Paw and Order by Spencer Quinn Page A

“And the answer?”
    â€œTen feet, maybe a little more. Ruling out suicide, right?”
    â€œHow about robbery?”
    â€œIt wasn’t mentioned.”
    â€œDid they check Eben’s wallet?”
    â€œNot before we left,” Suzie said.
    Bernie gazed down at the table. “What, ah, were you doing there?”
    â€œInterviewing Eben,” Suzie said. “I told you he was a source.”
    â€œOn what story?”
    Suzie was silent. Bernie looked up at her. Their eyes met. The way they were staring at each other bothered me in a way I could never explain, so I checked what was happening outside the window. And wouldn’t you know it? The very first thing I saw was a bird flying by, a real strange-looking bird, and birds are not my favorite creatures to begin with, not even close. What’s with those angry little eyes? Would I be angry if I could soar around the big blue sky twenty-four seven, whatever that is? There’s a no-brainer for you, and who doesn’t prefer a no-brainer to . . . to . . . a brainer?
    Meanwhile, the bird flew past the window and out of sight. And then, whoa, it came back the other way, flying real slow and . . . what was this? Actually stopping outside the window? The bird hovered there for a moment or two. What were those tiny hovering birds we sometimes had near the patio flowerpots back home? Hummingbirds? I listened hard and sure enough picked up a faint hum from this bird outside the window. Humming, yes, but it didn’t look much like the hummingbirds I knew, bigger for one thing, plus its wings, instead of a beating blur, weren’t moving at all. As for angry bird eyes, this particular bird didn’t seem to have any eyes at all! And also—but before I could get to the and alsos, the bird flew away again, wings perfectly still, and this time did not come back.
    Back at the kitchen table, Bernie and Suzie were still looking at each other in that way I didn’t like. Suzie said, “I wish I could tell you, Bernie.”
    â€œWhy can’t you?” Bernie said.
    â€œHe never really told me anything,” Suzie said. “It was more like tantalizing.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œHe said when the time was right he was going to have a scoop for me, a spooky kind of scoop as he put it.”
    Spooky? Didn’t I already know that? Whoa! Was I ahead of Bernie? What a thought!
    â€œSpooky?” Bernie said. “What’s that mean?”
    â€œI don’t really know,” Suzie said. “There were no specifics—I got the impression he was feeling me out.”
    â€œFeeling you out,” Bernie said, in a way Suzie didn’t like one little bit, easy to see in her eyes.
    This was hard to follow. Even worse, they were angry at each other. The next thing I knew, I was barking, and barking pretty loud. It was all sorts of things, like them being angry at each other, and the strange bird, and . . . and—
    â€œChet!” Bernie said.
    They were both looking at me. The anger faded from their eyes. “What’s bothering him?” Suzie said.
    â€œNo idea,” Bernie said. He got up, went to the window, and glanced out. “Maybe he’s thirsty.” Bernie filled my portable water bowl at the sink, set it down beside me. I wasn’t thirsty at all, but what with Bernie being so nice, I lapped up a little sip, just to be nice back. The next thing I knew I was thirstier than I’d ever been in my life! I slurped my way right down to the bottom of the bowl absolutely nonstop—even getting sprayed a bit! And by my very own self! What a life!
    There was a knock at Suzie’s front door. And just when we were all getting along so well! Suzie went to answer it. Bernie mopped up the floor. I gave myself a quick, businesslike shake and was practically finished winding it down when Suzie returned, not alone: she had Lieutenant Soares with her. His little