by Mark Haddon
Then I noticed that the old lady who lives at number 39, which is on the other side of Mrs. Shears's house, was in her front garden cutting her hedge with an electric hedge trimmer. Her name is Mrs. Alexander. She has a dog. It is a dachshund, so she was probably a good person because she liked dogs. But the dog wasn't in the garden with her. It was inside the house.
Mrs. Alexander was wearing jeans and training shoes, which old people don't normally wear. And there was mud on the jeans. And the trainers were New Balance trainers. And the laces were red.
I went up to Mrs. Alexander and said, “Do you know anything about Wellington being killed?”
Then she turned the electric hedge trimmer off and said, “I'm afraid you're going to have to say that again. I'm a little deaf.”
So I said, “Do you know anything about Wellington being killed?”
And she said, “I heard about it yesterday. Dreadful. Dreadful.”
I said, “Do you know who killed him?”
And she said, “No, I don't.”
I replied, “Somebody must know because the person who killed Wellington knows that they killed Wellington. Unless they were a mad person and didn't know what they were doing. Or unless they had amnesia.”
And she said, “Well, I suppose you're probably right.”
I said, “Thank you for helping me with my investigation.”
And she said, “You're Christopher, aren't you.”
I said, “Yes. I live at number 36.”
And she said, “We haven't talked before, have we.”
I said, “No. I don't like talking to strangers. But I'm doing detective work.”
And she said, “I see you every day, going to school.”
I didn't reply to this.
And she said, “It's very nice of you to come and say hello.”
I didn't reply to this either because Mrs. Alexander was doing what is called chatting, where people say things to each other which aren't questions and answers and aren't connected.
Then she said, “Even if it's only because you're doing detective work.”
And I said, “Thank you” again.
And I was about to turn and walk away when she said, “I have a grandson your age.”
I tried to do chatting by saying, “My age is 15 years and 3 months and 3 days.”
And she said, “Well, almost your age.”
Then we said nothing for a little while until she said, “You don't have a dog, do you?”
And I said, “No.”
She said, “You'd probably like a dog, wouldn't you.”
And I said, “I have a rat.”
And she said, “A rat?”
And I said, “He's called Toby.”
And she said, “Oh.”
And I said, “Most people don't like rats because they think they carry diseases like bubonic plague. But that's only because they lived in sewers and stowed away on ships coming from foreign countries where there were strange diseases. But rats are very clean. Toby is always washing himself. And you don't have to take him out for walks. I just let him run around my room so that he gets some exercise. And sometimes he sits on my shoulder or hides in my sleeve like it's a burrow. But rats don't live in burrows in nature.”
Mrs. Alexander said, “Do you want to come in for tea?”
And I said, “I don't go into other people's houses.”
And she said, “Well, maybe I could bring some out here. Do you like lemon squash?”
I replied, “I only like orange squash.”
And she said, “Luckily I have some of that as well. And what about Battenberg?”
And I said, “I don't know because I don't know what Battenberg is.”
She said, “It's a kind of cake. It has four pink and yellow squares in the middle and it has marzipan icing round the edge.”
And I said, “Is it a long cake with a square cross section which is divided into equally sized, alternately colored squares?”
And she said, “Yes, I think you could probably describe it like that.”
I said, “I think I'd like the pink squares but not the yellow squares because I don't like yellow. And I don't know what marzipan is, so I don't know whether I'd like that.”
And she said, “I'm afraid marzipan is yellow, too. Perhaps I should bring out some biscuits instead. Do you like biscuits?”
And I said, “Yes. Some sorts of biscuits.”
And she said, “I'll get a selection.”
Then she turned and went into the house. She moved very slowly because she was an old lady and she was inside the house for more than 6 minutes and I began to get nervous because I didn't know what she was doing in the house. I didn't know her well enough to know whether she was telling the truth about getting orange squash and Battenberg cake. And I thought she might be ringing the police and then I'd get into much more serious trouble because of the caution.
So I walked away.
And as I was crossing the street I had a stroke of inspiration about who might have killed Wellington. I was imagining a Chain of Reasoning inside my head which was like this
1. Why would you kill a dog?
a) Because you hated the dog.
b) Because you were mad.
c) Because you wanted to make Mrs. Shears upset.
2. I didn't know anyone who hated Wellington, so if it was (a) it was probably a stranger.
3. I didn't know any mad people, so if it was (b) it was also probably a stranger.
4. Most murders are committed by someone who is known to the victim. In fact, you are most likely to be murdered by a member of your own family on Christmas Day. This is a fact. Wellington was therefore most likely to have been killed by someone known to him.
5. If it was (c) I only knew one person who didn't like Mrs. Shears, and that was Mr. Shears, who knew Wellington very well indeed.
This meant that Mr. Shears was my Prime Suspect.
Mr. Shears used to be married to Mrs. Shears and they lived together until two years ago. Then Mr. Shears left and didn't come back. This was why Mrs. Shears came over and did lots of cooking for us after Mother died, because she didn't have to cook for Mr. Shears anymore and she didn't have to stay at home and be his wife. And also Father said that she needed company and didn't want to be on her own.
And sometimes Mrs. Shears stayed overnight at our house and I liked it when she did because she made things tidy and she arranged the jars and pans and tins in order of their height on the shelves in the kitchen and she always made their labels face outward and she put the knives and forks and spoons in the correct compartments in the cutlery drawer. But she smoked cigarettes and she said lots of things I didn't understand, e.g., “I'm going to hit the hay,” and “It's brass monkeys out there,” and “Let's rustle up some tucker.” And I didn't like when she said things like that because I didn't know what she meant.
And I don't know why Mr. Shears left Mrs. Shears because nobody told me. But when you get married it is because you want to live together and have children, and if you get married in a church you have to promise that you will stay together until death do us part. And if you don't want to live together you have to get divorced and this is because one of you has done sex with somebody else or because you are having arguments and you hate each other and you don't want to live in the same house anymore and have children. And Mr. Shears didn't want to live in the same house as Mrs. Shears anymore so he probably hated her and he might have come back and killed her dog to make her sad.
I decided to try and find out more about Mr. Shears.
71. All the other children at my school are stupid. Except I'm not meant to call them stupid, even though this is what they are. I'm meant to say that they have learning difficulties or that they have special needs. But this is stupid because everyone has learning difficulties because learning to speak French or understanding relativity is difficult and also everyone has special needs, like Father, who has to carry a little packet of artificial sweetening tablets a
round with him to put in his coffee to stop him from getting fat, or Mrs. Peters, who wears a beige-colored hearing aid, or Siobhan, who has glasses so thick that they give you a headache if you borrow them, and none of these people are Special Needs, even if they have special needs.
But Siobhan said we have to use those words because people used to call children like the children at school spaz and crip and mong, which were nasty words. But that is stupid too because sometimes the children from the school down the road see us in the street when we're getting off the bus and they shout, “Special Needs! Special Needs!” But I don't take any notice because I don't listen to what other people say and only sticks and stones can break my bones and I have my Swiss Army knife if they hit me and if I kill them it will be self-defense and I won't go to prison.
I am going to prove that I'm not stupid. Next month I'm going to take my A level in maths and I'm going to get an A grade. No one has ever taken an A level at our school before, and the headmistress, Mrs. Gascoyne, didn't want me to take it at first. She said they didn't have the facilities to let us sit A levels. But Father had an argument with Mrs. Gascoyne and he got really cross. Mrs. Gascoyne said they didn't want to treat me differently from everyone else in the school because then everyone would want to be treated differently and it would set a precedent. And I could always do my A levels later, at 18.
I was sitting in Mrs. Gascoyne's office with Father when she said these things. And Father said, “Christopher is getting a crap enough deal already, don't you think, without you shitting on him from a great height as well. Jesus, this is the one thing he is really good at.”
Then Mrs. Gascoyne said that she and Father should talk about this at some later point on their own. But Father asked her whether she wanted to say things she was embarrassed to say in front of me, and she said no, so he said, “Say them now, then.”
And she said that if I sat an A level I would have to have a member of staff looking after me on my own in a separate room. And Father said he would pay someone £50 to do it after school and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. And she said she'd go away and think about it. And the next week she rang Father at home and told him that I could take the A level and the Reverend Peters would be what is called the invigilator.
And after I've taken A-level maths I am going to take A-level further maths and physics and then I can go to university. There is not a university in our town, which is Swindon, because it is a small place. So we will have to move to another town where there is a university because I don't want to live on my own or in a house with other students. But that will be all right because Father wants to move to a different town as well. He sometimes say things like, “We've got to get out of this town, kiddo.” And sometimes he says, “Swindon is the arsehole of the world.”
Then, when I've got a degree in maths, or physics, or maths and physics, I will be able to get a job and earn lots of money and I will be able to pay someone who can look after me and cook my meals and wash my clothes, or I will get a lady to marry me and be my wife and she can look after me so I can have company and not be on my own.
73. I used to think that Mother and Father might get divorced. That was because they had lots of arguments and sometimes they hated each other. This was because of the stress of looking after someone who has Behavioral Problems like I have. I used to have lots of Behavioral Problems, but I don't have so many now because I'm more grown up and I can take decisions for myself and do things on my own like going out of the house and buying things at the shop at the end of the road.
These are some of my Behavioral Problems
A. Not talking to people for a long time4
B. Not eating or drinking anything for a long time5
C. Not liking being touched
D. Screaming when I am angry or confused
E. Not liking being in really small places with other people
F. Smashing things when I am angry or confused
G. Groaning
H. Not liking yellow things or brown things and refusing to touch yellow things or brown things
I. Refusing to use my toothbrush if anyone else has touched it
J. Not eating food if different sorts of food are touching each other
K. Not noticing that people are angry with me
L. Not smiling
M. Saying things that other people think are rude6
N. Doing stupid things7
O. Hitting other people
P. Hating France
Q. Driving Mother's car8
R. Getting cross when someone has moved the furniture9
Sometimes these things would make Mother and Father really angry and they would shout at me or they would shout at each other. Sometimes Father would say, “Christopher, if you do not behave I swear I shall knock the living daylights out of you,” or Mother would say, “Jesus, Christopher, I am seriously considering putting you in a home,” or Mother would say, “You are going to drive me into an early grave.”
79. When I got home Father was sitting at the table in the kitchen and he had made my supper. He was wearing a lumberjack shirt. The supper was baked beans and broccoli and two slices of ham and they were laid out on the plate so that they were not touching.
He said, “Where have you been?”
And I said, “I have been out.” This is called a white lie. A white lie is not a lie at all. It is where you tell the truth but you do not tell all of the truth. This means that everything you say is a white lie because when someone says, for example, “What do you want to do today?” you say, “I want to do painting with Mrs. Peters,” but you don't say, “I want to have my lunch and I want to go to the toilet and I want to go home after school and I want to play with Toby and I want to have my supper and I want to play on my computer and I want to go to bed.” And I said a white lie because I knew that Father didn't want me to be a detective.
Father said, “I have just had a phone call from Mrs. Shears.”
I started eating my baked beans and broccoli and two slices of ham.
Then Father asked, “What the hell were you doing poking round her garden?”
I said, “I was doing detective work trying to find out who killed Wellington.”
Father replied, “How many times do I have to tell you, Christopher?”
The baked beans and the broccoli and the ham were cold but I didn't mind this. I eat very slowly so my food is nearly always cold.
Father said, “I told you to keep your nose out of other people's business.”
I said, “I think Mr. Shears probably killed Wellington.”
Father didn't say anything.
I said, “He is my Prime Suspect. Because I think someone might have killed Wellington to make Mrs. Shears sad. And a murder is usually committed by someone known—”
Father banged the table with his fist really hard so that the plates and his knife and fork jumped around and my ham jumped sideways so that it touched the broccoli, so I couldn't eat the ham or the broccoli anymore.
Then he shouted, “I will not have that man's name mentioned in my house.”
I asked, “Why not?”
And he said, “That man is evil.”
And I said, “Does that mean he might have killed Wellington?”
Father put his head in his hands and said, “Jesus wept.”
I could see that Father was angry with me, so I said, “I know you told me not to get involved in other people's business but Mrs. Shears is a friend of ours.”
And Father said, “Well, she's not a friend anymore.”
And I asked, “Why not?”
And Father said, “OK, Christopher. I am going to say this for the last and final time. I will not tell you again. Look at me when I'm talking to you, for God's sake. Look at me. You are not to go asking Mrs. Shears about who killed that bloody dog. You are not to go asking anyone about who killed that bloody dog. You are not to go trespassing in other people's gardens. You are to stop this ridiculous bloody detective game
right now.”
I didn't say anything.
Father said, “I am going to make you promise, Christopher. And you know what it means when I make you promise.”
I did know what it meant when you say you promise something. You have to say that you will never do something again and then you must never do it because that would make the promise a lie. I said, “I know.”
Father said, “Promise me you will stop doing these things. Promise that you will give up this ridiculous game right now, OK?”
I said, “I promise.”
83. I think I would make a very good astronaut.
To be a good astronaut you have to be intelligent and I'm intelligent. You also have to understand how machines work and I'm good at understanding how machines work. You also have to be someone who would like being on their own in a tiny spacecraft thousands and thousands of miles away from the surface of the earth and not panic or get claustrophobia or homesick or insane. And I like really little spaces, so long as there is no one else in them with me. Sometimes when I want to be on my own I get into the airing cupboard outside the bathroom and slide in beside the boiler and pull the door closed behind me and sit there and think for hours and it makes me feel very calm.
So I would have to be an astronaut on my own, or have my own part of the spacecraft which no one else could come into.
And also there are no yellow things or brown things in a spacecraft, so that would be OK, too.
And I would have to talk to other people from Mission Control, but we would do that through a radio linkup and a TV monitor, so they wouldn't be like real people who are strangers, but it would be like playing a computer game.
Also I wouldn't be homesick at all because I'd be surrounded by lots of the things I like, which are machines and computers and outer space. And I would be able to look out of a little window in the spacecraft and know that there was no one else near me for thousands and thousands of miles, which is what I sometimes pretend at night in the summer when I go and lie on the lawn and look up at the sky and I put my hands round the sides of my face so that I can't see the fence and the chimney and the washing line and I can pretend I'm in space.
