at Sunninghill,’ he paused, ‘get a good round in, sir?’
‘One of the best,’ he said. ‘Good day had by all, I’d say.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Keep me posted, Love.’
‘No problem, sir, thank you for calling.’
The line went dead as Love still held the receiver. He smiled as he replaced it on the chalk white base, picked up his cigarette, walked back into the kitchen and made himself a strong cup of coffee.
He was celebrating.