Wily was standing in Suzie’s gallery, La Pooch of Paris. The walls were white and bare with pale grey squares every couple of metres.
“Where are all the paintings?” he asked.
Suzie smiled. “I had this installed earlier this year. Now I’m very glad I did.”
She took out a remote control from her pocket and pressed a red button. There was a whirring noise and the grey squares flipped round to reveal Suzie’s paintings.
“Clever,” Wily said. “Dimitri doesn’t stand a chance. Now, which one does he want back?”
Suzie glided over to a small painting at the end of the room. “This one,” she said.
It certainly was a very strange-looking painting.
Wily looked at the description underneath: ‘Vole Inspecting a Nervous Woodlouse’ by Kandogski.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” said Suzie. “It works on so many levels. Every time you look at it, you find something new.”
“It’s certainly … different,” said Wily, looking around at the other paintings in Suzie’s gallery.
“That’s why I’m so excited,” said Suzie. “Kandogski is a new discovery.”
At that moment, they heard a knock. Suzie pressed a button on the remote control and the paintings flipped round, leaving the walls bare.
“Stay hidden,” said Wily. “I’ll see who it is.”
The detective moved slowly towards the door, ready to unleash one of his kung-fu moves. He put his paw on the handle and opened it a fraction. He couldn’t see anyone. He opened it a fraction more.
A squirrel darted in and looked at Wily in surprise. “Wily! What are you doing here?”
The squirrel was in police uniform and her name badge read: SYBIL SQUIRREL, JUNIOR DETECTIVE, PSSST (Police Spy, Sleuth and Snoop Taskforce).
“Sybil!” Wily exclaimed. “I might ask you the same question!”
“The French government got in touch,” Sybil explained. “The La Pooch gallery suddenly closed its doors to the public. No warning. No explanation given. It looked fishy.”
“Well, it isn’t,” Wily insisted.
“Oh yeah,” Sybil said with a grin. “What are you doing here, then?”
A second later, she was barged out of the way by an angry-looking bulldog.
“Wily Fox!” he barked. “I might have known.”
“Julius Hound,” Wily replied, with a mock bow.
“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t arrest you for tampering with a crime scene,” said Julius.
Suzie La Pooch moved forward. “Because this isn’t a crime scene, Monsieur. It’s my gallery and I invited Mr Fox here,” she said.
For a split second, Julius stopped in his tracks, staring at the elegant poodle, but he swiftly recovered. “I don’t know what he’s told you, Mademoiselle, but if you’ve got a problem, you should have come to me – the head of PSSST – not this meddling twerp.”
“I don’t have a problem,” Suzie said. “Mr Fox is a dear friend of mine.”
Julius looked around at the bare walls of the gallery and back at Suzie. “If you don’t have a problem, then where are all your paintings?”
Suzie blinked. “They’re safe.”
“Not stolen?”
“Not stolen.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care,” said Suzie.
“Prove it or I’ll arrest you.”
Suzie sighed. “Fine. Arrest me.”
Suzie held out her arms, waiting for the handcuffs. There was a tense silence. Then a knock on the door made everyone jump.
Wily moved towards it.
“Not you,” Julius growled. “Sybil, go and see who’s there.”
The squirrel opened the door carefully and stepped outside. They heard the muffled sounds of a conversation, and then Sybil reappeared with a parcel.
“Delivery for Miss La Pooch,” she said. “Says it’s from an admirer. It smells like it’s from that posh cheese shop round the corner.”
“Give it to me, Sybil,” Wily snapped.
“Oh no, you don’t,” said Julius, standing between Wily and the parcel.
“Don’t be a fool, Julius,” said Wily. “You don’t know who sent it or what’s inside.”
“And maybe you do,” said Julius. “Is the cheese shop in on this plot? Perhaps it contains money? Or a smuggled painting?”
“Julius, do not open it,” Wily growled.
But Julius was already angrily tearing off the lid of the parcel. “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he muttered.
The bulldog put his paw inside the parcel and pulled out a lump of yellow cheese. He frowned, sniffed it and then collapsed on the floor in a heap.
“Oh no!” Wily exclaimed and jumped on top of the cheese, covering it with his body.
“What is it?” cried Sybil.
“It’s Le Pong Beaucoup, the smelliest cheese in Paris!” Wily declared. “It knocks you out in seconds. Poisons you in minutes. Get out of here and take Suzie with you!”
Yellow gas was beginning to seep round the edges of Wily’s coat.
Sybil grabbed Suzie and headed for a small door at the back of the gallery. As they ducked through, the main doors of the gallery were forced open and two wolves wearing gas masks rushed inside.
The wolves sniggered at Julius’s unconscious body as they stepped over it.
Wily could feel the cheese beginning to fizz and bubble as the gas struggled to escape. The wolves peered down at Wily, who was lying still with his eyes closed.
“He isn’t going anywhere,” said one.
“He’ll be no trouble to us,” said the other. They both had thick Russian accents.
The first wolf put a bag of tools down on the ground and pulled out a crowbar.
Wily felt his head beginning to spin. Then he had an idea. “Hmmr phhr mmm,” he said.
“What?” said the first wolf.
“Hmmr phdd mmrr,” said Wily, beckoning the wolf towards him.
The wolf leaned over, putting his face right next to Wily’s. “What?” he growled.
Quick as a flash, Wily pulled out the cheese, lifted up the wolf’s gas mask and shoved the cheese into his mouth. The wolf was so confused, he gulped it down. First he turned red. Then he turned purple.
Finally he ran out of the gallery, yellow steam pouring out of his ears.
Wily jumped to his feet and looked around for the other wolf, but the gallery seemed empty. Then he felt something heavy hit him on the back of the head and everything went black.
Time passed. Wily felt himself being shaken awake. He opened his eyes and saw Suzie leaning over him. He sat up and rubbed his head.
“Is everyone OK?” he asked.
“Julius is talking about pink unicorns, but otherwise everyone is fine,” she said.
“And the painting?” asked Wily.
“Not fine,” said Suzie. “My Kandogski has gone!”