Charlie Moore Detective

The snowflakes are falling down like pieces of cotton.  They are falling slowly to the ground. It’s the perfect day to play outside and get wet.  I grab my nice pants and parka for skiing, I slip on my favourite pair of socks and rubber boots, grab the touque and gloves and ask Betty if she is in the mood to play with snow.  “I am not in the mood Charlie, ask Harold.  He likes to play outside when it’s cold and wet.  I prefer the warm.” Betty is not the type of spider that likes snow, she usually stays at home when I go skiing with my parents.

It’s a little late in the day and it won't be long until my Dad gets home.  Mom is cooking, as usual for this time of day. “Mom, I’m going out to play with Harold.” “Don’t be late and stay around here, Charlie. Dad will be home shortly for dinner.”  I’m running to the front door and Harold is chasing me.  We slam the door and run into the snow, sliding and jumping. It’s getting dark but with the huge white cotton flakes it doesn’t look too dark.  The street lights are giving off a yellow shine.  The sweet smell of cedar is flowing through the cool night air.

Jeremy and Jack who live across the street are also out making snowballs, and when they see us they start throwing snowballs at us. We avoid them by jutting from one side to the other.  I don’t like to fight.  I also don’t like to get hit by snowballs.  We run down the street, to where Margaret lives.  She’s out playing with the snow and a red plastic shovel. “Hi Margaret, what are you doing?” “Playing with the snow, I am making a castle for a princess.  Do you want to help me, Charlie Moore?” I look at Harold and ask him what he prefers to do, play with Margaret or get into a fight with the guys across the street. “I’d rather play with Margaret than fight with those kids. I would, however, like to go for a walk to the park and back.  Ask Margaret if she wants to come with us.” I’ve always liked how Harold talks, he is such a young pup yet he speaks to me like a grown up with a pipe in his mouth and a book in his hand.

“Harold would like to go to the park. Would you like to come with us?” “How do you know that Harold wants to do that?” she asks, as she gives me dirty looks with her hands crossed over her chest, typical, coming from her. Margaret is in my class.  She likes the desk in the front and she’s always lifting her hand to speak in class.  I sit in the middle-left hand side of the classroom, close to the windows to watch what’s going on outside.

“He just told me! So do you?”  She drops the shovel and crosses her arms and comes along with us.  We’re walking slowly over the slippery white carpet. “Now Charlie Moore, tell me how is it that you know what Harold wants.” I look at her proud of myself as Harold whispers “Charlie, watch out what you say to her.”

“I can talk to Harold,” I say, “Betty, my spider friend, told me that I could.” “Betty...? A spider friend of yours...? Come on Charlie Moore, have you been watching too much television?” I nodded, tilting my head sideways, like admitting something bad. “I can talk to Harold,” I repeat in a very quiet voice.

“Charlie, there's a man going into the Wood’s house,” Harold said.  I turned to look across the street.  Mr. and Mrs. Wood are a nice older couple that live on the other side of the street.  Sometimes they give me cookies that Mrs. Wood has baked, and they like to talk to me and give me small jobs and pay me with five dollar bills. They have gone to see their daughter for a couple of weeks, she lives in another town that I can’t remember the name. I saw the backyard door closing behind a shadow. “Margaret, somebody's going in the house across the street, we better go to check, are you coming?”

Margaret looked at me with a face like she couldn't believe it. “Come on Margaret, come with us,” I shout while crossing the street running. “Don’t make any noise Charlie,” Harold says. There were foot prints in the snow towards the Wood’s backyard door. I noticed Margaret following us at a safe distance. Walking with knees bent, so that we are closer to the ground, hidden, we reach the door.  It is  slightly open, enough for us to slide in.  Harold is in front of me, looking around with his ears pointed up. A noise of broking glass comes from the kitchen.  Harold turns to me, “Go for help, someone has broken into the house, I will start barking while you get some help, quickly Charlie, make lots of noise!”  Harold turns to the kitchen door and starts barking.

“Help! Help!" I shout at the top of my lungs.  "Someone is in the Wood’s house!”  Margaret jumps back, scared. “Go to tell your Mom," I command her, "someone has broken into the Wood’s home.  Call the police!” I run to the neighbour’s home and start knocking at the door and ringing the bell, Mr. Chang opens the door. “Mr. Chang, someone is breaking into the Wood’s house, I need help, call the police!” I say, having troubles breathing because of the excitement.  Margaret is at her house talking to her Mom and John Fraser.  Her dad is taking long steps towards the Wood’s.  Mr. Fraser is a pretty scary man, big, very big, I have always been a little afraid of him.

As soon as Mr. Chang sees Mr. Fraser walking towards the Wood’s house, he starts going there too.  Bridgett, her daughter who is also in our class comes out and watches from her door. Harold is still barking at the back of the house.  I run to Mr. Fraser who is reaching the Wood’s entrance.  “He is at the back,” I shout and run to the backyard door. Mr. Fraser runs behind me along with Mr. Chang.  Harold is tired of barking and barking at the door. Mr. Fraser passes me and goes into the Wood’s kitchen, turns the light on at the same time as  Mr. Chang is getting into the kitchen. I pick Harold up in my arms, “Thanks Charlie, I am so tired of barking and I'm cold.” He rubs his face in my chest.

A few minutes later Mr. Fraser drags a scruffy looking guy into the kitchen by his neck.  The scruffy guy looks shaken up and afraid.   “Look what I got here Charlie!” exclaims Mr. Fraser, looking at the scared burglar with his ogre.  “This one will never step foot in this neighbourhood again!” he shouts in the man’s ear.   Hearing that shout, Harold and I are scared too!  As we walk out to the backyard the blue lights of the police car shine over the fence.  A big policeman shows up in the backyard, takes the burglar and puts handcuffs on him.   They start talking amongst themselves, grown up things.  I ask  Mr. Fraser to fix the broken glass in the kitchen door.  He gives me the spooky looks and I run away home.

Running in the front door, I grab a towel from the basket beside the door and start drying Harold, “Mom! Mom! You have no idea what happened across the street, Harold saw a burglar breaking into the Wood’s house.  Mr. Fraser got him and the police are there now!”  Harold is dry now so I start taking off my ski clothes.  Ding...Dong...the doorbell rings.  I open the door and the big policeman is standing there. “Are you Charlie Moore?” he asks.

 “Yes I am and who are you?” I reply.

 “I'm Constable Prett.  I want you to tell me what happened at the Wood’s house tonight” he continued.

“Well...” I started, “I was walking with Harold and Margaret to the park when Harold told me that someone was going into the Wood’s backyard...”

“Who is Harold?” asked the Constable.

“Harold is my dog, Haaarold...” I called Harold to come.

“Nice dog,” the Constable said passing his huge hand over Harold’s head.

“OK, so Harold noticed someone going into the Wood’s house and you picked up on that?”

“No, he just told me that someone was going into the backyard of the Wood’s house.”

“Haaaaa...I get it, your dog can talk, is that right?”

“Exactly, he talks to me, can you hear him?” he gave me that grown up look that I see so often, how come they don’t get it. 

"Yes I can talk to Harold and almost all of the animals around," I added.

Mom was standing behind me and said to the Constable, “Charlie talks to Harold, do you understand?”

What a name, by the way, “Constable”.  I want to be a Constable when I grow up.  “Charlie talks to Harold, do you understand?” she repeated.  I knew they thought that they were talking in a grown up language that I didn't understand, wuuaa!  I get it and I understand that they have no imagination!