Posts Tagged ‘The Dog Who Knew Too Much’

Back to Court

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February 11th, 2022 Posted 7:43 am

Yesterday we posted video of a courtroom scene. Here’s one from the Chet and Bernie series (which can be read in any order!), specifically The Dog Who Knew Too Much:

I’d been in court rooms before, even been exhibit A for my buddy Judge Jaramillo, down in the Valley, but never one this small. It had only two benches on either side of a narrow aisle, then two long desks, and in front of that and raised up on a dais another desk, at which Judge Stringer was sitting. He wore a black robe and looked real tired. At each of the two desks sat a group of two people, their backs to us. One of those people was Bernie. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit! This was the worst moment of my life.

 

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Fritzie Bortz

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January 7th, 2022 Posted 8:20 am

Fritzie Bortz – a recurring character in the Chet and Bernie series – may surprise you in the next C&B novel, Bark to the Future (August). Here he is in The Dog Who Knew Too Much, stepping onto the stage for the first time – and at a moment when Chet could use a little help. (Some names are tiny sound poems.)

A cop appeared at the window, face kind of obscured by his motorcycle helmet.

“License and registration,” he said.

Now was the moment for saying “couldn’t be over ninety,” but Butch did not. Instead he went with, “Seventy-one on this speedometer, officer – gonna write me up for bein’ six over?” Which I knew was a loser.

“License and registration,” the cop repeated. He took them, returned to his motorcycle, soon came back with a ticket. “Clocked you at eighty-five,” he said. “Have a nice day.”
A vein throbbed in the back of the Butch’s neckless neck. The sight made me bark, not loud, don’t know why. The cop crouched down a bit, peered into the car.

“Hey!” he said. “Is that Chet?”

I peered back. If it wasn’t Fritzie Bortz! A terrible motorcycle driver with lots of crashes on his record; we’d visited him in the hospital not that long ago, he and Bernie downing a bottle of bourbon, but not the real big size. It was great to see Fritzie. My tail started wagging.

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Beginnings

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October 10th, 2021 Posted 7:51 am

Sunday is when we do beginnings, taking a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker™. Since yesterday we mentioned Gussie Fink-Nottle’s speech at Market Snodsbury Grammar School in P.G. Wodehouse’s Right, Ho Jeeves, how about today we try The Dog Who Knew Too Much, an in media res beginning where Bernie is giving the keynote speech to the Great Western Private Eye Association? It would be dishonest to say Gussie wasn’t in the back of my mind:

Was I proud of Bernie or what?

True, he’d been pretty nervous going into this gig. I can always tell when Bernie’s nervous – which hardly ever happens, and never when we’re in action – because his smell sharpens a bit, although it’s still the best human smell there is, apples, bourbon, salt and pepper; but now, up on the stage, he was doing great.

“Which, um,” he was saying, “reminds me of a joke. “Sort of. Maybe not a joke,” he went on, turning a page, “more like a – “ and at that moment the whole wad of papers somehow jumped out of his hands, all the pages gliding down in different directions.

 

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Beginnings: The Dog Who Knew Too Much

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June 27th, 2021 Posted 7:52 am

Sunday is when we do beginnings, taking a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker™ (a strange word we have taken possession of). I overheard a conversation about public speaking recently, so how about today we open The Dog Who Knew Too Much?

Was I proud of Bernie or what?

True, he’d been pretty nervous going into this gig. I can always tell when Bernie’s nervous – which hardly ever happens, and never when we’re in action – because his smell sharpens a bit, although it’s still the best human smell there is, apples, bourbon, salt and pepper; but now, up on the stage, he was doing great.

“Which, um,” he was saying, “reminds me of a joke. “Sort of. Maybe not a joke,” he went on, turning a page, “more like a – “ and at that moment the whole wad of papers somehow jumped out of his hands, all the pages gliding down in different directions.

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