The Rival Detective Read online

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: P.I. or Pee-Yew?

  Chapter 2: Dog Instinct

  Chapter 3: Dis-Armed and Dangerous

  Chapter 4: Books and Booked

  Chapter 5: Blamed and Framed

  Chapter 6: A Cheesy Chase

  Chapter 7: A Prison (Snack) Break

  Chapter 8: Fondue Factory

  Chapter 9: Paw! Right in the Kisser!

  Chapter 10: Cheddar Luck Next Time

  ‘The Soccer Ball Monster Mystery’ Excerpt

  About Walker Styles and Ben Whitehouse

  P.I. or Pee-Yew?

  “Pee-yew!” Ziggy Fluffenscruff barked. “This case stinks!”

  The Pup Investigators Pack almost always found themselves in strange spots while solving crimes, but this was their first time in a sewer. They were on the hunt for a stolen wheel of rare aged cheese called the Big Cheddar.

  “Keep sniffing for the cheesy trail,” Rider Woofson said. He was the leader of the P.I. Pack and the best dog detective in Pawston.

  “Bow-wowza! I’m trying. But all I smell is . . . yuck!” the pup said. Ziggy was the youngest member of the Pack, but he had a nose for finding clues.

  “Hey, Westie, shine your light this way,” said Rora Gooddog. She had a sharp eye for details, even in the dim, dirty sewer.

  “Sure thing,” Westie Barker said. He pointed a giant helmet flashlight toward Rora. The flashlight was his latest invention, and it was a bright idea in the darkness of the tunnel.

  “More crumbs,” Rora said. “Looks like whoever stole the Big Cheddar stopped for a snack. They left us an actual trail of bread crumbs.”

  “Ugh,” Ziggy said with watery eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’ve lost my appetite. That’s how bad it stinks down in this place.”

  “Hang in there, Ziggy,” Rider said. “These sewer lines run right under the Chinchilla Cheese Shop. It’s the perfect escape route for an underground crook.”

  “Who would come this way?” Ziggy asked. “It smells worse than a locker full of old dirty socks.”

  Rider stopped to examine some footprints. “I smell a rat . . . a sewer rat.”

  “Hey, that’s offensive!” said rats from the floor and pipes above. “Just because we live down here don’t mean we’re thieves!”

  “Then you won’t mind telling us where you were between the hours of midnight and two a.m. this morning,” Rider said.

  Before the rats could answer, a loud cry echoed in the tunnel. The P.I. Pack and the gang of rats followed the sound.

  Standing around a bend in the tunnel was a handsome and heroic-looking husky. He was handcuffing a large alligator.

  “Hey! You’ve got the wrong lady, Detective!” the reptile cried.

  “I don’t think so, Allie Gator,” the husky said. “Shame on you for stealing the Big Cheddar. You should have known better than to try to frame those innocent sewer rats with me in town.”

  “What are you talking about?” Allie cried. “What’s a ‘big cheddar’? And who are you?!”

  “I’m Detective Wolf Growler,” the husky said. “And you have the right to remain silent.”

  “Hold on,” Rider said. “What proof do you have? Did you find the Big Cheddar on Ms. Gator? I think the rats are the culprits.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve been fooled,” Growler said as he motioned toward Allie Gator. “This reptile made it look like the rats were guilty. Did you notice that the crumb trail was scattered too far apart to have been left by rats? Rats are short and take smaller steps, but gators are tall. They take bigger steps and leave crumbs farther apart.”

  How did I not notice that? Rider wondered.

  As Rider watched the husky escort Allie Gator to jail, he saw that his teammates were dazzled by Wolf Growler’s slick detective work. Could it be that Rider Woofson had finally met his match? Was Wolf Growler the new super-detective in town?!

  DOG INSTINCT

  The next day, Rider arrived at the P.I. Pack office later than usual. Ziggy hid his nose under his paws. “Bow-wowza, Boss. You stink!”

  “But I washed twice last night,” Rider said.

  “Don’t feel bad,” Westie said. “He says we all stink. I know for a fact that I smell as fresh as a daisy. I went to the groomers and had a major shampoodle after our trip to the sewer. Ziggy’s nose is just too strong for its own good.”

  “It’s true!” Ziggy whimpered. “I took four baths, and I still can’t shake the stench.”

  Ziggy sprayed himself with air freshener, hoping to chase the smell away.

  “Rider, how are you? Is everything okay?” Rora asked. “You’re never late to the office.”

  “I stopped by the police station to talk to Allie Gator,” Rider said. “Something about this case smells all wrong.”

  “You’re telling me!” Ziggy moaned as he pulled out some soap and scrubbed his head.

  “Here’s what I found out. First, the Big Cheddar is still missing. And second, Allie Gator is allergic to cheese,” Rider said. He scribbled the facts in his notepad.

  “That could be a load of croc,” Rora suggested. “Maybe Allie stole the Big Cheddar and hid it to sell to the highest bidder.”

  “Yes, and let’s not forget that Detective Growler was right about the crumbs yesterday,” added Westie as he worked on a new invention. “I was very impressed with his detective skills.”

  Ziggy was covered in bubbles now. “Also, if it weren’t for Growler, we would still be down in that smelly sewer chasing our tails.”

  “Still, it doesn’t feel right,” Rider said.

  “Don’t be jealous, Boss,” Rora said. “You can’t be the one who solves every case.”

  Rider felt hurt. He knew his P.I. Pack teammates were his friends, but he could also see how much they liked Wolf Growler. Maybe Rora was right—maybe he really was jealous of this new detective. Maybe his feelings were clouding his judgment.

  Still, Rider had always trusted his instincts, and his gut said there was more to this mystery.

  The phone rang, and Rider answered it. “Hello. What’s that, Mr. Mayor? There’s been another robbery? This time at the Museum of Feline Art! We’re on our way.”

  DIS-ARMED AND DANGEROUS

  When the P.I. Pack arrived at the museum, there was already another husky sleuth on the scene.

  “Mr. Mayor, I thought you wanted me on this case?” Rider asked.

  “Huh? Oh! You mean Wolf Growler.” The mayor waved over the other detective. “Yes, I have asked you both here today. This is the first robbery at the Museum of Feline Art, and the owner has his tail in a tizzy. An ancient two-thousand-year-old statue of CleoCatra has had its arms stolen.”

  “Why would someone only steal a statue’s arms?” Rora asked.

  “We don’t know,” the mayor said. “That is why I need the best of the best working together on this case.”

  “Mr. Mayor, my P.I. Pack and I have been working in Pawston for years. No one knows these streets and these citizens like we do. However, if you think it best, then we’re happy to work with Mr. Growler.” Rider extended his paw to the new detective for a friendly handshake.

  Growler took one look at Rider and snorted. “No, thanks. I prefer to work alone. Besides, I’ve already gathered enough evidence to solve this case by tonight.”

  “But you just got here,” the mayor said.

  “I know. I’m that good,” Growler bragged as he left the museum.

  Rider turned his attention to the scene of the crime. He searched the room, looking for any clues that Growler might have missed. He had to prove he was still the best detective in Pawston.

  “So, Mr. Mayor, what’s the story on this not-so-humble husky?” asked Rora.
r />   “Detective Growler has only been in town a few weeks,” said the mayor. “He’s already solved several small cases, and he solved them faster than any detective I’ve ever known . . . including, um, Rider.”

  “Speed isn’t everything,” Westie said. “Sometimes working slower is working smarter.”

  “Not in thissss city,” Mr. Meow said when he walked into the room. He was one of the richest—and rudest—cats in town. He was also good friends with the owner of the museum. “If you’re not fasssst enough, you might get left behind.”

  “Sometimes that’s a good place to be,” Rider said from behind a giant statue of a Roman emperor named Catius Clawdius. He’d found another trail of crumbs just like he had seen in the sewer the day before. Next to them, he’d found a set of tiny tools hidden in the shadows. They were the perfect size to be used by rats.

  Before Rider could tell everyone about his discovery, the police radios went crazy and the mayor’s cell phone rang. “What?! There’s been another robbery! This time at the Pawston Library.”

  BOOKS AND BOOKED

  The P.I. Pack arrived at the library to find the head librarian in tears. Mr. Paul R. Bear was blowing his nose into a handkerchief as Rider approached. “Hello, sir. Could you tell me what happened?”

  “I was away at lunch when my assistant called me,” Mr. Bear sniffled. “Our rare-book room was broken into. Pawston Library is home to some of the oldest books in the country. It was my job to keep them safe and . . . and . . .” He burst into blubbery tears again.

  “Do you know how many books were stolen?” Rora asked gently.

  “Just one,” said the librarian. “It was a cookbook that was more than three hundred years old.”

  Mr. Bear brought the P.I. Pack into the rare-book room, but someone was already there. “Hey, what are you doing?” asked the librarian.

  Wolf Growler was dusting for paw prints. “My job,” the detective said with a smirk. “Now, if you don’t mind moving out of my way, I can find the crook who stole your cookbook.”

  “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, Growler, but in Pawston, we are nice to one another,” said Rora.

  “I don’t have time to be nice,” Growler growled. “I have a crime to solve. And it looks like I just did.”

  Growler pointed to the paw prints all over the scene of the crime. He pulled out a small computer and began to scan the prints. “All I have to do is run these prints through the police database, and I’ll have my criminal in no time at all.”

  Rider patted Mr. Paul R. Bear’s back as he continued to sob while Rora looked around. The first thing she noticed was that a small air vent had been left open. Before she could examine the clue, Growler cleared his throat.

  “Ahem. Well, well, well . . . what do we have here?” The husky grinned and grabbed Ziggy by the back of his collar. “Looks like you just couldn’t stay away.”

  “Huh?!” Ziggy yipped.

  “Let go of my teammate at once,” Rider barked.

  “No can do, Detective,” Growler said. “It looks like I’ve collared my criminal mastermind.”

  “Ziggy?” Rora laughed. “He’s not a mastermind of anything. No offense, kid.”

  “None taken,” Ziggy said.

  “What are you talking about, Growler?” demanded Rider.

  “Your friend’s paw prints are all over the cookbook shelves. That’s what we call proof,” Growler said. “Plus everyone knows about this pup’s unstoppable hunger. That’s what we call motive.”

  “Having a bottomless stomach doesn’t make him a criminal,” Rider said.

  “That’s right. Neither does enjoying the public library,” Westie added. “Ziggy and I come here every Saturday. He reads cookbooks while I look at science manuals. I’d hardly call that a crime.”

  “I’d hardly call it an accident, either,” Growler said. “So now I’m taking Mr. Ziggy Fluffenscruff to the police station to be booked and questioned.”

  “Don’t worry, Zig,” Rider said. “I’ll figure this out.”

  “I bet you will,” Growler said with a sneer. “After all, the bad apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Rora demanded.

  “It means,” Growler explained, “that I wouldn’t be surprised if Rider was mixed up in all these crimes too.”

  BLAMED AND FRAMED

  Detective Wolf Growler and several police officers led Ziggy to their patrol car—in handcuffs. Rider had never seen the young pup look so sad and scared.

  “I didn’t do it! I swear on my mother’s lasagna!” Ziggy cried before they closed the door.

  “He’s innocent,” said Westie.

  “I know,” Rider agreed. “Now we need to figure out who the real crook is to save our friend.” He rushed over to the librarian. “The cookbook that was stolen—what kind of recipes did it have?”

  “Fondue recipes,” he said.

  “Well, Ziggy is fond of recipes,” Westie said. “He loves food.”

  “Not ‘fond of,’ ” Rora explained. “Fondue. It’s a dish prepared by melting cheese and dipping food into it.”

  “Have any suspicious or strange characters been hanging out near the cookbook shelf this week?” Rider asked.

  “Hmmm . . . ,” the librarian thought. “There was a suspicious snake in a trench coat and a hat here this morning.”

  “How is that suspicious?” Rora asked, looking over at Rider, who wore a trench coat and a hat.

  “Well, he was a snake, but he didn’t slither,” said the librarian. “He crawled.”

  “Oh! I have just the invention to help us!” Westie cried. He pulled out a strange device covered in wires and bulbs. “I call it the Bust-Duster 3000. It blasts out dust that clings to every animal print in the room.”

  Westie pushed a button, and POOF! A white cloud exploded, coating everything in powder.

  “Thanks for that, bonehead,” Rora said with a cough.

  “Look!” Rider said, pointing at the floor. “There’s not a snake track in sight, but there is a line of small footprints followed by little tail marks. They lead right to the stolen book’s bookcase. Judging by the size and movement of the prints, I’d say we’re dealing with rats.”

  “This is odd,” said Westie. He was looking at the paw prints Growler said belonged to Ziggy. “These aren’t dog prints at all. They are cat prints!”

  “Hmm . . . cats and rats? Working together?” Rora questioned. “That’s not a good sign.”

  “I think someone is treating Ziggy like a picture,” said Rider. “He’s been framed.”

  A CHEESY CHASE

  Rora, Westie, and Rider left the library more determined than ever. “We have to save Ziggy,” Westie said. “Where should we start?”

  “First we need to find the Big Cheddar,” Rider said. “Then I bet we’ll find the real crooks.”

  Crossing the street at that very moment was a familiar face: the criminal henchdog Rotten Ruffhouse. He was carrying a giant wheel of cheese.

  “Well, someone get a camera and say cheese,” Rora said. “Rotten’s got the Big Cheddar!”

  “Don’t move a paw, scoundrel!” Rider shouted.

  “Oh no! Of all the rotten luck!” the rottweiler yelped as he took off running. He darted into the crowded street and dodged between the cars. The cheesy chase was on!

  Rider and Rora followed Rotten through the streets while Westie took to the air with another of his inventions—a Helicop-T-shirt!

  “He’s turning left onto Bark Avenue!” Westie shouted from above.

  Rider and Rora leaped over carts as they chased Rotten into the Pawston shopping district. They burst into a grooming salon, where animals were having their fur washed, dyed, and trimmed. As the three of them bounded over customers, the barbers were having all sorts of close shaves!

  “This is getting hairy!” yelled Rider as the chase led them back outside.

  Next the thief ran into the Tarantula Tea Shop wi
th the detectives in hot pursuit.

  BANG! CRASH! SPLASH! The dainty spiderweb tables were not built to withstand such a ruckus. Teacups and kettles fell left and right as the dogs whisked past fancy spiders, who fainted with surprise.

  Then Rotten rocketed into the Little Kiddie Yarn Barn, an indoor playground. Kittens were everywhere, cuddling with soft, colorful balls of yarn. Rider and Rora slowed down to carefully step over the little ones, but the frisky kittens thought it was a game. They batted their strings and made a net that trapped the two detectives.

  “Looks like you’re all tied up!” said Rotten as he escaped out the back door.

  Westie landed one minute too late. “I’m sorry, Rider. I lost him.”

  “So did we, Westie,” Rider said as he pulled off the strings and the happy little kittens. “But it wasn’t a complete loss.”

  “It wasn’t?” Rora asked. “The crook and the Big Cheddar got away!”

  “Now we know a few things . . . ,” Rider began. “We know that Rotten Ruffhouse is involved. We also know that Rotten is working with someone else. He always does. Lastly, and most importantly, we know why they needed Ziggy arrested.”

  “Why?” Westie asked.

  “Because of Ziggy’s super-nose,” Rora said. “The kid would have sniffed out the Big Cheddar in no time.”