A Secret in Time

by H. Y. Hanna

  Copyright © 2014 by H.Y. Hanna

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9923153-3-7

  www.bighoneydogmysteries.com

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  Author’s Note

  This book follows British English conventions in spelling and usage. There is a glossary of British terms at the end of the story.

  Collect the other books in this series:

  Curse of the Scarab (Book 1)

  Big Honey Dog Mysteries HOLIDAY COLLECTION

  Dedication

  To Honey

  who is no longer with us

  but lives on in this mystery series inspired by her.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:

  Big Honey Dog Mysteries HOLIDAY COLLECTION

  Glossary of British terms used in the story

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  The car screeched to a halt with a sudden lurch. Honey the Great Dane braced her paws as she was thrown forwards, and peered out of the front windscreen. A woman was stalking towards them, the scowl on her face even more thunderous than the ominous grey clouds in the sky above them.

  “Uh-oh ...” Olivia muttered as she frantically tried to put the car into reverse. They lurched backwards, then jerked forwards again with another squeal of the tyres. Honey glanced at Olivia. Sometimes she wondered if her human really knew how to drive these car machines.

  A sharp rapping made them both jump. The scowling woman smacked her hand on the car hood and they could see her mouth opening and closing, like fish Honey had seen in tanks at the pet store. Muffled shouting came through the car windows. Olivia sighed and slowly rolled down her window.

  “Hello, I—”

  “Out! You have no right to be here. Can’t you read the signs?”

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—”

  “Parking here is reserved for official competitors only and that space is for elite club members.” The woman looked down her nose at Olivia, then glanced into the back of the car. Honey hastily licked the drool dangling from her jowls, but it was too late. The woman recoiled with a look of disgust.

  Olivia tried a smile. “But you see, I’m the official photographer for the show and I was told—”

  “No exceptions!”

  Olivia sighed and gave up. Yanking the steering wheel, she turned the car around and started driving carefully over the muddy ground. It had been raining all week and, even now, there were small drops speckling the windscreen. The ground was pitted with muddy pools of water. Honey bounced and hit her head on the car ceiling as they lurched through a particularly deep hole. Ow!

  “Sorry,” Olivia muttered as she swung the car in a wide circle.

  They drove around a long, metal-roofed building that looked like a giant barn. Draped across one wall of the building was a large banner with the words “THE ROYAL SHOW” painted in bright letters. Beyond the building, Honey could see strange shapes rising into the sky: a giant wheel with twinkling lights which turned slowly in time to music; a huge wooden ship with tattered sails and a dragon figurehead on its prow; a coiling metal track that snaked along the ground and looped and twisted in the air ... The smell of hot, buttery popcorn suddenly wafted through the open car window and Honey felt drool dribble down her chin.

  The car came to a stop in front of the long building. Olivia cast a furtive look at the yellow “NO PARKING” sign on the wall next to them, then shrugged and began unloading the car. Honey breathed a sigh of relief as she scrambled out of the backseat and stretched her legs. She gave herself a good shake, sending slobber flying in all directions, and looked curiously around.

  Vans and cars were being unloaded all about her as people rushed past carrying or wheeling dog crates into the building. One man staggered over, juggling a fold-up chair, a bundle of towels, four grooming brushes and a Pomeranian on a silver leash. The little dog rolled her eyes at Honey as she trotted daintily past, muttering, “Always late! Why can’t he be more organised? I’m going to be the laughing stock of the Toy Group ...”

  “Are you planning to move out of the way any time soon?” came a cold voice.

  Honey hurriedly stepped back as an enormous Afghan Hound strode past her, tossing his head arrogantly. Being a Great Dane, it was rare that a dog could look her in the eye, but this Afghan easily matched her in height, if not in weight. He had a long, aristocratic face, framed by flowing, silver hair which continued down to cover his whole body. Honey had never seen such a beautiful dog in her life. He looked almost too perfect to be true. She watched as he sauntered past her and through the open doorway into the main arena.

  “Sorry about my brother, Dior. He ... he can be a bit rude sometimes.”

  Honey turned to see another Afghan Hound standing beside her—a smaller, paler shadow of the magnificent dog who had just walked past. The long hair framing her face was more mousy brown than shimmering silver and she ducked her head shyly as she spoke. But Honey liked her instantly.

  “That’s OK.” Honey wagged her tail. “He’s probably just impatient to get started. Is he competing?”

  “He’s the reigning champion,” said the small Afghan proudly. “Dior won the Royal Show the last two years running. Our human thinks he’ll be the top Afghan stud in the country if he wins again this year.”

  “Are you competing too?” asked Honey.

  “Oh ... yes, but I don’t win like my brother. He’s always the one getting the ribbons and the attention,” she said, looking a bit wistful. “I’m Tiffany, by the way. Our Breeder picked really glamorous names for our litter—although I don’t really live up to mine at all, I guess.” She looked down at herself sheepishly.

  “I think your name fits you really well,” said Honey, giving Tiffany’s bum a friendly sniff. “And it’s a lot fancier than mine. I’m just plain old Honey.”

  “But that’s your pet name, isn’t it? You must have some long, fancy pedigree name if you’re competing—”

  “Oh no, no, I’m not a show dog,” laughed Honey. “My human’s a photographer. They asked her to come take pictures of the show.” She cocked her head. “I heard her say it’s really special this year—it’s the first time the Royal Show has come back to the Showgrounds here in ten years, isn’t it?”

  She was surprised to see Tiffany suddenly look scared. The small Afghan glanced nervously around and lowered her voice. “They shouldn’t have brought the show back here. You know the Showgrounds are haunted.”

  “Haunted?”

  Tiffany nodded. “Because of that terrible fire ten years ago, when two dogs died. The ‘Best in Show’ and ‘Reserve Best in Show’. They shut down the Showgrounds after that. But now the Royal is back here ... and the other dogs say there have been ... weird things happening.”

  “What kind of weird things?” Honey asked.

  Tiffany glanced around again. “Grooming brushes going missing and turning up in odd places. L
eashes getting suddenly tangled. Crate doors opening by themselves—”

  “But those kinds of things happen anyway at shows, don’t they? It doesn’t have to be a spooky reason,” said Honey

  “Then there’s the creepy howling.”

  For the first time, Honey felt a prickle of unease. “Howling?”

  Tiffany tucked her tail under her belly. “I haven’t heard it myself, but I heard the other dogs talking about it. Some of them were here yesterday for the Pre-Show Ribbon Parades. They said that the lights just suddenly went out and then there was this awful, eerie howling that seemed to come from nowhere. Even the humans were freaked out. And then afterwards,” she gulped, “one of the dogs tripped and broke her leg.”

  Honey stared. “Well, maybe ... maybe that was just a coincidence ...”

  “Maybe.” Tiffany didn’t look convinced. She turned as they heard her name being called. “Oh, I’d better go.”

  Honey followed Tiffany’s gaze. A tall woman with a face so long and thin that she looked almost like an Afghan herself was standing just inside the main arena doorway. She beckoned impatiently with one hand, holding a tissue to her nose with her other hand. She sneezed three times in a row and sniffed, her eyes red and watery.

  “My human’s allergic to dogs,” confided Tiffany. “It’s not so bad when it’s just me and Dior at home, but when we come to a big show like this, she keeps sneezing and sneezing. She’s got this special allergy medicine which really helps—I hope she brought some with her. Otherwise, she starts to get a bit grumpy.” Tiffany waved a goodbye with her tail as she headed into the arena. “Come by our crates later to say hello!”

  Olivia, meanwhile, had gathered various black bags and cases from the car and was now staggering under her load as she started through the double doors. Honey followed her into the arena. It was enormous. In the centre of the vast space were the show rings, marked out side by side, and Honey could see several dogs posing and strutting around in them already. Around the rings, arranged along the walls, were the wooden “benches” where dogs could rest while waiting for their big moment. Pooches of the same breed were hanging out together, gossiping and peering over the bench tops at the other breeds.

  On one side of the arena was the grooming area. Dogs with long-suffering expressions were standing on the tables—fluffy dogs, shaggy dogs, curly dogs, frizzy dogs—all being groomed to within an inch of their lives by their humans. Next to them stood a row of stalls selling all sorts of homemade foods and canine goodies, from dog coats to dental chews, tennis balls to training treats. Honey raised her nose and sniffed appreciatively, catching the aroma of gourmet dog biscuits and oven-roasted liver crackers. Ah, if only her friend, Biscuit the Beagle were here ...

  Wait. Her gaze sharpened as she noticed that the cloth hanging over one of the stall tables had a suspicious bulge underneath. The fabric rippled, then parted, and Honey saw a white-and-brown head emerge. A Beagle nose wriggled excitedly, then lunged upwards. A packet of dog biscuits disappeared from the top of the table and the white-and-brown head disappeared into the folds of the tablecloth again, like a sea monster sinking back into the deep. Honey smiled. It looked like Biscuit was here after all and up to his old tricks already.

  A familiar bark made her turn around. The show ring closest to her was filled with Siberian Huskies. She did a double take as she recognised the Husky strutting past.

  “Suka!” Honey went eagerly up to the side of the ring and wagged her tail at her friend. “What are you doing here?”

  Suka paused her strutting and rolled her eyes in the direction of the boy holding her leash. “My Boy. He joined the Junior Kennel Club and now all he wants to do is groom me and make me walk around in circles. I mean, look at my tail!” she wailed.

  Honey stepped back to look. Suka’s tail was pretty fluffy at the best of times, but now it had been teased and fluffed to five times its normal size, into an enormous white plume.

  “Maybe I should start calling you Suka Rabbit,” said Honey, trying not to laugh.

  Suka glowered at her. “You wouldn’t find it funny if it was your tail. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I haven’t been allowed out for a proper run in days because I mustn’t mess up my fur. I’m not allowed to pull on my leash anymore because it would look bad in the ring. I’m not even allowed to do any howling. I think I’m going to run away from home!”

  Honey grinned. Suka was just being melodramatic as usual. Besides, she knew that the Husky adored her Boy—there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him. Honey furrowed her brow. “Hey, how come they let your Boy take you into the ring? I thought only adults would be allowed to show the dogs.”

  “They’ve changed a lot of the rules for the show this year,” said Suka. “I heard my Boy’s Mother talking about it the other day. They want to get more people coming back to the Showgrounds, so they’ve bent a lot of the rules. Like ... they’ve created a couple of Fun Classes so pet dogs can join in—you don’t have to be a pedigree show dog to compete anymore. There’s ‘Prettiest Pet’ and ‘Cleverest Canine’—and even ‘Waggiest Tail’.” She rolled her eyes. “If it was ‘Scariest Tail’, I’d probably win no problems. They’ve also set up a fairground next to the arena, with rides and games—”

  “Oh, I think I saw that,” said Honey excitedly. “I was wondering what those things were. I saw a huge wheel and this strange, looping metal thing ... and a big wooden boat ...”

  “That’s the Viking ship,” said Suka. “My Boy’s desperate to go on that! It swings really high in the air. The looping metal thing is a roller-coaster. It goes around crazy fast. My Boy wants to go on that too, but his Mother says he’s too young. He can go on the big Ferris Wheel, though—that’s really slow.” She glanced back. “Oh, the judge is calling us.”

  Honey watched as Suka’s Boy tugged her leash and the two of them jogged over to join the rest of the Huskies on the other side of the ring. She was glad she wasn’t going into the show ring any time soon. Unless they had “Drooliest Dog”, she didn’t think Olivia could find any class to enter her in anyway.

  Olivia! Honey suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be following her human. She scanned the crowds worriedly, trying to find her.

  BANG!

  Honey jerked around, startled. Many of the dogs around her did the same. Then she saw what had caused the noise—one of the big, double doors of the arena had slammed shut. Outside, she could hear the sudden shrieking of a high wind. It sounded like a storm was rising.

  Then the lights flickered.

  Around her, dogs began to murmur uneasily. The next minute, the lights went out and they were all plunged into darkness. Without any windows, the only light coming into the arena was through the remaining open half of the double doors, but the weak afternoon light barely penetrated into the huge space. The happy hubbub in the arena died. In the sudden silence, Honey heard something that raised all the hackles on her back.

  Howling.

  CHAPTER 2

  Long, eerie, mournful howls seemed to come from nowhere and echoed around the arena, bouncing off the walls. Next to Honey, dogs began to whimper and nervous whispers swelled around her:

  “It’s happening again, just like yesterday!”

  “Oh, I’m scared ...”

  “They say this place is haunted ...”

  “It’s the Phantom Hound coming to get us!”

  Frightened yelps and screams filled the arena, but just as Honey thought that there would be a mass stampede of panic, she heard a dog barking cheerfully over the din.

  “Hey, don’t worry, mates—my Guy’s lookin’ into the problem now and he’ll have it all fixed in no time!”

  “Ruffster!” Honey turned in delight at the familiar voice of one of her oldest friends. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark now and she could see more clearly. Ruffster the mongrel mutt trotted jauntily into the middle of the arena, his scruffy coat looking messier than ever and his one upright ear cocked. Just as he reached
the show rings, the lights came back on. Everyone looked around, blinking, and then everyone began talking at once.

  “Hey, Honey ... wasn’t expectin’ to see you here.” Ruffster came up and they circled each other, sniffing bums with affection.

  “My human’s come to take photos of the show. What about you?” asked Honey.

  “My Guy’s doin’ all the lights and sounds and stuff. We’ve been here since yesterday.”

  Honey’s ears pricked up. “Were you here when the same thing happened yesterday? The lights and that strange howling? Everyone thinks the Showgrounds are haunted.”

  “I heard that too,” said Suka, coming up to join them. She gave herself a good shake. “Am I glad to get out of that show ring!”

  Ruffster stared at her. “Mate, what happened to your tail? Looks like a giant marshmallow exploded on your bum!”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.” Suka wrinkled her muzzle. She turned to Honey. “The other Huskies were talking about a Phantom Hound ... do you think the Showgrounds are really haunted?”

  Ruffster snorted. “Ain’t no Phantom Hound. My Guy says the lights just went out because o’ a fuse.”

  “A few what?”

  “Not few. Fuse,” said Ruffster. “They’re like little wires that melt when the lights get too hot. Makes them go out. Helps to keep things safe. And then you—”

  “Excusez-moi?”

  They turned to see a beautiful French Poodle standing next to them, one paw raised daintily. She was the colour of fresh snow, with sparkling black eyes and a charcoal nose to match. Her woolly coat had been carefully shaved into the traditional “Continental clip”, with the hair removed from her hips and upper legs, but left around her head and chest. She had big round pom-poms on each of her ankles and on the tip of her tail.

  The French Poodle fluttered her long eyelashes at them. “My name is Colette. It is fixed now, the lights?”

  Honey turned to Ruffster, waiting for him to start explaining again about the fuse, but he was just standing there, looking at the French Poodle with his mouth slightly open.

  Suka gave him a nudge. “Ruffster?”