K-9 Read Online Free

proclaiming: ‘I could’ve been a contender . . . Maybe even the host of my own panel show. Now I can’t get on telly anywhere in the developed world. And this  . . . this odorous furball.’ Clive dangled the toy over Wilbur’s snout. ‘My one consolation is the fact that Alan obviously couldn’t afford a real dog. And fortunately, this one looks like it’s only a few good walks from the pet cemetery –’
    ‘Clive!’ Jackie snapped.
    ‘Well, it’s true.’
    Darkus winced, but he had to admit that, like everything he received from his father, Wilbur was unusual and to some degree damaged. But that didn’t make Darkus love Wilbur any less; in fact it made him love the dog more.
    ‘Come on, boy,’ said Darkus, but Wilbur remained hypnotised by Clive’s offer of the toy.
    ‘Want to play, do you?’ Clive told the mutt, then got to his feet and stalked to the front door. With one quick motion Clive ran out on to the driveway and hurled the toy across the road and into a nearby field. ‘Go fetch!’
    Darkus watched in horror as Wilbur shot through the open doorway and galloped into the road – straight into the path of an oncoming car.
    ‘Wilbur!’ Darkus cried out.
    Wilbur stood frozen on the spot as the motorist slammed on the brakes and skidded towards him. Then at the last possible moment the dog yelped and swerved out of the way, hopping over the fence into the neighbouring plot.
    Darkus raced out into the road after him.
    ‘Doc! Watch out!’ Jackie called after him, as he ran in front of the motorist who was still at a halt in the middle of the road, looking left and right, waiting for his path to clear.
    ‘Wilbur!’ Darkus continued to yell, but the German shepherd was now deep in the tall grass of the overgrown field.
    Darkus took hold of the fence and climbed over it, tearing the hem of his overcoat without a second glance. He entered the tall grass after his dog.
    ‘Here, boy . . .’ he called out, but only got a distant whimper in return.
    The grass moved ten metres in front of him but he still couldn’t see Wilbur.
    ‘It’s OK, boy. Come home,’ he said softly, but loud enough for the dog to hear.
    The grass continued to move further and further away from him, until he saw Wilbur’s bat-ears appear on a small bluff in the centre of the field. He had the chew toy in his mouth but wouldn’t budge.
    ‘Come home!’ Darkus called to him. Wilbur whined and shook his head, waving the toy. ‘It’ll be OK, I promise,’ he pleaded, but Wilbur’s ears vanished into the grass again, retreating further into the field.
    Tilly watched the scene unfold from her bedroom window, sadly.
    Darkus waded over to the bluff, climbed up it and spotted the dog lying in the grass some way off. Darkus knelt down, reached in his pocket and fished out the secure phone that Uncle Bill had given him on their last investigation. Then he fished out the stainless-steel business-card holder his father had given him, and flipped it open to reveal the stack of cards lying untouched inside, all displaying the words: Knightley & Son. He turned the top card over to find the small, embossed symbol of the ‘evil eye’: a symbol of protection as well as fear. Darkus dialled the 0845 number on the front of the card and waited while the line rang. There was a short pause as the call was redirected, then after a few moments, his father’s Polish housekeeper picked up.
    ‘Knightley’s Investigations? This is Bogna in Admins?’ she answered in her broken English.
    ‘Bogna, it’s Darkus.’
    ‘Doc! Is everything OK?’
    ‘Where’s Dad?’
    ‘On assignments. He not tell me what.’
    ‘But he’s OK?’ enquired Darkus. ‘No more “episodes”?’
    ‘You mean unconscious coma state? No, nothing like that.’
    ‘I see . . .’
    Darkus furrowed his brow. Not only was his father not available, he was on a case that he hadn’t bothered to share with him – his son, heir, and most importantly his