Monty and Me. Louisa Bennet

      I almost drop the torch in shock. I can’t work out where the nasal voice is coming from. He sounds like he has a clothes peg on his nose.

      ‘There!’ Betty says, pointing at the oak’s wide trunk.

      Lowering the torch a fraction, I see an upside down squirrel clinging to the bark with its claws.

      ‘I don’t wish to be rude but this behaviour just won’t do. This is a nice neighbourhood,’ he continues.

      Since dogs and squirrels have existed, we’ve always played Chase. We chase squirrels on the ground and they scamper into the trees. Gives us the opportunity for a jolly good bark. No harm done. But this squirrel is clearly in no mood for fun. I lay the torch on the lawn and go for the friendly approach.

      ‘Hi there. Name’s Monty, and this is Betty. What’s yours?’

      ‘Nigel. Your local Animal Neighbourhood Watch representative.’ He puffs out his chest. ‘Very important work. Without my constant vigilance, this quiet hamlet would descend into anarchy.’

      ‘It would?’

      ‘It would,’ says Nigel, flicking his tail. ‘Look, I don’t want us to get off on the wrong paw, but there are by-laws about this sort of thing.’

      Betty and I exchange glances.

      ‘What sort of thing?’ I ask.

      ‘Disturbing the peace, of course. You can’t flash lights like that at this time of night. It’s just not neighbourly. The hares are complaining of migraines already.’

      ‘We won’t be much longer. We’re trying to attract someone’s attention.’

      ‘And what will be next? A rock band? Drunken brawls?’ The squirrel scampers up the trunk and stops on a branch. ‘Mark my words, young hound. Your actions tonight are the first step on the slippery slope to oblivion.’

      In a flash of vibrating tail, Nigel disappears into the dark foliage. He’s humming the Mission: Impossible theme tune again.

      ‘Who does he think he is?’ Betty protests.

      ‘Let’s get on with it, shall we?’ I say, gripping the torch between my teeth and waving it about.

      It’s not long before I hear a familiar chattering in the dis-tance. Initially, I mistake a large bat for Dante. Then I see the magpie, heading straight for the flickering beam. As he crosses it, his black and white plumage is illuminated – it’s Batman in a white T-shirt.

      ‘Bleeding Nora,’ says Betty, as she runs under my body to hide. ‘He’s a big bastard!’

      I lower the torch and bark, as quietly as I can, ‘Dante, it’s me, Monty. Down here!’

      I glance at the upper windows but Rose’s face doesn’t appear. The magpie lands, claws outstretched, a few feet away. Betty cowers. In the torch’s beam his striking features are visible – black beak and head, white above his wings and on his belly, and long dark tail feathers that shimmer a peacock green.

      ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’ he snaps, stomping towards me, his black, beady eyes angry. ‘You’re giving me a headache.’

      ‘Dante, calm down, I need your help and had to get your attention.’ I try to keep my voice to a quiet woof so that Rose doesn’t wake.

      The magpie goose-steps up and down. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Monty, find someone else to tap those bloody keys. I have better things to do.’

      ‘No, no. This is important.’

      ‘What? Doggie lost his bone?’

      He’s in a foul mood. Not good.

      ‘My master’s dead.’

      Dante dips his head, as if scooping up water, and his tail lifts high. He then returns to his normal stiff posture.

      ‘Dead? Oh dear me. I see.’ He clears his throat. ‘That explains what you’re doing so far from home.’ He resumes his pacing. ‘I did wonder what all that commotion was about on Friday. Lots of shiny badges and glistening equipment.’

      I step closer, forgetting my jittery friend sheltering beneath me. She darts to one side, before I tread on her.

      ‘Did you see what happened?’ My tail has gone berserk. It’s going so fast Dante’s feathers are getting ruffled by the breeze I’m creating. ‘Do you know where the killer went?’

      Dante has noticed Betty. His eyes sparkle. He darts forward, sharp beak open. I block his path.

      ‘No! Betty is not a midnight snack.’

      My teeth are bared. Shocked, Dante backs off. He knows that if I chose, I could break his neck.

      ‘Fine way to treat a friend,’ he complains.

      ‘Betty is my friend too. I need you two to get along.’

      Dante laughs, the kind of nasal, withering laugh I’ve heard from villains on the TV. ‘Oh, please! You don’t expect me to befriend my food, do you?’

      ‘This one isn’t food, okay?’

      ‘This is preposterous! Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t eat? I’m leaving.’

      He turns his back on me.

      ‘Wait! I need your help to find my master’s killer.’

      The magpie ignores me and is about to take off.

      ‘You owe me, remember.’

      I had vowed I would never mention this, but I’m desperate. It’s not just about finding Larry Nice’s address. Dante can be my eyes in the sky.

      He turns quickly and screeches. ‘I’ve paid that debt!’ He’s opened his wings wide and looks menacing. Betty darts behind a flowerpot.

      I step forward but keep a safe distance from his sharp beak. ‘Not yet. You help me find Paddy’s killer, then the debt is paid.’

      He folds his wings and tilts his smooth black head to one side, as if contemplating my offer.

      ‘And you can have my shiny dog tag. You’ve wanted it for ages. Well, now you can have it.’

      Dante stares at the round tag, a red and silver paw on one side, my name and the Professor’s address engraved into the metal, on the other. This tag is the only thing I have to remember my beloved master by. It means the world to me. But finding his killer means more.

      He nods. ‘Throw in the torch, too.’

      ‘No,’ I reply. ‘It’s not mine to give.’

      He opens his wings wide again and I think he’s about to fly off. But he folds them.

      ‘Oh all right. I’ll help you find Salt’s killer. You have my word,’ says Dante. ‘But, I want the tag now. Call it a down payment.’

      ‘And you won’t hurt Betty, or any other creature who helps me?’

      Dante sighs. ‘Yes, yes, okay, but try not to involve the whole wretched animal kingdom, otherwise I’ll starve to death.’

      I look over my shoulder at Betty. ‘It’s okay, Betty. Dante is a bird of his word.’ She shakes her head and stays put. I focus back on Dante. ‘The laptop’s inside.’

      Dante glances into the kitchen. ‘What are you looking for?’

      ‘A suspect’s address in The White Pages.’

      ‘That’s it? Oh for goodness’ sake! What a waste of my exceptional talent.’

      I ignore his griping. ‘That’s just the start. Follow me.’

      Dante flies behind me and deftly lands on the kitchen table. He focuses his steely stare on me. ‘Whose laptop is this?’