The Mystery of the Masked Marauder (Nate and Basset, PI: Pet Investigators Book 1)

by Peter Cox

I shook my head and sat next to her. “Nada. But what happened with you? Where’s the magnifying glass?”

  “My old man left for the worksite exactly when I thought he would, and I snuck into his room and grabbed the magnifying glass. Easy as pie, just as I suspected. But as I was reaching for the doorknob to go outside, my dad burst back in. He forgot his lunch or something. Anyway, long story short, I’m grounded for two weeks and I don’t have anything to show for it.”

  “Man, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. It doesn’t really matter anyway. He’s not around to make sure I’m staying grounded, and he’ll probably forget all about it by tonight. I’m just sorry we can’t solve this clue because my dad is such a pain in the butt about his stuff.”

  I slumped back in my chair. Where did we go from here?

  I wanted to cheer Sam up, or at least give us something to take our minds off the morning’s failure.

  “Listen, we might have another clue already,” I said slowly. “Not that it makes any sense.”

  I told her all about my “dreams” and the note we found this morning.

  “Death is coming. Look in Baskertonn Manor. 2 1 18 19 20 15 14.”

  And, “When the indoor sun is upside down, And the smile becomes a frown, Then the answers will appear, Never known to be so near.”

  “Well that’s super helpful.”

  I figured she was being sarcastic. I would have been.

  “I know. It doesn’t get us one single step further.”

  “I was serious,” Sam said with a laugh. “Not the second one. I don’t get any of that poetry gibberish. But the first one. Baskertonn Manor. That’s where we need to start.”

  “But no one knows where it is. No person in this town has seen it in decades. It’s just a story.”

  “It’s out there in the woods somewhere. You’re right, no person has seen the old house. But I’m sure some of the animals know where it is.”

  I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.

  Then again, I never claimed to be a genius.

  Some days I’m lucky I can remember how to tie my shoes.

  “Jeez. You work fast.”

  “It’s nothing special.”

  “Sure it is. I had that clue a week ago and didn’t get as far as you did in two seconds.”

  “Anyway, where should we start?” She was looking at Basset.

  “Not with Genevieve this time, I’m guessing,” I said. “Might as well ask a fish to tell us what it’s like to fly. That cat’s as domesticated as they come.”

  “Look, I’m not sure where to start this time around,” Basset said slowly. “I don’t know a ton of the forest animals. They tend to keep to themselves.”

  “Why don’t we ask the squirrels?” Sam asked. “Those guys are everywhere. And they must talk to each other. I’m always hearing them chatter away.”

  “Oh they chatter alright,” I said. “You’re lucky you can’t understand them. It’s like listening to an even ruder Jim Carrey on fast forward.”

  I laughed, but Basset didn’t seem amused.

  “I was afraid it would come to that,” he sighed. “She’s right. No one knows the woods like them.”

  “Okay then,” Sam clapped her hands together once excitedly. “Let’s do this! We’re really getting somewhere.”

  Basset looked embarrassed.

  “It’s not that easy,” I said. “Basset and the squirrels, they don’t get along super well.”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t seem like the kind of dog who cares much for annoying rude animals. He’s too smart for that.” Sam patted Basset on the head, and Basset looked up at her with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging.

  “Okay, now I really like this kid,” Basset said.

  I laughed and told Sam.

  “It’s the truth. You’re too sophisticated for it.” She paused. “But let’s not embarrass you too much. So where do we start?”

  Basset sighed again. “If there’s really no other way, absolutely no other way, we should talk to Franklin. He and the squirrels get along swimmingly.”

  “Who’s Franklin?” Sam asked.

  “He’s the puggle a couple houses down from you on Maple,” I responded. “He’s an…excitable little guy. Not a lot better than the squirrels, honestly.”

  “Of course he is,” Basset said with a completely straight face. “He doesn’t hurl nuts at me.”

  I laughed but hugged Basset. I knew he didn’t find this funny.

  “Well what are we waiting for?” Sam asked.

  And with that we headed out of the fort, not realizing that at that very minute my life was about to change forever, and my parents had suddenly disappeared.

  Chapter 19

  MEETING THE SQUIRRELS

  We made our way down Maple Avenue, which, ironically, didn’t have a single maple along it.

  Politicians aren’t great at coming up with street names.

  And yes, I’m pretty sure I used the word ironically right.

  Franklin was standing under a giant elm (by the way: no elms on Elm Street), looking up into the branches and shaking his tail so hard his pudgy backside was swinging side to side.

  Franklin got his name because his owners said he looked like Benjamin Franklin. I didn’t see it. I thought he looked like that actor, Steve Buscemi.

  “Hey guys guess what there’s a thing up in that tree that I don’t know what it is but it’s really cool and I need to get it.”

  Talking to other dogs always reminded me how lucky I was to have Basset. Most dogs can’t calm themselves down as well as Basset can. And I know it’s hard for him. He’s willing to make the sacrifice.

  “Hey Franklin. Who’s a good boy?” I said as I walked up to him and started petting both of his droopy jowls.

  Sam joined me and scratched Franklin’s belly when he rolled onto his back.

  “You’re such a cute little guy,” Sam said.

  Franklin was almost too happy for words by this point.

  “Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy,” he kept saying over and over again. His tail was a blur and was hitting the ground every time he said “oh boy” like it was a drummer keeping time.

  I don’t know if you’ve ever met a puggle, but they’re some of the ugliest and at the same time cutest dogs you’ll ever see. They also love human attention. I’ve seen one get its tail stuck in a fence gate, and when he saw me approaching he couldn’t help from trying to wag it. The entire back half of the dog started wagging instead.

  After a few seconds Sam and I back off, and Franklin jumped to his feet, panting away and staring at us.

  We had grabbed his attention from “the thing in the tree.”

  “Franklin, you haven’t seen any squirrels around today, have you?” I asked trying to sound casual.

  It didn’t work.

  “You need my help? Oh boy I love helping almost as much as I love my food and love digging and love playing with squirrels and –”

  “That’s great Franklin. Now, have you seen any squirrels today?”

  “I sure have! Oh! There was also this smell earlier, something like garbage and grass mixed. It was so awesome!”

  “Fantastic. Where did you see the squirrel?”

  “That’s when I saw the thing in the tree and I think it’s a Frisbee or a ball or something I can play with I just know it is.”

  Great.

  Back to the thing in the tree.

  It’s hard to get a dog to focus.

  But you have to stay patient. Otherwise he’ll just apologize. A lot.

  Sam, as usual, had the solution, even though she could only hear my half of the conversation.

  “Franklin? Hey buddy? You wanna help us out?” She matched Franklin’s energy and got the dog excited to help. “Can you chase down a squirrel for us so we can all play in the yard together?”

  “Oh boy a big play I’ll be right back!”

  And with that the dog whizzed away into the woods. You wouldn’t think a
waddling dog like that could whiz, but he sure could. It was a waddle in fast forward. A whiz waddle. A wazzle, if you will.

  “You did it again,” I said to Sam while we waited for Franklin to come back. “You’re really good with animals you know.”

  Sam looked nervous, and grimaced slightly like her stomach was upset. “I’m not sure…you know I just notice things.”

  “No, it’s more than that. You really have a way with them. You’re even better at communicating with animals than I am, and I can actually hear them,” I laughed and shook my head in disbelief.

  “I love animals,” she said, with a kind of distant and faraway look in her eyes. “But I don’t think I’m good with them.”

  I was about to ask her what she meant, but at that moment Franklin returned, with a whole posse of squirrels chattering behind him.

  Basset looked up at me nervously.

  “It’s okay boy. You can do it,” I whispered.

  “You won’t listen to any of the things they say, will you? I mean, they can be mean.”

  “You don’t believe any of the nasty things Guster says about me, do you?”

  “I don’t think you’re a pencil-necked-skeleton-nerd, no.”

  “I don’t think a few squirrels can change my mind about you.”

  Basset looked a little relieved, but he was still nervous.

  The squirrels started their barrage of wisecracks.

  “Franklin the fatty.”

  “Pudgy puggle.”

  “Ha ha I guess I am a little soft in the middle but thanks for coming with me I love playing.”

  “You’re too slow to do much playing.”

  “More like wandering aimlessly.”

  “We love playing with you.” The tone of voice said “playing with” like he meant “teasing.”

  Franklin didn’t notice.

  “I love it when we play because running is the best almost as best as eating and almost as best as getting my tummy rubbed.”

  Franklin was too friendly to understand when he was being made fun of. Sometimes it seemed sad, but usually I envied him. He wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t want to see bad in others and instead chose to be happy and have fun no matter what.

  I know it’s dangerous to ignore the evil that’s in the world. But sometimes his upbeat attitude seemed so right. Like he wasn’t ignoring the evil, just dealing with it by not letting it affect his life.

  That’s when the squirrels noticed Basset.

  “You didn’t say it was Basset who needed our help,” one squirrel said while racing into the elm tree.

  They all started chattering away one right after the other as they jumped into the branches, like a machine gun of words.

  “He’s too slow to listen to us.”

  “Too fuzzy-headed more like.”

  “Head full of crap.”

  “Well he sniffs his own butt enough.”

  “And the butts of other dogs.”

  “You’re filthy Basset.”

  “Serious flatulence problem too.”

  “Basset the gas it.”

  “Dog the hog.”

  “Canine the swine.”

  The squirrels started laughing all at once, which is a sound I’m sure you’re familiar with. It’s the nasty jabbering sound they make constantly.

  Basset looked up at me sadly.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, looking up at the squirrels. “Was I supposed to be listening to you? I don’t usually pay much attention to rats.”

  The squirrels hissed at me, which can be a terrifying noise if you’ve never heard it.

  Like weasels, they have sharp teeth. But they’re usually too chicken to bite.

  Unlike chickens. Which is weird.

  The squirrels quickly recovered though.

  “Stupid boy.”

  “Can’t tell the difference between a rat and a squirrel?” The tone was condescending, like mocking a three year old for not being able to read.

  “Do you need your mommy to explain animals to you again?”

  “I think I’m fine thanks,” I said, casually sticking my hands in my pockets and looking bored. It’s important when dealing with squirrels to act like they have no effect on you.

  It drives them crazy.

  “I thought squirrels were just rats with bushy tales.”

  They hissed again, and I didn’t give them a chance to respond.

  “But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe rats are just squirrels without all that gaudy decoration on their behinds.”

  I knew I wasn’t really getting us very far in our goal, but I couldn’t stand the way they were teasing Basset.

  “Don’t make us toss nuts at you.”

  “We’re pretty good shots.”

  “Nuts? Boy, I’d better watch out. What’s next? You gonna flick some corn at me? Toss a crumb of cheese in my eye? You do enough and I can make a salad.”

  There was silence for a minute, and then an acorn came sailing out of the tree and hit me square on the forehead. It hurt, but I wasn’t going to let that show.

  “I thought you said nuts. What am I supposed to do with that? I’m not a big acorn fan, thanks just the same.”

  Another one struck me on the chest. That didn’t really hurt.

  “Got any pecans up there? My mom’s making a pie.”

  I laughed.

  “Seriously though. We need your help.”

  “Why should we help you?”

  “Basset’s always chasing us up trees.”

  “And he drops the IQ of the entire neighborhood five points.”

  “And that smell!”

  I put my hands back in my pockets. They looked dumbfounded that their words didn’t hurt. Keeping silent was a far more effective weapon than a thousand perfectly crafted insults in this situation.

  “Why help me? I guess you don’t have to. But you should. Because if you don’t, Basset here will make sure you never eat in this neighborhood again.”

  “How?” The word came down from above a dozen times, like an owl got confused about what he was supposed to say.

  “He’s a lot smarter than you give him credit for.”

  Basset looked up at me, kind of confused, but also grateful.

  “You guys are awfully lazy, you know,” I continued. “Do you even remember how to get food from the wild?”

  Basset picked up on where I was going.

  “Probably not. You spend most of your time stealing from Mrs. McGreedy’s garden, or pilfering birdfeeders. Well, I could see to it that there’s a dog at all of your favorite spots, forcing you to get your food honestly. Which you should be doing anyway. But you don’t remember how.”

  “My guess is a handful of acorns won’t get you through the winter. Of course, if dogs are so slow, you could always try to run past them. They are slow, right? Isn’t that what you said?”

  There was silence.

  I knew they’d never admit they were wrong, but I waited patiently.

  “What do you need?” one of them asked.

  “See, that wasn’t so hard! You know you’d get a lot further in life if you just acted with a little more respect.” It was my turn to act condescending.

  “And didn’t rely on thievery for survival,” Basset added.

  I didn’t want to push it too far though.

  “We need to know where Baskertonn Manor is.”

  “Go explore the woods then.”

  “Unless you think you’ll get lost.”

  “Or are too slow to find it.”

  “Or too stupid.”

  “Unlike some creatures around here, I have no problem admitting when I have a weakness. I don’t know these woods. And I’m not fast enough to explore them all in such a short amount of time. We have a deal?”

  Squirrels talk so fast and so high pitched it can be tough to keep up, but I was determined to do so. I knew they’d only give me instructions once, and then tell me they met their end of the bargain. If I couldn’t understand them, that would be my
problem, not theirs. I said they had to tell me, not that I had to hear them. Loopholes. Squirrels love them.

  “Fine.”

  “Whatever.”

  “No fur off my tail.”

  “How can we give directions even a human can follow?”

  “Go down to the brook.”

  “By the head rock.”

  “Follow it until the tree that fell over the water.”

  “Turn left.”

  “Over the hill.”

  “Turn left again.”

  “It’s there.”

  “Got it?”

  “Good.”

  “Great.”

  “Don’t forget to turn right at the log though.”

  “After the brook of course.”

  “But before the hill.”

  “Got it?”

  “Good.”

  They chattered up above, laughing as they quickly jumped away and scurried back into the woods.

  They didn’t think I’d be able to remember those complicated directions, but I had a secret weapon: Mrs. Maplewood.

  Mrs. Maplewood talked just as fast as a squirrel, and twice as high pitched. She made me immune to annoyingness. I could keep up.

  Basset sighed.

  “Well that wasn’t too bad,” he said.

  I laughed. “Sure. Stubbing your toe is better than getting it chewed off by a wolverine, but I’d still rather not stub my toe just the same.”

  “They’re that bad, huh?” Sam said.

  “They’re worse.” I laughed again. “But we got what we came for.”

  I told Sam the directions, but this time rearranging them into the correct order.

  “Okay…I think I know which brook they’re talking about, but I’ve never been much further than that,” she said. “That’s deep in the woods.”

  “We won’t get lost though. Not with Basset’s nose to guide us home.”

  “Definitely,” Sam said, giving Basset a pat on the head.

  And with that we were on our way to the mysterious Baskertonn Manor.

  Chapter 20

  WALKING INTO THE UNKNOWN

  We made our way into the woods through my backyard, and after about a half hour of walking we made it to the brook.

  Sam was right: it was deep in the woods. A lot deeper than I had ever gone. This forest must be massive, way bigger than the empty lot behind my parents’ old house. We had walked probably two miles, and there was no end in sight.