Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!. Louisa Bennet

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       Chapter Seven

      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.’

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