Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!

‘Did you see what happened?’ My tail has gone berserk. It’s going so fast Dante’s feathers are getting ruffled by the breeze I’m creating. ‘Do you know where the killer went?’

Dante has noticed Betty. His eyes sparkle. He darts forward, sharp beak open. I block his path.

‘No! Betty is not a midnight snack.’

My teeth are bared. Shocked, Dante backs off. He knows that if I chose, I could break his neck.

‘Fine way to treat a friend,’ he complains.

‘Betty is my friend too. I need you two to get along.’

Dante laughs, the kind of nasal, withering laugh I’ve heard from villains on the TV. ‘Oh, please! You don’t expect me to befriend my food, do you?’

‘This one isn’t food, okay?’

‘This is preposterous! Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t eat? I’m leaving.’

He turns his back on me.

‘Wait! I need your help to find my master’s killer.’

The magpie ignores me and is about to take off.

‘You owe me, remember.’

I had vowed I would never mention this, but I’m desperate. It’s not just about finding Larry Nice’s address. Dante can be my eyes in the sky.

He turns quickly and screeches. ‘I’ve paid that debt!’ He’s opened his wings wide and looks menacing. Betty darts behind a flowerpot.

I step forward but keep a safe distance from his sharp beak. ‘Not yet. You help me find Paddy’s killer, then the debt is paid.’

He folds his wings and tilts his smooth black head to one side, as if contemplating my offer.

‘And you can have my shiny dog tag. You’ve wanted it for ages. Well, now you can have it.’

Dante stares at the round tag, a red and silver paw on one side, my name and the Professor’s address engraved into the metal, on the other. This tag is the only thing I have to remember my beloved master by. It means the world to me. But finding his killer means more.

He nods. ‘Throw in the torch, too.’

‘No,’ I reply. ‘It’s not mine to give.’

He opens his wings wide again and I think he’s about to fly off. But he folds them.

‘Oh all right. I’ll help you find Salt’s killer. You have my word,’ says Dante. ‘But, I want the tag now. Call it a down payment.’

‘And you won’t hurt Betty, or any other creature who helps me?’

Dante sighs. ‘Yes, yes, okay, but try not to involve the whole wretched animal kingdom, otherwise I’ll starve to death.’

I look over my shoulder at Betty. ‘It’s okay, Betty. Dante is a bird of his word.’ She shakes her head and stays put. I focus back on Dante. ‘The laptop’s inside.’

Dante glances into the kitchen. ‘What are you looking for?’

‘A suspect’s address in The White Pages.’

‘That’s it? Oh for goodness’ sake! What a waste of my exceptional talent.’

I ignore his griping. ‘That’s just the start. Follow me.’

Dante flies behind me and deftly lands on the kitchen table. He focuses his steely stare on me. ‘Whose laptop is this?’

‘Belongs to my new master, Detective Constable Rose Sidebottom, who’s working on the case.’

‘Sidebottom? They have a coat of arms, you know. Ancient big’un family. Been around since the Norman Conquest of 1066. Famous for their prowess in the saddle and for their noble hunting hounds.’ He cocks his head as if deciding whether I qualify as a noble hound. Unfortunately, a long strand of drool hangs from my mouth and one side of my jowl is tucked into my gums, having got stuck there from when I held the torch. Dante tutts. Apparently not.

‘How do you know about coats of arms?’

‘Bit of a history buff. Did you know my ancestors originally guarded the Tower Of London, not those wretched usurpers, the ravens?’

‘We’re pressed for time so can you get on with it?’

He sighs but positions himself so that his claws rest on the edge of the keyboard. He leans forward and taps a key with his beak. As the screen is illuminated, Dante becomes mesmerised, as he is by everything bright.

Betty has followed us at a distance. She tugs my fur. I drop my head so I can hear what she says.

‘So why does he owe you?’ she whispers.

I whisper back. ‘I saved his life.’

Chapter Ten (#ulink_a940201e-3906-5987-bb8d-a1bedacd1565)

Rose’s laptop is demanding a password. Dante turns his dark, sleek head in my direction and blinks.

‘Well? Any idea?’

Betty leans into me as if trying to hide in my fur: she’s still fearful the magpie will try to eat her.

‘Let me think,’ I say. ‘It wouldn’t be her name …’

‘Obviously,’ says Dante, with withering condescension. All magpies sound arrogant, but Dante’s exceptional intellect makes him particularly intolerant. ‘Date of birth, something that’s important to her?’ he suggests. ‘Humans are sentimental like that.’

‘Duckdown! Try duckdown,’ I say, wagging my tail, confident I’ve cracked it.

Dante taps in the word and up pops, Incorrect Password. ‘Try harder, Monty,’ he says, sighing. ‘Only two more goes, then we get locked out.’

I feel Betty fidget. ‘Oy, Mr Dante. Why don’t you have a guess?’ she says.

‘Madam, I have an IQ in the top ninety-ninth percentile in the world and I would be a member of Mensa, if big’uns allowed birds to join, which they don’t, the stupid snobs. However, I don’t know the owner of this laptop so your guess is as good as mine.’