CONTENTS
Chapter 1: The Air-Drummer
Chapter 2: Musical Ghosts
Chapter 3: The Cat’s Meow
Chapter 4: Old Gold
Chapter 5: The Trail Ends Here
Chapter 6: The Concert of Chaos
Chapter 7: A Noisy Chase
Chapter 8: The Ghost Strikes Again
Chapter 9: The Whole Tooth and Nothing but the Tooth
Chapter 10: A Long Hiss Good Night
‘Ghosts and Goblins and Ninjas, Oh My!’ Excerpt
About Walker Styles and Ben Whitehouse
THE AIR-DRUMMER
Click-click-click-click. Crash! Crash! Clatter! Rat-a-tat! Boom!
“What’s with all the noise?!” asked a floppy-haired mutt named Ziggy Fluffenscruff. “I was having the most amazing dream about a thirty-foot-long super-sandwich—until the noise woke me. Can’t a pup take a catnap in peace?”
“Sorry about that,” said Westie. He was a brilliant West Highland terrier, and the P.I. Pack’s inventor. “My latest creation can cause quite a commotion. I call it the Air-Drummer. It’s half drum set, half ATV.”
“I love TV!” Ziggy exclaimed, wagging his tail.
“Not a TV, kid,” Rora Gooddog said, walking into the room. She was a poodle who was book smart and street smart. “An ATV. It stands for ‘All-Terrain Vehicle.’ That means it can travel anywhere.”
“Well, can it go get me something to eat?” Ziggy said, rubbing his growling belly. “I’m hungry.”
“Not so fast, fella,” Rora said to Ziggy. Then she turned to Westie. “Mind if I give it a try?”
“Of course!” Westie said, offering her the driver’s seat. “It still has a few kinks to work out, but given the right driver—”
Rora started playing the drum set. Ba-da-da-ta-ba-tada-da
“You’re amazing!” Westie said.
“You’re totally a natural-born drummer dog!” Ziggy clapped.
“I’ll dance to that!” said a stranger. He was a well-dressed whippet with fancy hair and a funky leather outfit.
“Bow-wowza!” Ziggy shouted, running in a circle around their cool-looking guest. “Mega-famous rock star, David Bow-Wowie! You’re a music legend!”
“Calm down, team,” said Rider Woofson, the finest dog detective in Pawston. He put his arm around the rock star. “Mr. Bow-Wowie is a close friend of mine, but today he’s here on business.”
“You know David Bow-Wowie?” Ziggy laughed. “But you don’t know anything about music.”
“Not so,” Bow-Wowie said. “Back in the day, Rider guarded some of the biggest names in music. Katy Purry. Three Dog Knights. Even Ma-dog-gona.”
“You know Katy Purry?” Ziggy asked, wagging his tail.
Rider cleared his throat. “Ahem, as I was saying, Bow-Wowie is here because there’s a crime to be solved.”
“We’ll help in any way we can,” Rora said, standing up. “What happened?”
Bow-Wowie looked both sad and scared. “I came back to Pawston to play a benefit show to save the Bow-Wow Club. But all of my instruments have been stolen! By a ghost!”
“Ghastly!” Rora said.
“Terrier-fying!” Westie barked.
“G-G-G-Ghosts?!” Ziggy cried, covering his eyes with his paws.
“That’s the spirit, team,” Rider said. “Let’s g-g-g-get g-g-g-ghostbustin’!”
MUSICAL GHOSTS
When the team arrived at the Bow-Wow Club, the police were guarding the entrance. Inside, the stage crew was hiding behind the seats. Everyone was frightened and whispering about spooky, toothy ghosts.
“ ‘Spooky, toothy ghosts?’ ” Ziggy repeated.
“Before this place was the Bow-Wow Club, it was a dental office,” Rora said. “Word on the street is that the Bow-Wow Club has been haunted by dentists.”
“I don’t like dentists,” said Ziggy. “And I do not like ghost dentists.”
“A clean mouth is a healthy mouth,” Rider said. Ziggy stuck his tongue out at Rider behind his back. “And sticking your tongue out is rude.”
“How’d you know I stuck my tongue out at you?!” Ziggy asked.
“Simple. I’m a good detective,” Rider said with a wink.
“The best!” added Westie.
At the back door, there stood a familiar little dog. “Hello, Frenchie,” Rider said. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Yeah, I just started guarding the door at the Bow-Wow Club. Free music and all the kibble I can eat. Pretty good deal. I can’t believe what happened.”
“Can you walk us through what you saw?” Rider asked.
“I can do better than that. I can show you the security video. Follow me.” Frenchie led the P.I. Pack past the frightened crew. In the security office, Frenchie turned on a TV. An image of the stage flashed to life, with two dogs setting up equipment. “The guys were unloading Mr. Bow-Wowie’s instruments. That’s Louis Labrador and Charlie Chihuahua.”
The old stagehand in the video was a rough-looking labrador. He was working with a young, excited chihuahua. Both of them were lifting the precious instruments from plastic crates.
“See this guitar here?” Louis said. “It played the solo on ‘I Want To Hold Your Paw’—only one of the most famous songs in history.”
“Wow wow wow!” Charlie said, making little jumps in the air.
“And this,” Louis said, holding up a microphone. “Bow-Wowie sang into this when he recorded the classic ‘Smells like Dog Spirit.’ ”
“Wow wow wow wow!” Charlie said, jumping some more.
“And this is the keytar—”
“Wait, what’s a keytar?” asked Charlie.
“It’s half guitar, half keyboard,” Louis explained. “It was used only once, by the Rolling Bones, and then they gave it to Mr. Bow-Wowie as a gift.”
“Wow wow wow wow wow!” Charlie said, jumping up and down even more. He was so excited, he looked like he might pass out. “What’s this?” Charlie asked, pulling something from a crate.
“That is just a piece of Styrofoam,” Louis said.
The dogs began to unload the rest of the instruments. Charlie carefully put the drumsticks on the drum seat, but when he walked away, they fell off.
“Careful with those,” Louis said.
“It wasn’t me!” Charlie said. He put them back in place. He walked away, and the drumsticks fell again. But this time they started moving around on their own.
“Quit messing around,” Louis said to Charlie.
“It’s not me! I promise!” Charlie said. Suddenly, all of the instruments started moving on their own. Then they began marching around the stage.
“Ghosts! Ghosts! G-G-Ghosts” Charlie shouted, leaping behind Louis. They both ran in circles and then hid behind a table. The instruments walked right out of the room.
“Instruments don’t just walk around on their own,” Rora said.
“But they just did,” Westie noted. “We saw it on the video.”
“Ghosts!” Ziggy barked.
“Don’t believe everything you see on TV,” Rider said. “It’s time to sniff out some clues and find the real crook.”
THE CAT’S MEOW
“My beloved instruments are . . . gone!” Bow-Wowie said as he walked in. He sat down on a crate, his heart broken. “The tambourine from ‘The Cats in the Cradle,’ the flute from ‘Rumble in the Jungle,’ the cello from ‘Meow-low Yellow.’ Oh, music is my life. Those instruments were like family. Without them, I cannot make music—much less put on a show. I’ve lost my music and my favorite club!”
“Buck up, fella,” Rora said. “The show ain’t over until the cat lady sings.”
“Then I m
ust be hearing her ssssong,” hissed Mr. Meow. The rich cat walked in with the mayor. They were good friends. Still, Rider found it odd that Mr. Meow always seemed to be nearby when bad news struck. “No mussssic benefit, no more Bow-Wow Club. And then I’m afraid I’ll have to buy it.”
“What are you talking about, fur ball?” Ziggy asked.
“Mr. Meow is right,” the mayor said. “The Bow-Wow Club owes money for its rent. If Mr. Bow-Wowie doesn’t play, it will have to close, and the building will be up for sale.”
“I plan to turn this place back into an office of dentistssss,” said Mr. Meow with a gleaming grin. “That will rid this city of thissss dreadful mussssic, and bring back some pearly white smilessss. Good-bye, rock ’n’ roll . . . hello, clean gumssss!”
“A boring old dental office is a terrible idea,” Ziggy said.
“It won’t be boring or old,” said Mr. Meow. “It will be the future of dentistry. Hundreds of dentistssss, scraping and cleaning and picking and—”
“Stop! Just thinking about it makes my teeth hurt.” Ziggy moaned and held on to his mouth.
“Down, boy,” Rider said to his young teammate. “Mr. Mayor, as much as I love dentists and a clean mouth, the Bow-Wow Club is an important part of Pawston. I’m going to get to the bottom of this mystery. How long do we have?”
“Only one day,” the mayor said. “The concert was scheduled for tomorrow night. If enough money is made by then, Mr. Bow-Wowie can still save the club. If not . . .”
“What am I going to do?” Bow-Wowie groaned.
“It’s not time to face the music just yet,” Rider said. “I’m on the case, and I won’t give up until I find those instruments and the criminal that took them.” Rider pulled his magnifying glass from the pocket of his trench coat. “Team, time to get to work.”
“Besssst of luck,” hissed Mr. Meow as he left with the mayor. “Call me when you fail, sssso I can tear down this stage.”
“Bad kitty,” Ziggy whispered.
“Mr. Meow may be rude, but he’s still a citizen of Pawston, so he deserves our respect,” Rider told the others. “Rest assured, we are going to keep the music alive in our fair city.”
“That’s a plan I can really dig,” Rora said. “Let’s look for clues.”
The P.I. Pack started searching the club high and low. Bow-Wowie was beginning to worry again when all at once . . .
Rora said, “I found a clue!”
Westie said, “I found a clue too!”
Ziggy barked, “I found a clue three!”
“Make that four,” Rider said.
OLD GOLD
“What have you got, team?” Rider asked.
“I was looking for the exits,” Rora explained. “And there’s a back door behind the stage that was open. I went outside and found these guitar strings next to a pair of tire tracks.”
“Excellent work,” Rider said. “Westie, what did you find?”
“Using my Magnet-o-meter, I found a metal trapdoor on the other side of the stage,” Westie said. “It leads to the basement.”
“Great job. We’ll search it after we hear from Ziggy,” Rider noted.
“Uh . . . just a minute!” Ziggy’s head was stuck inside a picnic basket. He put his front paws on it and pushed as hard as he possibly could. When the basket flew off his head, an empty bottle of maple syrup fell out. “I found a maple-syrup bottle.”
“Get real, kid,” Rora said, her arms crossed. “I’d hardly call that a clue.”
“But it is!” Ziggy said. “My gut says so.”
“Isn’t your gut usually just hungry?” Westie asked.
“Yeah, but—”
“Moving on,” Rider interrupted. “I found something as well. It’s not a clue, but I think it’ll give our client a little hope.” Rider pulled out a guitar from a small room.
“My best electric guitar!” Bow-Wowie shouted in glee. He jumped up from his chair and hugged the guitar close. “Why weren’t you stolen, my dear?”
“I had it,” said Frenchie. The shy security guard looked embarrassed. “But I promise I wasn’t trying to steal it. You’re my musical hero. I only wanted to clean it up nice and shiny for you. I was dusting it in my office when the other instruments walked away.”
“Looks like your thoughtfulness paid off,” Rider said.
As Bow-Wowie strummed his guitar, the detectives headed into the basement. Rider turned on the lights so they could see. As they looked around the room, there was nothing but old dental chairs and equipment covered in spider webs. In one corner, there was a large anthill. The tiny red ants moved around quietly.
“Ewww, this place gives me the shivers!” Westie said.
“It wasn’t so bad,” Bow-Wowie said. “My grandfather was a dentist and used to own this place. He named it “Whippet & Whippet, Dentist & Sons.” My father was a dentist like his father. He wanted me to become one too. But I didn’t care about teeth. All I cared about was my music.”
“What happened to the dental office?” Rora asked.
“My uncle worked here too, which was funny because he had a sweet tooth. He always carried around a bottle of maple syrup in his pocket because he ate it all the time. One night, he was working late and lost a shipment of gold. He said ghosts took it.”
“G-G-G-Gold?” Ziggy said, his ears perking up.
“Back then, they used gold to fill cavities. If a patient lost a tooth, they’d give them a new gold tooth,” Bow-Wowie explained. “After the gold disappeared, my uncle sold the place. Years later, it turned into the Bow-Wow Club.”
“But what happened to the gold?!” Ziggy asked, his tail wagging.
“No one ever found it. Treasure hunters tried, but it’s still missing. In fact, those gold-diggers started saying that this place was haunted too. They claimed to see things moving around on their own. I never believed it . . . until now.”
“That is a rather interesting tall tail,” Rider said, “but we need to focus on the musical instruments. Let’s solve one mystery at a time. Looks like we need to follow our next clue: the tire tracks.”
As Rider led the team outside, Ziggy stayed behind. He was looking at some pictures on the wall. One was of Bow-Wowie’s father, grandfather, and uncle.
“You coming, Zig?” Rider asked.
“In a minute,” Ziggy said, sniffing around. He couldn’t help but feel like they were missing something. He just didn’t know what.
THE TRAIL ENDS HERE
“What now?” Rora asked.
“I am scanning the tire tracks into my Foll-o-matic,” Westie said. “It will record the marks and follow them to the getaway car.”
The invention pointed down the road. “Good work, Westie,” Rider said. “Now let’s go track down those tire tracks.”
“I hope we can help Mr. Bow-Wowie save the Bow-Wow Club,” Rora said.
“So do I,” agreed Rider. “He is a great musician, and Pawston deserves great music.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that Mr. Meow wants to open a dental office?” Ziggy asked as the Pack jumped into the van. “There are already plenty of other dentists in town.”
“Mr. Meow is a very rich man,” Rider said. “He owns many stores in Pawston. But for some people, nothing is ever enough. They just want more, more, more.”
“More, more, more,” Bow-Wowie mumbled from the way back seat as he scribbled on a little pad of paper.
“What are you doing?” Rora asked.
“Writing down song lyric ideas,” he said.
“How can anyone write songs at a time like this?” Ziggy asked, scratching his head.
Bow-Wowie kept humming a tune and wrote more words in his notebook.
“The tracks lead here!” Westie exclaimed after a few miles. He pointed to a van parked in front of a music store called MOE &WALLY’S MUSIC WAREHOUSE.
“A music warehouse—it’s the perfect place to hide instruments!” Rider said. “We’re dealing with a diabolical mind!”
The
group jumped out of the van and ran inside, and Rider shouted, “Everyone, freeze!”
A tiny mole and a giant walrus stood still and looked confused.
Rora pulled out several photographs of the stolen property. “Have you seen these instruments?”
Moe the mole squinted, then shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t see very well.”
Wally the walrus looked at the photos and said, “They’re quite nice. I’m afraid they’re far too nice for our store. Are you buying or selling them?”
“Neither,” Rider said. “We’re looking for the stolen property of—”
“Ohhh. Myyy. Goodness.” Wally clapped his flippers together and started squealing. “Moe! Moe! You have to see this! It’s David Bow-Wowie!”
“Yeah, right,” said Moe, who couldn’t see a thing.
“I think it’s obvious these two are not criminal masterminds,” Rora whispered to the others. They nodded in agreement.
“My poor instruments aren’t here,” Bow-Wowie said, holding his only guitar close. “This is hopeless.”
Rider paused. The great detective was out of clues, but he didn’t want to worry his old friend.
“Perhaps a tune will make him feel better,” Westie said to Ziggy. Ziggy took down an acoustic guitar from the wall and began to play. Westie joined him on the piano.
Undercover in the Bow-Wow Club Page 1
