Best Mystery Fiction 2004, The Library Journal
Waldo Chicken Wakes the Dead: A Murder Mystery of Unusual Proportionsby Alan Goldsmith, David King, David King
Constable (Connie) O'Toole is a cartoonist with the not-so-unusual habit of talking to his cartoon characters, Waldo (a fat, pompous walrus) and the Chicken (a harried hen permanently roosting on Waldo's head) - but Waldo and the Chicken have a habit of talking back! Together they make the neighborhood's best detective team, until the skull of Becky Sawyer is found
Constable (Connie) O'Toole is a cartoonist with the not-so-unusual habit of talking to his cartoon characters, Waldo (a fat, pompous walrus) and the Chicken (a harried hen permanently roosting on Waldo's head) - but Waldo and the Chicken have a habit of talking back! Together they make the neighborhood's best detective team, until the skull of Becky Sawyer is found, then Connie and Waldo Chicken must use every skill they have to solve a mystery that might take them beyond the grave!
- WindRiver Publishing
- Publication date:
- Product dimensions:
- 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.69(d)
- Age Range:
- 3 Months
Read an Excerpt
"I don't remember anything!" cackled the Chicken. "I can't
remember anything! It's all too gruesome!"
I could tell the Chicken was going to be of no help. Of course,
being in a coma would not have been a new experience for her.
She was always on the verge of falling into one at the slightest
provocation. But I was concerned about Waldo. He was actually
apologetic, a disposition totally foreign to him. I felt it could not
possibly be healthy for a fat, pompous, know-it-all walrus to be
suffering from such a condition.
"It's okay, Waldo," I said with great sympathy. "It's enough
that you remember being in the hole."
"Constable, you're not being condescending now, are you?"
asked Waldo, suddenly sounding a little more like himself. "That's
my turf, you know."
"No, no, I wasn't being condescending, Waldo. I was just…"
"Look, Constable, I'm going to try to explain a difficult concept
to you. It'll probably be beyond you, but I'll try to put it in
simpleton terms that maybe even you can understand."
I was greatly relieved. Normalcy had returned with a vengeance.
"Go ahead, Waldo. Explain a difficult concept to me," I said
"Now you're being sarcastic. But I'll ignore that for the time
being," began Waldo. "Now here's the concept. When you allowed
our statue to be kidnapped, what happened to the rest of
"What do you mean what happened to the rest of you?" I
"I knew this was going to be difficult," sighed Waldo. "What
I mean iswhat happened to the part of us that stays in this
studio of yours. Did we just disappear along with the statue?"
"Uhhno, of course not, you've never disappeared from this
studio. Although, you were pretty pissed off with me when I told
you the statue was missing."
"I nearly laid an egg!" recalled the Chicken.
"Ah, but that's just the point," said Waldo, ignoring the Chicken.
"We had to be told our statue was missing. We knew what had
happened at the séance but once you let go of us we weren't aware
of anything else that went on that night. We were comatose."
"Well, that's what I was trying to point out." I said. "While
you're in the statue you have to stay in physical contact with me
touhh-well, how should I put it?" I stammered searching for
a tactful way of saying they owed their whole existence to me.
"You can put it where the sun don't shine," said Waldo helpfully,
"because, if you'll recall at the séance, Cluck Head and I
sometimes took our leave of that statue and went off on our own."
"That's right! You did! But, well, where does that get us?"
"I'd say it gets us to the Declaration of Independence."
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Meet the Author
Alan spent years laboring in the vineyards of Atlanta's advertising community, but never acquired a taste for the wine (much preferring Vodka, instead). He now lives with his wife, a gregarious West Highland Terrier named Percy, and a giant cat named William the Conqueror. There might be two more pestiferous pets, but who'd believe a walrus and a chicken?
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