TO FETCH A FELON

A Chatty Corgi Mystery

by

Jennifer Hawkins

Reader Sample

CHAPTER ONE

         “You there!”  The shout exploded in Emma’s ear.

         “Gah!”  Emma jumped half out of her skin.  Beside her, Oliver barked, and jumped as high as his stubby legs allowed.

         A woman popped up from behind the ancient garden wall along the side of the old high street and pointed her muddy trowel directly under Emma’s nose. 

         “That dog must be on a lead!”

         Oliver, the dog in question — specifically the brown and white Pembroke Welsh corgi in question— barked again.

         “I told you, Emma!” he said.  “I said somebody was there!”

         He also wagged his stump of a tail, and opened his mouth in the way that made corgies appear to be laughing, and always charmed the onlooker.

         Well, usually charmed the onlooker.  The gardening woman glowered at Oliver like he’d just dragged something unmentionable across her carpets.  She had a round, sun-tanned face, a stout build, and a mop of gray curls held back in a blue bandana.  She wore a faded blue blouse with the sleeves rolled up, and a flowered apron.  Taken all together, she looked like someone who should be baking ginger biscuits for her beloved grandchildren. 

         At least, she would have, if she didn’t also look like she’d be willing to lace those biscuits with a dose of arsenic.

         “You need to be careful with this one,” Oliver went on.  “She’s extremely rude.”

         Fortunately, the only person who understood Oliver when he spoke was Emma herself.  This woman, whoever she was, would probably not appreciate his current commentary.

         “Ah, um, hello!” Emma plastered a polite-apology smile on her face.  She also reached down and patted Oliver’s head.  “Not now, please,” she whispered.

         Now was not a good time for a person who might become a neighbor to start noticing Emma was…quirky.  That being the polite term for a person who heard her dog — not to put to fine a point on it — talk.

         “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Emma added to the gardener.  “You startled us a little.”

         The gardener sniffed.  It was a sharp, eloquent sound and it probably had the capacity to wilt the resolve of grown men.  After twenty-five years in London’s financial sector, however, Emma, was not intimidated.  At least, not very.

         Oliver growled uneasily.  “We shouldn’t stay here,”

         “Quiet, Oliver,” Emma gave his head a final rub.  “Good boy,” she added for effect.

         “And you’re right, of course,” Emma said to the gardener, a little more loudly than she needed to.  “He should be on a lead, and I do have it here —”  She pulled the bright red lead from her overstuffed handbag.

         “But you just thought you’d let him race about the streets and get into people’s gardens and destroy years of hard work!”

         Emma took a deep breath and concentrated on keeping her tone level.  “I understand your concern, but he’s really extremely well-behaved…”

         “He’s a public menace!  And plainly takes after his owner,” sneered the woman.  “Like every other day-tripper who comes traipsing through here!”  She waved her trowel up the curving high street toward the village center, scattering clods of soil in all directions.

         “Oh, I’m not a day tripper, I’m moving to Trevena.”  Emma bit her tongue, because she had the sudden feeling now was not the best time for this woman to find that out either.

         She was right.  From the woman’s look of terror, Emma might have just as well have added, “And I plan to make meat pies of the neighbors.”

         “I’m hoping to take Nancarrow cottage, just up the road,” Emma went on hastily.  “And it was such a lovely day…”

         “Huh!” There was that sniff again.  “I might have known.  Maggie Trenwith will rent to anybody.  Probably didn’t even get proper references.  But you’ll see I’m not so easily fooled.”  She brandished the trowel again.  “I’ve got my eye on you, now, and that dog.  You make sure he stays off my property or I’ll call the constable on you both!”

         Of course, that was the moment Oliver decided to charge the garden wall.

CHAPTER TWO

         Humans, at times, could be quite bewildering.

         Take this angry human who smelled of earth and roses, fertilizer and a all sorts of plants Oliver couldn’t name.  What in the world was she so angry about?  They were in the middle of an excellent place.  If she and Emma had been sensible creatures, they would have been playing together by now.  But she was insisting on shouting and waving her arms and that digging thing.

         Humans wasted so much time.   The air was full of green, growing and salty smells — even more smells than Hyde Park on a Sunday and they weren’t investigating any of them.  So many of them were new, too, and all of them absolutely fascinating.  There were dog smells as well — lots and lots of friendly dog smells, new and old, all up and down this wall.  Every part of him wanted to follow the trail and investigate all its layers.

         Of course, being a corgi, Oliver was a dog of noble warrior heritage.  His fore-dogs had sailed with the Vikings and his royal brothers guarded the Queen’s Majesty every day, just like he guarded his best human, Emma.  That was his duty, and even if she didn’t always seem to understand that, he was not going to forget it.

         So, obviously, Oliver was not about to leave Emma’s side at this crucial moment.  In fact, his first instinct was to make it clear it to the angry, digging lady that was not acceptable to shout at Emma.

         But noble warrior corgis absolutely never barked, or growled, or bared their teeth when their special human needed them to keep quiet.  They certainly did not run under closed gates, even if they could.  Noble corgis stayed at their posts, no matter what, and…

         What’s that?  A new smell on the breeze, a wild, bitter, copper-tinged smell, a…

         “Better watch your step there, mate.”

         A fox.

         Oliver dropped his muzzle and pricked up his ears.  There was a hole in the stone wall, low down near the walk.  The fox crouched on the other side, grinning.

         Fox!  Instinct shouted.  Duty pressed it back down.  Stay!

         “This one, she really don’t like your sort,” said the fox.

         A noble warrior corgi stays at his post.  A corgi is strong and disciplined.  A corgi is…

         “Fox!”

         Oliver charged, barking.  Shouty lady started screeching, but that wasn’t important. Now Emma was the one shouting.  Oliver still couldn’t stop.  His paws were moving faster than his brain.

         Fox! 

         He dived through the hole, at least he tried.  His nose made it, and the hole smelled of lots and lots of fox, and if he could just dig a little more room, he’d be on the other side and then and then…

         “Oliver!  No!”

         But just a little further…

         “You get that dog out of here!” screamed the Bad Lady.    Emma grabbed his scruff and dragged him backward, paddling the air, frantically.

         “But I can get him! I can!”  Oliver barked.  “Fox!  Fox!”

         “Oliver!” shouted Emma.  “Sit!  Bad dog!”

         “But there’s a fox!” 

         Emma put her hand on his back and pushed, and Oliver knew she meant it.  Worse, she was right. 

         “But…I mean…oh, crumbs.”  He slumped down onto his belly.  “Sorry, Emma.”  He put both paws over his nose.

          “I’m calling the police!” shrieked the woman.  “I’ll have him put down!

         Emma was busy untangling the Lead.  A small whine escaped Oliver, which was not noble either, but he couldn’t help it.

         “I’m so sorry,” Emma gasped as she clamped the Lead onto his collar.  “Really.  He must have caught a scent…maybe a fox…?”

         “Out!” screamed the bad lady, waving her digging-thing.  “Out!”

         “Of course.  Come on, Oliver.”  Emma tugged on the Lead.  She smelled worried.  He jumped to his feet.  “Again, I’m so…”

         “Out!”

         Emma hurried down the street and Oliver trotted to keep up, watching her anxiously.  Emma shouldn’t be worried.  He’d keep her safe from this shouty woman. 

         And the fox.  That fox was still out there.  Next time, he would not get away.