silence, each lost in their own thoughts, when all of a sudden Clem leapt to her feet. ‘That’s it!’ Her sobs stopped instantly.
‘That’s what?’ asked Darcy.
Clem leaned on the kitchen table, tapping her fingers as she thought aloud. ‘This whole thing doesn’t make any sense.’ The tapping got faster.
‘You’re the one not making sense,’ said Darcy. He picked up a spoon and twirled it between his fingers.
Clem plucked it off him, saying, ‘Darcy, listen. Yesterday you spoke on the phone to a woman.’ ‘Correct.’
‘A woman who told you that she’d hold the dog.’
‘Promised,’ interrupted Darcy. ‘Not just told me. She promised they’d hold her.’
‘So why would they promise to keep a dog and then put her down?’ By now, Clem had everyone’s attention. She waved the spoon as she spoke.
‘I don’t know,’ said Mio with a shrug. She frowned as she wrestled with the idea. ‘Why?’
‘Because, silly, they did not put her down.’
‘Why would they tell us that they did if they didn’t?’ asked Darcy. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Because they’re hiding something.’ Clem’s eyes lit up. ‘My bet is they’ve still got the dog. It all adds up.’
‘What adds up?’
‘First, Darcy spoke to a woman who promised to hold the dog till we could get there.’ Clem’s eyes sparkled as she looked from Darcy to the others. ‘Then there’s this man at Reception who says he doesn’t know what woman we’re talking about. She’s some mystery woman.’ All eyes were on Clem. ‘Next, he tells us they’ve put the dog down, even though she’s only been there one day. No animal shelter does that. Like the man said, dogs usually get five days. Or longer. I looked it up on the net.’ Heads were now nodding. ‘Something’s suss. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I intend to find out.’
‘Look here, Clem,’ said Mr Lark. ‘Animal shelters try to help dogs find an owner. They care about their strays, would do anything to save them. Why would this one be the exception?’
‘I don’t know.’ Clem got up and walked over to the sink, then turned, her hands clasped in front. ‘But it is.’
‘How come you’re so sure?’ Mio still looked doubtful.
‘Because of the cry!’ said Clem as she unclasped her hands. ‘At the shelter we heard this gutwrenching cry.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So what?’
Clem ran her fingers through her hair. ‘The dog in the park had that same cry. Sort of like the peals of a bell.’
‘All beagles sound like that,’ said Mr Lark gently. ‘It’s the breed.’
‘I know,’ said Clem. ‘They call it beagle music.’
‘I know a woman who breeds ’em. They all do it.’
‘See?!’ Clem looked triumphant. She walked back to the table and sat down, her head spinning with plans.
‘But, Clem, it may not be your dog,’ said Mr Lark, leaning back in his chair. ‘You could’ve heard any old beagle.’
‘No!’ Clem’s eyes widened with excitement. She looked around the puzzled faces, then using her fingers she ticked off each point. ‘We all heard the beagle cry in the park.’ Three heads nodded. ‘We all heard a dog yesterday with exactly the same cry.’ More nods. ‘When Darcy phoned, the woman said that they had onebeagle—a female, tri-colour. Right?’ Even more nods. ‘Then today they say, “Sorry. We put that beagle down.”’ She had everyone’s complete attention. ‘Yesterday we were told they had one beagle. Today we’re told there’s none.’ She leaned forward. Her voice dropped as she asked, ‘So what beagle did we hear?’
Mio’s eyes pinged open. Bryce started to smile but Darcy still looked sceptical. ‘Sounds like you’re splitting hairs.’
‘Very clever, Clem,’ said Mr Lark, nodding. His eyes glowed with admiration. ‘Remind me to be on your side if we ever go to war.’
‘I’ll ask again.’ Clem emphasised each word. ‘What beagle did we hear?’
The question floated. Somewhere close by
‘That’s what?’ asked Darcy.
Clem leaned on the kitchen table, tapping her fingers as she thought aloud. ‘This whole thing doesn’t make any sense.’ The tapping got faster.
‘You’re the one not making sense,’ said Darcy. He picked up a spoon and twirled it between his fingers.
Clem plucked it off him, saying, ‘Darcy, listen. Yesterday you spoke on the phone to a woman.’ ‘Correct.’
‘A woman who told you that she’d hold the dog.’
‘Promised,’ interrupted Darcy. ‘Not just told me. She promised they’d hold her.’
‘So why would they promise to keep a dog and then put her down?’ By now, Clem had everyone’s attention. She waved the spoon as she spoke.
‘I don’t know,’ said Mio with a shrug. She frowned as she wrestled with the idea. ‘Why?’
‘Because, silly, they did not put her down.’
‘Why would they tell us that they did if they didn’t?’ asked Darcy. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Because they’re hiding something.’ Clem’s eyes lit up. ‘My bet is they’ve still got the dog. It all adds up.’
‘What adds up?’
‘First, Darcy spoke to a woman who promised to hold the dog till we could get there.’ Clem’s eyes sparkled as she looked from Darcy to the others. ‘Then there’s this man at Reception who says he doesn’t know what woman we’re talking about. She’s some mystery woman.’ All eyes were on Clem. ‘Next, he tells us they’ve put the dog down, even though she’s only been there one day. No animal shelter does that. Like the man said, dogs usually get five days. Or longer. I looked it up on the net.’ Heads were now nodding. ‘Something’s suss. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I intend to find out.’
‘Look here, Clem,’ said Mr Lark. ‘Animal shelters try to help dogs find an owner. They care about their strays, would do anything to save them. Why would this one be the exception?’
‘I don’t know.’ Clem got up and walked over to the sink, then turned, her hands clasped in front. ‘But it is.’
‘How come you’re so sure?’ Mio still looked doubtful.
‘Because of the cry!’ said Clem as she unclasped her hands. ‘At the shelter we heard this gutwrenching cry.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So what?’
Clem ran her fingers through her hair. ‘The dog in the park had that same cry. Sort of like the peals of a bell.’
‘All beagles sound like that,’ said Mr Lark gently. ‘It’s the breed.’
‘I know,’ said Clem. ‘They call it beagle music.’
‘I know a woman who breeds ’em. They all do it.’
‘See?!’ Clem looked triumphant. She walked back to the table and sat down, her head spinning with plans.
‘But, Clem, it may not be your dog,’ said Mr Lark, leaning back in his chair. ‘You could’ve heard any old beagle.’
‘No!’ Clem’s eyes widened with excitement. She looked around the puzzled faces, then using her fingers she ticked off each point. ‘We all heard the beagle cry in the park.’ Three heads nodded. ‘We all heard a dog yesterday with exactly the same cry.’ More nods. ‘When Darcy phoned, the woman said that they had onebeagle—a female, tri-colour. Right?’ Even more nods. ‘Then today they say, “Sorry. We put that beagle down.”’ She had everyone’s complete attention. ‘Yesterday we were told they had one beagle. Today we’re told there’s none.’ She leaned forward. Her voice dropped as she asked, ‘So what beagle did we hear?’
Mio’s eyes pinged open. Bryce started to smile but Darcy still looked sceptical. ‘Sounds like you’re splitting hairs.’
‘Very clever, Clem,’ said Mr Lark, nodding. His eyes glowed with admiration. ‘Remind me to be on your side if we ever go to war.’
‘I’ll ask again.’ Clem emphasised each word. ‘What beagle did we hear?’
The question floated. Somewhere close by
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