Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!. Louisa Bennet

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      Rose swallowed hard. Her career was about to end before it had even begun, because of one stupid mistake. Why-oh-why hadn’t she just picked up Monty and taken a bottle of plonk home with her instead?

      ‘How did he know you were a detective?’

      ‘When I went to the loo, I left my handbag behind. He must’ve gone through it and found my warrant card.’

      Leach raised surprisingly bushy eyebrows, given his scalp was so hairless. They reminded Rose of furry caterpillars on a white cabbage. ‘Never let your warrant card out of your sight, Sidebottom. This is your last chance.’

      ‘Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.’

      ‘Did he at least say anything that could help us find him?’

      ‘He was on the phone when I got back from the loo. He ended the call when he saw me, but I heard him say something about a shipment. That it had to be stopped. Then he made his excuses and left in a hurry. I didn’t put two and two together until Meg came over and gave me an ear-bashing.’

      Leach had his hands clasped together on the desk so tightly that his puffy knuckles turned purple.

      ‘So, the Super chews my ear off, Morgan wants you back on the beat, and God knows what your team will think of you. Great result!’ He threw his weight into the back of his chair. The bags under his eyes were darker and puffier than usual. She felt sorry for him. ‘If your colleagues don’t trust you, you’re no use to them or me. You need to fix this. Start by apologising to Morgan and don’t put a foot wrong on the Salt case, you hear?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      Leach placed his hands behind his head and studied her flushed face.

      ‘Rose, are you sure you really want to do this job?’ His voice had softened. ‘We get to see people at their worst. Doing terrible things. Murder, torture, abuse. It’s long hours, the public and the media generally hate us, and it’s hard on relationships.’

      Rose glanced at his ring finger where a wedding band had once been, leaving a permanent dent in his pudgy skin.

      ‘Yes, sir.’ She looked straight into his eyes. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a detective.’

      Leach tilted his head to one side. ‘God, you remind me of Kay when she was your age. Stubborn and naïve.’ He smiled, which was rare and therefore unnerving. His teeth were surprisingly small for such a large head. Like baby teeth. ‘She found it tough going at first, you know. She was sensitive, found the blood and guts hard to deal with. But she was dogged. Wouldn’t give up. Became the best DI I’ve ever known.’

      ‘I want to be like Kay, sir. I know I can do it.’

      Leach nodded as he stood. ‘Maybe. But this is a big cock-up, Rose. I’m increasing your supervision and assigning you to an experienced DI …’

      Opening his office door, Leach beckoned Dave Pearl inside.

      A slick dresser, fancied by most of the female officers and popular with the lads, he sauntered into the office as if it were his own.

      ‘Dave is your new mentor.’

      Just when Rose thought it couldn’t get any worse, it just did. Dave’s tanned forehead creased into a frown as his eyes, the colour of tarnished silver, looked down at her with contempt.

      ‘All right with you, Dave?’ asked Leach.

      When Pearl realised he was being watched, he produced an affable smile. ‘Of course, boss.’

      ‘You do what Dave asks and nothing more, you got that?’ said Leach, picking up his coat. ‘Right, I’m off.’

      He strode out, leaving Rose alone with Pearl. Pearl’s smile vanished.

      ‘Well, well, so the chosen one’s fallen from grace,’ he mocked.

      Despite being almost a foot shorter, she squared up to him. ‘Guv, I’m very sorry about what’s happened and I’m going to work extra hard on the Salt case. I know I’ve got a lot to do to win back people’s respect.’

      He shook his head. ‘You know, I just don’t think it’s going to be that easy. I mean, who’s going to want to work with you after this?’

      ‘If you give me a chance, the others will follow, sir.’

      Pearl leaned closer. ‘You’re not up to the job. Never were.’

      ‘I know what this is really about. Just because I didn’t want to go for a drink with you …’

      ‘You’ve got it all wrong, lady. Why would I want to go out with someone who drops her knickers for a drugs trafficker?’

      She balled her hand into a fist but punching him would instantly end her career.

      ‘How dare you!’

      ‘Just because you’re Kay Lloyd’s niece, doesn’t mean you’ve got any talent. Remember that.’

       Chapter Three

      Rose left me in the kitchen with a water bowl and a promise she wouldn’t be long. She kept her promise, but the yelling man has upset her: Rose hangs her head like a dog that’s been scolded. I nudge her leg and lean against her, wagging my tail in support. She bends down, taking me in a hug.

      ‘What a mess!’ she sighs into my fur.

      Mess? From under her armpit I look around the kitchen. It’s not that much of a mess and I’ve already tidied up a Marmite-coated crust I found under the table earlier. In the sink are some Chinese take-away food cartons that, thankfully, haven’t been washed and could do with a good licking. I’m happy to oblige, all in the name of orderliness, naturally. Sadly, there’s not a whiff of McDonald’s – my absolute favourite. Every dog’s absolute favourite, truth be told. I just wish McDonald’s would sell doggie-burgers, or better still, open up separate doggie cafés. How about Big Barker burgers, Woofer Wraps and Puppyccinos? Oh dear, I’m salivating at the thought, all over Rose’s shoes.

      ‘Let’s get you fed,’ she says.

      She sounds chipper, but her anxiety thrums like a dragonfly’s wings.

      From a bag, she pulls out some dog food tins. How do I know they’re for me? They have an ecstatic Labrador on the label, that’s how! They only grin like that when there’s food in the offing. When Rose opens a cupboard door, I smell wafts of joyful laughter, roses, ripe tomatoes and rich earthy smells. I wonder if this might have been Aunt Kay, as her scent is faint, and scents fade with time. However, the kitchen’s surfaces hold a lot of stories. From the scratched skirting boards I pick up a whiff of Legless the Dachshund, mostly washed away after many years of mopping. A farmhouse oak table has deep gouges and is marked with ink, from a time when this house was full of children. The only thing that seems new is the washing machine that’s winking its red light, stuffed full of clean washing waiting to be hung up to dry.

      ‘How СКАЧАТЬ