My attention to detail is notoriously and exceptionally poor. Fortunately, Zac is an animal that knows how to clearly express himself or else he'd never get fed or watered. For this reason this morning I decided to make a list of everything that had happened since my return to the Underbelly. What I ended up with was a list of questions I had no answers to.
1. Who was Bob? Did Bob kill Trudie? Who knew about her death?
2. Who sent me the letter and why did it smell of dogfood/catfood?
3. Was the sheep pushed or did it jump? If it was pushed, why was I being warned off the
4. What did the foil ring that Trudie placed around Zac's collar mean? Was it some kind of reference to a sham marriage?
5. Who was sending Mrs Williams all that stuff if not Geoff?
6. Where the fuck is Ray with my money. I hadn't seen him since the Alpha Course debacle.
7. Why do I think all this is somehow connected to the club?
8. When would Trudie's body wash up? Had anyone reported her missing?
9. Would Mr Konstantin ever re-open his shop, it's been shut for weeks and I need some new bags for my vaccuum cleaner.
10. Who erected the shambolic brick elephant in the
The last point I must explain. The main high street of the Underbelly where Mr Konstantin's electrical shop resides is on an incline just steep enough to cause wheezing in the lightest of smokers. One side of the street overbalances the other in its greater weight and number of shops. This is the side most visitors to the town traverse up and down not finding what they want. This is largely due to the vast number of charity shops that have sprung up along the length of the Underbelly. Since charity shops pay little or no local business taxes, empty shops are easy targets. Does one town need two cat charity shops? I'm suspicious no mistake, another question for the list perhaps.
The other side of the street is broken up into side streets and buildings perennially under construction, barely clothed in scaffolding and more importantly scaffolding signs. Towards the bottom is an anonymous concrete monolithic building that houses a high street bank and sundry non-descript local businesses. Since the Underbelly is on a jelly mould of a hill, this side of the street cambers dangerous down to the other. For this reason the building that houses the bank has always intrigued me in that it must encompass a cellar vault. Below the large building is a patch of land that once housed a World War II anti-aircraft gun. Once can only assume that this now has been removed to a place of safety after having adorned the town for many years albeit with its mouthed taped up. The small patch of land, no bigger than two double beds, lay dormant for some years until two days ago.
Two days ago, early morning visitors were startled to see that an object had appeared overnight. It was a ridiculous object but strangely pleasing to the eye nonetheless. Its appearance coincided with the theft of several hundred house bricks from a builder’s merchant many miles from the Underbelly towards the Great Snakehead Only I seem to have spotted that so far. The object itself is clearly a representation of an elephant, not easy to do in brick and its construction raises many more questions than who put it there. It was Mike the postman who first recommended I give it the once over. He reckoned it must have taken more than three men working flat out for over half and hour.
“As you know I get up fairly early in the morning…”
“No you don’t Mike, I get up earlier than you and I have no reason to get up.”
“That’s true. Hang on a minute, would you consider a little franchise?”
“You want me to do your round for you?”
“Only some mornings, you know when. Good exercise for the dog, plus it does have its perks, trust me.”
My first look at the Bellyphant, as it has come to be known on account of it’s ridiculously oversized belly, is that there was a good deal of planning required here. The design, the materials, transport, the labour; not an amateur job. I can see the long slow curls of the local reporter, Jacqui Jones, swaying in front of the faces of shoppers as she asks what people think of their new acquisition. I give her my opinion since Jacqui asks. “It’s better than the gun.” I say.
“That’s what everyone’s been saying. Why do you think an elephant?”
“You’re missing the point, it’s not about the elephant, get past the elephant. Jacqui, it’s about the bricks.” I walk off and can sense her narrowing eyes on my back and spot her glance back over at the Bellyphant in the reflection of a shop window. Inside, shop fitters are busy adding the finishing touches to another high street hopeful. A printed piece of paper in the window says COMING SOON, Pet Protection League.
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