‘One day –’ she began, but didn’t finish.
‘One day what?’ I asked.
‘Oh, nothing. I think we’ve seen enough. Burping botties! Isn’t that Charlie Smugg walking towards us?’
It was Charlie, and he’d spotted us. It was too late to escape. At least he didn’t have his wretched Alsatians with him.
‘Afternoon, lovebirds,’ he greeted us, flashing his broken-toothed smile. ‘How’s it going? Got my money yet?’
I was going to enjoy telling Charlie the next bit. ‘No, we haven’t and you won’t ever get it either, because we no longer have the pups. They’ve been stolen.’
‘Stolen! Never!’ Charlie scowled and poked my chest with a fat finger. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘Check my house,’ I offered and told him what had happened in the park.
‘Who’d want to do something like that?’ Charlie mused.
‘Somebody who reckons they’d make a good Christmas present,’ Tina suggested.
‘Yeah, suppose.’ Charlie was frowning harder and harder. Evidently he was trying to piece together some thought that had occurred deep inside his tiny brain.
‘Thing is,’ he began, ‘those pups are still half mine. Now, I didn’t lose those pups, you did, and that’s your responsibility, so the way I see it is like you still owe me half the money.’
‘Charlie!’ Tina and I chorused in disbelief.
Our horror put an even bigger smile on Charlie’s face. ‘Oh yeah,’ he nodded. ‘You still owe me all right. I want to see that money, before Christmas, or there’ll be trouble. Big trouble. Bye now. Have a nice day.’
Tina and I watched in stunned silence as Charlie went clumping off in his big boots and vanished round the corner.
5. Criminals!
Streaker was pounding round the house, diving under tables, snuffling behind chairs and burrowing beneath beds. She was on a frantic puppy hunt. She tried to climb up the chimney at one point. How do I know? Because she appeared in the kitchen surrounded by a large cloud of soot. She waved her tail frantically, which only spread the filth further.
Mum took one look at her and hurried to the front room, following the very noticeable trail of black paw prints. ‘That dog! (Cough!) That wretched (cough cough) pesky dog!’
I crept to the door. Soot was still billowing from the fireplace. The room had been hit by a soot avalanche. It was everywhere, and so were Streaker’s paw marks – on the furniture, walls, cushions and carpet. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a set of them marching across the ceiling. The front room was a major disaster area, and Mum was threatening an even more major explosion over the dog.
I decided that Streaker and I had better go and hide somewhere safe until the soot storm blew over. What we really needed was a nuclear bunker nearby where we could lock ourselves away, but since there wasn’t one we nipped round to Tina’s.
Her mother opened the door, took one look at the soot-caked Streaker and politely told us to use the side gate into the garden. ‘Keep her on the lead and I’ll hose her down,’ she ordered.
It was a good idea – a neat, simple idea. It should have worked, but it didn’t. Why not? Because it involved Streaker. When Tina’s mum turned on the hose and the jet of water hit Streaker she gave a wild yelp. Her eyes practically popped out of her head. She leaped into my arms for shelter and immediately scrabbled about like crazy, generally making sure that I had as much wet soot as possible plastering me from top to bottom. Finally she plopped back down and gave herself a good shake, just to finish things off. Another wave of soggy soot hit me like a tsunami.
‘This is fun,’ I said grimly.
Tina’s mother stood with the hose dangling from one hand. ‘Oh dear,’ she murmured. ‘That didn’t quite work out as I expected. Maybe the water was a bit cold.’
‘It’s freezing!’ I cried. I could swear Tina’s mother was trying not to laugh. One thing was certain, Tina thought it hilarious. She was leaning out of her bedroom window and howling with glee.
‘You look so funny, Trev!’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re such a gong!’
‘Thank you,’ I repeated, even more coldly.
Tina’s mother threw me a towel. ‘Dry yourself off and then do the dog.’ She studied my soot-suit with a grimace. ‘I can’t let either of you in like that, either.’
‘Oh, great,’ I muttered. ‘We’ll freeze out here.’
‘I’ll come down to you,’ said Tina and a few moments later she emerged from the house with an extra towel and began to mop Streaker. I told her about Streaker’s chimney investigation while I dried myself. Tina leaped to the dog’s defence.
‘Streaker’s bound to miss her pups,’ Tina sighed. ‘Of course she’s going to look for them.’
‘UP THE CHIMNEY?’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘Where will she search next? Down the toilet?’
Tina shrugged. ‘She is only a dog. You can’t expect her to think like a human.’
‘You can’t expect her to think, full stop,’ I grunted, and to prove what I had just said Streaker chose that moment to make a single, graceful leap over the side gate, out to the front and she was gone.
‘Uh-oh, here we go again,’ I groaned. ‘Streaker’s on the trail. Come on, hurry. Maybe she’s got a hot scent.’
We reached the road just in time to see Streaker skid round the corner at the far end. ‘She’s heading for town. Run! Can’t you go any faster?’
‘Yes,’ said Tina, breezing past me. I should have remembered she’d won the hundred-metre sprint on Sports Day. Show-off. Mind you, I was running in wet jeans and squelchy shoes that had more soot in them than feet. Lovely.
We raced towards the centre of town – at least, Tina raced, I just kind of squidged at speed. I was thinking, how many times have I done this before – gone chasing after my hundred-mile-an-hour dog? Hundreds of times, that’s how many.
We slowed down as we reached the main square. We had to because it was crowded with shoppers and the council were still putting up Christmas decorations. Piles of cables and lights lay beside plastic Father Christmases, angels, snowmen and elves, all laid out ready to go up. Prickly heaps of holly and mistletoe were sprinkled here and there, waiting to be used. And somewhere among all that was Streaker.
Funnily enough (though it wasn’t funny at the time), it was quite easy to spot her. The first sign we got was a loud, alarmed yell.
‘HELP!’
We gazed in the direction of the shout just in time to see a long ladder go crashing to the ground. A workman clung with one hand to the top of a lamp post, legs dangling helplessly. His free hand was clutching a fat, plastic Santa by the foot, but not for long. A moment later he let go and Father Christmas plunged head first to the ground and smashed to bits.
The crowd gasped with horror.
‘HELP!!’ cried the workman again and several people rushed to his aid, propping up the ladder for him. Streaker eyed the gathering crowd with an innocent look on her face that said it all – Ladder? What ladder? Who? Me?
As the crowd approached she decided to scarper, double quick, but by this time she had managed to get a strand of lights tangled round her back legs. The workmen saw this as a chance to grab her. They quickly dropped the ladder and closed on Streaker, shouting at her and arguing with each other over how best to catch her. The dangling man went on dangling (and yelling).
‘HELP!’
‘Go round the other side and head her off!’
‘Wave a bone at her!’
‘Where am I going to find a bone, you idiot?’
‘Flap your coat. It scares them.’
‘Flap your own coat. Just go round the other side, will you?’
‘HELLLPPPPPP!’
‘We need a bone!’
‘You need a brain.’
‘You saying I’m stupid?’
Heaven knows how long this would have gone on for when the situation took a turn for the worse. Charlie S
mugg appeared, and he wasn’t alone. He had his three Alsatians, straining at the leash. An unpleasant smile crept on to his face as he took in the situation and spotted Streaker, trapped in the Christmas cables. Charlie planted his legs wide, grinned and let loose his howling pack.
The Alsatians bounded away like wolves just coming off a starvation diet, their long legs swallowing the ground between them and their prey. Their gnashing jaws were flecked with frothy spit. I could see the panic in Streaker’s eyes as they hurtled towards her. Normally she could have outrun them, but she was still struggling, entangled in at least three different sets of Christmas lights.
She made a dash to escape but it was hard work with all those bulbs following behind, bouncing and bursting on the road. But now the workmen and Charlie’s Alsatians also found themselves getting tangled up in endless coils of cable too.
It began to look as if they were all fighting some gigantic monster from the depths of the sea as they struggled with snaking coils of coloured bulbs, not to mention the odd holly branch and umpteen plastic elves and snowmen. The shouts grew louder as more people were drawn into battle. And the more people tried to help, the worse the situation became.
DEE DOO DEE DOO DEE DOO!
Everyone was drowned out by the arrival of a police car. It came swooping into the square and was almost brought to a halt by the wriggling wire monster, not to mention the boggle-eyed snowmen, Santas and fairies that kept popping up from time to time.
Instead of stopping the car and getting out, the driver decided that the best way to deal with the problem was to make his siren wail even louder.
DEE DOO DEE DOO!!!!
It was Sergeant Smugg, of course, Charlie’s dad. The police car inched forward, deafening the entire town, scrunching over bulbs, cables and the shattered fragments of exploding elves and fairies. Finally the car stopped and out stepped Sergeant Smugg, hitching up his trousers like some gun-slinging sheriff. He couldn’t see what was going on so he climbed on to the bonnet of his car, megaphone in hand.
‘Who started this riot?’ bellowed Sergeant Smugg, while his megaphone went into feedback mode and delivered such an earsplitting screech it knocked the sergeant clean off his feet.
He landed smack on his butt on the bonnet of his car and immediately slid straight off and on to the ground. He lay there for a second and then struggled back to his feet.
‘I repeat: who started this riot?’
‘WILL SOMEBODY PLEEEASE HELP ME?!’ pleaded the workman who was STILL dangling from the lamp post.
For a second or two there was no answer. Everyone looked around, wondering what to do, their eyes flicking from the dangling workman to the town sheriff. They knew it wasn’t exactly a riot, but how had it all started? Nobody seemed to be sure. At least, nobody seemed sure until Charlie Smugg spoke up.
‘It was that pesky dog, Streaker,’ he shouted at his dad. ‘It was Streaker and Trevor and that girlfriend of his.’
There was a short silence and then everyone took up the cry. ‘Yes! It was Streaker and Trevor and his girlfriend. There they are!’
We suddenly found a hundred fingers pointing at us, while on the other side of the square the dangling workman finally let go. And that was how Tina, Streaker and I came to be in the police station, almost under arrest. (And the workman came to be in hospital, under sedation.)
6. Suspicious Behaviour
Tina was outraged. ‘Charlie doesn’t know what happened. He wasn’t even there when it started! You can’t keep us here. It’s against the law.’
‘That’s not the case, young lady,’ smirked Sergeant Smugg. ‘Upholding the law is down to the police, and in this town that means me. I am the police and starting a riot is a serious offence.’
‘We didn’t start a riot,’ I tried to explain. ‘And if Charlie hadn’t let his dogs loose none of this would have happened.’
‘You can’t wriggle out of it by blaming my son, son,’ snorted the sergeant, and he shook his head because what he’d said didn’t sound right at all. He pulled a face and squinted at me, hard. ‘Don’t you ever bath?’ he asked.
Before I could open my mouth Tina butted in. ‘He’s on his way to a fancy dress party,’ she said with a completely straight face. ‘He’s going as his own shadow. I think that’s really clever, don’t you?’
At that moment Dad arrived to save us, closely followed by Tina’s mother. Dad did not look happy.
‘How many times have I had to collect you from this police station, Trevor? No, don’t even tell me. And, of course, it wasn’t your fault, was it, or Streaker’s?’
‘Honestly, Dad, it wasn’t.’
‘It never is, is it?’ muttered Sergeant Smugg, rather sarcastically.
Dad ignored him. He had suddenly become aware of my state of darkness. ‘What have you been doing?’ he gasped.
‘He’s in fancy dress,’ explained Sergeant Smugg. ‘He’s going as his own shadow. Quite clever, really,’ he grunted.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ snapped Dad. ‘Are you charging anyone here with an offence?’
Sergeant Smugg gave an unpleasant smile and began counting on his fingers. ‘Let me see: damaging council property, causing an affray, inflicting bodily harm, preventing the progress of a police vehicle, causing a riot –’ Sergeant Smugg paused for effect, leaned across his desk and finished off – ‘AND THAT’S JUST THE DOG.’
Streaker gave a short ‘woof’ and shook a bit more soot off her coat. The sergeant took several steps away from her. ‘As for these two, you can get put in prison for rioting, you know.’
Tina’s mother stepped forward. ‘Officer, I am going to take these two children home, along with the dog, because neither dogs nor children go to prison. You carry on with your investigation and if you want to get in touch you know where we shall be. Goodbye, Sergeant.’
Tina’s mother ushered us outside.
‘Pompous twit,’ muttered Dad. ‘So what did happen then?’
Tina and I took it in turns to explain.
‘I can easily believe that. Charlie Smugg is always causing trouble,’ said Tina’s mother. ‘I used to teach him, you know, when he was about four or five. He was a troublemaker then and he hasn’t changed. His parents never listened. It was always someone else’s fault.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘What’s all this I hear about missing puppies?’
So then we had to tell the story of the pups. Tina’s mother asked us if we’d come across any clues.
‘All we know is that they were stolen from the park and we don’t think the robber brought them into town. The prints in the snow seemed to show that he or she went in the opposite direction,’ explained Tina.
‘Oh, out towards the golf course?’ queried Dad.
‘Yes.’
‘They could be anywhere by now,’ Dad added unhelpfully.
Tina’s mother gave a little frown. ‘If you had stolen some puppies, where would you hide them?’
‘I’d take them home,’ said Tina.
‘I wouldn’t steal them in the first place,’ I said, polishing my halo. ‘But if I had, I guess I’d take them somewhere isolated. Puppies bark so I wouldn’t want anyone to hear them.’
Tina smiled. ‘You’d make a great policeman. I like a man in uniform.’
That was enough to put me off being a policeman forever! Anyway, I’m going to be an animal trainer and I shall train animals not to go running off and get tangled up in miles of cable and light bulbs. I shall train them to do USEFUL things like finding people buried by avalanches in parks and rescuing workmen dangling from lamp posts, not to mention tracking down MISSING PUPPIES.
By this time we’d reached our house. Tina’s mum came in for a cup of coffee and Tina waited while I nipped upstairs for a quick wash and change. Erik the Viking was on my bed. He took one look at me, his hair stood on end and in a flash he vanished beneath the bed. Oh well, it was good to know he was scared of something.
I took my dirty clothes downstairs and handed them to Mum f
or washing. Mum stared at the horrible heap spilling from her hands.
‘Thank you, Trevor. It must be Christmas. You could have wrapped them up for me.’ She glanced at Tina’s mother and rolled her eyes. ‘Boys,’ she muttered.
‘Girls aren’t any better,’ laughed Tina’s mum. She turned to us. ‘So where are you two detectives going to begin your investigation?’
‘The golf course,’ Tina said. ‘The footprints went in that direction and it’s isolated.’
‘It’s also HUGE,’ I groaned.
‘Got to start somewhere,’ said Tina. ‘Come on.’
Why is it I always seem to end up doing what Tina says? We headed for the golf course. It’s a private club so we couldn’t just wander about. Besides, if you’ve ever been on a golf course you’ll know how picky golfers get.
Don’t stand there! Keep off the grass! Keep off the path! Keep off the entire world! Get out of the way! Make way! Golfer coming through and I’m terribly important!
So Tina and I soon found ourselves sneaking about the course, and creeping from the cover of one bush to another. It was pretty exciting, especially as we realized that the little sheds we came across from time to time would make ideal hiding places.
We were about halfway round the course when we saw Charlie Smugg in the distance, walking and talking with someone. I chuckled. It was Sharon Blenkinsop. HIS GIRLFRIEND!
Of course, if you asked Charlie if he had a girlfriend he would deny it completely. After all, he’s always making fun of people he reckons do have girlfriends – like me, for example. (Although I must remind you that Tina is NOT MY GIRLFRIEND.) But Tina and I once caught Charlie and Sharon HOLDING HANDS! It was brilliant! They were SO embarrassed. And now, here they were again, wandering round the golf greens with each other.
‘How come those two can wander around as they please and we can’t?’ Tina demanded.
Christmas Chaos for the Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog Page 3