A Lost Bone is the first chapter of a children’s novel I wrote for my college finals. The characters are based on my two wonderful dogs, Paxton and Kip. Hope you enjoy 🙂

Part One

It was a quiet afternoon at 221B Barker Street. My friend, Mr. Paxton, and I have lived here for the past year. He was a pudgy dog, with wiry black fur and floppy ears. A twitching nose set snuggly between large dark eyes gave him a constantly curious look. It suited him well, as he was a fantastic detective with a nose for sniffing out the truth. The police came to ask him for advice often, and he even got letters from other countries and royalty. I was very proud to be his friend, though he was hard to live with sometimes. He got bored quickly if there were no mysteries to solve. Only mysteries, his chemistry set, and his favorite blue ball could keep him occupied.  

Currently, Mr. Paxton was curled up in his armchair, resting his head on the arm. He had taken his ball out from the little black box on the center of the mantelpiece and was dropping it against the floor. While his usually alert eyes suggested it was almost nap time, I could tell that the ball amused him.  The repetitive thump, thump, thump was beginning to annoy me, but I didn’t want to be rude and stop him. His furry curled tail had been wagging back and forth all morning. I hoped a puzzle would distract him.

“I say, Paxton, up for a little game?” I said.

The little floppy ears on top of his head perked up. “A game, my dear Kipper Doodle?” he said, “What do you have in mind?”

I was pleased that I had managed to break his concentration on the ball. My ears were beginning to ring from the constant noise. From my favorite brown vest, I withdrew a pocket watch and held it up for him to see.

“This watch was recently given to me,” I said, “You are well known for your detective skills. Can you tell me a little of the last owner?”

“Interesting, Kipper. Well let me see here,” he said, placing the ball back in its box and taking a magnifying glass from his desk.

He balanced the watch in his paw and brought it up to his nose. Giving a few delicate sniffs, the heavy brows over his eyes came together in the middle. He turned the timepiece over a few times, inspecting the clasp, mechanics, and gold chain, first only with his eyes and then with the powerful lens of the magnifying glass.

“This watch has been recently cleaned,” he said. “I can smell faint traces of the cleaning solution. However, despite the lack of data, I can tell that this watch belonged to a rather careless canine. He was down on his luck more than once as well, which is how you came to own it, I’m sure.”

“I say! You never cease to amaze me, Mr. Paxton! That is quite right. An old friend recently sold it to me. How did you figure it out?”

He smiled at my amazement and handed the pocket watch back to me, “It is a simple observation, Kipper,” he said, “There are little dents on the surface of the watch, which tells me it was often in the same pocket as other hard objects, like loose change or keys. Also, despite being cleaned, there are bits of crumbs in the hinge. Only a careless dog would keep a solid gold watch in a pocket with other hard materials and unwrapped biscuits. Imagine the lint those biscuits collected! Gold is not only valuable but a soft metal as well. It can dent and bend very easily. As for being down on his luck, if you would take my magnifying glass, you would notice several numbers scratched onto the inside case. It is customary for pawnbrokers to use these numbers to keep track of inventory. Since I know that you do not shop at these types of stores, I can conclude that you bought it from a friend in need of money.”

“Amazing!” I said. He seemed pleased at my praise, a smile forming under his bushy graying mustache. Since knowing Paxton, I have come to realize that he is a somewhat vain dog when it comes to his mystery solving. Occasionally I do attempt to knock him down a few pegs, but I have yet to stump him with any question.

“You only think so, because you do not follow the same train of thought as I. No matter, though, for you have your own strengths. Perhaps our visitors will have a more puzzling issue for us.”

I was just about to ask who he was speaking of when I heard light footfalls upon the steps leading up to our apartments. Amazed once again at his talent, I rose to open the door at the gentle knock once they reached the landing.

“Good evening, sirs, madam,” I said.

“Good evening, please forgive our intrusion. My name is Mary Morstan, and this is Mr. Thaddeus Sholto and his brother, Mr. Bart Sholto. We were hoping to speak to Mr. Paxton concerning a grave matter.”

A rather plain lady greeted me, large dark eyes set deep into the face, with beautiful white fur smoothed back behind long, well groomed, ears. Her friends were shaggy sheepdogs of questionable bathing habits, but their suits were well made and of high quality. I would have to tell our landlady about the dirt one of them tracked up the stairs unfortunately.               

“Please do come in, I am called Kipper Doodle. May I introduce Mr. Paxton,” I said, pointing to my companion who had set chairs out for our guests.

“A pleasure I’m sure,” he said. “Please sit.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Miss Mary, “We were referred to you by my employer, Mrs. Lapphund. You helped her some time ago with a set of missing bowls of high quality. She assured me that no other could help me with this mystery.”

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Lapphund. I trust she is well. Now, you had best lay out the details, and pray don’t leave anything out. We must have all the facts.”

“Of course. There has been a terrible crime, Mr. Paxton, one which we cannot comprehend–”

“A most heinous crime!” broke in Mr. Bart, “Our inheritance! Gone!”

“Gone!” said Mr. Thaddeus.

“A most serious matter indeed gentlemen. Please continue, Miss Morstan,” said Mr. Paxton, his pleasant manner showing in his easy smile.

“Yes, as I was saying, someone has stolen a bejeweled bone that was left to us by our fathers, who were great friends. Through some investigating of our own, we recently found the hidden treasure in the cellar of the Sholto home. We followed clues left to me by my father. They both died about ten years ago.”

“Quite the achievement, my friends!” said Mr. Paxton. The Sholto boys seemed pleased by his praise, for they settled down some and let Miss Morstan continue.

“Last night we came to the city for dinner, and when we returned discovered that the bone was gone! All the doors were locked, and the treasure was kept in the cellar where there are no windows. We could find no clues suggesting who had done it.” She seemed quite upset now. Thaddeus offered his handkerchief so she could dry her tears.

“Was the door to the cellar locked as well?” asked Mr. Paxton.

“Yes,” said Mary, “And I have the only key here, around my neck. Along with the key to the chest.” She proceeded to pull out two small keys tied to a ribbon that she wore as a necklace.

“Wonderful. Thank you. There is nothing else? No other details you might have overlooked?” he said.

“We searched the room, but could only find this strange hammer,” said Mr. Thaddeus. From his coat pocket, he withdrew a small decorative hammer. It was made from a white stone I had never seen before. At the end of the handle, there was a tassel made of leather and pretty wooden beads.

“Well, that is strange, Mr. Thaddeus. What do you think of it, Paxton?” I said.

He took the hammer from Thaddeus and sniffed the beads. Then he took out his trusty magnifying glass and looked at the white stone.

“Very interesting. I believe it is from the Bay of Bengal,” he said.

“How do you know that?” asked Bart.

“I can smell the salt water, which suggests that it has recently been on a boat in the sea. These beads are very special as well. I just finished reading a book on the Bay of Bengal. It is a little bit of ocean between India and Burma. There are some islands there, where these beads come from. Whoever left this behind is a warrior from these islands. A hammer like this is used for hunting and foraging in the jungle.”

We were all stunned by Mr. Paxton’s knowledge. The Sholto brothers looked doubtful, but Miss Mary Morstan looked excited at this new clue. I would have to start reading more books, I decided. There were many in the bookshelves around the room. Maybe someday I would be able to solve a mystery before Mr. Paxton!

“You can learn a lot from books, my friends. I have never had the chance to visit the Bay of Bengal, so I decided to read about it. It is a good thing that I did too! I will keep this, if you please, to help put us on the scent. Now, were there any other details? No? Well then, I suggest that you go and have some dinner in town, the Kibble Diner is excellent. Kipper Doodle and I will take a look at your home for any missed clues. We will meet you back here at midnight sharp.”

“It is not possible! Surely you require more time than that to solve our mystery,” said Mr. Thaddeus.

“Oh, I wouldn’t put anything past Mr. Paxton,” I said though I was doubtful myself.

“It is settled then, gentlemen, lady. Off you go. We shall all see each other again soon,” said Mr. Paxton. Our new clients hurried out the door and down the steps to a cab on the street.

“Only a few hours, my friend,” I said, “We should get a move on.”

“Agreed. Grab your coat and cane, dear Kipper Doodle, if my assumptions are correct, we may need to walk a bit to find this sparkling bone,” he said. “And I know just the bloke to help us stay on the trail!”

“And who would that be, Mr. Paxton?” I asked.

“My dear friend Toby,” he said, “You will never meet a dog with a stronger nose. He could track an ant in a rainstorm!”

“I say! That is a powerful nose, indeed!” Excited now, I grabbed my overcoat and cane. I straightened my favorite green bowtie and followed Paxton out the door.