Page 8 of Secrets of the Frostbound Cottage

I tucked in my chin and covered my head with my arm just in case something went wrong, then leapt and landed with a solid thunk that jarred straight up to my molars. Not exactly graceful, but hey, I didn’t break anything. Deducting some points for style, I gave myself a 6.5.

I straightened, only to find dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me. It was like being judged by an audience of fluffy critics.

The caged black-and-white dog closest to me cocked its head, clearly unimpressed by my entrance. ‘Well, excuse me, Lassie,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘Next time, I’ll bring a smoke machine.’

A quick glance told me that none of these dogs were BonBon, not the black-and-white beast in front of me, nor the shaggy one with the soulful, weepy eyes, nor the tiny black scrapper in the corner who looked like he could bite my ankle clean off.

There were alotof dogs here and I needed to find the one I’d come for; hopefully the police would take care of the rest of them. I started forward into the darkness and prayed that BonBon was among this motley canine crew.

Chapter Six

‘BonBon!’ My voice was barely more than a whisper.

The last thing I wanted was to draw anyone’s attention because I suspected the people running this operation weren’t the shiniest of crystal balls. They were housing stolen dogs in central London, which was not a particularly bright idea; why not add a giant sign outside that said ‘DODGY BUSINESS HAPPENING HERE’? If they’d had any sense, they’d have rented a quiet suburban home where barking wouldn’t have raised a single eyebrow.

As I crept forward, the first thing that hit me besides the urge to start lecturing the masterminds behind this operation was the stench. Sweet Merlin’s socks, it wasawful. The acrid tang of urine and faeces filled the air, and I had to cover my nose with my jacket sleeve to avoid gagging. Whoever had left these dogs in here clearly had no interest in basic hygiene – or basic humanity.

By the looks of things, some of the dogs had been there for days and clearly had no choice but to foul their cages. Whoeverhad done this was absolute scum and they deserved a significant punishment. If I got my hands on them, I’d happily deliver it.

Thinking of the beasts responsible for these poor animals reminded me that the door was bolted from the inside. The person who’d put the dogs in here had either locked it and gone out another way … or they werestill in here with me.

Terrific. What was a rescue mission without the thrilling possibility of a surprise confrontation?

As I approached the back wall of the warehouse where there was another row of kennels, a sudden banging on the bolted warehouse door startled me.

‘Police! Open up!’ Damn it, they’d arrived sooner than Dean had thought – his timing was clearly about as reliable as his dodgy knee.

I froze as I debated my next move. I hadn’t seen anyone in the warehouse but that didn’t mean the place was empty; also, depending on which police officers were on the other side of the door, I could be in real trouble. No doubt Dean would smooth it over for me but that would take time, time that Orla’s parents didn’t have.

As I debated my options, I turned back to the rows of cages – and then I saw him. Quiet amidst the chaos, not barking like the other dogs, BonBon was cowering at the back of his cage, his paws covering his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to see what was about to happen.

I couldn’t see the ruby-studded collar Rowena had described but it didn’t matter; I knew without a doubt that this was her beloved BonBon.

The police pounded on the door again. ‘Open up! This is your last warning.’

I grimaced. They were coming through that door whether I let them in or not. Either I helped them, or I appeared to be part of this whole mess. But at least I’d located BonBon. I wasn’t goingto waste time hiding until the police left so I had no option but to open the door and hope for a friendly face.

I went over and unbolted it. Private investigators don’t carry an official form of ID but I reached for my business card and prepared to explain myself. When I pushed open the door, I realised that wouldn’t be necessary. ‘Beatrix?’ a familiar voice said.

‘Gazza?’ I grinned at him as relief washed over me.

London is truly massive but, whether through fate or because I work far too much, I’d come to know a fair number of the local constabulary, and that included the kindly officer before me. Gazza was a short, bald Scotsman who liked to show me photos of his grandchildren at every opportunity. He was a good, solid cop and the chances were he’d let me take BonBon and leave.

Behind him stood a younger officer I also recognised: Tanya. She was relatively new to the force but she seemed competent and kind, although tonight she was hanging back a little and looking unusually nervous.

‘What’ve you got Beatrix?’ she asked, her voice tight. She peered past Gazza. ‘Is anyone in the building?’

‘Not that I’ve seen,’ I replied carefully. I didn’t say no outright. Assuming the place was empty could lead to someone letting their guard down, and that wasn’t what you wanted in situations like this. ‘I only just got in myself.’

‘That’s a lot of dogs.’ Gazza’s tone matched Tanya’s in nervousness and his hand was twitching slightly. ‘You working a case?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah, a missing Schnoodle-Bon.’

‘A what?’

‘A real fancy mutt,’ I said with a wry smile. ‘And happily, I think I’ve found him. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take him back to his irate owner as soon as I can.’ Because then I could get started on Orla’s case.

I turned, ready to go to the back cages and retrieve BonBon, only to find both Gazza and Tanya standing in the doorway, exchanging a look I couldn’t quite read. ‘What?’ I asked. ‘What am I missing?’

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