Doug Johnstone - Hit and run

He pulled up and Rose got out.

‘Go find that dog.’

As he got out and locked the car door he was hit by the sharp tang of sea air, so familiar to him as a kid. He’d grown up only a few minutes along the road from here in a poky two-bedroom ex-council flat on Portobello High Street. He bristled with memories, the rubbery skin of a dead jellyfish on the beach, ice cream melting on his hand, his mum licking it off and laughing. Worrying as his and Charlie’s dinghy drifted away from land, his mum becoming a spot on the horizon, Charlie reassuring him they were fine, they would paddle back soon.

The Edinburgh Dog and Cat Home was a functional pebble-dashed block, worn by salty winds. He went inside. The air was thick with the stench of animals and urine, cooking in the sunlight. Yelps and barks, hissing and scuffling paws created a chaotic swarm in his head.

Their mum had never let them have a dog, claimed she was allergic. Billy sneezed thinking about it, imagining cat hair floating in the yellow air around him.

A skinny girl with blonde frizzy hair and braces on her teeth greeted him at reception. Morna on her nametag, pinned to a boyish uniform. Billy explained why he was there, asked if they’d had any collies found recently that might fit the description. This was stupid, there was no way the dog would’ve been handed in. What were the chances? He should’ve done this over the phone.

‘There was a collie brought in yesterday,’ Morna said. She had that distinctive posh Edinburgh accent, like Zoe’s. When had he last seen Zoe? He wondered how she was.

‘Really?’

‘I can show you if you like?’

‘That would be great.’

As they walked through to a corridor full of kennels, noise erupted, yowls and growls on all sides, the rattle of metal cages scraped by claws. Morna took him towards the far end, where a small black and white dog with a scruffy coat was huddled in a corner. It looked up at him and its tail thumped half-heartedly against the concrete floor.

It wasn’t the Whitehouse dog. No white patch on its face. It looked as if it had been longer on the loose than a couple of days as well, ribs showing under the fur, a hungry, hunted look on its face. The dog stared at him but didn’t get up.

‘Rebus?’ he said.

‘What?’ Morna said.

‘It’s the dog’s name, apparently it’s called Rebus.’

‘Like the policeman?’

‘Yes, like the policeman.’ He turned to the kennel again and made a clicking noise. ‘Rebus, here boy.’

‘It’s a girl.’

The dog didn’t move. What was Billy doing? He knew it wasn’t Rebus, no white patch and the wrong sex. But he wanted it to be the Whitehouse dog. He didn’t know why it mattered, but it did.

He stroked a finger down the metal ribs of the cage. ‘Here, girl.’

The dog came over to sniff his hand, tail wagging. She looked a little disappointed that there was no food on offer.

‘Sorry, little lady, I don’t have anything for you.’

‘She’s a good-tempered bitch,’ Morna said. ‘Better than some of the poor, mistreated souls we get in here.’

‘And you’ve no idea who the owner is?’

‘No chip, no collar. Even in this day and age, we still get plenty like that.’

‘What’ll happen if no one claims her?’

‘We’ll try to rehome her. Shouldn’t be too tricky, collies are very popular.’ Morna looked along the corridor at a string of dogs pacing and pawing. ‘It’s the Rotties and Staffies we have trouble with. They’re much more aggressive, less suitable for families.’

‘Do you ever have to put them down?’

‘Occasionally, but only the ones with serious temperament problems.’

Billy looked at the dog in the kennel. She licked his hand, the tongue rough and ticklish against the wounds on his palm. He stood up.

‘You know, I’ve been thinking of getting a dog for a long time myself.’

Morna frowned at him. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Maybe I could take this one?’

‘It’s not as simple as that, there’s a lot to consider. Do you have time to spend with a pet? Money for vet’s bills and food? Does your lifestyle have room for a demanding animal?’

‘I’ve thought about all that. I said I’d been considering it for a while.’

Morna looked uncertain. ‘Collies need a lot of exercise and mental stimulation, they’re very energetic and intelligent dogs.’

‘Sounds perfect. Just what I’m after.’

‘There are procedures to go through. You’ll need to speak to one of the senior staff.’

‘Fine.’ Billy shrugged. ‘Let’s do that.’

Half an hour later he was driving up Portobello Road with the dog in the passenger seat, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she panted and looked round.

Billy reached over and rubbed her flank.

‘Who’s a good girl?’

She responded by licking the back of his hand. It felt good.

The car stopped at the lights at Jock’s Lodge. He looked to his right. Fingertips massage. The last place Frank was seen alive by anyone. Except Billy. The lights changed and he chugged forward. He took a left at Meadowbank towards the east end of Holyrood Park. Road still closed. He slowed and went round the roundabout, peering into the distance, but from this end you couldn’t see the section of road where it happened. Had they found anything yet?

He drove back the way he had come, stroking the dog’s back and feeling her ribs bumpy under her skin and fur.

Sitting in the Micra outside the Whitehouse place he watched Adele walk round the corner on her own. She looked impeccable as ever and she was walking fast, her hand twitching at the arm of her sunglasses as she turned into the driveway.

Billy got out of the car and beckoned for the dog to follow, making encouraging noises. He was delighted to see that she did exactly what she was told. He guided the dog across the road and ushered her in the direction of the Whitehouses’ drive.

He could hear the crunch of Adele’s feet on the gravel up ahead.

‘Adele,’ he called.

She jumped and turned. Just like the first time they met, her on the steps, glamorous and unknowable, him scurrying up the drive.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I came to make sure you were OK.’ Billy was out of breath.

‘It’s dangerous.’ She looked round. ‘You being here. It could get us both in a lot of trouble.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do you think I mean? Dean.’

‘Where is he?’

She looked exasperated. ‘At the police station, I presume. They’ve just released me after two hours in a hot, sweaty room.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You must’ve told them something.’

‘It has nothing to do with you.’

‘I heard you and Dean from outside the back door.’

She wasn’t flustered. ‘All the more reason to stay away.’

Her attention was distracted by the dog.

‘What’s that?’ she said.

‘A collie.’

‘I know that, idiot, what’s it doing here?’

‘I got it from the Dog and Cat Home. I thought maybe you and Ryan could have it.’

‘Are you insane?’

‘You said Ryan was missing Rebus.’

‘And you thought…’

‘Mummy.’ The front door opened and Ryan ran towards the pair of them. Adele scooped him up into her arms and gave him a hug, holding tight for a long time.

‘Oh my beautiful boy, how are you?’

‘Fine.’

Her question was loaded with love, his answer was offhand kid talk.

‘Where have you been?’ he said, only vaguely curious.

‘I had to go out for a bit, that’s all. But I’m back now.’

‘Where’s Uncle Dean?’