The Case of the Disappearing Corpse by June Whyte Page B

ideas. Yet someone knew we were here. And they were outside right now, throwing rubbish bins around to let us know they knew.
    Tayla grabbed my arm and hung on. Her nails dug into my skin.
    “Send Leroy out, Cha. Let him find out what’s going on.”
    I peered dubiously down at Leroy, who after sucking up the last crumb on his plate had curled into a ball. By now he was probably chasing Tim Tam biscuits in his dreams.
    “Er…Leroy. Do you want to go outside?”
    When Leroy opened one eye then shut it again Tayla shook her head. “We’ll ring the police instead.”
    “And what are we going to say? Please send a police car immediately because it sounds like a rubbish bin fell over in the backyard?” I shook my head. “Come on Tay, we’ll check it out ourselves.”
    “No. Send Leroy out first and if nothing happens to him— then we check it out ourselves.”
    “But what if something happens to my dog?”
    “Leroy’s a guard dog isn’t he? And that’s what guard dogs do. Guard their owner.”
    Down on all fours I placed my mouth next to Leroy’s ear. “Pssst! Leroy! Wake up!”
    A train could have rattled through the kitchen and Leroy wouldn’t wake up. So I wasn’t surprised when his snores grew louder.
    “Leroy?”
    Something bumped against the side of the house.
    “ Leeeeeroy! ” I screeched.
    The dog yelped, shot to his feet and knocked me in the nose. Then, after giving me a filthy look, stalked on bandy legs towards his cushion.
    “Oh…No…You…Don’t!”
    Before he could cement his eyelids shut again, Tayla grabbed his lead from the kitchen shelf and attached it to his collar.
    “Quick…open the door, Cha.”
    “Do we have to put Leroy outside?”
    “Open the door,” repeated Tayla, dragging the reluctant bulldog along the floor on his rear end. “Leroy can look after himself. Hey, he might even chase the bad guys away.”
    I tried to bring up an image of my lazy bulldog chasing villains but all I could see was the reproachful look he gave me as Tayla dragged him to the door.
    “Here’s the deal, Leroy,” she said, opening the door just wide enough for one very plump bulldog to be shoved through. “If anyone’s out there, bark twice. Okay?”
    It took three goes for Tayla to push all the fat bull-doggy bits through the doorway. Once, they even reversed positions—Leroy inside—Tayla outside.
    But at last the entire dog was in the backyard.
    After a five minute wait I opened the door a crack and we plastered our noses to the gap.
    “You okay, Leroy?” I whispered.
    Still sitting exactly where Tayla had pushed him, the dog yawned, shivered until all his excess fat quivered, then looked back at me with a pitiful expression.
    “He’s okay,” I said, relief flooding through me. “So it must be cats at the garbage bin. I’m going out to check.”
    “Oh, no,” moaned Tayla. “You can’t leave me here alone.”
    “Well, come with me.”
    I slithered through the doorway and grabbed Leroy. With his lead gripped firmly in my left hand and the torch in my right, I stepped off the veranda.
    Tayla super-glued herself to my side.
    Some one or some thing had been here because both rubbish bins were tipped over. Lids off. Garbage scattered. My heart skittered up into my throat so quickly, if I hadn’t slammed my mouth shut, it would have jumped out and ran away.
    Please let it be cats…
    Our eyes and heads swiveled like clowns at a fun-fair as we inched our way across the yard.
    “Anyone here?” I croaked, my voice getting tangled up with my hammering heart.
    Please, please, don’t let anyone answer.
    I took another step forward. So did my two shadows.
    Creeeeeeeeeeek!
    Mesmerized, I watched the door on the garden shed inch open.
    “ We’re going to die !” wailed Tayla.
    She stared at the opening door, her feet nailed to the ground.
    “Leroy,” I gulped, dragging him closer with the lead. “Why don’t you go look in the shed?”
    His eyes rolled in alarm and his rear end