by H. Y. Hanna
“Colette?” Ruffster gasped.
“That’s the one,” said the Westie. “Heard she won her group this afternoon—big contender for ‘Best in Show’ tomorrow.”
“Where did they go?”
The Westie nodded at the arena. “Went in there, I think.”
“What were they doing at this time of the night?” asked Suka.
The Westie shrugged. “Beats me. Never know what these fancy breeds are up to,” he grumbled. “Nothing straightforward, like us Terriers.” He gave another sniff and disappeared from the window.
Ruffster began pacing around them in a circle. “We have to find them ... Colette could be in danger ... Did you hear what he said? Colette’s a winner and could become ‘Best in Show’! Dior might try to—”
“Um ... you know, there might not be a sinister reason for all this,” said Suka uncomfortably.
Ruffster stared at her. “What d’you mean?”
“Well ...” Suka looked at Biscuit and Honey for help, then turned back at Ruffster. “You know ... Maybe ... maybe they wanted to sneak off together.”
The insides of Ruffster’s ears went bright pink. “No, mate, Colette wouldn’t have anythin’ to do with that pompous hairbag!”
“Suka’s right. I mean, not that Colette likes Dior,” said Honey hastily. “But we don’t know for sure that something bad is going on. Dogs can sneak out at night if they want to. I mean, look at us—all we’ve been doing is sneak around since we arrived at the show.”
“No,” said Ruffster stubbornly. “I know somethin’s wrong. If you won’t come with me to check it out, then I’ll just go myself!” He turned around and started to head back towards the front of the arena.
Honey watched helplessly for a moment, then turned to Suka and Biscuit. “I’m going with him. If you want to get back to your humans first, that’s fine—”
“Don’t be silly,” said Suka. “We’re coming with you.”
Biscuit nodded. “I can help you track them.”
“Come on then,” said Honey. “Hurry!”
CHAPTER 24
Honey caught up with Ruffster just inside the main arena doors. He was standing stiffly, his ears pricked, straining to see into the darkened interior. The main lights had been switched off for the night, but a faint green glow was still coming from the “EXIT” signs above the side doors dotted around the walls of the huge hall. Honey felt the hackles rise along her back. Without the noisy crowds, the barking dogs, and the bright lights, the arena felt eerily silent and empty.
“Howling Hyenas, this place is creepy at night,” said Suka as she and Biscuit stepped in behind Honey and stood looking around. “Where do we start looking?”
Ruffster was already heading for the far end of the arena. “Let’s start by the Afghan crates...”
They followed him across the echoing hall, past the empty show rings and vacant benches, and the rows of unused folding chairs lined up like squat skeletons. They arrived at the row of crates along the far wall to find the place deserted as well. The Afghans’ area was neatly organised, the two empty crates side by side, a collection of grooming brushes, combs, sprays, and clippers arranged along the top of one of the crates. Nothing looked disturbed. Honey looked around. She could see Anja’s empty crate nearby and, beyond it, Ferrari’s crate area with its clutter of organic chew toys, designer brushes, aromatherapy shampoos, and lotions. But everything was still and silent.
“Doesn’t look like anybody’s been here recently,” said Suka.
“Wait—what’s that?” Ruffster jerked up straight, looking back across the arena to the grooming area. “C’mon! I saw somethin’ there!”
Honey followed close at his heels, running across the hall and darting between the empty grooming tables, which stood like rows of giant insects, each sprouting scary-looking straps and nooses from the metal frames around them. She saw a figure moving in the corner—a dog—and put on a burst of speed. The figure turned suddenly at their approach. Honey braked hastily as she nearly collided with a tall body of silky hair.
It was Dior.
“What’ve you done with Colette?” snarled Ruffster.
The big Afghan looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“We know she went off with you! What have you done with her?”
Dior shook his head. “She’s not with me.”
“Don’t lie!” snapped Ruffster, circling the big Afghan, his fur bristling. “The Westie saw you go off together!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dior tossed his head irritably. “I haven’t seen Colette since this evening before dinner.”
“But the Westie saw you! He said he saw an Afghan go off with Colette. Don’t tell me—”
“Wait, Ruffster,” said Honey, nudging him as an uneasy feeling began to bubble in the pit of her stomach. She looked at Dior. “Why are you out here?”
“I’m looking for my sister,” said Dior. “There was a noise ... it woke me up. I noticed that Tiffy wasn’t in the tent so I thought I’d better check outside ... maybe she was feeling sick or something. Then I saw a figure by the arena door—I thought it might have been her, but when I got here, whoever it was had already come inside. So I came in to see if I could find her.” His proud face, framed by the long silver hair, looked uncertain. “She’s been acting a bit strange lately, so I was worried about her.”
Honey stared at him, her mind whirling. Her sense of unease was turning into a horrible feeling—a feeling that she had missed something which had been under her nose the whole time.
“Dior,” said Honey urgently. “Did your human give you a bath on the first day of the show? You know, when I came in from the rain and your human dried me ... Tiffany was wet through and she told me she had just had a bath.”
“A bath?” Dior looked confused. “No, our human bathed us at home before we came to the show. Tiffy was wet because she had been outside in the rain. That’s one of the weird things she’s been doing recently—wandering off by herself. In fact, our human had just finished drying Tiffy when you came in from the rain and then she had to dry you off as well.”
“And your human’s pills ... you know, the ones she takes to stop her sneezing. Has she been missing any?” asked Honey.
“I don’t think so,” said Dior doubtfully. “I don’t remember her saying anything. She did drop some the other day—I think it was the first day we arrived—she dropped some on the floor by mistake. She was annoyed because they were wasted and she had only brought that one packet so she was worried she wouldn’t have enough to last until the end of the show.”
“Howling Hyenas, so it was Tiffany all along?” said Suka, her blue eyes wide. “Of course! She must have picked up those dropped Benadryl pills and put them in Anja’s bowl. And she must have sneaked into the storeroom and got some of that fertiliser to put in the Boxer’s bed. She was always in the same places as Dior, but we just never thought of her ... We’ve been focusing on the wrong Afghan the whole time!”
“What are you talking about?” Dior demanded.
Honey tucked her ears back apologetically. “We think your sister’s the one behind all these attacks on the show dogs.”
“What?” barked Ruffster, looking just as confused as Dior.
“That’s crazy,” said Dior, baring his teeth. “Why would my sister want to hurt the other dogs?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Honey. “But we’ve got to find her quickly before she hurts anyone else.”
“Colette!” gasped Ruffster, suddenly remembering. “She’s with Colette!” He ran frantically around in a circle.
“I know where they might be,” Biscuit spoke up. “In that storeroom. Tiffany must have left that fake Peemail ... and I tracked the scent to that storeroom. If she’s been in there before, she might go there again.”
“C’mon then!” Ruffster bounded off, followed by Suka and Biscuit.
“This is crazy,” Dior growled again as he started to follow. �
��My sister ... she’s like a quiet little mouse. She wouldn’t even hurt a flea.”
Honey gave him a solemn look as she fell into step beside him. “I hope you’re right.”
The door to the storeroom was ajar. Ruffster stormed in and the others quickly followed. There was a faint light coming down through the skylight—the moon must have come out from behind the clouds—and it illuminated the room enough for them to make out the piles of boxes and junk cluttering the space around them. Honey’s eyes fell on two canine figures in the far corner, standing by the scorch marks from the fire ten years ago.
At least, one of the figures was standing. The other figure had its head down and seemed to be struggling with something.
“Colette!” Ruffster leapt over a stack of boxes and rushed to the corner.
Honey and the others followed, but they all jerked to a stop as the standing figure whirled to face them. It was Tiffany the Afghan Hound, with her teeth bared and her eyes wild.
“Keep back!” she snarled.
Behind her, Honey could see Colette. The French Poodle had her head down on the ground, desperately trying to paw something off her face. It looked like a small plastic tray, one surface coated with a gooey, sticky substance that was stuck to the side of her muzzle. It was pulling her skin horribly as she tried to paw it off, but no matter how much she pawed and rubbed, she couldn’t get it off. Colette whimpered pitifully. All around her were scattered bits of popcorn. Honey didn’t remember seeing popcorn the last time she had been in the storeroom ... where had it come from?
“What have you done to her?” cried Ruffster, trying to push past Tiffany.
The small Afghan snarled again and sank her teeth into his shoulder. Ruffster yelped and jumped back.
“I told you to keep back,” said Tiffany, breathing heavily.
“Tiffy—what are you doing?” asked Dior in bewilderment.
Suka growled, “You’re the one who’s been attacking all the winning show dogs. We thought it was Dior because he wanted to keep his trophy cup, but it was you all the time! Why? What did you do it for?”
Tiffany bared her teeth. “If I’m not going to win, then nobody else is going to either.”
“What?” said Ruffster. “What kind o’ stupid thinkin’ is that?”
“There are other ways of being a winner, Tiffany,” said Honey gently.
“You said that before,” growled Tiffany. “It just goes to show how little you know. Getting that red ribbon is everything.”
Dior took a step forwards. “No, Tiffy, you’re wrong. Winning isn’t everything—”
“What would you know about it?” said Tiffany bitterly. “Ever since we were puppies, you’ve always been winning. Our human’s always fussing over you, grooming you, telling everybody how special you are. You always get all the attention; you’re always adored, always the great champion! Nobody ever remembers me. I’m just like the old, chewed slipper that the puppy doesn’t play with anymore ...” She tossed her head. “Well, I’m tired of being ignored. Tired of always being the one nobody notices, nobody thinks of—”
“This is a disgustin’ way to make people notice you!” cried Ruffster, looking at Colette.
“Oh, she’ll be fine,” said Tiffany with a contemptuous flick of her tail. “It’s just a stupid glue trap. I found some in here the last time I was snooping around. They must have had mice in the arena before.”
“How did you get her in here?” demanded Ruffster.
Tiffany laughed. “That was easy. I watch everybody, you know, and nobody ever notices me; nobody realises when I’m around. I knew Colette had a guilty secret—she loves popcorn. She’s been skulking around the arena, looking for the stuff. I saw her that night I was outside, waiting for Honey by the Viking ship ... Colette was sneaking out in the rain to look for dropped popcorn in the fairground.” She bared her teeth in a smile. “So I just picked up some popcorn I found in the arena—so many families in here today carrying popcorn!—and brought them here, scattered them next to the trap. Then after the humans were asleep, I sneaked out of our tent and told Colette that I knew where there was a stash of popcorn; got her to follow me here to the storeroom ... She got so excited when she saw the popcorn on the floor, she just dived in. Didn’t even realise she had her mouth on the trap until it was too late!” Tiffany laughed.
Ruffster stared at Colette aghast. “How is she goin’ to get that glue off?”
“Oh, it won’t stick to her forever,” scoffed Tiffany. “I didn’t want to really harm any of the dogs. Just wanted to make sure they were put out of action for a while, so they can’t compete for ‘Best in Show’.”
“What about that Chihuahua?” said Suka. “Breaking her leg wasn’t a small deal.”
“That wasn’t me,” growled Tiffany. “That really was an accident. It was just a coincidence that it happened straight after the creepy howling and everyone got spooked. But it gave me the idea, actually. After that, I always waited until the creepy howling sounded again before I attacked the next dog. It got everybody thinking that it was all caused by some Phantom Hound.” She laughed.
Colette whimpered again. She sank down to the floor, her sides heaving, her eyes rolling wildly.
“You can’t leave Colette like that. I have to help her get it off!” Ruffster tried to push past Tiffany again. The small Afghan snarled at him, but this time Ruffster wasn’t backing down. He snarled back, flashing his own teeth.
Tiffany launched herself on him, fangs bared. The two of them rolled over and crashed into a stack of boxes, knocking it to the floor, scattering papers and folders everywhere. They whirled through the mess, snapping and growling, and lurched over to the other side of the room. More boxes and pieces of old furniture were knocked over and crashed to the floor as Ruffster and Tiffany lunged and snarled at each other.
Dior sprang after them. Honey hesitated, then rushed over to Colette. She tried to paw the tray off the French Poodle’s muzzle, but it just yanked the skin and Colette squealed in pain. Biscuit tried to get a grip on the tray with his teeth, but he couldn’t do it without touching the glue himself.
“It’s no use,” Suka said. “We need to get her to the humans. They’ll know what to do.”
Honey looked up as a loud bang came from the other side of the room. Ruffster and Tiffany, still wrestling and fighting, had crashed into the door, knocking it shut. They reeled back and smacked into the old metal cabinet standing in the corner. It teetered for a moment, then fell over, crashing into the dogs. Ruffster slumped to the ground. Tiffany stood up shakily, but before she could take another step, her brother pounced on her, pinning her to the ground.
“Let me go!” she snarled, struggling wildly. “Let me go!”
She kicked and wriggled, throwing Dior off balance. The big Afghan tumbled backwards, straight into another stack of boxes. The top box tipped over and a cascade of junk fell out: envelopes, pens, batteries, rubber bands, some dirty rags, a tangle of steel wool, a grooming brush, several leashes, and an old towel.
There was a hiss and a click; Honey saw a tiny spark where the pile of old batteries had landed in the steel wool. Then orange flames began to flicker in the midst of the grey coils, growing larger and larger as they engulfed the surrounding pile of cardboard boxes. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air.
“Mon Dieu!” Colette whimpered. “It is happening again! Le feu! The fire—like ten years ago! We are going to burn to death!”
CHAPTER 25
The flames spread with frightening speed, crackling and popping as they licked their way across the room. Honey could feel the heat from the fire already breathing in her face. Drool filled her mouth in a panicked gush and leaked from her lips. She took a step back. The fire advanced, greedily feeding on the cardboard boxes and old furniture, growing bigger and bigger.
“We’ve got to get to the door!” cried Suka next to her. “If we don’t move soon, we’ll be trapped in this corner.”
Honey took a deep breath,
her heart pounding, and plunged to the right, where she had seen a gap between the flames. She stumbled, trying to see where she was going, coughing as the smoke suddenly blinded her. She felt a sudden shock of pain in her right paw as intense heat closed around it, like a bite from burning teeth. She cried out and stopped.
“Keep going!” Suka said from behind her.
Honey staggered forwards and came out of the flames, finding herself suddenly on the other side of the room, beside the door. Tiffany and Dior were there, still struggling with each other. Honey went to the door and pawed desperately. It stayed firmly shut. She whined and pawed again, her tail between her legs. The fire roared behind her. The heat in the room was getting unbearable. Panic fluttered in her throat like a trapped bird. We have to get out!
“The handle! Try the handle!” Biscuit jumped up and pawed wildly at the door handle. It turned slightly, but the door did not open. He tried again. Nothing. The door must have jammed when it slammed shut with such force.
Behind them, the fire roared again, and suddenly there was an explosion. All the dogs crouched and ducked as the air filled with the sound of shattering glass.
“What was that?” yelped Suka.
“The skylight,” said Honey, looking upwards. The square piece of glass in the ceiling had exploded, leaving a gaping hole where they could see the night sky. Honey looked longingly up at the hole. If only they could get out that way!
The fire seemed to be growing even bigger. It was almost as if the fresh air coming in through the gap in the ceiling was feeding the flames, turning them into a raging inferno. Honey coughed as more smoke filled the room. Her eyes were watering so much she could hardly see.
“We’re all going to die in here if we don’t get this door open!” Suka pawed frantically at the door again.
Biscuit raised his nose to the sky and began to howl. It was an awful, chilling cry for help. Suka joined in—her mournful Husky howl rising higher and higher. Honey hoped desperately that the humans could hear them.
