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Chapter Twenty One

Frank

Frank perched himself on a barstool and glanced around the pub.

It was mostly empty with a few couples eating dinner in the restaurant area and no one else sat at the bar.

Frank didn’t care about sitting alone. He had come to the pub to get out of the house for a bit and he wasn’t expecting company unless it came to him.

“How’s it going?” Don asked.

“Pretty good,” Frank replied neutrally. “How’s things in your world?”

“Going really well,” Don said with a grin. “I’ve extended my visa, my girlfriend and I went on a wonderful date this afternoon, and we’re negotiating our contract on the pub so we can more or less become landlord and lady.”

“Fantastic,” Frank grinned. “You’ve certainly improved the place. Could I get a glass of Riesling?”

“Not going for your usual pint of ale?” Don asked with a chuckle as he retrieved the glass and a bottle.

“It’s a warm day, I felt like wine.”

“Fair enough,” Don said as he poured it. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Frank replied, taking the glass. “Part of me can’t wait until winter when you have the open fire going in here.”

“Ah yes, although back in Aus we used to light a fire on the beach. Perhaps we should try it here?”

“I’m sure some health and safety guy would put a stop to it, but we can try,” Frank laughed.

The front door to the pub opened and Frank turned to see Philip walk in. He raised a paw and waved to the Collie.

Philip smiled and took the stool next to Frank.

“I’m able to walk here without getting lost,” the Collie laughed. “Could I get a pint of the guest ale please?”

“Not tempted by wine?” Frank said, taking a sip of his.

“Given the weather outside it is tempting, but I think I’ll stick with tradition,” Philip replied as Don handed him his drink. “How has life been treating you?”

“Oh, same old,” Frank replied. “Marcus is off to London, I’m still working on his house. Once that’s all done I’m sure he’ll be off for good with his Doberman, providing Ralph is still coping.”

“Not been driven mad yet?”

“No idea,” Frank chuckled and shrugged as he sipped more of his wine. “I’m trying not to pry too closely.”

“My daughter once told me that when she broke up with her ex-fiancé she used to stalk his Facebook every day. I don’t know anything about social media, but I suppose it’s the modern version of stalking someone you loved through binoculars,” Philip laughed.

“I suppose so,” Frank reasoned. “I’ve never gotten that bad though.”

“That bad?”

“I wrote to a magazine when Marcus had an agony uncle column in it,” Frank smiled wryly. “It wasn’t a good idea and I wanted to amuse myself, but a part of me wanted to hear a response from him when I had no direct contact.”

“Marcus having an agony uncle column seems a contradiction from the way you’ve described him,” Philip replied.

“Yes, amazingly he did write one, hard to believe I know,” Frank shrugged. “He gave good advice but I doubt he followed most of it himself.”

Philip responded with a chuckle as he drank his ale.

They sat in silence for a minute as they sipped their drinks.

“You know, I was thinking of going home soon. I think this whole trip to see Threapleton Manor was a dead end,” Philip sighed. “Although I am wondering whether I should downsize to a home close to here. It seems so peaceful and quiet in Little Hartbrook, the perfect place for an old codger like me to retire to.”

Frank opened his mouth to reply, but then his phone began playing his ringtone of Dancing with Myself by Billy Idol.

“Excuse me,” Frank said as he slid off his bar stool and made his way outside. “Hello?”

“F… Frank, it’s me. I think someone had been in the house.”

Frank recognised Marcus’ voice, but the reception was poor and he thought he could make out growling or shouting in the background.

Great, what has the fox gotten himself into this time?

“I’m sorry?” he asked, feeling confused.

“Someone has been in the house. There’s fur here, and Ralph thinks I slept with someone, and he’s going majorly feral!”

This was followed by more growling and muffled talking.

“Are you safe?” Frank said, his confusion turning into concern.

“I am. Uh, I’ll come over to yours and explain,” Marcus replied.

Frank thought he heard the fox exclaim oh for fuck sake! Before the line went dead.

“What the hell is going on?” Frank muttered to himself. It sounded serious, whatever it was. He hurried back inside the pub and found Philip still sitting in his stool. “I’m going to have to run,” he said, chugging the rest of his wine (and wincing as it burnt down his throat) and leaving some cash on the bar for Don to find.

“Oh, trouble at home?” Philip asked.

“Trouble with the fox,” Frank replied. “If you ask me he’s probably done something to tick Ralph off. It was only a matter of time I suppose.”

Frank left the pub and hurried in the direction of home.

The sun had already set outside and a breeze had picked up, which felt refreshing after a hot day, but Frank’s mind was on what Marcus could have possibly done.

The fox’s Audi was also parked outside the pub and Frank wondered if Marcus would ever retrieve it.

He arrived at home and let himself in.

The Angelfish were swimming their usual circular pattern as he turned the kitchen light on.

Frank decided he would make himself relax before Marcus showed up to talk about whatever was going on.

“Alexa, play my chill out playlist,” he said.

Music began drifting around the kitchen.

Frank was tempted to retrieve another bottle of wine from the fridge, but he wondered if alcohol was a good idea if he was to have an emotional Marcus showing up on his doorstep.

“What weird act of god got me into this?” he muttered out loud as he flicked the kettle on.

Knock, knock, knock!

Frank made his way to the front door expecting to see an anxious looking Marcus outside.

He opened it and to his surprise saw Anthony standing on the other side. The puma was wearing a grey suit and had his arms folded across his chest. There was a scowl on his face.

“Evening Anthony, can I help you with anything?” Frank asked, wondering why Anthony looked so irritated.

“My wife received an anonymous message from someone,” Anthony began before pausing. Frank could sense a snarly tone in his voice.

“I see.”

“Do these mean anything to you?” Anthony asked, holding his phone out.

Frank looked at the images on Anthony’s phone; they were slightly blurry but showed him embracing the calico and kissing her cheek.

“Not to me,” Frank replied truthfully.

“You are the only person who knows about my plan for the Mansfield site. These images really distressed my poor wife,” Anthony hissed.

“I’m sorry, but again this doesn’t mean anything to me,” Frank replied. “I have no idea who took these.”

“They angle they are at is close to your house,” Anthony continued, his eyes narrowing.

“Are you suggesting?” Frank began.

“I’m suggesting you are the only person who knows about this, and who was in the area.”

“Er, no disrespect, but why would I take candid shots of you?” Frank asked. “That would make no sense.”

“Someone is trying to smear me,” Anthony continued. “And no one else knows about my project.”

“Look, I’m sorry this happened, but I had nothing to do with it,” Frank said tersely. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Am I really?” Anthony replied through gritted teeth, his temper still rising. “This is a fucking outrage, and whoever is responsible, I will find them. If you had anything to do with this, I will begin legal action.”

“Excuse me?” Frank replied, feeling his own hackles rise. “If you swear at me like that or act threatening please get off my property this instant.”

He suddenly felt shocked at his own assertiveness, but that shock turned to mild satisfaction as Anthony began backing away.

“If you had anything to do with…” the puma began, but Frank slammed the door shut before Anthony could finish.

“Fuck off,” Frank growled, even though Anthony could no longer hear him.

He walked to the kitchen window and gripped the kitchen counter as he watched Anthony climb into his car and drive off.

Frank didn’t like to think of himself as an aggressive or growly wolf, particularly towards someone he had worked with in the past and had a lot of power in the village, but Marcus’ frantic call had already unnerved him, and having Anthony turn up on his doorstep to hiss at him over a bizarre accusation didn’t help.

He replayed the accusations Anthony had made back in his head. They made little sense, but as Frank turned to retrieve a tea from the cupboard he had a sudden brainwave.

I have a good idea who may have taken those photos, but I’m not saying anything to Anthony.

The kettle clicked off as it finished boiling and Frank decided to retrieve a second cup from the cupboard.

The Alexa was now playing Bizarre Love Triangle and Frank tried to lose himself in the music as a distraction. Adrenaline was still pulsing unpleasantly through his stomach.

Knock, knock, knock!

Frank sighed and made his way to the front door, hoping Anthony hadn’t returned to get the last word in.

He opened it to see Marcus standing on the other side. The fox’s Audi was parked on the street outside. Frank couldn’t help but feel surprised as he noticed the fox had dyed the fur on his head green, but the surprise was short-lived as Marcus stepped inside without asking.

“Ah, Marcus do come in and make yourself at home!” Frank said in a sarcastic tone. Marcus flinched at the words and tucked his tail behind his hind-paws. Frank felt a flash of guilt and gestured for Marcus to follow him. “I just had Anthony Higson-Pearidge come here and have a go at me for me no reason,” he explained, leading Marcus into the kitchen.

He watched as Marcus sniffed about the place and expected a sassy or sarcastic remark. Marcus remained quiet and sat himself in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Something really bad happened, can I stay here?” Marcus asked.

“What happened exactly?” Frank said as he sat down opposite.

Although I can guess the answer.

“Ralph found fur in my bed,” Marcus explained in a shaky voice.

“What?”

“We were about to do stuff in bed when he found some fur in the sheets,” Marcus repeated, cradling his muzzle in his paws. “I don’t know what to do.”

Frank responded with a sigh and an eye-roll

Just as I predicted, and he comes crying to me of all people.

“It’s funny, I was telling someone recently you were not the stereotype of a fox and not a slut,” Frank muttered. “It seems those years in London and the US changed you, for the worse. You say you don’t know what to do, well why don’t you try something you’ve never done before; growing up?”

“No, no, no,” Marcus gasped. “No, I explained it badly. The fur didn’t belong to anyone I’d slept with. I meant that someone has been in the house while we were away. They ate some of Ralph’s food, stuck a Dorito in his caviar, I think they might have taken some of his underwear and they slept in the bed. I’m really freaked out, and Ralph thinks I’ve been cheating on him.”

“Oh,” Frank replied.

“And Ralph got mad and drove over to Threapleton,” Marcus continued, splaying his ears and putting his muzzle back in his paws. “I never cheated on him, well, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“I hooked up with Tim in London.”

“Good grief.”

“He instigated it though,” Marcus insisted.

“And you could have said no, and I have no idea who Tim is but this sounds like a fine bloody mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“It wasn’t Tim’s fur in our bed,” Marcus explained. “I have no idea whose it was, and I’m scared at the fact someone was in the house when we were away, and Ralph won’t believe me.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“Did you see anything suspicious while we were gone?” Marcus asked.

“Not when I was at the house, and I made sure the key stayed hidden,” Frank replied, although he cast his mind back to an unfamiliar scent he had sensed by the door, and he wondered if it hadn’t been as unfamiliar as he’d first thought. “What colour was the fur?”

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked. “Why would the colour be important?”

“Please, what colour was it?”

“Brownish,” Marcus replied, scratching his muzzle. “Maybe white or silver in places. I didn’t look at it too closely.”

“And what species did it smell like it belonged to?”

“Have you become the police?” Marcus asked, a hint of sass had returned to his voice.

“If you’re going to be like that I won’t help you,” Frank replied bluntly.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Marcus replied, drooping his ears and tucking his tail. “A canine for definite, but again I didn’t investigate too closely. I was more freaked out and wanted to stop Ralph leaving.”

“A canine with brown fur,” Frank mused out loud, and he had snapped his paws as he had a second brainwave.

Yup, same suspect as the photos.

“Should we call the police, get them to do a DNA test or sweep for paw prints?” Marcus asked.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Frank replied as something close to a wry smile spread across his muzzle.

“This isn’t funny,” Marcus moaned.

“No, it isn’t,” Frank agreed, feeling a slight pang of guilt. “I wasn’t laughing or mocking you, I was smiling because I have some idea of who the culprit may be, but leave me to deal with it.”

“I want to call the police,” Marcus said indignantly. “He drove Ralph off and broke into my house.”

“Broke into your house yes, chasing Ralph off was something you created the tension for by the sounds of it, the suspect was the spark,” Frank interjected, to which Marcus huffed to himself. “But as I say, involving the police probably isn’t necessary if I’m right about my assumption.”

“Who is it then?” Marcus asked haughtily.

“A young husky who needs both a hug and a spank,” Frank replied with a humourless chuckle.

“Which young husky?” Marcus demanded.

“He’s called Gareth Lyons.”

“Never heard of him!”

“I’m not sure you would have, he moved here after you moved away,” Frank explained. “He’s not a bad kid, well teenager, but he’s likely very bored and lonely, hates his step dad, his best friend is a bit of a troublemaker, no doubt not the best influence. I used to think they were boyfriends. Plus, I reckon he has quite an obsession with both you and Ralph.”

“Gareth Lyons, Gareth Lyons,” Marcus repeated, as if the name did actually mean something to him, and then the fox’s eyes lit up. “I know where I’ve heard that name, he wrote to my column. Yes, Gareth from Little Hartbrook. He was asking how he can date guys in a place like this. I remember as the location immediately stood out and I had the same problem here.”

“Apart from going out with me?” Frank asked with a more genuine laugh.

“I didn’t mean you,” Marcus sighed.

“Well, maybe you can see it from Gareth’s perspective,” Frank reasoned, trying to keep his tone calm. “Only gay in the village, well apart from myself and he tried it on with me in the past - back when he was under eighteen and made a Prowlr account, but anyway, hormonal gay teenager almost on his own with a poor selection of men and suddenly two handsome gay celebs show up.”

Marcus sat in silence for a minute as he seemed to digest Frank’s words.

“Okay, I get that, but that doesn’t excuse breaking into my house,” Marcus protested.

“No it doesn’t,” Frank agreed. “Which is why he also needs a spank.”

“I mean, we were never that bad, were we?”

“Well, we did once make a hole in Graham Campbell’s garden hedge to watch him work out shirtless and sunbathe, albeit just the once,” Frank said.

“Ah yeah, Graham Campbell. He was a good looking polecat. What happened to him?” Marcus asked.

“Oh, he’s still around, retired now though and doesn’t work out anymore. Complains about a bad back whenever I see him in the pub.”

Marcus seemed to relax slightly as the conversation became more casual.

“Shall I make us some tea?” Frank offered.

He stood and felt the side of the kettle. It was still warm so he moved to retrieve tea bags.

“What kinds do you have?”

“Mint, camomile, salted caramel which my mum gave me and I haven’t gotten around to drinking.”

“I’ll take the salted caramel, please,” Marcus replied.

Frank put the bag in Marcus’ cup and put a bag of camomile in his own. He poured the water and set the cups down on the table.

“So, this is where you live now,” Marcus murmured, glancing around the kitchen.

“Yup, not gone very far as you see.”

“No, it’s a nice cottage,” Marcus replied in a soft voice.

“You being kind about something? That’s unusual,” Frank joked. “It’s probably not as flashy as Ralph’s home.”

“No, I mean it, it is nice,” Marcus insisted. “And you actually have the same mood lighting he does.”

“Heh, interesting.”

The Alexa was still playing music in the background and Frank cocked an ear as he realised The Bangles had come on.

“Alexa, stop,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked, and then something close to his cheeky grin appeared on his muzzle. “Is it because we used to make out to Eternal Flame by The Bangles?”

“You make a kind comment, and then typically you rebalance the universe with a snarky one,” Frank sighed.

“That’s not snarky! That’s stating a fact.”

“Yes,” Frank grumbled. “For that reason I have a hard time listening to it, go ahead and mock.”

“I’m not going to,” Marcus said, and for a second Frank noticed the fox’s paw extend as if he was going to put it over his in a reassuring gesture. “Honestly, I had a hard time listening to it after. I wanted it to be our first dance song when we got married.”

“I see.”

“Well, um, may I stay here, please?” Marcus asked. “Even if you know who broke into the house, I’m nervous to sleep there.”

“Oh, Gareth is harmless,” Frank chuckled. “But of course you can, when we finish our tea I’ll find some spare blankets and I’ll make the sofa in the lounge up for you. Although I don’t know if here is safer, Anthony might come after me with a flintlock or something. Maybe we should sleep at Honeysuckle Lodge?”

“Huh, what’s that about a flintlock?”

“Don’t worry, yes you can stay.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a minute as they sipped their teas.

“Do you think Ralph will come back?” Marcus asked. “He was pretty mad when he left.”

“I have no idea,” Frank said. “Your guess is better than mine, considering your history.”

“Hey!” Marcus snapped, almost spilling his tea, but then the fox let out a sigh. “I guess you’re right, as fucking horrible as that is to say. Conor cheated on me and treated me like shit,” Marcus sighed. “I guess I internalised it too much.”

“In other words you turned into him?”

“Fuck no,” Marcus retorted. “Well, I don’t know.”

“Let’s hope Ralph does come back, and you can learn for next time,” Frank said.

Marcus nodded before sipping more of his tea.

“How big is your sofa?” he asked.

“Pretty small to be honest, you may have to sleep in a foetal position.”

“Do you have spare bed?”

“I did, although it needs a new mattress.”

“Hmm,” Marcus huffed.

“Once we finish our tea I’ll pack an overnight bag, spare clothes and I’ll crash on the floor at Honeysuckle Lodge,” Frank sighed before changing his expression to a wry grin. “Hey, I suppose I may catch Gareth in the act, or if not I can start work early.”