Read an Excerpt
Cody – the strangest of all dogs – was lying in the shade of
an apple tree, daydreaming about a big, juicy bone, which
his master and friend Detective Ambrosius Nosegoode had
gone out to get for him in the centre of town.
“Waiting for a big, juicy bone is the most pleasant kind
of waiting,” the dog muttered* under his breath, licking his
lips expectantly.
The happy wait and the beautiful spring, which had
transformed the garden in Skylark Lane into a piece of real
paradise, made Cody even dreamier.
* (Many readers might be surprised at this and might point out
that Cody couldn’t have muttered these words because dogs do not
mutter. Indeed, as a rule, dogs don’t know human speech – but
Cody is an exception to this rule and can use our language perfectly.
You can find out how this happened and read about the earlier
adventures of Mr Nosegoode and his dog in Detective Nosegoode and
the Music Box Mystery.)
This dog’s life is so good, he thought. Other dogs go hungry in
rickety kennels and are used to the smack of a stick or the clutch
of a tight collar, while I have a good friend, a quiet corner to
enjoy in my old age and, once in a while, a tasty bone for dessert.
What else could I ask for?
The familiar creak of the front gate interrupted this
enjoyable train of thought.
“Ambrosius!” Cody yelped in delight and ran to greet
his friend.
His joy quickly faded. One glance was enough for him to
realize that Ambrosius had returned without a bone. He was
carrying a parcel, but the flat, rectangular bundle couldn’t
possibly contain such a delicacy. Cody glumly hung his tail,
and life suddenly seemed a bitter pill to swallow. He sighed.
Ambrosius, who heard the sigh, smiled mysteriously,
jiggled the package and said, “I promise you a ton of bones
if you guess what’s inside.”
“Thanks a lot,” Cody barked back, “but I’d rather have one
bone between my teeth than a ton at the butcher’s. Besides,
I have no interest in mysterious bundles.”
“Really?” Ambrosius bent down towards him. “I’m sure
you’re going to change your mind very soon.”
Cody assumed a dignified posture.
“Don’t forget that I’m not the kind of dog who changes
his mind,” he said emphatically.
“We’ll see.”
Mr Nosegoode quickly removed the wrapping and showed
his dog a beautiful book which still smelled of fresh printers’
ink.
“Look!”
Cody glanced at the title and leapt up onto all fours.
“Portraits of Extraordinary Dogs?!” he exclaimed.
“Indeed!” Ambrosius said, pleased that the book made
such an impression. “The volume in front of you is Timothy
Pipestem’s epoch-making work.”
Cody instantly forgot about such mundane things as big,
juicy bones. The events from a year earlier came flooding
back to him vividly. It had all begun when a mysterious
stranger with a beard appeared in Lower Limewood. From
the first day, the stranger seemed unduly interested in Cody:
he watched him closely, he followed him… Cody began
to suspect terrible things. He took the bearded man for a
dangerous criminal, a poisoner even. But then it turned out
that he was a great friend of dogs.
This stranger was Timothy Pipestem – a well-respected
dog expert who travelled from town to town gathering
material for his book – the very book that Mr Nosegoode
was now holding in his hands.
“Ambrosius,” Cody whispered, shifting anxiously from
paw to paw. “Do I… Do I get a mention in there?”
“A mention?” the detective said indignantly. “Just a
mention? Timothy Pipestem has devoted one hundred and
forty-eight complimentary words to you, accompanied by
a photograph.”
Ambrosius flipped a few pages and showed Cody the photo.
“Look, here you are!”
Cody gaped at the portrait, momentarily forgetting
everything around him. He found it difficult to accept that
this fascinating dog looking out at him from the book was
none other than himself.
“So, how do you like it?” Ambrosius asked.
Cody swallowed.
“Not bad!”
“Not bad? It’s brilliant! Look at that sparkle in your eye,
the placement of your tail, the positioning of your ears, the
intelligence evident in the muzzle… Timothy Pipestem has
captured the essence of your dogly being – and all you can
say is, “‘Not bad’…”
Cody listened to this reproach with a guilty expression,
inwardly admitting that his friend was absolutely right.
“Now listen to what our excellent cynologist* has written
about you,” Ambrosius continued. “Or maybe you’d rather
read it out yourself?”
* (A cynologist is a specialist in the study of dogs.)
“No, no!” the dog answered quickly. “You read. I’ve got
something in my eye; I can hardly see.”
He didn’t want to admit that emotion was squeezing his
throat like a tight collar and that the letters were dancing
in front of his eyes.
Ambrosius cleared his throat and began to read.
Here is another eminent representative of the canine
family – Cody, who belongs to retired Detective Ambrosius
Nosegoode (7 Skylark Lane, Lower Limewood). Cody
seems like an ordinary mutt, but his outstanding intelligence
places him among dogs of the most noble birth.
Mr Nosegoode’s professional successes are well known.
It should be noted, however, without detracting in any
way from the famous detective’s talents, that the phenomenal
Cody has been jointly responsible for many of
them. And that’s not all. Certain facts seem to point to
Cody possessing an ability that has never been found
in animals up to now. This ability is so incredible that
the author – keen to maintain the scientific accuracy
of this work – has decided not to reveal it. Let it be
noted that if this ability were to be confirmed, it would
undoubtedly mean that Cody is the most brilliant dog
in the world.
Ambrosius finished reading and slowly closed the book.
“Yes, my friend!” he said. “From this day on, you can
hold your tail high. You’re now the most famous dog in
the world. This makes me very happy, but it also worries
me.”
“It worries you?” Cody said, surprised. The excerpt from
the book had made him feel a bit light-headed. “Why?”
The old detective stared at a butterfly fluttering above
his head. After a pause, without taking his eyes off it, he
said, “I’m afraid of losing you.”
“Ambrosius, what on earth are you talking about?” Cody
blurted out.
“I know what I’m saying,” the detective stood his ground.
“‘The most brilliant dog in the world’ – that’s not the same
as the little-known Cody. It’s true that Timothy Pipestem
hasn’t actually said that you can talk, but you’ll get all
kinds of proposals regardless. You’ll see, you’ll soon get
offers to join a circus or be in a show! And popularity, fame,
applause – these are enormous temptations. Who knows,
they might persuade you. Old Ambrosius can’t offer you
much any more…”
The dog grew serious.
“Get this into your head once and for all: I’m never going
to leave you,” he assured him eagerly. “Never! Not for all the
circuses in the world! Do you believe me?”
Ambrosius didn’t answer. He just laid his hand on the
dog’s back and remained like that for a while, moved by
his friend’s words. He had no idea that an entirely different
kind of danger was looming over the house in Skylark
Lane…
