––––––––
The journey back was even worse—with the fading light, they couldn’t see where they were going and twice they found themselves lost and walking in circles. They wasted precious time retracing their steps and starting out again, taking almost double the time to cross the same distance. It was a relief when they finally came to the fence surrounding the field. It was at a different place from where they had crossed under earlier, but it didn’t matter. They just wanted to get back into the field again. Suka and Ruffster set to work immediately, digging underneath the lowest bar, and soon they had widened enough of a gap for everybody to wriggle through easily.
Back inside the field, they took a minute to get their bearings. Night had fallen long ago and darkness had closed in around them. With clouds covering the sky, there was no moon to light their way and they could barely see their own paws. The strong scent of fresh water told them that the river was to their left. So they set off in the opposite direction, testing the ground tentatively with their paws before placing their weight down on each step. It made the going dreadfully slow, but it was better than falling into a bog again.
Finally, Biscuit paused with one paw raised, his nose twitching excitedly in the air. “I can smell it. The arena. And the cars and caravans. And the fairground. C’mon, this way!”
The others followed eagerly as he broke into a trot. The big arena building loomed suddenly out of the darkness. They had arrived back at the spot where they had entered the field earlier—on the west side of the arena, next to the fairground—and they quickly crawled back under the fence. Now they would just have to walk around the front of the arena to get back to the east side where the caravans were parked.
Honey was the last to crawl under the fence, out of the field, and she shook herself as she stood up, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her back. She turned to Ruffster with a wag of her tail. “We did it. We worked out what the Phantom Hound was trying to tell us!”
“Yeah, but we still don’t know who’s attackin’ all the show dogs, mate,” Ruffster pointed out. “Don’t reckon the stuff that’s happenin’ now is related to Graf and what happened ten years ago.”
“You’re right,” said Honey, wrinkling her brow. “I thought the Phantom Hound was trying to help me work out who was behind all the attacks, but I was wrong. He was trying to tell me about Graf and what happened ten years ago. What’s happening now isn’t linked to the Phantom Hound at all. There must be another dog involved ... a real dog.”
Ruffster stiffened. “Don’t tell me you still think that dog is Colette—”
“I ... I don’t know.” Honey hesitated. “You know, I didn’t mention it before, but I saw some fertiliser in the storeroom.”
“So?”
“So that was what gave the Boxer that allergic reaction. And I know Colette was skulking around outside the storeroom ...”
“What?” Ruffster growled. “Are you sayin’—”
“Ruffster, I don’t want to think it’s her. But she does—”
“Are you going to stand there discussing this all night?” Suka looked impatiently back at them from a few paces ahead. “We should get back to our caravans—the humans are going to be really worried about us. We can figure it out tomorrow.”
Suka was right, thought Honey guiltily as she remembered her earlier worries about the humans. They were probably frantic.
They hurried around the arena building. As they rounded the east corner and finally came upon the rows of parked cars and caravans, a spotlight suddenly came on, illuminating Ruffster in a yellow circle of light.
“Chokin’ chicken bones!” Ruffster jumped, then froze, looking around wildly.
But there was no sound of voices or footsteps or even other dogs. After a moment, Ruffster relaxed and carefully edged his way out of the pool of light.
“It must be one of those guard lights,” said Biscuit.
“Guard lights?”
Biscuit nodded. “We’ve got them outside our house. They have these special eyes that see in the dark and when they see something move, they light up. It helps to guard the house because anybody who comes near will wake the lights up and be seen.” He looked up and pointed with his nose to a spotlight attached to the wall of the arena.
They continued on, slinking quietly past the row of parked cars and caravans. It must have been much later than they thought because—aside from the guard lights which came on at intervals along the side of the arena—everything was dark and quiet.
“Oh no, the humans must have all gone to bed,” said Suka guiltily. “My Boy will be really upset that I wasn’t there. I always sleep at his feet.”
Biscuit hunched his shoulders. “Well, I’m not in a hurry to see my Missus. After our escape this afternoon, I think she’s going to shut me in a crate for life!”
Honey felt another stab of remorse as she looked down the row of caravans. Right at the end, she could see the last caravan with its lights still on. Olivia must be waiting up for me, still hoping that I might come home.
They passed a yellow car with a sloping roof parked next to a large blue tent: Colette’s car, Honey remembered. She thought of Colette’s birthday party—it was only two nights ago and yet now seemed ages ago. That table full of food had been set up next to this tent. Now there was no table in sight and the tent flaps were firmly closed, although she noticed a slight opening at the bottom of the zip, almost as if somebody had pushed their way in. Or out, she thought.
Honey was about to hurry past when she noticed that Biscuit had fallen behind. She looked back. He had stopped by the car parked just before Colette’s and was sniffing something intently in the grass. The car was a station wagon and it had a sticker on its window, showing a tall dog with long legs and flowing hair. Afghans. Honey recognised it as Tiffany and Dior’s car. Next to it was another large blue tent, also with its flaps down. Honey wondered if the Afghans were inside.
She turned back. “Biscuit? What is it?”
The others stopped and looked back too. The Beagle followed his nose from the car to the side of the tent and stopped by the closed flaps. He raised his nose from the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“This scent ... I know it ...”
“What scent?” asked Honey.
“It’s the second scent ... you know, the second scent I picked up on that fake Peemail. One of the scents led to that storeroom—it was the smell of the soot—but the other one ... I’ve been trying to figure out what it is ...” Biscuit looked down triumphantly at something in the grass. “Now I know!”
Honey walked over and bent to look. Nestled deep in the grass next to the tent was a small, rectangular, flat object. It must have been dropped there by mistake. She sniffed it cautiously. It made a slight crackling sound—like plastic—and she saw the shine of silver foil in the dim glow from the distant guard lights. Little round holes were punched out of the silver surface at regular intervals. Suddenly Honey knew what it was. She had seen Olivia take out something similar from the kitchen drawer several times and pop out little pills from it, which her human would then swallow with water. It was human medicine.
She tilted her head as the silver foil caught the light again and she realised that there were letters printed on it: “BENADRYL”.
Honey’s mind began to spin. Where had she heard that name before?
“What is it, mate?” Ruffster came up, followed by Suka. He thrust his nose at the pill packet, flipping it over in his haste to smell it. The other side of the rectangle showed little plastic bubbles raised up from the silver foil. Most of the bubbles were empty, but a few still had a little pink pill in each.
Honey stared at the pink pills. Pink.
She turned to Biscuit. “Biscuit—that second scent you picked up from the Peemail ... the one that you said is the same here ... did it smell ‘pink’?”
“Aw, Honey, no dog can smell pink—not even a Beagle,” said Biscuit.
“I know, I know,” said Honey. “But you know what I mean.”
Biscuit hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess ... sort of pink.”
Honey took a deep breath. “I think I’ve smelled the same scent as you—but I didn’t smell it in the fake Peemail. I smelled it in the bowl of poisoned dog biscuits that Anja ate. And it’s the same scent that you found here ... which means these are the pills used to poison Anja!”
Suka flicked her tail sceptically. “Are you sure? I mean, how do you know that you and Biscuit are talking about the same scent? Just because they both sort of smell ‘pink’?”
Honey flipped the packet back over so they could all read the name on the back. “See this? Anja told me the Vet found out that the poison in her dog biscuits was something called ‘Benadryl’. It makes you sleepy when you take it, especially if you take too much. And something else,” she added urgently. “When the Boxer got that allergic reaction, I saw the Afghan Lady give the Boxer’s humans some pills to help. She said they were Benadryl and they would help to stop the itching. I remember Tiffany telling me the Afghan Lady is allergic to dogs, that’s why she has that medicine: to help stop her sneezing constantly when she comes to dog shows.”
“Wait ... so you’re saying that the Afghan Lady’s the one who poisoned Anja?” said Suka. “She’s the one behind all these attacks?”
“But she seems so nice,” said Biscuit.
“No, it’s not her—it’s Dior!” cried Ruffster. “Reckon he’s the one behind everythin’! He could’ve just nicked some o’ these pills from his human and put them into Anja’s bowl—he was close enough to do it without anybody seein’. And he must’ve done somethin’ to that Chihuahua too, to make her break her leg.”
“And he was behind the attack on that poor Boxer,” Suka agreed. “Then he tried to get the other dogs to put the blame on you because you’re a mongrel!”
“Where is he now?” demanded Ruffster, growling. “I’m goin’ to find him and sort this out now.”
He marched towards the tent, but Suka jumped in his way.
“Don’t be stupid, Ruffster! You’ll wake his human up and we’ll all get in trouble. Now isn’t the time to have a dog fight.”
“But—”
“He’s not in there anyway,” said Biscuit.
They all turned to look at the Beagle, who was still standing next to the tent. He had shoved his nose cautiously between the flaps—which were unzipped—and was taking a deep sniff.
“His scent,” Biscuit explained, pulling his nose out of the gap. “I can tell. He’s not in the tent. It’s just their human sleeping in there.”
“So where’s he gone at this time o’ the night?” demanded Ruffster. “Reckon he’s up to no good.”
“What about his sister, Tiffany?” asked Honey.
Biscuit shook his head. “No dogs in there.”
Strange, where would she have gone? Honey wondered. Had the brother and sister gone off together? A snuffling sound made them all look up. A window on the caravan next to them was open and, as they watched, a black nose stuck curiously out, sniffing the night air. The next minute a white furry face joined the nose. It was a “Westie”—a West Highland Terrier—and he was looking at them irritably.
“Some dogs are trying to sleep here, you know.”
“Sorry, mate,” said Ruffster.
The Westie peered at them. “You that group of dogs that went missing? Your humans have been going crazy all afternoon and evening. Fair turned the place upside down searching for you lot.”
Honey felt that pang of guilt again. “We had to go somewhere to do something,” she tried to explain. “But we’re fine and we’re back now.”
Ruffster went up to the window eagerly. “Have you seen the Afghan from this tent next to you?”
“Afghan?” The Westie thought for a moment. “Yeah, sneaked out of the tent and went off with that French Poodle.”
“Colette?” Ruffster gasped.
“That’s the one,” said the Westie. “Heard she won her group this afternoon—big contender for ‘Best in Show’ tomorrow.”
“Where did they go?”
The Westie nodded at the arena. “Went in there, I think.”
“What were they doing at this time of the night?” asked Suka.
The Westie shrugged. “Beats me. Never know what these fancy breeds are up to,” he grumbled. “Nothing straightforward, like us Terriers.” He gave another sniff and disappeared from the window.
Ruffster began pacing around them in a circle. “We have to find them ... Colette could be in danger ... Did you hear what he said? Colette’s a winner and could become ‘Best in Show’! Dior might try to—”
“Um ... you know, there might not be a sinister reason for all this,” said Suka uncomfortably.
Ruffster stared at her. “What d’you mean?”
“Well ...” Suka looked at Biscuit and Honey for help, then turned back at Ruffster. “You know ... Maybe ... maybe they wanted to sneak off together.”
The insides of Ruffster’s ears went bright pink. “No, mate, Colette wouldn’t have anythin’ to do with that pompous hairbag!”
“Suka’s right. I mean, not that Colette likes Dior,” said Honey hastily. “But we don’t know for sure that something bad is going on. Dogs can sneak out at night if they want to. I mean, look at us—all we’ve been doing is sneak around since we arrived at the show.”
“No,” said Ruffster stubbornly. “I know somethin’s wrong. If you won’t come with me to check it out, then I’ll just go myself!” He turned around and started to head back towards the front of the arena.
Honey watched helplessly for a moment, then turned to Suka and Biscuit. “I’m going with him. If you want to get back to your humans first, that’s fine—”
“Don’t be silly,” said Suka. “We’re coming with you.”
Biscuit nodded. “I can help you track them.”
“Come on then,” said Honey. “Hurry!”