6

As they stepped outside, Wolfie started behaving even more strangely. Instead of heading home, she tugged at Leila’s leash and led her around the corner, where a stack of rotting wooden boards sat ominously. The dog’s hair stood up as she growled and bared her teeth.

Leila couldn’t help but feel frightened. She was totally ready to bolt back to her aunt’s chalet and lock all the doors behind her. But curiosity got the best of her again and she stayed put, only to have Wolfie suddenly break free from her leash and run off towards the far end of the garden.

What had spooked the usually fearless husky? Leila couldn’t say for sure. She let out a shrill cry, her voice echoing through the deserted alley. “Wolfie, come back here this instant, you disobedient mutt!” But the canine culprit had already disappeared into the yellow foliage, leaving Leila to navigate her way through the narrow gap and into the snow-cleared alleyway. And there, sitting innocently in the middle of it all, was Wolfie herself - looking like a fluffy stuffed toy. Leila’s indignant scolding quickly turned to awe and adoration at that sweet sight. She looked back at the old chalet, and couldn’t deny that it would make for a perfect setting for a Halloween bash. With the sun hiding behind a cloud and the shadows creeping in, even Wolfie seemed to agree that they were better off steering clear of this strange place. But just as they thought they were in the clear, Leila spotted Nosy Dick - standing by that same broken bench they had passed earlier on their stroll. Thankfully, Wolfie’s curious nature had led them down a different path or else they would have been caught red-handed by the nosy Englishman. Putting on her innocent smile, Leila casually picked up a branch with two large pine cones still attached - using it as a distraction from Dick’s intrusive questions. “Just taking my aunt’s husky for exercise,” she said with a coy smile. “You know how energetic huskies can be.”

‘Well, not quite. But taking your word for it,’ Nosy Dick replied.

“Look at that dilapidated heap,” Leila exclaimed suddenly, pointing to the abandoned chalet. “Who owns it?” she asked innocently. “Looks like it’s been uninhabited for ages.”

“It was, for sometime,” Nosy Dick confirmed. “Old Stephan Weinrich used to come here every winter, but the old bastard kicked the bucket ten years ago. His brood couldn’t agree on whether to sell or renovate the place. Their fortune had dried up by the time Stephan passed away. But now, there’s a new owner - Stephan’s nephew. He worked in London for all these years and made quite a bit of cash.”

“A successful trader?” Leila raised an eyebrow.

“A fund manager,” Dick grumbled. “A shady character if you ask me. Wouldn’t last a day in my firm.” Leila had heard from her aunt that Nosy Dick never had anything nice to say about anyone, yet she found herself warming up to the old Englishman.

As it turned out, Leila came from a different branch of Weinrichs and her grandfather was estranged from his cousin Stephan. No one ever explained why. It was an old family secret.

“Why do you think he’s shady?” Leila prodded with curiosity.

Dick scowled as if he had swallowed a stink bug.

“I don’t like speaking ill of people,” he grumbled. “But I’ll tell you this - he showed up here once with a flashy Russian ‘oligarch’ as they call them. They were driving the biggest and ugliest car I’ve ever seen. Young Weinrich had a lot of Russian clients back in his City days.”

“And now?”

“Now, he’s planning to demolish that old wreck and build some monstrosity in its place. Four stories high, eight bathrooms, and two swimming pools. I’ve seen the plans. It’s a nightmare,” Dick scoffed. “Designed by some crazy Russian architect. And today, young Weinrich is bringing in the contractors. You might catch a glimpse of him.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Leila replied with a sly smile. “And you, Mr. Jones, seem to be well-informed about this whole situation. Did the young fund manager confide in you?”

“Well, not exactly. But you know how it is in the City, secrets don’t stay hidden for long,” drawled Dick Jones with an unpleasant grin. He held up his hand, as if to add weight to his words.

Suddenly, Wolfie’s snarls interrupted the conversation. Nosy Dick recoiled and stammered in a high-pitched voice, “Why is she growling? Where is her muzzle? A dangerous dog like that should be wearing one!”

Leila chuckled, “Oh, Wolfie is just being her usual self. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Squirrels, on the other hand…”

The former banker nervously agreed, “Yes, yes. But today she seems…off. Is she sick? Is she a danger to others?”

Leila shrugged nonchalantly, “No, no. She’s just in an odd mood because she’s on heat. That’s why I keep her on a leash at all times.”

Nosy Dick nodded quickly and scurried away like a scared mouse. Leila watched him go with amusement before spotting a man walking towards them from around the corner, followed by a white mini bus.

“Come on Wolfie, let’s head home,” Leila said, suddenly feeling like a cup of hot chocolate. Wolfe eagerly pulled ahead and Leila struggled to keep up with her, not quite enjoying her unintentional exercise.

+++

In the meantime, a faded white van rolled up to the rusty gates of abandoned chalet, its engine sputtering and wheezing. A stout blonde man in his fifties barked orders, directing the van towards the entrance. The man next to him, a smaller individual with dark eyes and a crushed cap on his head, obediently hopped out and cleared a path through the snow with a flimsy green shovel. The van lurched over potholes, finally arriving at the decrepit building.

The stocky man stepped out of the van, strutting around as if he owned the place. He demanded his companion, Radek, unload their tools. But Radek hesitated, pointing to a pile of decaying boards blocking their entryway.

“Move that trash out of the way!” The boss roared impatiently.

Radek scurried like an ant around a fallen tree, dutifully moving each board aside. But suddenly he froze, his face blanching in terror.

“What’s wrong with you?” The boss shouted. “Lunch break isn’t for another three hours!”

“Pan Rghevsky…” Radek stammered in his native Polish.

“What now? I am fifty years Pan Rghevsky!" the boss growled.

But when he approached the last pile of boards, even he couldn’t believe what lay hidden beneath. Two male feet in worn boots and dirty trousers stuck out from under the rotting wood.

“What did you do, Radek?” The boss spoke quietly but with a threatening edge.

“I…I had nothing to do with this,” Radek pleaded.

“Don’t try to pass blame onto me,” the boss sneered. “We’ll have to call the police.”

With a blust of foul Polish language, he put his head in his hands and swayed in defeat. This was not how he had planned the job to go. Radek didn't dare to display emotions. He grabbed his phone and was diligently calling the police hotline.