The Woods of St Francis – 3

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” said Knowles, “you are even more pleased with yourself than normal, what’s causing the broad smile?”

“Good morning, sir, and good morning to you, DC Smythe. I haven’t become used to saying that, Linda, and congratulations once again on the promotion, it’s well deserved. As for smiling, sir, well it’s because you seemed so happy when I told you that Bingo hadn’t discovered the body.”

“It was relief more than anything.”

“He did save your life, sir, up at the Black Hill Hotel.”

“He did, you’re right, I should be more grateful. Anyway, I’ve a feeling you have more to say on the subject. Please continue.”

“Yes, I am not sure how to put this…a dog discovered the body.”

“What?”

Linda Smythe turned away and smiled. She knew her boss didn’t appreciate canines in the slightest.

“A dog discovered the body, and it’s a dog owned by Adelaide Hills.”

Knowles opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

“You mean she’s bought another dog? I presume Bingo’s OK? Is he?”

“Bingo is in fine form, sir, and has been training his accomplice.”

“Oh my lord, so what’s this dog called?”

Barnes laughed before saying, “It’s not much different from Bingo…the new dog’s called Banjo.”

“Banjo….Banjo, what’s with the names?”

“Banjo is a 2-year-old retriever obtained from the dog shelter in Scoresby as a Christmas present for Bingo. Mrs Hills thought Bingo needed some company, some social connectedness as she called it.”

“Right, well…well..well, Bingo and Banjo, short and snappy names I suppose. It means we have to go back to Goat Parva and see Adelaide once again in relation to a murder enquiry. I suppose Bingo will have to be out of the room whilst Banjo gives his story.”

“He will, sir, we must follow procedures. Anyway, please follow me to view the body of Andy Booth, a 70-year-old former waiter from this village. Let’s walk on the grass as there are some footprints on the path. They smacked him on the back of the head with a sharp object, a brick or large stone. The PCs are standing guard outside his cottage, so we can have a look later. He’d been in the Dog and Duck and was taken short on his way home, hence the willy hanging, or more accurately peeping, out of his trousers.”

“Really? It’s only fifty yards to the pub and their toilets are out the back in the beer garden, so he could have just run back there, though by the looks of him, that might have been too far. He’s overweight, even from this angle.”

“There might be another explanation,” said Smythe, “though looking at him, I doubt it.”

“And that is?” said Knowles.

“How do I put this,” said Smythe, “there might have been a lady involved.”