The Great Dane

Chapter 5

Markus begins to stir in bed, nudged awake by the stretching and increasingly agitated Brutus. Breakfast time. He keeps his eyes closed in the hope that Brutus won't realise he's awake yet and tries to roll over to grab an extra thirty minutes. Overnight his body has stiffened and the bumps and bruises set in. He'll be Robot Finch for the day.

Brutus isn't falling for it, and jumps down from the bed, pattering to the door and then immediately back to sit with his face directly staring into Markus'. His tail wags so much that it seems he might actually take off. Markus opens his eyes, sending the dog's whole body into a spin. His guardian smiles; this was his favourite time with Brutus, who was most friendly when there was food in the offing. A few licks to the face and a ear scratch later, Markus is rolling his giant frame out of bed rising like the sun and limping slowly out of the bedroom.

"Morning sunshine."

Brutus marches on the spot, waiting for the door to open. Released, he darts halfway down the stairs as the lumbering giant follows him. Looking back half way down, the dog releases a sharp bark that screams Hurry up, human!

"Oi! No Brutus. We don't do that, do we?" Markus says firmly and gets a low growl as a reply as Brutus heads down into the kitchen, dribbling a little as he watches Markus weigh out his food and fake-eat some of it in his bowl. He'd kept doing the old training techniques Meg had introduced, partly because he didn't know better and partly to ensure she was still a part of their lives.

As he leans down and puts Brutus' food down, he seizes up and feels a slight pull in his elbow. The sharp pain brings his gaze to his knuckle which had accidentally caught the brunt of a chair, shot because of his bad timing. Rookie error.

Opening the door to the garden for Brutus and popping the kettle on, Markus shuffles to the mail he picked up yesterday, taking the official letter. He throws it onto couch, which is bathed in early soft sunlight, and makes his breakfast to the sound of Brutus waking the neighbours. Eventually the dog prances back in and joins Markus, who's having his own breakfast on the couch. He gives him a What's your problem? cock of the head.

"Brother Brutei, finished pissing off the neighbours?"

The stare down begins.

"Buddy, this could be a letter about your barking."

Brutus is yet to blink.

"Then what will we do?

No budge. Markus sighs and rolls his eyes to gesture him to come over.

"Come on then."

Brutus leaps up onto his lap where he curls into a perfect post-sleep nap position. Markus awkwardly moves his plates around to eat and finishes the rest of his giant pint of tea.

"Let's see what we have here. This could be your first warning, you little nutcase."

It's an invite from an old university friend, the one running in his constituency in the coming election. She wants him to join her for dinner.

"Wow mate, I haven't seen her in a decade." He says quietly to the dog. "She wants me to investigate a mystery, a big cold case. A member of her constituency committed suicide a couple years back but the parents don't know why."

Markus sighs. Why him? She could get anyone else and he'd lost the drive to do these things. Sounded too emotional if the family was involved. He looks back at the envelope and pulls out a flyer.

"Aanya Patel." Markus contorts his chin out to the side as he thinks back, remembering how they were acquaintances, her in the posh university, him in the converted nearby poly. They'd crossed paths every so often and intensely flirted when they did, without it ever leading to anything. She was in the fight which could define the heart and soul of the nation for the next hundred years. It peaked his interest and he wondered what she'd think of The Brexit Bomber.