Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!

“Monty,” she said, then glanced at the vet. “Malcolm, we need SOCO to swab his mouth.”

She waved someone over, also wearing an all-in-one white suit and small white mask.

“Looks like he bit the killer,” Rose said to the lady, then to the vet, “Can you hold his mouth open while we do this?”

“I’ll give him some pain relief first.”

I felt a slight sting in the scruff of my neck and within seconds I was drowsy again. Before I knew it, strong hands had prized my jaw open and the SOCO lady had removed something stuck between a canine and my back teeth.

Rose patted me, her disposable gloves bloody.

“It’s okay, Monty, you’ve been very brave and we’ll take care of Professor Salt now.”

I looked up into a heart-shaped face and large blue eyes. I saw her properly for the first time. Her smile was genuine and in human terms she had a natural kind of translucent-skinned beauty. None of that greasy make-up stuff that many women wear. Doesn’t taste good when you lick their faces, I can tell you. It’s hard to tell the age of a big’un but I guessed Rose was no more than twenty-one. Much younger than everyone else there.

Distracted by her soothing presence, I didn’t see the vet approaching with a muzzle until it was too late. I pulled my head back and managed to lift a paw to push the muzzle away, but it was already fastened. I struggled, trying to cry out, “No, I must stay with Paddy.” But they didn’t understand.

Rose said, “Must you use that? After all he’s been through? He won’t bite.”

I tried to hold onto Paddy’s shirt but I couldn’t because of the muzzle. Malcolm placed his arms under me.

“Best to be safe,” he replied as he lifted me, which is no mean feat given I’m thirty-eight kilos.

“Would you look at that!” Rose said, looking down. “Dog was lying on the murder weapon. Good boy.”

I tried to wriggle out of Malcolm’s grip, but the agony was too much, despite the painkiller.

“It’s okay, boy, you’ll be okay,” Rose said, her voice soft as a puppy blanket.

As Malcolm carried me away I glanced back to see people in white suits walking towards Paddy. Rose was about to pick up the knife but stopped.

“Yes, take it,” I urged.

“Sir, over here,” she called.

People stepped out of his way. Eyes followed him. The man in charge. He reminded me of a Bulldog I once had a nasty encounter with. He placed the knife in a bag, nodded, and walked away.

A tall blond man with slicked-back hair like an over-groomed show dog shouted at her, “Sidebottom! Over here! Leave that mangy dog. And mind where you step.”

She looked in my direction and sighed, then strode towards the man who’d called her name. She referred to him as “guv”. He directed Rose into the house and as she walked, he stared at her backside. The alpha male claiming the female. All swagger. I didn’t like him at all.’

Chapter Seven (#ulink_de0540e6-eefe-58a5-9a31-bd49c6c5b264)

I glance down at Betty who is up on her hind legs, shadow boxing.

‘Nasty toe-rag!’ she exclaims, punching the air. ‘How dare he! You’re not mangy, you’re a bleeding hero. You wait till I meet this big’un. I’ll give him a nasty nip.’

‘I’m no hero, Betty, and I’d rather you help me find the killer.’

‘With pleasure, Mr Monty. I need a project to focus on. Will stop me worrying about my pups.’

‘You’re a mum?’

I dumbly look around as if her brood is huddled behind her.

‘All left the nest, doing their own thing now. Miss them terribly.’

Betty slumps against my leg. Her whiskers droop. She looks glum.

‘Must be difficult to let them go,’ I say.

‘That’s the hardest thing. I can’t help wondering if they’re okay. Makes no difference they’re my fifth litter. I love them just as much as my first.’

‘And their dad? Is he with you?’

She leaps up. ‘You must be joking. He’s the reason I left the tunnel. Bastard!’

I clearly touched a sore point so I stay quiet.

‘Right, no point moping about. As my dear old mum used to say, “Don’t get down, get up and at ’em.” So, let’s get on with solving this murder.’ She scratches her head. ‘The killer’s scent? You’d know it again?’

‘How could I forget?’ I snort, reliving the smell. ‘A stinky food, like rotten egg; damp walls; those funny cigarettes made from weeds; and a disease linked to an insect I’ve never come across before.’

‘Do you mean he’s been smoking weed?’

I look blankly at Betty.

‘You know, makes big’uns giggle and eat lots.’

‘I’m not sure about that. Sometimes Paddy would take me with him to the university and some of his students’ clothes smelt of this weed.’

Betty nods sagely. ‘And the disease? You think he’s ill?’

‘There is a sickness in him but I don’t know what. It was like licking copper.’

‘Do that often, do you?’ Betty is giving me a worried look.

‘Not really.’

‘Okay, so we need to get your nose near some suspects. Sniff ’em out, so to speak. Hmm. How we going to do that?’

‘That’s my problem, you see. I’m not a police dog. I want to help, but how can I, if I’m stuck here?’

‘Shush, shush, shush. Let me think. What has Rose said? Has she mentioned any names?’

I think back to earlier that evening when she collected me from the vet’s. At first, all I remember is my excitement at being free of my cage and, once she was driving, all the amazing smells zooming past the open window so fast I could barely inhale them in time. I’ve always wondered why smells speed up when I’m in a car. Perhaps they’re running, trying to keep up with the moving vehicle, a bit like dogs chasing a cyclist?

‘Come to think of it,’ I say, after the clock’s second hand has twitched away a minute, ‘someone rang Rose when she was driving. She said she couldn’t believe a Larry somebody-or-other could be a murderer. Called him a … what was it? A small-time thief. That’s it.’