Читать книгу Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel! - Louisa Bennet - Страница 12

I glance down at Betty who is up on her hind legs, shadow boxing.

‘Nasty toe-rag!’ she exclaims, punching the air. ‘How dare he! You’re not mangy, you’re a bleeding hero. You wait till I meet this big’un. I’ll give him a nasty nip.’

‘I’m no hero, Betty, and I’d rather you help me find the killer.’

‘With pleasure, Mr Monty. I need a project to focus on. Will stop me worrying about my pups.’

‘You’re a mum?’

I dumbly look around as if her brood is huddled behind her.

‘All left the nest, doing their own thing now. Miss them terribly.’

Betty slumps against my leg. Her whiskers droop. She looks glum.

‘Must be difficult to let them go,’ I say.

‘That’s the hardest thing. I can’t help wondering if they’re okay. Makes no difference they’re my fifth litter. I love them just as much as my first.’

‘And their dad? Is he with you?’

She leaps up. ‘You must be joking. He’s the reason I left the tunnel. Bastard!’

I clearly touched a sore point so I stay quiet.

‘Right, no point moping about. As my dear old mum used to say, “Don’t get down, get up and at ’em.” So, let’s get on with solving this murder.’ She scratches her head. ‘The killer’s scent? You’d know it again?’

‘How could I forget?’ I snort, reliving the smell. ‘A stinky food, like rotten egg; damp walls; those funny cigarettes made from weeds; and a disease linked to an insect I’ve never come across before.’

‘Do you mean he’s been smoking weed?’

I look blankly at Betty.

‘You know, makes big’uns giggle and eat lots.’

‘I’m not sure about that. Sometimes Paddy would take me with him to the university and some of his students’ clothes smelt of this weed.’

Betty nods sagely. ‘And the disease? You think he’s ill?’

‘There is a sickness in him but I don’t know what. It was like licking copper.’

‘Do that often, do you?’ Betty is giving me a worried look.

‘Not really.’

‘Okay, so we need to get your nose near some suspects. Sniff ’em out, so to speak. Hmm. How we going to do that?’

‘That’s my problem, you see. I’m not a police dog. I want to help, but how can I, if I’m stuck here?’

‘Shush, shush, shush. Let me think. What has Rose said? Has she mentioned any names?’

I think back to earlier that evening when she collected me from the vet’s. At first, all I remember is my excitement at being free of my cage and, once she was driving, all the amazing smells zooming past the open window so fast I could barely inhale them in time. I’ve always wondered why smells speed up when I’m in a car. Perhaps they’re running, trying to keep up with the moving vehicle, a bit like dogs chasing a cyclist?

‘Come to think of it,’ I say, after the clock’s second hand has twitched away a minute, ‘someone rang Rose when she was driving. She said she couldn’t believe a Larry somebody-or-other could be a murderer. Called him a … what was it? A small-time thief. That’s it.’

‘Larry who?’

I get up and have a good shake to clear my mind. Fur and slobber flies everywhere. Luckily the fall-out misses Betty but a few slippery blobs litter the lino floor.

‘Larry Rice? Lice? No. Larry Ni … Nice! That’s it. Larry Nice. I remember thinking he didn’t sound nice at all.’

‘Why’s this bloke a suspect?’

‘Not sure, but I heard the caller say they’d let him go.’

‘Did they say where he lived?’ she asks.

‘Don’t think so.’

‘Then what we need is The White Pages. There’s a copy on the hall table. We look up his address and pay him a visit.’ Betty nods conclusively. But her brow slowly creases. ‘Oops. We may have a slight problem.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’ve eaten the top right hand corner.’

‘Of that big fat book?’ I stare at her large stomach. No wonder she’s so round!

She examines her claws, avoiding eye contact. ‘I get peckish.’

I shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t leave here. I promised Rose I wouldn’t run away.’

Betty tutt tutts. ‘Oh you dogs are so domesticated. Think outside the square, will you? I get that you’ve been trained to take orders. But don’t tell me you’ve never broken the rules. Come on! You must have.’

‘I was a naughty pup. I mean, who isn’t? Chewed a few shoes, stole food, peed on a trouser leg, that sort of thing. But I soon learned not to. And, okay, I’ll admit to a few slip-ups since, but they weren’t intentional. Not planned, like this. And they always involved food. I’m good as gold until I smell … well, anything meaty, to be honest. Then my mind gets fuzzy and I completely forget what I’m meant to be doing. It’s a bit of a problem, really.’

Betty scurries up my leg and sits between my shoulder blades and whispers in my ear. ‘There you go! Why’s this any different? And finding Larry is for a good cause. After all, we’re trying to catch a killer.’

I remember Paddy chuckling at a TV cartoon in which a tiny red devil sits on one shoulder and a little white angel sits on the other. Both are whispering in the big’un’s ears. I glance round at Betty – my own little devil.

‘Betty, you’re asking me to break one of the canine Ten Commandments: Obey your master. I promised Rose I wouldn’t run away. This is premeditated disobedience.’

She leans closer to my ear. ‘But you’re helping Rose solve the case. There are exceptions to every rule, Mr Monty.’

Betty just doesn’t get it. Leaving Duckdown Cottage without Rose’s permission is like Mutiny on the Bounty, Spartacus and Rebel Without a Cause all rolled up into one mega-pic of rebelliousness. It’s all very well squeezing through the hedge, lapping up the left-overs of someone’s lunch and then hopping back into the garden again. It’s a whole other thing to travel far from home.

Betty scampers back down my leg and stands in front of me.

‘You’re not serious about these what-did-you-call-’em? Commandy things?’

‘I am, Betty. The Commandments were laid down by our founding fathers, way back when the wolf nation first agreed to work alongside big’uns. They’re our laws and are centuries old and every dog in the world is taught them as a pup. It’s because of these laws that we have such a special relationship with people.’

‘Yeah, but there’s got to be a rule about keeping your master safe, surely?’

‘That’s number three: defend your master.’

‘What’s number one then?’

‘Love your master.’

‘Exactly!’ Betty jumps up and down with excitement. ‘So you did your very best to defend him. But now you need to demonstrate how much you love him and break the dis-obeying rule so you can hunt down his killer. You see where I’m coming from?’

I shake my head. ‘If I run away to find this man, I risk being ostracised by my kind. Do you understand what that means?’

‘Oh yes, only too well.’

Betty slumps against my leg like a deflated balloon and stares into space. Her moods go up and down very fast. I wait. Nothing happens, so I nudge her gently with my nose. No response.

‘Are you an outcast, Betty?’

She looks sideways at me and sighs. ‘Nah. Course not.’ But she doesn’t sound convincing.

Suddenly she jumps up and points a paw at the moon shining in through the kitchen window. I’m so surprised I rear up and bark.

‘But you’re not going to break any commandy things, Mr Monty, because Rose won’t even know you’ve left the house. We’ve got all night, you see. This Larry bloke is bound to be a local, so you’ll be back before she wakes up. So no harm done.’

I know what she’s proposing isn’t right but I’ll never find Paddy’s killer if I never leave the cottage.

‘Look. At least let’s find out where he lives before we make any decisions?’ Betty urges. ‘What harm can that do?’

I nod.