Die Like a Dog by Gwen Moffat

and there was fluster and indecision as everyone wondered where Judson was. He came home half an hour later, his step jaunty, his eyes gleaming.
    â€˜Any sign?’ he asked as he entered the kitchen.
    No, Evans told him, no one had seen the dog.
    â€˜That’s a valuable animal,’ Judson said. ‘I’ll report it to the police.’
    â€˜No one would steal him!’ Evans was horrified.
    â€˜No one could steal him. What d’you think, Evans? Has he gone right out of the valley, over the mountain, after a bitch?’
    â€˜Hughes Cae Gwyn’s bitch were on heat, but Hughes never saw our dog. But someone were shooting yesterday afternoon.’
    â€˜With a dog, d’you mean? A bitch?’ Judson spooned sugar into his coffee.
    â€˜No, sir. I did not mean that.’
    â€˜Huh? What are you getting at, man? Speak up.’
    Evans glanced at the women, puzzled. Gladys looked resigned but Ellen was tense as a pointer.
    â€˜You may remember, sir,’ he said heavily, ‘that threats has been uttered.’
    Judson blinked and the sparkle left his eyes. He looked annoyed and ugly. ‘Threats,’ he repeated. ‘He’d never dare. None of ’em would.’
    â€˜The dog’s not come back,’ Evans said, greatly daring himself. They watched him, waiting for an explosion, but he exhaled slowly and his face cleared.
    â€˜You’re paranoid, Evans. The dog’s after a bitch. But it won’t hurt – no, it won’t hurt ... Go up and lean on Lloyd a bit, and if you see those two lads, Banks and Owen, a few threats of your own wouldn’t come amiss.’
    â€˜It’d come better from you, sir. They respect you.’
    Judson nodded carelessly. ‘I’ll threaten ’em all right: after the weekend, on Monday. I have to go to Liverpool now on business. I’ll be back. I’ll leave it in your hands, for the moment. You know what to do if there’s trouble. Bring the police in.’ He was grinning happily, exuding good humour.
    â€˜Very well, sir.’ Evans rose, removing his beret from where he’d tucked it under his epaulette. ‘I’ll go up there now and do a bit of leaning.’
    The woodlands were scored by paths. He took one that ran from the back of his cottage, zig-zagging steeply to Lloyd’s access track. As he emerged from the trees he saw that the man wasn’t alone and for one moment he thought he’d caught the boys here as well. Was there anything in those suspicions of the boss’s? Could Lloyd be one of them ? But the second figure moved and he saw the outline of her breasts. He would have liked to pause, to work out how to deal with this unexpected development, but he was afraid they’d catch him hesitating, so he hunched his shoulders, his arms hanging loosely ready for any sudden move, and continued.
    They became aware of him at the same time, turning to contemplate his arrival without interest, as if he were a bullock that had strayed up the track. They left the first words to him.
    â€˜Mrs Judson were here yesterday,’ he said, without expression. Lloyd was suddenly furious. ‘Haven’t you found that bloody dog yet? ’
    â€˜I understand that you told her you hadn’t seen it.’
    â€˜If I’d seen it I’d have shot it, if I’d had a gun with me.’
    â€˜But you didn’t,’ Seale said.
    â€˜A pity,’ Lloyd spat out. ‘I hope someone else has by now.’
    â€˜Perhaps we could examine your weapon,’ Evans said silkily and stared as Seale crowed with delight.
    â€˜You know what you can do,’ Lloyd growled.
    Seale stepped inside the cottage and emerged carrying a shotgun. Lloyd opened his mouth, glanced at her face and said nothing. Evans took the gun suspiciously. He, too, was watching her face. She was amused. He broke the gun, squinted down the barrels, sniffed the breech.
    â€˜You’d have cleaned it