Читать книгу The Case of the Troublesome Lady - John R. Erickson - Страница 6

Chapter One: Creeped Out By Creepy Sounds

It’s me again, Hank the Cowdog. It must have been the middle of the night, yes, a very dark night, and I was awakened by creepy sounds.

I lifted my head and glanced around. That proved pointless because…well, when it’s dark, you can’t see anything, right? But the hairs along my backbone knew something was wrong. They were switched into the Automatic Circuit, don’t you see, and had raised themselves.

In my line of work, we pay attention to those hairs. That might sound ridiculous, a Head of Ranch Security taking notice of a bunch of hairs. I mean, a hair doesn’t have eyes or ears and can’t even bark, so what could a hair know that I don’t know better?

Great question. I don’t know the answer. All I can tell you is that time and experience had taught me to respect those hairs that grew along my backbone, and in the middle of that dark night, they were telling me to wake up and pay attention.

So…there I was, and let me be honest, I didn’t have the faintest idea where that might have been. Zero idea. All I knew was that wherever I was, it was darker than the inside of a black cow at midnight, so I lifted Earoscanners and did a rapid scan.

Data Control chewed on that for a few seconds, then flashed a report: “CREEPY SOUNDS!”

I reached for the microphone of my mind. “Unit One to Drover, over. Stand by for an APB, repeat, APB. We’re picking up creepy sounds, repeat, creepy sounds. Report in at once, over.”

I cocked my ear and listened. I heard a faint voice. It said (this is a direct quote) it said, “Pork chop skiffer muttering miracles.”

“Drover, is that you, over?”

“Over the clover, under the thunder.”

“Drover, identify. Repeat, identify. Give me the secret password, over.”

“Toad stools forever.”

“That checks out, so you’re Drover? Good. Do you have any idea where we are?”

“Howdy cloudy puddin’ and pie, kissed the girls and made ‘em cry.”

“Drover, please pay attention. This could be very important. Where are we?”

There was a moment of silence…well, not exactly silence. I heard grunting and snorting, then a voice: “Hank? Is that you?”

“Affirmative.”

“Where are we?”

“I just asked you that.”

“I’ll be derned. What did I say?”

“You said, ‘Where are we?’”

“Gosh, maybe we don’t know where we are.”

“Roger that.”

I heard him yawn, then, “Gosh, it’s dark. How come you woke me up?”

“I woke you up because…I don’t remember. Do you remember?”

“Well, let me think. You said something about a big hairy ape.”

“Not an ape. It was APB. I sent out an urgent All Points Burger.”

“Boy, I love burgers.”

“An All Points Bulletin.”

“But I can’t handle the onions.”

“Please stop talking about burgers and concentrate. Do you have any idea where we are or what we’re talking about?”

“Not really. All I know is you woke me up.”

“Okay, that gives us a starting point. You were asleep.”

“Yeah, and I bet you were too.”

“Exactly. We were both asleep. The question is, where?” At that point, I became aware of a moaning sound. “Wait. Listen. It’s coming back to me. I heard a creepy sound. Do you hear that?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! Help, murder, let’s hide!”

“Hold your position, soldier. We can’t hide until we figure out where we are.”

“Oh rats. Should we bark?”

“I’d better check Data Control.” I sent an urgent message to DC and got clearance. “Okay, we’ve been cleared for barking. Load up Number Three Warning Barks and don’t hold anything back. Ready? Fire!”

Boy, you should have heard us. Even though we couldn’t see the target, we started pumping out the barks, big ones, the kind that throw a dog backward on every blast. I mean, the recoil on those Number Threes is pretty amazing. A lot of dogs can’t handle it, but on this outfit, we do it all the time.

Well, we had been creeped out by creepy sounds, caused by unknown forces we couldn’t see, but then a light came on in the distance.

Drover noticed and stopped barking. “Gosh, did we do that?”

“Of course we did, nice work.” I glanced around and things began coming into crocus. Into focus, let us say. “All right, men, listen up. We have identified our location. We’re in Slim’s house, in the living room.”

“Yeah, but what were those creepy sounds?”

“We don’t know yet, so we’d better keep up the cover fire. Let’s crank ‘em out!”

Knowing that we were in Slim’s house gave us a sense of confidence, and we were able to put heart and soil into our barking effort. Boy, did we bark! But then…was that a voice? Yes, a voice came booming down the hallway from the room from which the light was whiching, and it said, “Hank, dry up!”

Huh?

Dry up? How could we dry up and bark at the same time? Wait, hold everything. Have you noticed the clues here? There were several but you’ll never see them unless you pay attention, so pay attention. Check this out.

Early Morning Clue List

 Maybe the voice belonged to Slim Chance.

 He often spoke to us in that rude manner.

 If the voice was Slim’s, then so was the house, because Slim lived in his own house. To express that with Higher Math, we can write a formula: Slim’s house + Slim’s voice = Slim.

 Wow, is that cool or what? But there’s more.

 Drover and I had spent the night on the floor in Slim’s living room.

 I had been awakened from a peaceful sleep by certain creepy sounds.

 Even though we had figured out our location and the source of the voice down the hall, we still hadn’t identified the source of those creepy sounds.

 Drover and I should have continued our Barking Procedure (#3 Warning Barks), but Slim had trashed that idea by yelling, “Dry up!”

 “Dry up” means “Quit barking.”

 Hencely, we had to shut down the operation.

 But at least we knew where we were: Slim’s shack.

End of Early Morning Clue List

Can you name another dog in Texas that could come up with a Morning Clue List like that, and I mean whip it out on the spot? Don’t even bother to think about it, because I can tell you. There wasn’t another dog in Texas, not even a dog in Oklahoma, who could have punched out such an awesome list of clues.

There’s a word for that: WOW!

So, yes, Drover and I had spent the night at Slim’s place and we’d barked him out of bed and here he came down the hallway, moving like a man under water. And let me tell you, he looked…how can I say this?

He looked awful: red slanty eyes, hair going every-which-way, wrinkled face that still held the impressions of his pillow, and thin pinched lips that looked like something made out of cement. And he was wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a T-shirt.

There’s a word that describes him: YIPES!

I mean, I knew the guy, I knew he wasn’t a monster or a vampire, but still…well, he looked like a monster and a vampire, so what’s a dog supposed to do? I barked at him, by George, because in the Security Business, we bark first and ask questions later. We take no chances.

Don’t laugh and don’t forget that misters are monsters of mastery…monsters are masters of mystery, there we go. They’re liable to show up in chicken suits or disguised as the mailman, we never know, and don’t forget that there’s a spy working undercover on our ranch: the cat.

So, yes, I gave him a blast of barking (the monster, not the cat), just to be on the safe side, and if I had it all to do over again, I’d do it all over again, because in the Security Business, we can’t take chances. I’ve already said that, but it bears repeating and I’m scared of bears. If you’re not scared of bears, you’ve never met one.

Who brought up the subject of bears? I have no idea. Does anyone know what we were talking about?

Phooey.

This is frustrating.

Wait, the cat. Yes, Sally May’s rotten, pampered little never-sweat of a cat. Pete. She thought he was perfect, but we had proof that he was working on the sly for the Charlies. No kidding.

When things go to pot around here, we always know the source: Pete. But we weren’t talking about Pete.

Tell you what, let’s take a little break, walk around, get some fresh air, clear our heads, and come back in five minutes. I’ll study the Morning Clue List and we’ll mush on with the story.

Five minutes and don’t be late.