Smells Like Dog (24 page)

“Mumble, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Ajitabh said. “Keep the home fires burning. Fasten seatbelts, chaps.”

Mumble stepped away as the engine roared to life. Homer strapped the belt across his lap. Zelda reached into the basket and pulled out a roasted chicken leg. The ’copter vibrated. Hissing noises crept from the metal pipes. The pipe closest to Homer spurted water. “I’m going to set it for minimal cloud cover, but as soon as
we near The City, I’ll have to maximize the cover. Commencing minimal cloud cover.” Ajitabh pressed a blue button. With a loud whistle, a sudden surge of steam shot out of the pipes. Then silence settled over the ’copter as the steam transformed into gently rising ribbons of cloud. The mountains, the platform, and a waving Mumble, disappeared from view. But inside the ’copter, Homer could still partially see his copassenger and pilot. A sinking feeling filled his stomach as the ’copter rose.

They were off.

Zelda passed a chicken leg up to Ajitabh, then offered one to Homer. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

Ajitabh took a bite. “First thing is to get the hound back into Homer’s care. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Homer and Zelda said.

“Then we shall deal with Madame. Retrieving Rumpold Smeller’s map and securing evidence that she was responsible for Drake’s death is of paramount importance. If we also retrieve the coin then that will be icing on the proverbial cake.”

“How will we find Dog?” Homer asked.

“The girl’s two hours ahead of us. I’m guessing she’s never flown before so we should be able to gain on her. There’s a tracking device on the ’copter, but we need to be within fifty miles to pick it up.” Ajitabh flipped more switches.

Homer put his dinner back into the basket. He didn’t feel much like eating. He pictured Dog’s sad, red-rimmed eyes.
If Lorelei knows the secret,
he thought,
then she’ll probably try to sell Dog to Madame. But if she doesn’t know the secret…

“What if we’re wrong?” he blurted out.

Ajitabh looked over his shoulder. “Beg your pardon?”

“Well, what if Lorelei left because she got scared and she just wanted to get home? What if Dog followed her? He does that sometimes.” With all his heart he wanted to believe that Lorelei was back at the warehouse, feeding Dog some chicken and rice soup, wondering if she’d ever see Homer again.

“I hope you’re right,” Zelda said. “Deceit is a difficult pill to swallow at your tender age.”

As the others ate, Homer worked the situation over in his mind. Like reading a treasure map, he approached Lorelei’s actions from every angle, searching for hidden clues or secret signs that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t deceived him after all.

After she’d finished eating, Zelda told Homer all about her trinket shop in Gloomy Moor. “No one else lives in Gloomy Moor but me,” she said. “I like it that way. I left The City after that horrid night…”

“At Chez Bill’s?” Homer asked.

Zelda put a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening
with surprise beneath the goggles. “How did you know?”

“Zelda,” Homer twisted in his seat so he could look up at her wide face. “When I was at Snooty and Snooty’s I…” He didn’t want to talk about how Dog had dug up that brooch. “I overheard Mr. Snooty talking about how he had lost his love years ago because the elevator had broken down and he couldn’t get to Chez Bill’s.”

Zelda’s hand dropped to her lap. “His love?”

“Yes. He even had a special brooch that he was going to give to her. I’m pretty sure he was talking about you because his brother said that she couldn’t fit into an elevator or ride on a Ferris wheel. Anyway, Mr. Snooty said that he was going to ask her… ask you to marry him.”

The goggles’ lenses fogged as tears welled in Zelda’s eyes. She turned away. “I’ve been such a fool,” she said, her low voice trembling. “It is a terrible, unspeakable thing to try to force yourself to stop loving someone.”

Ajitabh gave Homer an approving nod. They traveled in silence for some time as Zelda quietly cried. While Homer didn’t want her to feel sad, her tears gave him hope. If she had misunderstood the situation with Constantine Snooty, it was possible that he had misunderstood the situation with Lorelei. It was possible she was still his friend.

“If we find Rumpold Smeller’s map,” Ajitabh told
Homer, “then we’ll be able to register the finding with The Society and this will be considered your first official quest. You’ll be the youngest member in the Society’s history, I do believe. It’s a pity Drake didn’t live to see this.”

The memory of the last visit with Uncle Drake played through Homer’s mind again. While he remembered word for word the last conversation they’d had in his bedroom, Homer hadn’t been the last family member to talk to Uncle Drake that night. After his uncle had left Homer’s bedroom, Homer had watched from his window. His dad and uncle had stood in the driveway but soon into their conversation, their voices had risen in anger. “You shouldn’t fill his head with nonsense,” Mr. Pudding had said. “He’s not like you. He’s not cut out for adventure. He can’t climb mountains or hike across deserts. You’ll break his heart.”

“The only way to break Homer’s heart would be to keep him from pursuing his passion,” Uncle Drake had said. “But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

“You think I’ve never felt passion?” Mr. Pudding had cried, tearing his cap off his head. “I had plans, or have you conveniently forgotten? This farm was yours to inherit, remember? You’re the eldest son. You were supposed to take over after Dad died. But you abandoned Ma to go off on your adventures. If I hadn’t stayed, Ma would have lost everything. I know what it’s like to have
dreams, then have them squashed. I don’t want you doing that to Homer.”

They had both looked up at Homer’s window. Homer, realizing he had overheard something very personal, had darted behind his curtain.

Homer hadn’t thought about that conversation until that moment on the cloudcopter. His father’s dreams had been squashed? But he loved goat farming. It was all he ever talked about.

“Nearing The City,” Ajitabh said, his voice pulling Homer from his memories. “Setting cloud cover to maximum.” Fluffy puffs settled between Homer and Zelda. Ajitabh disappeared behind a blanket of whiteness. “I’ve picked up the ’copter’s coordinates.” He paused. Then with utmost seriousness he said, “She’s landed at the museum.”

No longer could Homer deny the truth. Lorelei was working for Madame.

Zelda’s hand reached out and patted his.

They landed beside the stolen ’copter on the northernmost corner of the museum’s grounds, next to a grove of trees. Far from streetlights, the ’copters were well hidden by night’s shadows. Homer, Zelda, and Ajitabh stripped off their goggles and climbed out.

“No sign of her,” Ajitabh said, sliding his arms through his backpack straps.

Homer walked behind the ’copter. “Dog?” he called, hoping with all his heart that Dog had escaped. “Dog?” His jacket caught on a shrub. As he pulled it free he stepped on something. It was the bone that Mumble had given to Dog. Lorelei had probably used it to coax Dog into the ’copter. He reached into his jacket pocket. The rope leash was also missing. She’d thought of everything.

“Any idea where we can find this lair?” Ajitabh asked from the other side of the ’copter.

Homer had promised Lorelei that he’d never tell anyone about her secret entrance. But things had changed. She no longer deserved his promises. “I know how we can get in.”

Homer was just about to step around the copter, when someone shouted, “There they are!” A flashlight beam landed on Zelda’s face. She had no chance of hiding.

Ajitabh reacted swiftly. “Stay back,” he whispered. Homer flung himself under the ’copter’s belly. Fortunately, the cloudcopter was still in minimal cloud cover mode so it looked like a thick bank of fog had settled. Pressing himself against the ivy-covered ground, Homer watched as Mr. Twaddle and two policemen charged at Ajitabh.

“Halt!” The police officers pulled clubs from their holsters. Zelda dropped her bag and held up her hands.

“Officer,” Ajitabh said. “This is a misunderstanding, I assure you. We are tourists, out for an evening stroll.”

“Holy cow,” the first officer said as he strained his neck to look at Zelda. “Get a load of this one.”

“They’re trespassing,” Mr. Twaddle said. “They’re up to no good.”

“Hand over that backpack,” the second officer said.

“I say, do you have a search warrant?” Ajitabh asked.

The second officer pointed the club at Ajitabh’s face. “Hand it over.”

Mr. Twaddle yanked the backpack from Ajitabh. He reached in and pulled out the Swiss army knife, a hatchet and some pliers. “Evening walk, my foot! These are the thieves, officers. No doubt about it.” Then he pulled out Ajitabh’s sword.

“Thieves?” Zelda asked.

“Someone’s been stealing from the Museum of Natural History,” the first officer said, still gawking at Zelda.

“Looks like you’ve caught the perpetrators,” Mr. Twaddle said, a smug smile settling on his face.

“You’re both under arrest,” the second officer said. “Come with us.”

“What about my personal belongings?” Ajitabh asked.

Mr. Twaddle handed the backpack to the first officer, but he kept the sword behind his back. As the officers led Ajitabh and Zelda away from the grove of trees, Ajitabh said, loudly, “Sometimes it is best to go home and wait.” Although he didn’t turn around when he spoke, Homer knew that the words were meant for him. “I repeat, sometimes it is best to go Homer, I mean, go home and wait.”

“You’re not going home,” the second officer said. “You’re going down to the station for questioning.” Then he waved his club at Mr. Twaddle. “You’ll have to come, too, to press charges.”

“Of course. Got a few business obligations to tend to. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Mr. Twaddle called after them as they headed for the street. “Be sure to lock them up nice and tight. No telling what they might steal next.” He snickered, then hurried back toward the museum, floodlights gleaming in the sword’s blade.

He hadn’t noticed Homer.

Homer waited until the coast was clear, then crawled out from under the ’copter. He wiped dirt from his chin and anxiously looked around. Ajitabh wanted him to go back home, but that would accomplish nothing. There was only one person who could save Dog now.

“You must face the final test of endurance and intellect on your own,” Uncle Drake had said.

So be it.

L
orelei’s secret entrance smelled like mildew and maybe something dead, but Homer didn’t want to think about that. Why hadn’t he brought a headlamp? Holding his small flashlight between his teeth, he crawled as fast as he could. The fit was tight but he managed.
Hold on, Dog, I’m coming
.

Spiders scattered, disturbed by the thundering of his knees. Hopefully, any lurking rats would slink in the opposite direction. Small, dark spaces were a common component in treasure hunting. If a treasure hunter
couldn’t deal with crawling into the unknown, then that treasure hunter wasn’t going to get very far.

Besides, if Lorelei, the stinking rotten liar, could do it, he could do it.

Dampness soaked through to his knees. If Lorelei were with him, and if she were still his friend, she’d probably tell him that this was just like when Odysseus went to the underworld to get information from a dead guy. Homer also wanted information. He wanted to know if Madame had killed his uncle. He wanted to know why Lorelei had deceived him. He wanted to know if either of them had found the map. But the answers to those questions were not as important as the ultimate goal—to save Dog.

Up ahead, light began to bleed into the tunnel. Homer crawled toward the light and just as his knees started to chafe, the tunnel ended at a metal grate. Cautiously, he peered between the bars.

The grate was set high in a wall. A hallway, dimly lit by sconces, stretched to the left and to the right of the grate. Lorelei had told him that the tunnel ended in the basement. The place was eerily quiet.

He pressed his face against the grate to get a better look. What was that thing to the right? He aimed the flashlight beam at a gigantic statue of a tortoise. It stood
on its hind legs, much taller than a full-grown man, and much wider. While its head stuck out from the wall, the tortoise’s shell appeared to melt right into it. Its narrow reptilian eyes caught the flashlight’s beam, giving them the illusion of life. Homer shuddered and scooted away from the grate.