Smells Like Dog by Suzanne Selfors
“Urrrr.” Dog’s tail whacked against the quilt.
Homer hugged Dog as hard as he could. “You’re the most treasured possession, aren’t you? It wasn’t the coin at all. That was just a distraction in case someone nabbed you.” Then he remembered his uncle’s letter. Keep it close. Keep it secret.
He glanced worriedly at Lorelei’s bed. She lay still, a small snore rising from beneath her quilt. Homer sighed with relief.
This was why his uncle had been so happy. Dog was going to be his greatest asset, his secret weapon, better than anything Ajitabh could ever invent. With a treasure-smelling dog and Rumpold Smeller’s map, Uncle Drake’s quest would have been a certain success. But while Madame knew about the map, she didn’t know about the dog. No one knew.
Only Homer knew.
Together, Dog and Homer would finish what Uncle Drake had begun. Homer Winslow Pudding, the chunky kid from Milkydale who liked to read maps, who wasn’t any good at sports, who carried a compass and daydreamed about treasure hunting, had been given the gift of a lifetime. But if anyone else found out, Dog wouldn’t be safe. He’d become the most wanted dog in the entire world. Everyone had to believe that he was just a sad, droopy dog who couldn’t smell.
Somehow, some way, Homer would have to convince his father to let Dog stay on the farm. As sure as he’d gone to The City, as sure as he’d solved Dog’s mystery, he’d figure out a way to keep him.
Homer hugged Dog again and, with a grin stretching from ear to ear, fell asleep.
Homer felt as warm as a pancake right off the griddle. He stretched his legs and arms. Sunlight trickled through the guestroom window. How long have I been asleep? he wondered. He sat up and rubbed crusty bits from his eyes. Lorelei’s bunk was empty, the blankets thrown aside. Maybe she and Daisy were in the kitchen eating breakfast. He remembered the silver spoon and looked around for it. Perhaps Lorelei had returned it to the cook.
“Dog?” Homer called. He got out of bed and walked to the doorway. “Dog?” Dog was probably eating breakfast, too. Homer sat back on the bed and started to put on his shoes when Ajitabh rushed into the room.
“Homer!” Ajitabh’s long black hair was all messed up, as if he’d also just gotten out of bed. He wore a silk bathrobe and matching pajamas.
“What’s going on?’ Homer asked, tucking his compass under his shirt.
“She took the cloudcopter.” Ajitabh paced, his arms gesturing wildly. “Do you hear? Your friend stole one of the cloudcopters.”
“Huh?” Homer’s mouth fell open. Why would she do that? Why would she leave without him? They’d made a pact that neither of them would leave without the other.
“I’m afraid that’s not the worst of the news.” Ajitabh gripped Homer’s shoulders, his dark eyes churning with intensity. “She took your hound.”
PART SIX
THE EVIL LAIR
28
A Friend’s Deception
Homer watched anxiously as Ajitabh hurried around the cluttered laboratory, stuffing things into a canvas backpack. “We must be prepared for the unexpected,” Ajitabh said, pausing to scratch his beard. “Now, where the blazes did I put my portable telescope? Oh, there it is.”
Screwdrivers, hammers, drills, and assorted hardware lay scattered across a worktable. Boxes with labels like COMBUSTION ACCELERATORS, HYDRAULIC FEEDERS, and SOLAR ABSORBERS stood in stacks. Bits and pieces of pipes and engine parts covered the floor.
Zelda pushed aside some greasy rags, then sat on a stool. The legs bowed beneath her bulk. “You’ve been busy,” she said, inspecting a shovel-like contraption.
“Drake wanted a better way to dig through sand.” Ajitabh grabbed a can of engine oil. “Where’s that blasted Swiss army knife?”
“I have one,” Homer said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Can we go now? I’m really worried about Dog.” That was the tenth time he’d asked to leave since discovering that his new friend had stolen Dog. His dog. Maybe the only dog in the world that could smell lost treasure. Maybe the only chance in the world that Homer could finish his uncle’s quest. But Ajitabh had insisted on gathering a bunch of equipment.
Why had Lorelei left without him? Why had she taken Dog? She’d been so nice. She hadn’t judged Homer when he’d told her about the library burning down. She hadn’t made fun of his love of maps. She even owned a Galileo Compass. She’d seemed like the perfect friend.
What if she’d taken Dog because she now knew Dog’s secret? Maybe she’d been fake-sleeping and had heard Homer when he’d figured out Dog’s talent. Why’d I have to say it out loud?
Homer held out his little red knife. “You can have this one,” he said. “Please. Let’s go.”
“Keep your knife, Homer. Mine has unique alterations.” Ajitabh looked behind a tangle of wire. “It shoots tranquilizer darts and has a laser that can cut through steel.”
About the best Homer’s knife could do was to cut through string, but he figured that was probably a good thing. The way his luck was going, if he had a knife like Ajitabh’s, he’d probably cut his foot off. He stuck his knife back into his pocket.
“Homer?” Zelda rested her elbows on the worktable. She was ready for the flight to The City—bag and lantern by her side, black cape tied beneath her chin, flight goggles perched on her expansive forehead. “I can tell by your sour expression that you’re blaming yourself for what has happened.”
“Because it’s my fault,” Homer said, searching for Ajitabh’s knife.
“The girl’s a thief, a child of the streets. Anyone can see that just from looking at her.” Ajitabh shoved a headlamp into his bag.
“You know as well as I that we should never make assumptions based on appearance,” Zelda said, shaking a long finger at Ajitabh.
“I stand corrected. Where the devil is that knife?” He crawled under the table. “I’ve lost it. How could I lose such a treasure?”
If Dog were here, he could find it, Homer thought as he looked under some mechanical drawings.
Zelda folded her hands on her lap. “Homer? How, exactly, did you meet Lorelei?”
“Well…” He thought back to the moment he’d stepped out of the train station—the loud noises, the bad smells, how Dog had stopped to piddle on everything. “Gwendolyn and I split up so I could go to the library to research the coin. I was walking down the street and there she was. She gave Dog and me some soup. Then I saw Snooty and Snooty’s office so we said good-bye. The next thing I knew I was running down the sidewalk because I thought Ajitabh was trying to kill me.” Where was that stupid knife?
“Once again, I wasn’t trying to kill you,” Ajitabh said from under the table.
“Go on,” Zelda urged.
“I ran into Lorelei and I told her I was in trouble. She took me to this warehouse to hide. I told her some… stuff. She showed me around The City.” He remembered how nice the day had been—the beautiful blue reading room, the pink sprinkled doughnuts, the movie theater and the park. He’d never spent an entire day hanging out with a friend.
“What stuff did you tell Lorelei?” Zelda’s voice was soft, but serious.
He grimaced. “Um… well…” He turned red. “I told her way too much. I know it. I was stupid. Uncle Drake should never have believed in me. I told her everything.”
Zelda sighed. “You’re not the first good person to be deceived and you won’t be the last. Our hearts often cloud our judgment.”
Ajitabh popped up from under the table. “Found it!” He dropped a Swiss army knife into his backpack. “Shall we go?”
“Yes!” Homer cried, heading for the stairway.
“One moment. Something has just occurred to me.” Zelda rose from the stool. “Did you tell this girl about the coin? That it was in your pocket, in a matchbook?”
Homer’s face fell. Gwendolyn hadn’t known about the matchbook. Zelda obviously knew, but she hadn’t told Madame. “Lorelei’s the one who told Madame?”
“It would appear that Madame hired a stre
Zelda pressed a finger to her chin. “It all seems clear now. Madame wanted Rumpold Smeller’s map. Someone in the Society told her that Drake had found it. After she killed Drake and searched through his belongings with no success, she learned from Mr. Twaddle that Drake had sent something to Homer.”
“So she lured me to the museum with a party invitation,” Homer realized.
“She set Lorelei in your path to get information, knowing a boy would be much more likely to confide in someone his own age,” Zelda said.
“The girl is most likely on her way back to Madame. But why would she take the hound?” Ajitabh asked. “Why not just steal the cloudcopter and be done with it?”
“It’s obvious why she took Dog,” Zelda said. “She knows Homer loves the creature so she’ll use it for ransom. Homer told us that she is a child without a family. She is simply trying to survive. Unfortunately, she has fallen under the influence of a very wicked woman.”
Homer bit his lower lip. They still didn’t suspect that Dog was Drake’s most treasured possession. There was still a chance that Lorelei didn’t know the secret either—a small chance, but a chance nonetheless.
“It doesn’t add up,” Ajitabh said. “Why didn’t she stay to get more information? And how the devil will she find her way back?”
Uh-oh. Homer reached into his pocket. “She’s taken my map.”
“What map?” Zelda asked.
“The map of the Museum of Natural History. During the ride here, Lorelei read her compass and I wrote down the coordinates. If she gives those to Madame…” He looked desperately at Ajitabh. “She’ll be able to find this place. I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything.”
“Do not apologize. Writing the coordinates was a brilliant maneuver,” Ajitabh said. “You were thinking like a treasure hunter. However, I do not intend to let that woman find my tower.”
“And I’m not letting her have Dog!” Homer cried.
“Then, there’s no time to waste.” Ajitabh swung the backpack of equipment over his shoulder. “Everyone to the cloudcopter!”
29
Return to The City
As Homer stepped onto the tower’s roof, cold air, fresh with the scent of snow, tingled his nostrils. His gaze followed the jagged mountains from the skyline to where they disappeared into the foggy valley, far, far below. One misstep and he’d plummet to his death. He moved away from the edge.
“Uncomfortable with heights?” Zelda asked.
“I guess so,” he said, trying not to look down. “How about you?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Oh.” He smiled apologetically. “I guess that was kind of a stupid question.”
“At least the girl didn’t steal the customized ’copter,” Ajitabh said. It turned out that Lorelei had stolen the same cloudcopter that they had arrived in. Zelda’s ’copter, specifically designed for her comfort, sat on the platform.
“You drive,” Zelda told Ajitabh. “I’m no good with high-speed chases.”
Ajitabh waited as Zelda climbed in. She set her bag and lantern on the ’copter’s floor. “After you,” he said to Homer.
Homer bent down to give Dog a boost. His heart sank as he remembered that Dog was gone. In just a few short days he’d gotten used to having the droopy fellow ambling alongside, poking him with his cold nose when he wanted something, wedging himself between Homer’s shins when he got scared. Was he scared now, flying through the clouds with Lorelei and her thieving rat? Would Lorelei remember to watch what Dog ate? Homer climbed in and sat in the back next to Zelda. He fidgeted nervously. Come on, let’s get going.
“Better button up that jacket,” Zelda told him. “Night air’s terrible for creaky bones.”
While Homer didn’t have creaky bones, he buttoned his jacket anyway, then slid the goggles over his eyes. Ajitabh loaded the backpack into the ’copter, then climbed into the cockpit. As he flicked some switches, Mumble the cook hurried onto the roof. “Dinner,” he said, holding out a basket.
“Thanks.” Homer took the basket. Was it dinnertime already? They had slept through most of the day. But what day was it? He drew a mental map of the events and realized that it was now Wednesday evening.
Back on the farm, the Pudding family would be finishing up their chores and getting ready to sit down to dinner. Mrs. Pudding usually made macaroni and cheese for Wednesday dinner. I wonder what Homer’s doing right now? his mother might say. Doesn’t that field trip sound like fun? Not in a million years would they imagine that he was about to travel in a cloud to rescue Uncle Drake’s most treasured possession. And never, in a million years, would he be able to tell them.
“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.
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.”