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Choose from these exciting, original kids’ audio stories.
Clem
the Detective Dog | The Mystery of Lost Dragon CastlePrivate detective Albert Muldoon sat behind his battered desk in his musty, dusty office at 101 Wiggleworm Street, London, ENGLAND. Albert was in a bad mood. Ever since the day he had made the terrible mistake of handcuffing the Chief of Police and letting the bank robber get away, no one had wanted to hire him. Just then a long white envelope fell through the letter slot onto his ratty, tatty carpet. Scurrying across the office, Albert scooped up the envelope in his pudgy little hands. First he shook it. Then he sniffed it. Next he held the envelope up to the light bulb hanging from a raggedy cord over his desk. When none of Albert’s clever detective tricks worked, he read the address. Detective Albert Muldoon After scratching his dandruff-covered head and tossing a pencil at Billy the Mouse, who was just peaking out of his hole, Albert muttered to himself, “Why, that’s me. Whoa! I must be a mighty fine detective to have figured that out so quick.” When Albert opened the envelope and shook it, five small pieces of paper tumbled onto his desk and one more fluttered to the floor. Bending over to grab it, Albert smacked his nose on the sharp corner of his desk, causing his nose to bleed. Because his handkerchief was already stuck in a hole in his shoe, he squeezed his nose with his necktie. “Renfro, Renfro, come quick,” Albert yelled. “I’ve been attacked by an angry envelope.” “Fight back, Boss. You’re a lot bigger,” came the laughing reply from the next office. “Get in here now, Renfro. It’s a tough, sneaky envelope and I’m afraid it’s just begun to fight.” A moment later a tall, red-headed man wearing a green plaid suit, followed by a sleek black hound dog, ambled into Albert’s office. First putting a paperweight on the envelope to reassure his boss that he was safe, Renfro picked up the missing scrap of paper and spread all six out on Albert’s desk, where the detectives saw they were covered with thin lines that could be assembled to form a pattern, like a jigsaw puzzle. After moving the little pieces up, down and around for a few minutes, the two men finally put them together correctly. Pulling out his magnifying glass, Albert asked, “What is the picture supposed to be? An erector set?” “Boss, if you’ll wipe the peanut butter off your magnifying glass and take another look, you’ll see it’s a skeleton.” After licking the brown gunk off his magnifying glass, Albert said, “Renfro, I’m right, as usual – it’s a skeleton. And look, there’s something written underneath.” Discover where
I am “Boss, I know I’ve seen exactly this skeleton drawing before. I just can’t think where.” “Nonsense,” Albert replied, nervously twisting the signet ring on the middle finger of his right hand. “This is obviously a clue to where we can find a big treasure ball of diamonds, rubies and gold. We’ll be rich.” “You must be joking. Since we have no idea where to look for this skeleton, how will we find the ball of treasure – assuming it even exists?” Ignoring Renfro, Albert wiped the magnifying glass on his greasy shirt -- just where it stretched over his plump tummy -- before squinting at the tiny post office mark on the front of the envelope. “Lookee here. This letter was mailed from Lost Dragon Castle in Scotland. That means that the skeleton and the treasure must be close by.” “Oh no. Not me. No, no, no,” Renfro almost shouted. “I’m not going near that terrible black castle. Didn’t you listen to the news this morning?” When Albert shook his head, Renfro continued, “Seventy-six London detectives have gone missing up there, not counting Chauncy McGillicutty, who is so dumb he probably just got lost. When you think about it, except for us there’s not a private detective left in London.” “Come on,” urged Albert. “We leave for Lost Dragon Castle in an hour. And I definitely mean ‘we.’ Just imagine a treasure ball made up of diamonds, rubies and gold that’s only guarded by a few old bones.” “I’ll only come if we bring Clem, the world’s greatest detective hound,” Renfro said, scratching the ears of the shiny black dog at his side. “Okay, but if that beast puts his slobbery face on my pillow, it will cost you two rubies and a diamond,” Albert replied. That evening, when the train pulled into the lonely station near Lost Dragon Castle, Albert and Renfro went to let Clem out of the baggage car. Imagine their surprise when they found the shiny black dog sitting on a purple velvet blanket, wearing a small golden crown and munching a rare burger. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just had a wee little party to thank your brilliant doggie,” Angus, the skinny little baggage master said. “Thank Clem? For what?” Albert asked. “For getting rid of the rats, of course. For every one of the 19 years I’ve worked in this baggage car, I’ve been tormented by a large family of mean, greedy rats,” Angus explained with a shy grin. “Every cat I brought in to get rid of them took just one look before running into the night, meowing in fright. And every time the rats scared off another cat, they got even meaner.” “But what could this dumb-bunny hound possibly have done to solve your problem?” Albert asked, looking at Clem’s rare burger so greedily Renfro expected him to drop to his knees and begin chewing the other side. “Clem told the rats how handsome and beautiful they looked. Then he invited them to be in a talent show -- you know, ratty singing, ratty dancing, and even ratty juggling.” “Sounds like the sort of party guaranteed to get the rats to stay forever,” Albert snorted. “Like you, Muldoon, at first I was too dim-witted to figure out Clem’s brilliant plan. But it were a thing of beauty. When we reached Cuttybriar Station, this brilliant doggie hopped onto the platform and made a lovely-looking ratty stage using a golden cloth and my shaving mirror.” “Let me guess the rest,” chuckled Renfro. “All those stuck-up rats raced out onto the platform to admire themselves. Then when Clem leaped back into the baggage car, you closed the door and the train pulled out. End of rats.” “Right-o! End of rats. -- End of rats,” the baggage master chortled, giving Clem a big sloppy kiss. When the three detectives left the station they walked through a swirling fog into town. Needing a place to stay, they found the Bald Vulture Hotel, where they entered the large wood-paneled front hall. The hotel looked friendly enough if you weren’t bothered by the elderly turkey vulture pecking a piece of bloody meat on the mantel. Ducking to avoid a spider web, the detectives were greeted by the oldest man they had ever met. Dressed from head to toe in black, with a cat of the same color sitting on his left shoulder, the man was entirely bald except for one crinkly white hair standing straight up from the center of his egg-shaped head. “Ah-ha, you must be London detectives,” he croaked as he ran his little pink tongue over his toothless gums. “How did you guess?” Albert asked. “Easy, -- 76 other London detectives slept here in the last few days. After just one night, he (or sometimes she) headed up the mountain to Lost Dragon Castle and that’s the end of the sad story.” “What do you mean, end of detectives?” Renfro asked, ducking his shaggy red head to avoid a bat. Reaching up with his claw-like hand to twist his one remaining white hair into a little curl, all the while giving the completely bald vulture a superior glance, the old man replied with a sigh, “Not even one of those curious buggers has come back down the mountain.” After signing the check-in book, Albert, Renfro and Clem headed up to their room on the third floor at the end of a crooked, cobwebby hall. But even after they were tucked into the room’s one big bed, neither man nor dog could sleep. It wasn’t the ghost-like shadows flickering across the ceiling, or the screechy, creaky sounds oozing from the walls that made them shiver in their sheets. No, what caused their noses to go cold was the tap, tap, and tap sound that echoed through the room. At first it sounded pretty ordinary. Tap, tap, tap But then, after a short pause, it returned -- but louder. TAP, TAP, TAP. Finally, after it had been quiet for a few minutes, and just when the detectives began to hope their imaginations were playing tricks on them, it sounded louder still. TAP, TAP, TAP. Desperate for sleep, Renfro put his fingers in his ears and a pillow over his head. But nothing could block out the tap, tap, tap, Finally, able to stand it no longer, Renfro slipped out of bed and opened the door, only to see that the hall light had gone out. Taking a deep breath, with his trusty friend Clem at his heels, Renfro began feeling his way along the wall of the tomb-black hall towards the tap, tap, tapping. He had gone less than ten steps
when his inquiring fingers touched nothing but air. Twittery
with fear, Renfro was about to scurry back to bed when he felt
something warm and wet nuzzle his nose and heard Clem’s
familiar “But how could this be?” Renfro thought. How could Clem, who stood only about two and a half feet tall, be licking his nose? Putting aside his terror and calmly using his detective’s brain, Renfro realized, “Clem must have climbed up on something.” And sure enough, when he felt up, down and around the empty space, his fingers found Clem sitting on the third step of a narrow steep stairs. Tap, tap, tap With the tapping sound now coming from right overhead, Renfro took a deep breath and followed Clem up the stairs until they both crouched in the attic above. Tap, tap, tap Just when Renfro’s blood seemed to run so cold he feared turning into a six-foot, red-headed ice cube, Clem reared up on his hind legs, putting his front paws on the wall, and happily Yawp, yawped. Feeling around the spot Clem was pawing, Renfro found a doorknob. When he yanked it open, something – or was it someone -- tumbled onto the attic floor with a thud. Just then Albert came up the stairs holding a candle. By its light they could plainly see a little man wearing purple pajamas rolled up like a scared caterpillar. “Chauncy – Chauncy McGillicutty – the dumbest detective in London. What are you doing here?” Albert asked. “I’m not as stupid as you think, Albert. When old One Hair downstairs told me that 76 London detectives had gone missing, I decided to escape in the middle of the night. And I would have, too, if a hairy monster hadn’t trapped me in this dungeon.” “What dungeon? What hairy monster?” Renfro chuckled. “You opened the wrong door and shut yourself into the broom closet with your nose stuck in a feather dustmop. I hate to say it, Chauncy, but you really are the dumbest London detective.” Next morning, Albert, Renfro and Clem, along with the still shaky, pale Chauncy, began climbing the windy road towards the Lost Dragon Castle. Everyone was fearful except Albert, who over and over sang a silly little song -- “Golden Bars and Diamond
Stars, A Ball of Treasure, Just outside the crocodile filled moat that circled the castle’s high black walls, Clem, who had run a little ahead, began barking. By the time the others caught up he was sitting atop a large pile of fresh bones, gnawing a bloody rib with his sharp white teeth. “Cannibal! Cannibal! Stop this minute or I’ll feed you to a crocodile!” Albert shouted. Not even bothering to look up, Clem kept crunching the bones. Angrily, Albert started towards Clem. But Renfro stopped him by stepping on his shoelace, which, as usual, was untied. “Let me go, you bloody cannibal keeper. Can’t you see these bones are all that’s left of the missing detectives? That hungry hound of yours is eating our friends.” Realizing Albert was too upset to listen to an explanation, Renfro simply mooed. Moooo. And then again. Mooooo. Albert stopped struggling and said, “Poor Renfro. You’re not only a cannibal keeper, but a crazy one as well.” “Boss! -- Get a grip! I’m trying to tell you Clem is munching cow bones, not people bones. Look for yourself -- those ribs he’s eating are not only huge, they are right next to a pile of cow skins.” “Someone must be having a barbecue,” Chauncy McGillicutty said in a voice so amazed you might have thought he had discovered a new planet. When Albert finally calmed down and Clem stopped munching, the four detectives crossed the drawbridge over the moat. To their surprise, the castle’s tall, thick wood doors stood open. Overhead flapped a blood-red flag bearing the design of a black skeleton – exactly the same skeleton as had appeared on the Ball of Treasure note. “I smell a trap,” Albert murmured, crouching low and pulling out his magnifying glass. “The first lesson at detective school is that no one hiding treasure leaves the doors open.” After licking dried chocolate pudding off the magnifying glass, Albert crept into the dimly lit castle, looking nervously this way and that. He was less than a dozen steps inside when a rattling sound caused him to glance to his left, where he saw a white skeleton rushing towards him out of the gloom. Turning to run back outside, Albert’s path was blocked by three long-nosed witches clutching their brooms and muttering D-o-o-m, d-o-o-m, d-o-o-m. Looking up, as if safety might lie that way, Albert spotted an apricot-colored gorilla swinging towards him from the high ceiling. And that’s when he fainted. Albert awoke a few moments later to find himself in a comfy armchair in the castle’s bright cheerful dining hall. Chauncy McGillicutty sat next to him drinking a glass of cream soda, while nearby Renfro and Clem munched hunks of lemon cake with chocolate frosting as they relaxed on a soft couch. All around, the other 76 London detectives, dressed in the costumes of witches, ghosts, skeletons -- and yes, even an apricot-colored gorilla – sang, danced, drank and ate. “Where am I? What’s happening? Where’s the ball of diamonds and rubies?” Albert spluttered. “Diamonds and rubies, my big toe,” chuckled a jolly woman detective dressed as a green frog costume. “That supposed treasure note you opened was your invitation to the London Detective Club’s Costume Dance Party. Didn’t you figure out that the initials LDC for Lost Dragon Castle are exactly the same as for London Detective’s Club?” “And that’s not the only big clue you missed,” she added. “The skeleton drawing on the six scraps of paper you fit together is exactly the same as the one we use on our club ring and red flag. If you don’t believe me, take a look at the skeleton design on the ring you’re wearing on the second finger of your right hand. “And just in case those weren’t enough big clues, there are the words ‘Treasure Ball.’” “Yes,” said Albert. “Poor Albert, you still don’t understand, do you,” the frog lady said. “The note doesn’t say ‘Ball of Treasure,’ it says ‘Treasure Ball.’ And look right here in the dictionary -- one meaning for the word ‘ball’ is ‘a large party for dancing.’” “Sorry, Albert, we should have guessed you would never figure out that you were being invited to the London Detective Club’s Costume Dance Party. After all, you are the dumbest detective in London.” “What?! No-o-o-o,” Albert replied. “Chauncy McGillicutty is well known to be the dumbest London detective.” “Not any more, Albert,” Renfro chuckled. “When you fainted, Chauncy was smart enough to nominate you to take his place. “When our Club president asked for a vote, at first everyone hesitated. But when Clem raised his paw high, all 76 Detectives put their hands in the air, meaning that you were unanimously elected as the new Dumbest London Detective.” The End
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