Detective Nosegoode and the Music Box Mystery Page 4

  “Where would you like me to stop?”

  “Two houses before the clockmaker’s shop.”

  Two houses before the clockmaker’s? How interesting! The carriage continues for a few dozen yards before coming to a halt. Mr Nosegoode hands some money to the coachman, jumps out onto the pavement and continues on foot towards Mr Blossom’s workshop.

  He goes up the steps and looks through the window. Only Joey is bustling about inside. Looking pleased, Mr Nosegoode goes in.

  “Oh, hello, Inspector!” Joey cries out, blushing. “Have you caught the thief yet?”

  “Almost,” Mr Nosegoode answers. “Is the master in?”

  “No, I’m afraid he’s gone out. He went to fix the solicitor’s clock. A tall, free-standing one. He’ll be back in an hour.”

  “That’s too bad,” Mr Nosegoode says, but there is no trace of dismay on his face.

  Joey wants to ask him all sorts of questions, but the detective doesn’t give him time to speak. He begins asking questions himself.

  “How is your aunt in Duckfield?” he enquires strangely.

  Joey’s eyes widen.

  “My aunt in Duckfield? But I… I don’t have an aunt in Duckfield!”

  “Oh, no matter!” Mr Nosegoode laughs. “Perhaps an uncle of yours lives there? Or your brother-in-law?”

  “I don’t know anyone there!”

  The detective doesn’t stop smiling.

  “And yet you’re planning a trip to Duckfield,” he says.

  Joey’s eyes widen even more.

  “Me? To Duckfield? You’ve got it wrong, Inspector.”

  Mr Nosegoode pats him on the shoulder and says in a soothing tone, “You’re right, I’m wrong. But I highly recommend a visit to Duckfield one day. It’s a lovely town!”

  Ambrosius goes out of the workshop, leaving Joey speechless. He walks back to Skylark Lane and doesn’t stop until he reaches his house. Opening the gate, he calls out, “Cody! Cody!”

  But Cody isn’t there.

  CODY IN DANGER

  Cody wasn’t there because he was following Blackbeard.

  He didn’t have to wait for him for long. At a quarter past eight, the gate in front of Mrs Hardtack’s house creaked, and the owner of the fake beard appeared. Cody tensed his muscles. He realized that a risky game was about to begin – a game whose outcome he couldn’t predict.

  Blackbeard closed the gate carefully behind him, glanced in the direction of Mr Nosegoode’s house, stroked his beard (How strange that it doesn’t fall off! the dog thought) and set off towards the town centre. Cody waited a little while and then followed.

  He didn’t have an easy task. Blackbeard was behaving like a man who had plenty of time on his hands and wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. He walked slowly, stopping for no reason and looking at whatever caught his eye. Every few steps, Cody had to jump off to the side to avoid attracting his attention. In this way, overcoming various obstacles, he reached the main square.

  That’s where the real trouble started. There was a market that morning, and the square was bustling with people. Traders were touting their wares, horses were neighing, geese were honking and a colourful, rowdy crowd filled every space. How could he track anyone in these circumstances? Blackbeard, meanwhile, was clearly taken with the place. He wandered from one stall to another without any apparent intention of leaving.

  There really was a lot to see and hear!

  One man, thin as a stick, was yelling in a hoarse voice, “Step up, ladies and gentlemen, step up! This is the only place where you can get the sensational Sparkle & Shine detergent. It can clean anything – absolutely anything, even stains on your honour! This amazing product, which I’m pleased to offer for a very low price, is world famous and one hundred per cent guaranteed! No need to push, there’s enough for everyone. Here you go, ma’am! Who’s next?”

  Another seller, a chubby fellow, was loudly proclaiming the merits of combs made by Pranks & Company.

  “Even old King Arthur himself used to groom his beard with a comb from Pranks!” he bellowed. “And today everyone uses our combs, ladies and gentlemen, because Pranks & Company combs are a mark of rare elegance and true refinement! How many? Two? Here you go. We have a special offer: buy five and get a hairnet for free! Five for you, miss? Right away!”

  To the left, someone was touting shoelaces, to the right – fattened geese; there were ‘golden’ rings over here and pots for cooking eggs over there. Somewhere not too far from Cody a barrel-organ whined and a parrot shrieked at the top of its voice.

  Cody also caught other bits of information which were far more interesting. As he walked past two jolly women selling spring vegetables, he overheard a snippet of their conversation.

  “Oh yes!” the first one said. “They stole a chest full of gold, my dear. They went in, carried it off and that was that. Now the clockmaker is tearing his hair out. He’s lost a fortune…”

  “But is that really true?” the other said doubtfully.

  “What? You don’t believe me?” the first bristled. “If you must know, Mrs Prune’s cousin’s sister-in-law, who’s the clockmaker’s neighbour, saw it with her own eyes!”

  “A chest full of gold! Well, well,” the other murmured.

  Cody wasn’t too surprised by this conversation – he knew a thing or two about humans’ tendency to gossip – but he had to run when he realized he had lost sight of Blackbeard. He had no trouble finding him in front of a rotund advertising pillar at the edge of the square.

  Blackbeard was reading a huge poster, the contents of which had sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest dogs in Lower Limewood:

  Attention dog owners! By the mayor’s order, a general vaccination of dogs against rabies will take place on Friday, 15th May. The vaccines will be administered in Billy goat Square by veterinarian Aloysius Pretzel. All dogs requiring vaccination must be brought washed and muzzled. Anyone found guilty of disobeying this order will be subject to imprisonment for up to seven days.

  After reading this announcement and a few others, Blackbeard turned into Brewery Street, which was famous for its historic well. It was here that, according to old chronicles, the victorious King John Sobieski had stopped on his way back from the Battle of Vienna to let his horse drink. It was towards this well that Mrs Hardtack’s tenant directed his steps.

  What strange interests this man has, Cody thought. One day it’s music boxes, the next it’s mildewy old wells. I wonder what he’ll come up with tomorrow.

  Blackbeard examined the well’s stonework roof, which was blackened with age, and read the plaque commemorating the king’s momentous visit three centuries earlier. He scribbled something down in his notebook and, pulling at his beard, seemed to ponder what to do next. His decision was helped by the promising sign above a café across the street: “Sweet Corner”.

  Cody didn’t like this café. He couldn’t forgive the owner for the smaller sign on the door, which was an insult to dogs everywhere: “Please come in but leave your dog outside.” Dogs are not allowed, but the likes of him can enter no problem! Cody thought bitterly when the door closed behind the bearded man.

  He sat down on the edge of the pavement and reflected. He was disappointed. His hour-long pursuit of Blackbeard had not produced the results he’d expected. The man was behaving perfectly normally: no suspicious deeds, meetings or conversations. Just an ordinary tourist who happened to have a beard. Was Ambrosius right about him?

  Cody didn’t like to admit defeat. He tried to find some kind of explanation, some way to prove that he was right. And then it suddenly struck him.

  I’m a donkey, not a dog! he told himself. It’s obvious why Blackbeard is behaving so innocently! He knows I’m following him. He knows I’m watching his every move – he must have seen me. He’s probably gone into the café to try to lose me! I bet he’s sitting by the window, sipping his coffee, pretending to read a newspaper, when in fact he’s keeping an eye on me. Well, just you wait! We’ll see who�
��s going to outfox whom!

  Cody thought for a moment and quickly decided on his next steps. I know what I’m going to do! he thought. I’ll pretend I’m going home. He’ll let his guard down, and then I’ll hide somewhere and wait. When he leaves the café, I’ll follow him, but I’ll be more careful this time. I won’t let him see me.

  He rose. Sluggishly, as befitted an old dog, he began dragging his paws homeward. When he was at a safe distance from the café, he regained his usual vigour, took a leap off to the side, crawled through a hole in a fence and hid in a garden. Finding a convenient observation spot, he decided to wait.

  He waited a long time – an hour or more. He was beginning to suspect that Blackbeard had left by a hidden exit somewhere at the back of the café, when he finally saw him standing in front of Sweet Corner. At last! He breathed a sigh of relief and got up onto all fours.

  The bearded man was still in no hurry. He paused. He looked left, then right, and after a brief hesitation started in the same direction as Cody. Could he be going home? the dog thought, worried. He waited to see what would happen next.

  Blackbeard passed him, walked all the way to the square and disappeared in the crowd. Cody had been waiting for that: he sprang out of his hiding place and hurried after him. After cautiously looking around the square, he realized that Blackbeard was gone. He checked one street and then another. Only at the bottom of the third street, off in the distance, did he see the familiar silhouette of Blackbeard approaching Skylark Lane. Cody followed, quietly sneaking up behind him.

  The closer he got, the more his mood fell. He hung his tail. It seemed he had been barking up the wrong tree: Blackbeard was going home. This meant that Cody’s whole expedition had been in vain. He’d go back empty-pawed – and, what was worse, Ambrosius might think he’d been foolish.

  When Blackbeard turned into Skylark Lane, Cody hung his tail even lower. The matter was settled. The last glimmer of hope had been extinguished. Tough. Perhaps he’d have better luck the following day.

  *

  Cody watches Blackbeard approach Mrs Hardtack’s house. The man is already at the gate. He struggles with it for a moment, then opens it and disappears behind a clump of lilacs. Cody begins to drag himself home, hanging his head close to the ground. He stops thinking about the man and tries to imagine his meeting with Ambrosius. He’s a step away from Mrs Hardtack’s gate when suddenly he stops dead in his tracks: the gate swings open and… right there, standing in front of Cody, is Blackbeard!

  “What a surprise!” the bearded man exclaims. “Such an interesting dog right in front of my house!” He lowers his voice. “I have a proposal for you, doggy. But let’s talk about it over some milk, shall we? It would be my pleasure. Please come in!”

  Cody remains rooted to the spot. Is it a coincidence or a trick? Is he a friend or an enemy? he asks himself. What to do: accept his offer or make a run for it?

  “Come on, do come in!”

  The man’s voice sounds pleasant enough and his eyes seem friendly – but Cody knows that appearances can be deceiving.

  If the worse comes to the worst, I can always escape in time, he thinks and steps inside.

  The hallway is empty, as is the kitchen: Mrs Hardtack must have gone out shopping. This means they’re alone. Cody hears the key being turned in the lock behind him. He lowers his tail all the way to the ground. He’s completely at the mercy of the stranger.

  Blackbeard leads Cody to his room. There’s nothing suspicious inside: a suitcase, an umbrella, a big camera on a tripod, with the lens pointing at Cody. One glance at the table, however, and Cody’s legs nearly buckle under him. There is a bottle of milk all right, but next to it is another, smaller bottle – labelled with a skull and crossbones.

  Poison! Run! I have to get away! flashes through his mind.

  Get away: but how? The window is closed; the key in the lock has been turned.

  Blackbeard comes back from the kitchen holding a saucer. He goes up to the table.

  Cody hears the splash of milk being poured out, but he can’t see it – Blackbeard is blocking the view with his body. He’s fiddling with something. It’s not hard to guess: he must be opening the second bottle.

  “Your treat is ready. Come and have some!” Blackbeard says. He picks up the saucer, carries it out into the hallway and puts it down in a corner.

  “Don’t be offended that it’s not in my room, but I don’t want to get in trouble,” he explains. “Mrs Hardtack is very keen on cleanliness.” He turns to Cody and continues, “Tasty cold milk! I think you’ll like it.”

  Cody begins walking slowly towards this tasty cold milk. He knows he won’t touch it, but he forces himself forward. At the same time, he’s racking his brains to work out how to avoid being poisoned.

  He bends over the saucer and pretends to drink. The man smiles encouragingly and goes back to his room.

  “I just have to get something else ready,” he says before closing the door behind him.

  Cody seizes his chance. He’s saved! He’s surprised by how quickly an opportunity has come.

  Yet far more surprised is Blackbeard when he hears a sharp, loud cry: “Open up! Police!” He rushes into the hall, turns the key in the lock and opens the front door.

  That’s exactly what Cody has been waiting for. One leap and he’s free!

  Without glancing back, he sprints towards home. How wonderful the air smells! How many birds there are in the trees! How warm the sun is! How far, far behind is that dreadful bottle with a skull and crossbones on it!

  He’s home already!

  *

  Cody stopped in front of the door with his tongue hanging out. His panting was so loud that only a moment later the door swung open and Ambrosius appeared.

  “What happened, Cody?” the detective asked.

  “Blackbeard has been exposed!” the dog gasped. “I was right, Ambrosius! He’s a criminal! A poisoner!”

  “A poisoner? What are you talking about?”

  “A poisoner, one hundred per cent! He tried to poison me just now!”

  Cody briefly explained what had happened.

  “If he was trying to poison me,” he concluded, “that means he must have a few things on his conscience. He’d noticed that I was trailing him and he wanted to get rid of me. Ambrosius! I swear on my nose that he’s the one who stole the music box!”

  Cody’s story didn’t seem to shock Ambrosius. On the contrary, he listened to it with a slight smile.

  “Despite my great respect for your nose,” he said after Cody had finished, “I can’t agree with you. Blackbeard didn’t steal the music box. It was someone else.”

  Cody was so astonished he had to sit down.

  “Who?”

  “It’s a secret for now. But come inside and have a rest. There are still many adventures to come today.”

  As Cody plodded doggedly after Ambrosius, bitter thoughts attacked him like a swarm of hungry fleas.

  That’s human friendship and human gratitude for you! he thought. I took on a dangerous mission, I nearly paid for it with my life, I got irrefutable proof that Blackbeard is a criminal – and what do I get? A little disbelieving smirk and a brand new secret, that’s all. No hint of sympathy, no recognition of any kind. Was it worth the sacrifice?

  He didn’t have time to answer his own question because just then the doorbell rang. It rang and it rang again, insistently.

  “Who could it be?” Cody wondered out loud as his legs almost buckled under him once more.

  Ambrosius didn’t reply. With quick steps, he went up to the door and opened it.

  Standing in the doorway was… Blackbeard!

  WHO IS BLACKBEARD?

  The bearded man looked as though he had just seen a visitor from another planet or a calf with two heads. He was completely flabbergasted.

  “Please forgive me for this surprise visit,” he said, wiping his forehead with a chequered handkerchief, “but a few minutes ago something so mysterious happened
that I just can’t explain it, which is why I’ve come to you for help.”

  “To me?” said Ambrosius, surprised.

  “Yes. Because this mysterious incident involves your dog.”

  Cody quickly closed his eyes. Mr Nosegoode looked at him sternly, as if he wanted to scold him for being involved in mysterious incidents, and invited the guest in. He offered him an armchair, pulled a bottle of currant wine out of the dresser, filled the glasses and then said, “Now we can talk. Please tell me.”

  Blackbeard took a sip of his wine, glanced over at Cody – who was doing his best to keep calm – and began his story.

  “Allow me first to introduce myself. My name is Timothy Pipestem. I’m a cynologist – a specialist in the study of dogs. Dogs are my life’s passion. For the past few years, I’ve been working on a book titled Portraits of Extraordinary Dogs. I go from town to town and from village to village looking for interesting specimens. I record their habits; I take photographs. I came to your town a few days ago and met a few rather uninteresting dogs, but soon I came across yours. There’s something about him that really intrigues me. It’s hard to pin down. Maybe it’s the exceptional intelligence you can see in his face; maybe it’s the philosophical expression in his eyes. I don’t know. In any case, that’s what made me follow you – you and Cody. I wanted to find out more about this ordinary-looking but in fact highly unusual mutt. Of course, I could’ve come to you, taken a closer look at him and asked you for the information I was after. But I decided to leave that for later. First I wanted to observe him in his natural environment, so to speak. I have to say my efforts paid off. Over the course of the next two days, I made a series of very interesting observations. I also obtained a few valuable details from Mrs Hardtack. All that was left was to take a few photographs.” Blackbeard paused briefly.