A Mystery

A little black Scottie dog used to wait on the balcony of this house to bark at me and Daftie as we passed on our evening walk.  His owner, a lady who lived there alone, used to shout at it to stop.  "Non! Non! Non!".  And eventually it did.  From time to time she would be on the balcony herself, and issue a cheery "Bonsoir".  While I was writing during the autumn, I noticed that all the shutters were semi-closed.  There were never any lights on, and there was no sign of the woman and the dog.  When I finished the book, just before Christmas, we headed off to our apartment on the Med. where we remained for eight weeks.  We got back last week, and when I took Daftie out that evening, I saw that the shutters at this side of the house were all open.  But so were the windows, and the French doors.  Wide open to the elements.  From what I could see, there was no furniture inside.  Passing by the other side of the house I saw that the door and windows were closed and shuttered.  The windows at this side have remained open for a week.  My imagination leads me to suspect the worst.  I asked the butcher today what he knew about it - his shop is just around the corner - but he was as mystified as me.  I sincerely hope I am wrong in the filling in of the blanks.  It doesn't really bear thinking about.  But someone must know.  I will find out.