Page 24 of The Attercop

“It seems like a lot, but okay.”

“Any questions?” Declan asked.

“Nope.”

Charlie and Declan walked Jules to the front door. The dog followed at Charlie’s heels.

“Mrs B,” Charlie said, “would you send George Slate a standard contract for the monitoring and protection of his daughter. I’ll provide you a report on what was discussed and agreed upon at the meeting. Just attach it to the contract.”

Mrs B smiled and nodded.

“Once your dad has signed the contract,” Declan said to Jules, “Charlie will do his thing. Until then, if you have any problems or questions call either of us, or Mrs B here, and we’ll be there for you.”

Declan grabbed two business cards from the holder on Mrs B’s desk and handed them to Jules.

“In the meantime,” Declan said, “it would probably be to your advantage to stay out of the public eye as much as possible.”

Charlie added, “You don’t want a perfectly good watchdog, do you?” The dog leaned up against his leg, barked, then trotted into Charlie’s office.

“That’s okay. I have my fill of doggy love from the vet clinic I volunteer at,” Jules said. “So, I guess I’ll see you around. Or at least find you lurking about in the shadows, waiting to save me.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Charlie replied.

After she left, Charlie turned to Declan. “Do we even have such a thing as a standard contract for monitoring and protection?”

“I guess we will now.” Declan laughed.

“I’ll get onto that report for you, Mrs B,” Charlie said, heading to his office. He found the dog standing on top of his desk. “Get out of here!” he yelled, but the dog stayed where it was. Charlie sighed, shifted the dog to the floor and started his paperwork. He’d deal with the mutt later.

Chapter Twelve

Mrs B began typing.

Dear Mr Slate,

At a meeting with your daughter, Jules, this morning, it was agreed that Declan Hunt Investigations—

She was interrupted by the sound of a chair hitting the wall, and what she guessed was a young detective falling into a garbage can.

“Get out!” Charlie yelled. The dog raced out of his office, its claws click-clacking on the wooden floor, as it sought refuge under Mrs B’s chair.

Declan stepped into the main room and called out to Charlie. “When you’re done with playtime, I need you. I just got a call from Mickey and he’s found the CCTV footage from the night Angel was attacked. He wants us to come over to the bar and have a look at it.”

Charlie walked out of his office, plucking a piece of a banana peel off his shoulder. As he caught up to Declan near the main door, he pointed at the dog, looked over to Mrs B and said, “Good luck with that one.”

“He’s just lonely,” she said. “Maybe when you leave, he’ll follow you and sense his way home.”

Declan opened the door and motioned for the dog to follow, but it gave no indication that it was willing to go.

“Never mind,” she said, patiently. “I’ll deal with him. In the meantime, I’ll finish sending the contract to Mr Slate.”

“Thank you, Mrs B,” Declan said as he gently closed the front door.

She looked down at the dog. “Oh, you are a trouble maker, aren’t you?” She gave him a scrub behind the ears and pondered what to do about him. In time, he’d probably get hungry enough to find his way back to his home and supper. Until then, there was no harm in letting the dog rest in the cool office for a few more hours.

Mrs B completed typing out the contract and pressed send. She forwarded the invoices for the firm’s other clients to their accountant, Mr Attwal, and tidied up her desk. The dog had fallen asleep at her feet. She decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet of the empty office, making herself a cup of coffee and taking it over to the couch. Mrs B glanced at the coffee table and realised that she hadn’t even had time to browse through the magazines that Charlie had picked up for her.

As she sipped her coffee and flipped through the pages ofMountain Leisure, the dog sidled up to her.