Blue Eyes

25

           Alfie offered to go into town the next morning. They'd have to get more puppy chow for Anthea as they'd only brought just enough for Cyril. And the mastiff was certainly not going to share with the little pitbull. Ella offered to go along and the two made their way down the dirt paths to the main road. Alfie holding Cyril's leash and Ella carrying Anthea like a little babe.

Alfie knew the town well. He knew some of the folks who lived there year-round but not very well. More often than not, he spent his time there at the cottage and only went to town if he absolutely needed something. But enough people were familiar with him and his reputation. The Jewish gangster from London who liked to take holidays on the shore.

He was most acquainted with the older couple that owned a shop along the main road. A few years ago they had explained that they were going bankrupt because of the wife's failing health. Alfie didn't hesitate in the slightest. He stepped in and saved the store, all while ensuring the woman got proper care from a well-respected doctor. Ever since then, Margaret and Frank Robinson treated Alfie like one of their sons.

~~~~~~~~~~

"'Morning Peggy." Alfie greeted as he walked inside, Cyril by his side. Ella had gone across the street to a boutique with Anthea, lured over by a few dresses in the window.

"Alfie!" The older woman's face broke into a smile. "Was wondering when you'd show your face this summer. I hope you haven't been working too hard." She scolded.

"Found a better balance." He admitted honestly. Ella certainly had given him a better balance. "You and Frank alright?"

"Just fine, haven't been coughing as much." She began tending to a customer at the till. "Doctor in London's done wonders."

"Good to hear, good to hear." He let her cash out the man, heading back through the aisles.

"Alfie, my boy!" Frank was stacking cans when he looked up. "I thought I heard your voice. But, eh, my hearing's going so I thought it was just an illusion."

He chuckled and shook the man's hand. "S'long as you can hear your wife, don't matter do it?"

Frank laughed and knelt down to scratch Cyril's ears. "Hello, Cyril, look healthy, aye? Oh, Alfie," He glanced up and pointed towards the counter where Margaret was making change for the customer. "Man over there's lost a pup. Haven't seen little pitbull 'round have you? Think he lives by your cottage so it may've wandered over to you."

A shock went down Alfie's spine. "I'll talk to him." He agreed and returned to the counter.

The man by the till was just starting to take his bag of groceries from Margaret. He was a squirrely looking man with a thin mustache and shifty eyes. Not much taller than Alfie but thin as a stick.

"Heard you've got a dog missing, mate." Alfie's voice was a bit louder than necessary, scaring the man who hadn't heard him approaching.

He turned and nodded. "Little pitbull, thirteen weeks I think." His voice stammered under Alfie's steely glare. "S'a blue-nose. Got a white paw."

"Hm..." Alfie pretended to think to himself, leaning back and forth on his cane. "Might've heard some scuffling 'round my cottage. Anything else 'bout it? I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Erm, she's got bit of an injury on her head." The man's eyes averted, jerking to the side to avoid Alfie's stare.

"That right?" Alfie's hand gripped tightly onto Cyril's leash. He wanted so badly to beat the man into a bloodied pulp. But he wouldn't bring that sort of chaos into the Robinsons' store. "What happened?"