The Case of the Vampire Vacuum Sweeper Read Online Free Page B

perhaps, although . . .
    His eyes locked on me. I found it hard to meet his gaze, so to speak, and began studying the holes, nails, and paint splatters on the north wall.
    â€œHank.” I jumped at the sound of his voice. “What is this?”
    I turned my eyes in his direction. I was feeling very uncomfortable about this. He was holding some­thing in his fingers, it appeared.
    â€œWhat is this?”
    I, uh, thumped my tail on the floor and squeezed up my most sincere smile.
    His eyes came at me like drill bits. I could feel them drilling holes in me. “Where’d this turkey bone come from?”
    Turkey bone? Oh yes, the, uh, thing in his fingers. Well, turkey bones came from . . . turkeys, so to speak, and maybe a lost turkey had wandered into the house and . . . couldn’t find its way out and just died.
    Yes, that was it. The turkey had died in the house and . . . its bones had gotten scattered to the four winds, as they say, and one of the neck bones had . . . well, suddenly turned up on the, uh, living room floor.
    But the important point was that it had been pretty muchly a natural occurrence and we dogs knew nothing about it, almost nothing at all. No kidding.
    I swept my tail across the threadbare carpet floor and concentrated extra hard on putting sincerity into my, uh, expression.
    â€œYou bozo. You were chewing a turkey bone in my living room, weren’t you?”
    Well, I . . .
    â€œAnd I stepped on it and almost broke my leg.”
    Well, you see . . . oh boy. All at once I felt that the facts had overwhelmed my ability to explain them. I switched over to Slow Mournful Wags on the tail section and gave him my most sincere look of tragedy.
    Okay. Yes. The cat was out of the sandbag. I could no longer deny the awful truth. I stood before him, accused and convicted of terrible crimes, and now all that was left for me was to throw myself at his feet and hope for mercy.
    I lowered my head and assumed the pose of a beaten dog, a humbled dog; a dog who had fallen to the very depths of despair and heartbreak; who had hoped and wanted all his life to be a good dog, but who was now feeling the terrible stinging lash of conscience.
    I lowered myself to the very depths of the floor and crawled, yes, crawled, to his towering, angry presence. And licked his big toe.
    Sometimes that works, you know.
    He continued to glare down at me, but I noticed a few cracks in his icy expression. Maybe it was working. I rolled my eyes up to him and wiggled the very tip end of my tail. Yes, the ice was melting. The stone was showing a few cracks.
    He shook his head and compressed his lips. “Hank, you’re such a birdbrain. You’re just dumb. Do you know that?”
    Well, I . . . I wasn’t in a position to, uh, argue that.
    â€œYou’re dumb and you’re pretty close to worthless, and I could have broke my neck, as well as my leg, on your dadgum turkey bone.” He sighed and glanced around the room. “But I didn’t, so I guess I’ll start cleaning up this . . . good honk, this place looks awful!”
    There it was. I was saved, oh happy day! I went to Joyous Bounds and Leaps, wrapped my front paws around his leg, and gave him a big hug.
    He reached down and scratched me behind the ears. “I get myself into the derndest messes, and I don’t know whether it’s because I’m too nice or too dumb. Probably dumb. I remember now how that turkey bone got in here. I bought that ten-pound package of turkey necks on sale and ate boiled necks for two weeks, and I was chewing on a bone one night and forgot to throw it in the trash. Sorry, Hankie. I got what I deserved. You’re cleared of all charges.”
    See? Didn’t I tell you? But the important thing was that we were friends again. Now all we had to do was get his house shaped up.
    At first he just wandered from room to room like a lost child, muttering and shaking his head. Like a good, loyal dog, I