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Overview
Ellery Queen’s young apprentice, Djuna, is preparing for an afternoon of fishing when a stranger leans out of his car window and asks for directions to Canada. A few minutes later, Djuna watches as the man’s friends come running out of the local bank and into the getaway car, guns blazing, before taking off for the Canadian border.
It is a mystery that could baffle even Djuna’s famous boss, but with the help of a ferocious black Scottie named Champ and a few crime-solving friends, he will find the culprits. It will be the greatest adventure of his life.
Ellery Queen is one of the world’s finest detectives, but his adventures are nothing compared to the Ellery Queen Jr. Mystery Stories. Join Queen’s apprentice, Djuna, and his trusty Scottie, Champ, on adventures filled with danger, suspense, and thrills.
The Black Dog Mystery is the first book in the Ellery Queen Jr. Mystery Stories, but you may enjoy reading the series in any order.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504003889 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Open Road Media |
| Publication date: | 03/10/2015 |
| Series: | Ellery Queen Jr. Series , #1 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 234 |
| Sales rank: | 612,060 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Although eventually famous on television and radio, Queen’s first appearance came in 1928, when the cousins won a mystery-writing contest with the book that would eventually be published as The Roman Hat Mystery. Their character was an amateur detective who uses his spare time to assist his police inspector uncle in solving baffling crimes. Besides writing the Queen novels, Dannay and Lee cofounded Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, one of the most influential crime publications of all time. Although Dannay outlived his cousin by nine years, he retired Queen upon Lee’s death.
Read an Excerpt
The Black Dog Mystery
By Ellery Queen Jr.
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1941 Frederick A. Stokes Company, Inc.All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0388-9
CHAPTER 1
The Little Black Dog
It had been cloudy all morning, and by the time Djuna came in for his lunch it had begun to rain. There was a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning just as he opened the kitchen door and rushed in, followed by his dog, Champ.
"Mercy on us!" exclaimed Miss Annie Ellery, who was putting plates on the kitchen table. "That was enough to knock the house down! Is that any way to come in?"
Djuna laughed. "Oh, boy, did I have to run!" he said. "Tommy Williams and I were playing catch, and we saw it coming! Gee, look at it pour!"
He picked Champ up and held him up to look out of the window at the rain. Champ was a shaggy little black dog, a Scotch terrier—black from the tip of his nose to the tip of his stubby tail. His body was chunky and strong, but his legs were so short that they looked as if he had borrowed them from some other dog that was only half his size. His face was so covered with whiskers that his beady black eyes peered out through the tangle of hair. He wriggled in Djuna's arms.
"All right, don't look, if you don't want to," said Djuna, putting him down again. "Miss Annie, do you think it's going to rain all afternoon?"
Miss Annie Ellery was a little bit of a woman, hardly taller than Djuna. She had gray hair, and wore spectacles, but her eyes twinkled all the time.
"Oh, I don't think so," she said. "These summer showers never last long. But it will be too wet to play outdoors, won't it?"
"I guess I'll go over and see Mr. Boots," said Djuna, as he sat down to eat his lunch. "He's going to help me build a house for Champ."
"Well, that will be nice," said Miss Annie.
"Are you sure he's got time? Hasn't he got something else to do?"
"Oh, he won't mind," said Djuna. "He said he had lots of time."
"Poor Mr. Boots!" sighed Miss Annie. "He's such a good carpenter, and there's so little work for him to do, here in Edenboro! It's a shame!"
"He's going to try to get some work over in Clinton," Djuna said. "Or maybe he's going to try in Riverton. He's going over there tomorrow, he told me."
"Well, I do hope he finds something!" said Miss Annie.
It was still raining when Djuna finished his lunch, but he put on his slicker and called to Champ to follow him. The little black dog jumped up from the kitchen floor, where he had been lying with his chin on his paws, but when he got to the doorstep and felt the rain hit his nose he hesitated.
"Don't be a sissy," said Djuna. "A little rain won't hurt you!"
Champ gave a bark, probably meaning to say, "Yes, you've got a raincoat, but I haven't," but came along meekly.
The village of Edenboro, where Miss Annie Ellery and Djuna lived, was so small that it had only one street. There were only a dozen houses in the village, and only one store. The storekeeper's name was Mr. Pindler. His store was right in the middle of Edenboro, at the corner where another road started off for the town of Clinton, which was three miles away. From Clinton, the road went on to Riverton, a much bigger town, where there was a railroad. Riverton was ten miles from Edenboro. Besides keeping the store, Mr. Pindler was the postmaster, but nobody in Edenboro got many letters, so he had plenty of time to attend to the store.
Djuna and Champ picked their way along the muddy road, down which little rivers of water were trickling, went past Mr. Pindler's store, and came to a little house just beyond the store. This was where Mr. Boots lived. It looked more like a small barn than a house, because Mr. Boots had built it to use as his carpenter shop. Behind the house was a small shed, in which Mr. Boots kept the truck he used to haul lumber in from the railroad station at Riverton.
Over the front door of the shop was a sign, which Mr. Boots had painted himself. It said:
GEORGE BOOTS CARPENTER, BUILDER & HOUSEPAINTING
Djuna knocked at the door, heard the old man answer, "Come in!" and stepped inside.
The workshop consisted of one room. Against the wall, on one side of the room, was a long wooden workbench. Hammers and saws and all sorts of other tools hung on the wall over the bench. There were piles of new boards under the bench. On the other side of the room was a narrow staircase that led up to the attic Mr. Boots slept in the attic. Under the staircase, there were some wooden shelves. On the shelves were a great many cans of paint. Some of them were half empty, and some of them were new and shiny, and hadn't ever been opened. This was the paint that Mr. Boots kept ready for use, in case he was hired to paint a house, or anything else. At the far end of the room, at the rear, was an iron stove, where Mr. Boots cooked his meals, and beside the stove was the coal-bin in which he kept his coal.
As Djuna and Champ came in, Mr. Boots was bending over the stove, watching the coffeepot to make sure it didn't boil over. He turned around.
"Oh, hello, Djuna!" he said. "Hello there, Champ! Glad to see you both! Wipe your feet on that piece of cloth there, and come in! Fine weather for ducks, ain't it?"
Mr. Boots had a very kind face, and very bright blue eyes. The top of his head was bald, but there was a fringe of white hair around it, and there was a fringe of white beard under his chin. His face and his hands were tanned very brown.
Champ shook himself hard, to get the raindrops off, and Djuna wiped his feet on the piece of cloth by the door and then hung up his coat.
"Could you help me make that house for Champ this afternoon, Mr. Boots?" he asked eagerly. "Or are you too busy?"
"Haven't got a thing in the world to do," said Mr. Boots. "I was just wonderin' if you weren't comin' over. This is just the right kind of a day for doin' some work indoors. You just let me finish this cup of coffee, and we'll see what we can do."
While Mr. Boots was drinking his coffee, Djuna wandered around the shop and looked at the things on the workbench. He never got tired of looking at all the different tools there, which Mr. Boots kept so carefully sharpened and bright. There were fresh shavings of pine scattered on the bench, and the whole room had a wonderful piney smell. The rain drummed on the roof, and it was very cozy and pleasant in the shop. Champ found a place for himself by the stove and curled up to take a nap.
While he was examining the things on the workbench, Djuna noticed among them a beautifully shaped wooden box, fitted with lids and a handle, and made from very smooth light wood. "What is this going to be for, Mr. Boots?" he asked.
Mr. Boots finished his coffee and came over to the bench. "Why," he said, "that's a workbasket, or will be, soon as I get it finished up. I sort of thought I'd take it over to Riverton and see if I could get some orders for a few of 'em, you know."
"Gee, it's a dandy!" exclaimed Djuna. "What made you think of it?"
"Well," said the old man, slowly, "I got to thinkin' about one my sister used to have. She used to think a heap of it. So I figgered if it was such a handy thing to have, maybe I could make and sell some of 'em."
"Does your sister live in Riverton?" asked Djuna.
"She isn't livin', Djuna," said Mr. Boots, sadly. "It's been more than a year now, since she died. She married a man named Stricker—oh, a long time ago—and moved away from here, right after they was married. Poor thing, she had an awful hard life, but I couldn't get her to come back here. First her husband died, and then her boy ran off from home. Guess it was too much for her."
"Is her boy living?" asked Djuna. "How old is he? Old as I am?"
Mr. Boots shook his head. "Eddie Stricker?" he said. "No, he's twice as old as you be. He's a young man grown."
"Where does he live?" Djuna persisted.
Mr. Boots hesitated. "He's in jail!" he said bitterly. "Now, Djuna, I didn't go to tell you! It just sort of slipped out. I'd ruther you didn't say anything about it to anybody else. I'm sorry."
"Oh, I won't tell anybody," Djuna assured him. "Gee, that's awful! What did he do?"
"That's just it," said Mr. Boots. "Accordin' to the last letter I had from his mother, he didn't do anything wrong—nothin' to be sent to jail for, at least. Where he made his mistake was in runnin' away from home. Somewheres or other, he got acquainted with some fellows, a bad lot, and these other fellows they held up a man and shot him and got away. Eddie didn't know anything about it, but these fellows got him to take a gold watch they had got from the man they shot, and take it to a pawnshop, and the police arrested Eddie. I don't know. If he had stuck by his mother, it wouldn't ever have happened, that's one thing sure. Let's not talk about it, Djuna. Makes me feel terrible."
Mr. Boots blew his nose violently and leaned down to peer under the work-bench.
"I've got some nice boards down here," he said. "They ought to be just what we want to build
Champ's house for him. Just lemme see what I've got here."
Djuna felt sorry for Mr. Boots. But Mr. Boots was smiling again when he straightened up and showed Djuna the boards he had chosen.
"Fust thing we'll have to do is to measure Champ," he said, "so as we can know how big a door he has to have, and then we can build the house to fit the door. Ain't much use buildin' a house if you can't get into it, is there?"
Djuna laughed, and admitted that Mr. Boots was right. So they woke Champ up and made him hold still while they measured his width and his height and his length, and Djuna wrote the measurements down while Mr. Boots called them off.
"Now, let's see," said Mr. Boots, when this had been done. "Say we make the door a foot wide. Then we'll allow a foot on each side of the door; that'll make the house three feet long. That'll give Champ plenty of room to move around in. Never cramp a Champ, that's our motto, hey?"
"Yes, but ten inches high and ten inches wide will be enough for the door, won't it?" said Djuna. "The smaller it is, the less rain can get in, don't you think?"
"You're right," said Mr. Boots. "That's plenty big enough. Now, supposin' we make the house eighteen inches wide; and eighteen inches high, to the eaves. Reckon that's about the ticket?"
"Oh, sure," agreed Djuna. "That will be swell!"
Mr. Boots drew a careful plan of the house on a piece of paper, while Djuna watched breathlessly.
"Now," said Mr. Boots, studying the plan with satisfaction, "we can begin buildin' the framework. I've got about thirty feet o' that inch-and-a-half square pine that was left over from buildin' Miss Annie's picket fence, I recollec'. That ought to be just the thing for it."
He groped around under the work-bench until he found the pieces of lumber, put them on the bench and began marking them off at the places where they were to be sawed. As fast as he marked them, he handed them to Djuna to be sawed, and in about an hour the pieces were all ready to be nailed together.
"I guess I'd better do this part of the nailin'," said Mr. Boots. "Then you can nail the boards on for the walls."
They worked away busily all afternoon, while the rain pattered on the windows, and the time flew by. While Djuna was nailing on the side walls of Champ's future home, Mr. Boots built the roof for it separately, so that although it would fit snugly over the walls it could be lifted off.
"You ask Miss Annie to make a bag you can stuff with straw, for him to sleep on comfortable," said Mr. Boots. "Then, when you want to put fresh straw in it, it will be easier to get at it by liftin' the roof than by tryin' to pull it out of the door."
At last the house was finished and they stood looking at it proudly. Champ knew right away that it was to be his, and went in through the little door, barked excitedly, and came out wagging his tail.
"Gee, that's the best house I ever saw!" exclaimed Djuna.
"It ain't a bit too good for Champ," said Mr. Boots.
"Well, I should say not!" said Djuna. "Gee, just wait till Miss Annie sees it!"
"There's one more thing it needs," said Mr. Boots, looking at it and rubbing his chin. "How would you like it if I gave it a coat of paint? It would look pretty nice painted white, don't you think?"
"Oh, sure!" cried Djuna. "That will be wonderful! Shall we do it now?"
Mr. Boots shook his head. "Paint don't dry so good when you put it on in wet weather," he said. "Better wait till we get a good sunny day."
Just then the sun came out and all the raindrops glittered on the trees.
"Look!" said Djuna. "There's the sun, now!"
"Yes, but there's still dampness in the air," insisted Mr. Boots. "What say if we do it tomorrow?" He looked at the clock over the work-bench. "Gettin' along time for supper, too," he said. "Time I went over to Willis Pindler's and got me a slice o' ham, or somethin'. You come over here tomorrow, Djuna, and we'll finish it up. Or were you fixin' to go fishin' tomorrow?"
"Well, I was," said Djuna, "but now I'd rather finish up Champ's house. And, besides, I haven't got any hooks or line or anything. Miss Annie said she'd give me some money, but I guess she forgot."
"Well, now, don't you go botherin' her for it," said the old man. "I've got some old tackle here you might's well take as not. You come over tomorrow and as soon as we get the house painted, you can take it and welcome."
"Oh, thanks, Mr. Boots!" exclaimed Djuna. "And say, if we paint the house white, what color shall we paint the roof?"
"Well, let's have a look and see what color you think is pretty," said Mr. Boots. "I've got mighty near any color you want."
They walked over to the shelves where the paint-cans stood and Djuna studied all the labels carefully. "Green, I guess," he said at last. "That's the way Miss Annie's roof is. I guess we'd better make it match."
"That's a good idea!" agreed Mr. Boots heartily. "Now that's settled, let's attend to some marketin'. Time you got home, too, I expect."
They went into Mr. Pindler's store and Mr. Boots bought a can of sardines for his supper. "Oh, there's a letter here for you, George," remarked Mr. Pindler, as he put the sardines on the counter. "I was going to take it over to you if you didn't come in."
"For me?" said Mr. Boots in a surprised tone. "I ain't expectin' any mail."
Mr. Pindler handed him the letter and Mr. Boots put on his spectacles and studied the handwriting on the envelope.
"It's my name, all right," he admitted. "But it beats me who it's from."
"One way of finding out is to open it," suggested Mr. Pindler dryly.
Mr. Boots chuckled. "So 'tis," he agreed. He opened the envelope, took out the letter, and began to read it. But as he did so, his hands began to tremble and a strange frightened look came over his face. Without saying a word, he folded the letter with shaking fingers and hurried out.
Djuna and Mr. Pindler stood staring after him with amazement.
"Gee, what's the matter with Mr. Boots?" exclaimed Djuna wonderingly.
Mr. Pindler shook his head. "Must have been some bad news," he said. "Well, I reckon it's none of our business, Djuna, or he'd have told us. Hope it ain't nothin' serious."
"Gee, I hope not!" said Djuna earnestly. "Well, goodbye, Mr. Pindler."
As he got to the store porch, Djuna looked towards Mr. Boots's carpenter shop. A small open truck, very old and rusty, had just driven up and two men were climbing out of it in front of Mr. Boots's house. Djuna recognized one of the two men. He was a man named Lester Sedd. Everybody called him Les' Sedd, for short. He lived in a shack in the woods, on the edge of Lost Pond, a mile or two from Edenboro. Djuna didn't know who the other man was. He didn't look like a farmer.
Djuna saw the two men walk over to Mr. Boots and begin talking to him at his front door. Pretty soon Mr. Boots began shaking his head. The more they talked, the more he shook his head, and Djuna could see he was growing excited. Finally he turned and went into his shop, and the two men followed him in.
Djuna whistled for Champ, who had wandered off down the road, and they started for home. At first he walked very slowly, wondering what the letter had said, to upset Mr. Boots so badly. But he had gone only a few steps when he heard his name called. He looked up. It was Clarabelle Smith. Clarabelle was Mr. Pindler's niece, and had come to visit her uncle and aunt for the summer. She was standing on the front porch of Mr. Pindler's house.
"Did you see the rainbow?" she asked excitedly.
"Gee, it was marvelous!"
Djuna shook his head. "No," he said. "Was there one?"
"Sure, right after the rain stopped and the sun came out! It's gone now, but it was right over there, back of your house. Say, where is a rainbow after it's gone?" Djuna stared at her doubtfully. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Are you crazy?"
"No, but where does it go?" Clarabelle persisted. "What do they do with all those colors?"
"What colors?" Djuna retorted. "There aren't any colors in a rainbow. You just think there are."
"There are, too!" said Clarabelle indignantly. "I guess I know what I saw with my own eyes, don't I? Red, and blue, and all sorts of colors!"
"Well, they're just drops of water," said Djuna. "They're what's left over after it stops raining."
"I know," said Clarabelle. "But what I mean is, where do they go next? I should think they'd run down and make all sorts of ponds—red ponds, and blue ponds, and all sort of colors. I don't see why not.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Black Dog Mystery by Ellery Queen Jr.. Copyright © 1941 Frederick A. Stokes Company, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
I. The Little Black Dog,II. Mr. Boots Goes Somewhere,
III. Champ Makes a New Friend,
IV. The Men Who Walked Backward,
V. Mr. Boots Asks Questions,
VI. Djuna Borrows a Bicycle,
VII. Champ Turns Himself Into a Plaid Shawl,
VIII. Mr. Boots Behaves Strangely,
IX. Djuna Finds a New Ally,
X. Mr. Morrison Needs a Rope,
XI. A Council of War,
XII. Clarabelle Spoils a Picture,
XIII. Voices in the Dark,
XIV. The Night Grows Blacker,
XV. The Black Dog Leaps,
Preview: The Golden Eagle Mystery,