Detective Nosegoode and the Music Box Mystery

by Marian Orton

  “Well, a perfect opportunity presented itself about a quarter of an hour ago,” he continued. “Your dog was right in front of my house. He was alone. I decided to invite him to my room so that I could take the photographs. He turned out to be sociable and accepted my invitation. To try to compensate him somehow for the trouble of posing for the photos, I offered him some milk. I put the saucer in the hallway and went back to my room to get the camera ready. I was loading a new roll of film when I heard a sharp, loud yell: ‘Open up! Police!’ Now, my conscience is clear, but a visit from the police is not something that’s usually considered a pleasure. I was unsettled. I ran to open the door and… Can you guess who was there?”

  Mr Nosegoode looked at him in suspense.

  “I have no idea,” he answered.

  “Nobody! Nobody at all! As I was standing there, your dog slipped past my legs and ran off home. Now, can you explain to me who let out that fearsome cry? Surely it couldn’t have been your dog!”

  Both of them looked at Cody, who was crouching on the floor by the table as the biggest surprise of his entire life began to sink in. The criminal and poisoner turned out to be a friend of dogs! Could there be anything more astonishing? But there was no time to ponder this further because he could see a question in Ambrosius’s face: tell the truth or lie?

  Ambrosius didn’t get a clear answer. The dog blinked at him, curled up in a ball and pretended to be asleep.

  Hesitating, the detective began slowly.

  “Hmm… Well, you see, Cody and I understand each other very well. So well that we even have conversations.”

  Blackbeard was dumbfounded.

  “Conversations?”

  “Yes. Maybe it really was Cody who cried out ‘Police!’ Maybe that’s how he tried to save his life. Because he was convinced that you wanted to poison him. But I’d rather not ask him about it just now because he really doesn’t like to be questioned.”

  Blackbeard looked wide-eyed from Ambrosius to Cody and back to Ambrosius.

  “Please don’t joke at my expense,” he whispered.

  I’m going to prove we’re not joking! Cody thought.

  A moment later, an indistinct mutter could be heard in the room: “Yes, it was me who cried out.”

  Blackbeard gaped at Cody, who hadn’t even budged, and then looked back at Ambrosius. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Ambrosius, however, pretended not to hear and reached for the wine bottle. The guest was baffled.

  “So…” He looked at Cody. “You… you can really talk?!”

  Cody glanced at him with one eye, as if he wanted to say, “I can talk, I can sing, and sometimes I even play the flute… I can do all sorts of things.”

  A moment passed before Blackbeard could speak again. When he had got over the initial shock, he jumped out of his seat, grabbed Cody by the front paws and blurted out, “This could cause a worldwide sensation! In all of history, there has never been a case like this! You will have pride of place in my book! You’re going to become the most famous dog under the sun! Because I am really hoping that you’ll agree to pose for photographs and talk with me like you do with Mr Nosegoode! We’ll be friends!”

  Cody listened to these excited words with his usual modesty. He muttered something which could have meant, “Who knows… perhaps… perhaps…”

  Meanwhile, Mr Nosegoode addressed his guest again. “I’d love to know a bit more about that bottle with a skull and crossbones which Cody told me about. He was in shock.”

  Blackbeard started laughing.

  “That was flea poison,” he explained. “I’m sorry, Cody, for being so blunt, but close contact with dogs has its unpleasant side as well. That’s why I always bring that bottle with me. But how did Cody get the idea that I was a criminal? Why did he suspect I wanted to poison him?”

  “It’s all because of that fake beard of yours,” Ambrosius replied. “Cody thought that a person who puts on a beard like that must be scheming to do something wicked.”

  Blackbeard jumped.

  “Because of the beard?! But that completely demolishes my theory about the effect of facial hair on dogs’ friendliness! For years I’ve been claiming that a beard and a moustache, as relics of primeval times, make dogs less shy and inspire their trust in humans. That’s why I wear this fake beard. Have I been wrong all this time?”

  “No, I think it’s Cody who’s wrong in this instance. You said yourself that he’s an exceptional dog. As such, he sometimes has different views from ordinary dogs about certain things. And that’s why the beard seemed suspicious to him.”

  “Of course!” Blackbeard agreed. “It makes perfect sense for an exceptional dog to have unusual views. Thank you for pointing that out. Cody has proved yet again that he’s absolutely extraordinary.”

  Cody wagged his tail and perked up his ears. What a pleasure it was to hear such things!

  Ambrosius spoke again.

  “I’m guessing – no, I’m positive, that Cody will let you photograph him tomorrow. He’ll agree out of great respect for the author of Portraits of Extraordinary Dogs.”

  Blackbeard listened to these words with a slight blush, which could just about be seen through his bushy beard. He said that it would make him very happy and began saying goodbye.

  “Mrs Hardtack is expecting me for dinner,” he explained. “I can’t be late.”

  After the door had closed behind him, Cody let out a groan. “Ambrosius! I’m the stupidest dog under the sun! How could I have taken this charming man for a criminal?”

  Ambrosius spread his arms out wide.

  “I don’t understand it either.”

  Cody scratched his left ear vigorously, as if it were to blame.

  “I really admire you,” he continued. “You knew straight away that he was innocent. How could you tell?”

  “I’ve already explained it to you. From the beard.”

  “But how?”

  “It’s simple. A criminal tries to blend in. Meanwhile, everything Blackbeard was doing made him stand out. So he couldn’t be a criminal. Is that clear now?”

  “Clear as the sky on a cloudless day! But only now. You know, I’m starting to wonder whether humans aren’t sometimes smarter than dogs.”

  “An interesting question,” Ambrosius acknowledged. “Let me know when you’ve reached your conclusion.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure. But now that we’ve dealt with Blackbeard,” Cody said, becoming more animated, “you finally have to tell me who stole the music box! I’m dying to know.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a bit longer. You’ll find out who the thief is later on, after dinner.”

  “After dinner?” Cody frowned, but he quickly cheered up again. “That’s fine. In that case, let’s go for dinner! I’d love to have a decent bone.”

  “I’m sorry, but we’re not going to have dinner today until seven o’clock.”

  “What time? I must have misheard.”

  “Seven. But if you’re hungry now, I can give you a treat. Would you like anything?”

  After a brief struggle with himself, Cody replied with a superior air, “No, thank you. I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Don’t be upset.” Ambrosius tried to smooth things over. “If I’m postponing dinner, I must have my reasons.”

  “Reasons!” Cody snorted. “You humans always manage to find a stick when you want to hit a dog. What have you thought up now?”

  “I haven’t thought up anything. I just don’t want to have to go out twice: now for dinner and then again later in the evening.”

  “In the evening? Why would you go out in the evening?”

  “To meet the thief.”

  Cody jumped.

  “You’re meeting the thief today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does the thief know?”

  “No. My visit… I’m sorry – our visit – is going to be a surprise.”

  “You’re planning to take me with you to this meeting
?”

  “Of course. Unless you don’t want to come?”

  “I do!” the dog reassured him eagerly, forgetting all about his grudge from a moment earlier.

  They went out into the garden and there, in silence, pondered the adventure awaiting them. Cody curled up in a ball in a wicker armchair, wondering who this mysterious individual was whom Ambrosius believed to be the thief. Ambrosius, rocking back and forth in another armchair, contemplated the possible ways of making the thief own up to the crime.

  In the meantime, the sun dipped lower and lower, growing larger and redder. When it got as low as the tops of the trees, Ambrosius stood up, stretched and announced, “Enough ruminations! I’m inviting you to the Marrow Inn for a double portion of bones!”

  At the mention of bones, Cody catapulted out of his chair.

  “A double portion!” he exclaimed, wagging his tail happily. “Ambrosius, you’re extraordinary!”

  CODY CAN’T BELIEVE HIS EARS

  They ate dinner in excellent spirits. Afterwards, Mr Nosegoode lit his pipe and Cody tried to imagine what could be more enjoyable than eating. He concluded that there was nothing better in the world.

  At half past seven, the two friends left the inn and headed towards the chemist’s.

  Hmm, is that where we’re going to find the thief? The dog was surprised. How interesting!

  The pharmacy was closed, but a sign on the door stated that in urgent cases visitors should ring the bell to Mr and Mrs Swallowtail’s private residence.

  “Is our case urgent?” Cody asked when they stopped in front of the door, which was marked with a door plate that read “Z. and B. Swallowtail”.

  “Of course!” Ambrosius replied, examining the door plate closely.

  “What’s so interesting about that sign?” the dog asked.

  “One very important letter,” the detective replied and rang the bell.

  The door was opened by Mr Swallowtail, who greeted his guests warmly and invited them in.

  “We’re just drinking some tea and we’d be delighted if you would join us,” he said.

  Indeed, the whole family was sitting at the table, with steaming cups of tea in front of them. The arrival of unexpected guests disrupted this familiar atmosphere.

  Mrs Swallowtail quickly got up from the table, greeted the visitors with a rapid torrent of words and made sure that Mr Nosegoode was comfortably installed in the seat of honour. Smiling brightly, she went to get an extra teacup from the kitchen.

  “How about something nice for the doggy?” she asked from the doorway, which touched Cody deeply.

  Mr Nosegoode thanked her and looked around at the other members of the family. The chemist’s daughter was a slim girl with a cutely turned-up nose. From the way she was looking at Cody, it wasn’t hard to guess that she adored dogs. Her younger brother had the look of a future inventor. If the Chinese hadn’t already invented gunpowder, it surely would have been discovered by the young Swallowtail. The last person Ambrosius’s eyes rested upon was Ben. The chemist’s nephew didn’t return his interest. He was staring at the ceiling, as if there were far more fascinating things going on there than a visit from a detective.

  Mrs Swallowtail came back and another flood of words poured out.

  “Here’s your tea, Inspector! How about a biscuit? I baked these myself. I’m so glad that you’ve decided to pay us a visit. I’ve heard so much about you!”

  She caught her breath and asked in a whisper, “Do you have any news?”

  “I do indeed, Mrs Swallowtail. I bring good news and… and your gloves.”

  Mrs Swallowtail’s outstretched hand, which was about to pass Mr Nosegoode his tea, froze in mid-air.

  “Gloves? What gloves are you talking about, Inspector?”

  “These,” Ambrosius replied, handing her the pair of black silk gloves which he had found that morning in the bushes.

  The chemist’s wife glanced at them and cried out in astonishment.

  “My gloves! Where did you find them?”

  “Oh, not far from here. I’m very glad I can return them to you.”

  Mrs Swallowtail was so surprised she didn’t even ask Mr Nosegoode how he knew that the gloves belonged to her.

  “Now I have no doubts at all that you’re going to find the thief!” she said with deep conviction.

  “I’ve already found the thief,” Ambrosius announced.

  The room went silent. Ambrosius pretended not to notice the inquisitive looks all around him and reached for his pipe as if nothing had happened. He filled it with tobacco and asked if he could smoke. He then took a box of matches out of his pocket and, without hurrying, lit the pipe and put the matchbox on the table. He did it in such a way as to ensure that one of those present could clearly see the numbers written on the box:

  4.25

  7.15

  21.30

  Inhaling deeply, he closely observed the individual in question. He could see fear in the person’s eyes and noted without surprise that the thief’s hand shook as it reached for the teacup…

  The chemist was the first to speak.

  “You said just a moment ago that you know who the thief is. Can you share the culprit’s name with us?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think we should go to see this person straight away and claim our property back,” Mrs Swallowtail exclaimed.

  “That won’t be necessary,” the detective said.

  “How so?”

  “It won’t be necessary,” he continued, “because the thief is in this room.”

  His words produced a staggering effect on the assembled company. Mrs Swallowtail clutched her head in disbelief. Mr Swallowtail wanted to protest, but for a few seconds he was speechless. Cody couldn’t believe his ears, and he lifted his head so abruptly that he hit it on the seat of a chair. Meanwhile, the person on whom Ambrosius’s eyes were resting tried to get up from the table but didn’t have enough strength…

  “You must be joking,” the chemist finally stammered out. “That’s not possible!”

  “I’m not joking,” the detective replied seriously. “The person who stole the music box is among us. I hope I’m not going to have to point them out with my finger. I hope this person stands up and confesses voluntarily.”

  Mr Nosegoode finished talking and gazed somewhere off into the corner. A heavy silence fell in the room. Only the clock could be heard counting the passing seconds. Suddenly, a chair scraped against the floor. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw… Ben standing up.

  “Ben?” Mrs Swallowtail groaned.

  “So it’s you?” The chemist couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Ben hung his head low and said nothing.

  “Go to your room and bring us the music box,” Ambrosius said quietly.

  Ben obeyed.

  The atmosphere at the table was distinctly uncomfortable. Mr Swallowtail was sullen. The younger Swallowtails sat motionless with their eyes fixed firmly on their teacups. Cody was experiencing his second enormous surprise of the day. As for Mrs Swallowtail, she kept rubbing her temples and saying, “Well, I never… I would’ve never thought… Never!

  “How did you work out that it was Ben, Inspector?” she finally asked.

  Mr Nosegoode removed the pipe from his mouth, weighed it briefly in his hand and then began to speak.

  “From the beginning, I assumed that the music box held some kind of secret and that it was stolen by someone who knew that secret. There were many suspects: neighbours, family, the clockmaker’s apprentice… From talking to you, Mr Swallowtail, I learnt about Ben, and I immediately became suspicious. Ben went to the clockmaker’s the day before the theft and asked when the music box would be ready, seemingly on your behalf. ‘My uncle can hardly wait,’ he said as he was leaving. I wondered why you didn’t pick up the music box that same day if you were in such a hurry. There could be only one answer: Ben didn’t tell you that it had been repaired. My suspicions were confirmed during our conver
sation. You said that Ben gave you this important news only yesterday morning. Why did he delay? It’s not hard to guess. He had gone to ask after the music box because he needed to find out about it for himself. Ben wanted to get the treasure. He realized that whoever laid their hands on the repaired music box first would be the one to find the treasure. That’s why he kept an eye on it and asked about it. He told you about his visit to the clockmaker’s only when the music box was already in his possession.

  “But these were just theories,” the detective continued, “and I needed evidence. Luckily, the thief left behind a few souvenirs: a silk thread (which, as I rightly guessed, came from a glove), a shoe print, a mark left by a crowbar and a box of matches. If Ben really was the culprit, I thought to myself, then by following in his footsteps, I should be able to find some traces. Perhaps the gloves, perhaps the crowbar? I was right. In a clump of bushes halfway between Mr Blossom’s workshop and your house, I found both the gloves and the crowbar. When I got home, I compared the thread that the thief had left on the door of the workshop with the gloves. There was no doubt whatsoever that the gloves were the ones the thief had used. And the initials embroidered on them led me to believe that they belonged to this household.

  “Another clue was provided by the box of matches. This one.” Mr Nosegoode pointed to the matchbox lying in front of him. “I found out from you, Mr Swallowtail, that Ben had been planning to visit his parents yesterday. His parents live in Duckfield, don’t they?” He turned to the chemist. Mr Swallowtail nodded.

  “Well, the music box enthusiast was also planning a trip there. I realized this from a series of mysterious numbers which Mr Blossom’s night visitor had written on the matchbox. Take a look! I soon guessed their meaning: these are train departure times. I went to the station and quickly found them on the timetable. There are trains leaving for Duckfield at exactly 4.25, 7.15 and 21.30. The evidence against Ben was mounting. Just in case, I went to ask Joey Humming, another suspect, about Duckfield. Joey’s surprise was so sincere that it cleared him of all suspicion. That left Ben. Today – at this table – I subjected him to the final test. I made sure that he saw the gloves and the matches. His reactions convinced me that my suspicions had been correct. I decided to take a risk: I called on Ben to confess his guilt. And he did.”