Death of a Cuckoo by Wendy Percival

Author:Wendy Percival
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SilverWood Books
Published: 2017-03-17T16:27:51+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

The Collinses lived on a busy road opposite a playing field. As it was easier to identify the house on foot rather than while driving, I parked in a side street and walked back. I didn’t stop directly outside – far too conspicuous. Anyway, I needed to prepare myself. I carried on to the end of the street, pausing at the pedestrian crossing to take stock. A woman holding hands with two children, one either side, waited on the opposite pavement for the traffic to stop and then crossed. I busied myself with my phone until they’d passed and the lights had changed back to green. I was relieved when the woman turned away from the Collinses’ house, allowing me to retrace my steps to the street where I’d parked the car.

On the corner I stopped again. Now what? I could hardly repeatedly pace up and down the street without attracting attention. Either I had to go and knock on the door or get back in my car and drive away. I sighed, cursing myself for my indecision. OK, I decided. Go for it.

I took a deep breath and strode boldly towards Number 43. I had the house in my sights when the front door opened and a man came out – Mr Collins, I assumed. I slowed. Should I approach him or see if someone else was at home?

As Collins emerged onto the pavement, I saw he was accompanied by a black spaniel puppy. They turned right and headed for the crossing. I decided to follow.

As anticipated, Collins turned into the playing field. Around it ran a narrow tarmac park, creating a margin of grass and shrubs at the edge, interspersed with benches. My insides churned around alarmingly and my overwhelming instinct was to turn back and forget the whole idea. But angling a chance at conversation in these circumstances felt considerably more appealing than knocking on his front door so I continued to tag along behind him.

A short way along the path, he stopped and let the dog off its lead where it charged off across the field with unconcealed glee, his ears flapping against his head. Collins whistled and the dog made a wide about turn and bounded back for an affectionate pat from its owner before he game was repeated.

I reached Collins and stopped to watch the dog’s antics. ‘Clever,’ I said, smiling. ‘You don’t even need to throw anything,’

He looked round at me and laughed. ‘Just as well since I damaged my shoulder,’ he said, rubbing his upper arm. He was about my height, with thinning grey hair. Flecks of broken blood vessels across his cheeks gave his face a deep red tinge.

‘He’s obviously loving it. It is a he, is it?’

‘That’s right. Jasper.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Coming up nine months, now.’ Something about his manner changed, as though he’d been struck by his own words. He cleared his throat and added, ‘He was my son’s dog.’

I nodded. ‘Oh, I see.’ I wasn’t sure what to say.

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