Ghosts and Goblins and Ninja, Oh My! Read online

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Dojo Downer

  Chapter 2: Safe and Sound?

  Chapter 3: Attack the Snack

  Chapter 4: Story of the Sacred Scroll

  Chapter 5: Steak-Out

  Chapter 6: Night Watch

  Chapter 7: Ninja Showdown

  Chapter 8: Gung-Ho Goblin

  Chapter 9: The Great Goblin Chase

  Chapter 10: All’s Well That Ends Well

  ‘The Rival Detective’ Excerpt

  About Walker Styles and Ben Whitehouse

  DOJO DOWNER

  “Kee-yah!”

  The Pawston Martial Arts Dojo was filled with animals practicing their best moves. At the front of the class was Westie Barker, a brilliant terrier with a mind for science. Lately, he was trying to learn the fighting style of Bark-Jitsu.

  “Kee-youch!!!” Westie shouted again as he hit a plank of wood, but it didn’t break.

  “You’ve got this!” the P.I. Pack shouted from the front row. They were sitting with the friends and family of the entire class.

  “I hope Westie gets his yellow belt this time around,” said Rora Gooddog, one of the smartest detectives in the P.I. game.

  “Me too,” said Rider Woofson. “Westie has been working very hard.”

  “Can you believe all the snacks here are healthy?” barked Ziggy Fluffenscruff, the youngest member of the team. “They don’t have candy or potato chips or anything tasty.”

  “Do you always think with your stomach, kid?” Rora asked.

  “If my tummy is a-rumbling, then I’m a-grumbling,” Ziggy replied with a smirk.

  “Silence in the dojo, please,” said Sensei Hiro. He was a powerful and skilled martial arts sea otter from the small island of Meowji. Sensei Hiro bowed to his class, and then he bowed to the audience. “Today we celebrate our students as they try to pass the first trial run to earn a yellow belt. The ultimate goal of all young students is to earn their way to the highest black belt, and thus learn the secrets of the Scroll of Bark-Jitsu.”

  He bowed toward a statue at the front of the classroom. All of the students bowed to it as well. The large squirrel monkey statue was the most respected thing in the dojo. In its paws was a single golden scroll.

  “Only those who are pure of heart and filled with courage can succeed in the art of Bark-Jitsu,” said the sensei. “Let us see who is worthy.”

  Westie’s paws were sweating. When the sensei called his name to go first, Westie became even more nervous. He took a deep breath and walked to the start of the obstacle course.

  “Are you ready?” Sensei Hiro asked.

  Westie gulped. “I think so.”

  “Then, begin!”

  Westie ran onto the course. First, he ran up the stairs, but he tripped on the last one and fell over the other side. He got back up. He tried to jump through a set of tires, but his foot got caught on the first one. The rest of the tires bounced out of control. The next part was easy, or so Westie thought. He tried to weave through a set of poles, but he went the wrong way. At the catwalk, his paws were so sweaty, he slipped off right away. Then only one obstacle remained: to grab a bone from the sensei’s hand. Westie jumped for it, but he missed. He tried four times before he finally got it. Westie took the bone and raced toward the finish line.

  “I am sorry,” Sensei Hiro said, shaking his head. “You did not pass.”

  With his head down, Westie returned to his friends.

  “Hey, pal,” Rora said. “I thought you did pretty good.”

  His other friends agreed, but he knew they were just trying to cheer him up.

  “It’s harder than it looks, you know,” Westie said.

  “Really?” Ziggy asked. “It doesn’t look hard to that guy.”

  Westie turned to see that the next student was a cat. The cat ran up the stairs, leaped through the tires, weaved through the poles, darted across the catwalk, and nabbed the bone on the first try. “Well done, Gato Cato,” Sensei Hiro said. “You have earned the yellow belt.”

  As Gato Cato walked by Westie, he stuck out his tongue. The cat rejoined his friends, some of whom already had yellow belts. They all exchanged high-fives.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Rider said to Westie. “You’ll get it next time, champ.”

  “Yeah, right,” Westie said.

  SAFE AND SOUND?

  After the belt-giving ceremony, Sensei Hiro waved good-bye to his students and their families and friends. Then he pulled the blinds and locked the door, closing up the dojo for the evening.

  The dojo looked just like an ancient temple on the outside. On the inside, though, it had a fancy new security system that was as good as any museum or bank. Sensei Hiro didn’t trust any normal system to protect the Scroll of Bark-Jitsu. He spent a lot of money on a high-tech system that could keep the ancient sacred scroll completely safe.

  The sensei went to the front door and pulled out a security remote control. He pressed the first button. A tube of thick glass lowered around the ancient statue holding the sacred scroll. The sensei pressed a second button. The lights went out, and a grid of laser beams crisscrossed the entire room. Even more lasers appeared around the glass tube. Then Sensei Hiro pressed the third, and last, button. Nothing seemed to happen, but the sensei knew better.

  He plucked a tiny hair from his arm and dropped it on the classroom floor. When the single hair hit the tiles, the floor slid away to reveal a new, more dangerous obstacle course. No silly thief could make it through that Bark-Jitsu course!

  The sensei pressed the last button on the remote control again, and the tiles of the floor slid back over the entire training course, hiding it.

  “Stay safe, my sacred Scroll of Bark-Jitsu,” the sensei whispered. He bowed one last time to the statue and then locked the door behind him.

  The sensei was enjoying his walk home when he heard something. He looked around the empty street. Across the road was Moose Mikey’s Mirror Mall, a large store that sold mirrors of all shapes and sizes. It sounded like someone had dropped a small mirror inside, but the store was closed.

  Sensei Hiro crossed the street and peered in the windows. It was too dark to see anything at first. Suddenly a scary face popped into view. It had a huge hairy nose, pointy ears, green skin, and large red eyes.

  “Oh no!” Sensei Hiro cried out. “It cannot be! The ancient Goji Goblin has come for the sacred Scroll of Bark-Jitsu!”

  Sensei Hiro—who feared no one in the world—was terrified. He turned around and ran as fast as he could in the other direction.

  ATTACK THE SNACK

  Back at the P.I. Pack office, Westie carefully stacked dog biscuits into a large pyramid.

  “What are you building?” Rora asked, looking over her newspaper.

  “I’m not inventing anything, if that’s what you mean,” Westie said. “I’m not in the mood. I need to practice my Bark-Jitsu chop.”

  “Hey, did someone say pork chop?” Ziggy asked as he sniffed the air.

  “No,” Westie said as he moved into his attack stance. He took a deep breath, then bowed to the biscuits. He raised his paw, winding it up to bring it down and break the biscuit pyramid in half. “One . . . two . . . three!”

  There was a gust of wind, and the biscuits were suddenly gone. Westie’s hand came down on nothing but air. “I think a ghost ate my biscuits!” Westie squeaked.

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Rider said. He pointed at Ziggy, who was crunching loudly in the corner, biscuit crumbs all over his face and paws. “Especially not when there’s food near Ziggy.”

  “Bow-wowza! These are good!” Ziggy said, smacking his lips.

  “And that’s the way th
e cookie crumbles.” Rora grinned.

  “Cookies?” Ziggy said.

  “Aren’t you full?” Rora asked.

  “Never!” Ziggy laughed.

  “Keep practicing, Westie. I’m sure you’ll get that Bark-Jitsu yellow belt before you know it,” Rider said. “For now, though, maybe take a break from your new hobby and go back to your old one. We all know you’re great when it comes to inventions.”

  “I do love inventing things,” Westie said, smiling for the first time all day. He went to his desk and began to tinker with a mechanical belt. The inside of the belt was covered with tiny wires. “I’ve been working on something called the Puppy Roller Safety Suit. Just wait until you see what it can do!”

  “Can it feed me?” Ziggy asked, wagging his tail.

  “No!” Rora rolled up her newspaper and threw it playfully at the young pup.

  Ziggy leaped into the air and caught the newspaper in his mouth. Then he tripped and fell, and the newspaper pages went everywhere.

  “See? You’re not the only clumsy pup in this pack,” Rora said, nodding at Ziggy. Westie smiled.

  “Hmm, check this out, Boss,” Ziggy said, handing him one of the newspaper pages. “Someone stole a load of mirrors from Moose Mikey’s Mirror Mall last night. Seems like an inside job if you ask me. The doors were locked and the video cameras didn’t pick up anything. It has the police baffled.”

  “Smells like a mystery—” Rider started to say when there was a knock at the door.

  Ziggy answered it. “Westie, your sensei is here!” he said.

  “Sensei Hiro?” Westie asked. He quickly stood and took a bow. His sensei bowed in return. Westie bowed again. Then Sensei Hiro bowed.

  They took turns bowing until Rora said, “Okay, we get it. You two respect each other. What’s up, Sensei?”

  “I need your help,” Sensei Hiro said. “A terrible curse has come to Pawston, and it is all my fault!”

  STORY OF THE SACRED SCROLL

  “I apologize for coming to you, my student,” Sensei Hiro said to Westie, “but I did not know where else to turn.”

  “It’s okay, Sensei,” Westie said. “I’m glad you came. Please, start at the beginning. We need to know everything.”

  “This is the story of the sacred Scroll of Bark-Jitsu, and it is a tale as old as time,” the sensei began. “Long, long ago, in ancient Meowji, there was a world of powerful forces, and only those in touch with their inner spirits could calm them. One such animal was a young squirrel monkey. He was a sensei—”

  “Like the big statue at your dojo!” Ziggy interrupted.

  “Yes,” said Sensei Hiro. “The very one.”

  “Shhhh,” Westie hushed his friend.

  “One day, the sensei was deep in meditation,” Sensei Hiro continued. “Suddenly, enlightenment struck the young squirrel monkey. He wrote down his thought, for it was perfect and pure. He rolled this thought into a scroll for safekeeping. That night, when he went home, a Goji Goblin was waiting for him. His name was Gus.”

  “Gus?” Rora said.

  “Gus,” repeated the sensei. “Gus was very bad, and he demanded the scroll. The young sensei refused. There was a great battle, and after four days of fighting, the sensei won—but at a great cost! He knew that neither he nor the scroll would be safe anymore, so he took it and ran from his village. The goblin would never give up, not until he had the sacred scroll. So the sensei moved from village to village—around the world—for the rest of his years. Gus the Goji Goblin followed, searching for the scroll. Along the way, the goblin picked up an army of ghosts—”

  “Ghosts!” Ziggy and Westie barked. “Scary!”

  “There’s no such thing,” Rider said.

  “But there are,” said Sensei Hiro. “The young sensei spent his life protecting the scroll. Once he grew old, he passed the sacred text down to his best student. Then it was the student’s duty to protect. This honor was given from generation to generation for hundreds of years until it was passed down to me. I have watched over the scroll for most of my life, and it has always been safe . . . until last night. For I saw the Goji Goblin in the mirror store across from my dojo.”

  “The Goji Goblin is in Pawston?” Ziggy and Westie were shocked.

  “He is. Will you help me protect the sacred scroll?” Sensei Hiro asked.

  “Of course,” Westie said, bowing to his sensei. “Protecting the scroll would be an honor.”

  STEAK-OUT

  “I love a good stakeout,” Rora said.

  “Did you say steak?” Ziggy said, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

  “No drooling, Ziggy,” Rider said. “We’re here to work and help Westie’s sensei.”

  Rider and the P.I. Pack parked their van down the street from the Pawston Martial Arts Dojo. They were watching the building in case someone tried to steal the sacred scroll. “Do you really think Gus the Goji Goblin is trying to steal the Scroll of Bark-Jitsu?” Ziggy asked.

  “I do not,” said Rider. “I believe a regular bad guy is trying to steal it, and we are going to catch them red-handed.”

  “But how do you know?” Westie said.

  “Because I don’t think a goblin would stop to steal mirrors at a mirror store first. I think someone is getting ready to break into the dojo. They were stealing supplies for the job,” Rider said.

  “Good catch, Boss,” Rora said.

  “Just part of a dog detective’s work,” Rider said. “Now, everyone, into position and remember: Silence is key.”

  Westie—dressed as a mailbox—took his place across the street from the dojo.

  Rora held a pair of binoculars and watched from the van.

  Rider—with his collar flipped up and his hat pulled down—took his place under a lamppost, reading the Pawston Paw Print.

  Ziggy got roof duty on top of the dojo. He brought chips for a snack.

  “Everyone is in place,” Rider whispered. “Now we wait.”

  They watched as Sensei Hiro locked up the dojo for the evening. He walked down the street toward home.

  After an hour, nothing had happened. Well, except Ziggy started eating his bag of potato chips, crunching them so loudly that the whole neighborhood could hear. After Rider signaled to him, Ziggy put the chips away, and the quiet waiting continued.

  The team waited and waited and waited. Nothing happened until . . .

  Woo-woo-woo-woo! Sirens cried as two police cars pulled up.

  “Keep your hands where we can see them!” said Frenchie, a French bulldog who had a new job every week. Now he was a police officer.

  “Is there a problem, Frenchie?” Rider asked.

  “There sure is,” Frenchie said. “I’m sorry, Detective, but I need to take you and your friends down to the station for questioning. Officers, get their van, too. We might need it for evidence.”

  Rider was always one to obey the law. He got into the police car. So did Rora and Ziggy. The police didn’t see Westie dressed up as a mailbox. Rider gave his friend a wink. “We’ll be back soon,” he whispered to Westie. “Keep watch.”

  Down at the police station, Rider found the mayor with Mr. Meow.

  “Mr. Mayor, what seems to be the problem?” Rora asked.

  “A concerned citizen called the police. It seems some snoopy-looking pups were hanging around the dojo,” the mayor said. Rider eyed Mr. Meow. He suspected it was the strange cat who had called the police on the P.I. Pack.

  “Let me explain,” Rider said. As he told them about working for Sensei Hiro, the mayor and Frenchie listened and nodded.

  “Sorry for dragging you down here,” Frenchie said. “You’re a good detective. I should have known better.”

  “Don’t ssssay you’re ssssorry to him,” Mr. Meow said. “His story issss not a purr-fectly good reason for him to be lurking around a sssstore.”

  “If I didn’t know better,” Rider said, “I’d say Mr. Meow doesn’t want us near the dojo right now.”

  “That is totally abssssurd,”
the cat hissed angrily. “The mayor ssssaid you’re free to go. You’re the ones who are sssstill hanging around.”

  “Then I guess we’ll be going,” Rider said.

  “Sssstay out of trouble, detectivessss,” Mr. Meow said as the P.I. Pack made their way out the door. Rider wasn’t sure why, but he was starting to not like that cat.

  NIGHT WATCH

  While the rest of the P.I. Pack was dealing with the sourpuss down at the police station, Westie was on his own watching the dojo. He was still dressed up as a mailbox. It was the perfect disguise. No one would notice him—not unless they saw that the mailbox was tiptoeing closer and closer to the dojo.

  It had been quiet so far, but Westie wanted to make sure. After all, Sensei Hiro had entrusted him to guard the sacred Scroll of Bark-Jitsu. This was a big responsibility. He didn’t want to let his sensei down—even if it meant he had to fight a—gulp!—goblin and an—double-gulp!—army of ghosts!

  Suddenly, Westie spotted several black shadows running across a nearby rooftop. One by one, they darted down a ladder, across an alley, over a fence, and behind some shrubs. Then the black figures gathered in front of the door of the dojo. “Is that the ghost army?!” Westie whispered to himself, his nerves making his paws sweat.

  One ghost hopped on another’s back. Then it pulled out a . . . lock pick.