The Dog Who Ate The Burglar

By Edward Coburn

When there’s a rash of burglaries in Canary Corners, West Virginia, the sheriff asks Adam to use his finder skills to help figure out who the burglar is. Unbidden, Bagel, Adam's beagle, offers clues through the use of Boggle dice and the game of colors to help Adam and the sheriff solve the mystery of the burglar who has committed a murder.

Authors note: Just as with The Dog Who Ate The Airplane, this book will never have any profanity (not one word), any overt sex (the most is the occasional smile, wink and maybe slight innuendo), and no overt bloodshed (someone is always murdered, but, as the reader, you only find out after the fact, you will not be a witness to the murder).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Coburn
• Release date: Nov 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301061259

Edward Coburn

Edward J. Coburn is a computer programmer and a long-time writer. He began his writing career while teaching college when he started writing textbooks. Now, with many textbooks to his credit, he began seriously writing fiction in about 1996. His first book, Order of the White Feather: The sword of Dalamar may be purchased at Smashwords along with his latest book The Last Killer Standing. He is now writing a new alphabetical series of books beginning with The Dog Who Ate The Airplane: An Adam And Bagel Mystery Book 1. The Dog Who Ate The Burglar: An Adam And Bagel Mystery Book 2 was released in November 2012 and The Dog Who Ate The Crossbow: An Adam And Bagel Mystery Book 3 was released December 2012. The Dog Who Ate The Drawing: An Adam And Bagel Mystery Book 4 was released April 2013, The Dog Who Age The Elephant: An Adam And Bagel Mystery Book 5 was released September 2013 and the short story Bagel Helps Find Robin Hood was also released September 2013. His wizard book Aaron Franks Attends the Montana Academy for Advanced Magic and Wizard Studies The Order of Magic: Book 1 was released January 2014. His second Wizard book Aaron Franks and the Treasure of Leonardo was released September 2014.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Adam Martin Swope arrived at Marti Blossom’s house, in her well-kept neighborhood of Canary Corners, West Virginia, at precisely five fifteen as had been previously arranged.

Good evening, my lady, Adam said after Marti answered the door. Ready to go?

Did you think there was any possibility I wouldn’t be?

None at all. It’s merely something to say. Adam leaned over, giving her a deeply passionate kiss. Where are your bags?

They’re in the bedroom. Follow me.

Adam had been in her house as far as the living room, but hadn’t been invited into the bedroom yet. He still held out hope that he would be and not only to get her bags. Just now, however, they were going to Maine to visit Adam’s sister, Sarah, and see her son in a play.

Adam picked up the bags, heading for the front door.

Did you ever find out what play your nephew’s in?

"I did. It’s a musical called The Pirates of Blue Hill Bay."

Marti stopped and thought a moment as she fished her key out of her purse to lock the deadbolt on her door. Never heard of it.

Adam didn’t respond as they walked to the car. Opening the back of his minivan, he put her bags next to his, and closed the tailgate. I’m not surprised. According to Sarah, someone local wrote the play. It’s very loosely based on a true story about some pirate ships that used to frequent Blue Hill Bay in Maine. He walked to the passenger side of the car, opened the door for her, and then hurried to the other side, letting himself in. Apparently the guy took several years to write the play and compose the songs in it. Adam pulled away from the curb.

How many songs are there?

Sarah wasn’t sure. She hasn’t seen the entire play yet, but she thinks there are five songs, according to what Ryan has told her.

Does Ryan sing in the play?

Yes. He sings in the chorus on one of the songs and has a duet with a girl on another with a bit of a solo in that one. Adam scanned the highway before turning left onto the highway to Charleston.

Cool. How’s his voice?

Adam shrugged. Honestly, I don’t know. I heard him sing in a school pageant several years ago, but haven’t heard him sing since. Apparently, his choir teacher’s been giving him private lessons after school. Sarah says he’s good now, but I take anything she says about her kids with a grain of salt. I think she’s a bit partial.

She wouldn’t be much of a mother if she wasn’t.

True. How was your week?

Marti thought for a few moments, taking the time for a deep breath before beginning to discuss the essays her students had written about their most memorable characters. She spent the rest of their short trip to the airport in Charleston regaling him with some of the better stories. He thought a couple of them were especially touching. Naturally, most of them were about their parents, but several were about a favorite aunt or simply a neighbor. Those were the ones he found the most interesting.

Adam looked speculatively at Marti, though it had begun to grow dark so he couldn’t see her clearly. Maybe I could interview a couple of the kids and their parents for ‘Ram’s Ramblings.’ Adam hoped to continue to hide from his past life as a dual lottery winner and his notoriety as a finder, by writing for the Canary Corners Tweet, the local newspaper owned by his longtime friend Larry Archibald. Larry hired him to write a blog and column for the Tweet called Ram’s Ramblings. Larry had always been a notorious skinflint, so Adam wrote for him without pay, under the condition that Adam could write about anything that struck his fancy as long as Larry deemed the subject matter appropriate. Adam didn’t need to be paid anyway, as he’d become quite rich from his fifty million and eighty million dollar lottery wins. He hid under the pseudonym of Robert Adam Madigan—or Ram—and had decided on the catchy title of his column and blog, Ram’s Ramblings.

"I’m sure the kids would be thrilled to be interviewed for the Tweet. I imagine the subject of the interview would be appropriately excited as well, although some of them are not around anymore. Perhaps you could interview the ones that are, though. I don’t think it’d be wise to write Rambles based solely upon what my students have been told or perhaps witnessed. Their memories might not be very reliable. Besides which, kids have a tendency to, shall we say, embellish things."

That’s been my experience in the past, Adam thought. Agreed. I could start with the students and then interview the subjects of their papers, if they’re still alive of course. You’re right that I’d need to check the facts, when possible, before publishing anything. Based on what you’ve told me, I could possibly get more than one article out of some of them.

Not only possibly, I’d say probably.

That would depend on who’s available to interview, Adam thought. We’ll have to see.

They reached the airport with no problem and Adam parked in the parking spaces set aside for those chartering planes. He got their bags out of the back of the car and they walked into the charter office, pulling their wheeled bags. They checked in with the clerk at the counter and were quickly shown to the plane. Adam shook hands with the pilots and then he and Marti settled into their seats for the hour-long flight to Bangor, Maine. Adam felt that because there were no direct commercial flights from Charleston to Bangor, chartering a flight had to be the only way his short weekend visit could be practical.

They passed the time with small talk and an improvised game of Boggle, a word game that Adam and Marti played virtually every time they’d been together. Adam had shaken the Boggle dice the night before and written the matrices of letters. He had sixteen such letter sets and they played ten games before their plane landed. As a reporter, Adam considered himself good at word games, but because Marti taught high school English, she still had a slight advantage. She won six out of the ten games they played.

I ought to know better than to play word games with you by now, Adam said, putting the pens and notepads back inside his carry-on bag.

You didn’t enjoy yourself?

I didn’t mean that, he thought. Of course I did, but it’s embarrassing for a reporter to get beaten six out of ten times. He grinned, feigning embarrassment.

I guess I’ve simply read a wider variety of books than you have. As I recall, you said growing up that you read mostly Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, and Edgar Rice Burroughs. Right? She spread her hands in a questioning gesture.

He nodded. Good memory. That’s what I told you. You no doubt did read a wider variety of books than I did, beginning, of course, with Shakespeare. Adam had told her he didn’t like Shakespeare and had never read any while she taught Shakespeare to her students. Besides which, you’re smarter than I am, anyway. He looked at her seriously.

There you go with the blarney again. Marti always accused Adam of speaking blarney most any time he said something nice to her or about her to someone else. It’s not as if she didn’t appreciate the compliments he gave her, because she did. She only felt that she had to respond to the compliments in some way. Her Great Aunt Livinia, Adam’s neighbor in the Canary House apartments, had been the first to accuse Adam of being full of blarney. The first time Marti and Adam met, she emulated her aunt by saying he spoke blarney and, since that time, she couldn’t seem to stop telling him that.

Not at all. I have no doubt that you’re smarter than I am.

Does he really think that? she wondered. Thanks. But I really doubt it. I couldn’t be a crime reporter, helping the police track down criminals like you seem to have a penchant for doing. I’d never have been able to figure out who killed Dr. Harrison as you did, especially considering the police seemed to have no clue.

That was really no big deal. I simply had a few ideas, which led to clues, which ultimately led to Rodney Tabor, the killer. I only stumbled across him because I happened to get a flat tire and he happened to work in the tire store where I went to get the tire fixed. He still remembered how dumbfounded he’d been when he’d inadvertently discovered Rodney working at the tire shop.

As they left the plane after landing in Bangor, pulling their bags into the terminal, she said, I want to thank you again for inviting me to come along to see your nephew’s play.

No problem, I’m sure. He turned to her with a serious expression. Know this. I’ll always give you anything you desire as long as it’s within my means to do so and I’d be hard pressed to think of anything that would be outside my means.

You bragging about your riches again?

Absolutely not. As I told you before, I’m not proud of my wealth—I only came by my fortune by getting lucky with purchases and sales during the dot-com boom. He used this story that he’d told the people in Canary Corners to explain his wealth, while he hid from being a finder and the notoriety that came from winning the lotteries. If they knew where his money came from, it probably wouldn’t be long before someone figured out the truth about his being the finder that had been written up many times by the Chicago newspapers. But, if they thought his money came from the stock market, there’d be no reason for them to pair him with the stories of the finder. I only meant I’d be more than happy to purchase anything your heart desires.

All my heart desires right now is to be here with you. She reached over and put her hand in his. I am, so I really don’t need anything else.

He leaned over, giving her a brief kiss. I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am that you consented to come with me on this trip. He squeezed her hand a bit as they walked up to the rental car counter.

As I said before, I’m pleased that you asked me. I’m looking forward to seeing Ryan in the play.

I’m looking forward to it as well. Adam turned his attention to the clerk. In short order, Adam had filled out the papers and gotten the keys from the clerk. As they walked out of the terminal to where the car waited, he said, I don’t think I’ve told you, but I once thought that I might like to study acting in college. I was in a couple of plays in high school and naturally, I thought I was pretty good. A nice write-up or two in the school paper and I could scarcely get my head through the doorways into the classrooms.

No. You didn’t tell me you were in plays in high school. What were you in?

He stopped and thought for a moment. "I was in a couple of one-act plays when I was a freshman and, honestly, I don’t remember what the names of the plays were. I really only remember the one I was in when I was a senior. I was Mortimer in Arsenic and Old Lace. I presume you know what that is."

She nodded. "I doubt that there’s an English teacher anywhere in America that doesn’t know the play Arsenic and Old Lace. You were Mortimer? That’s a plum part. I really will have to ask him to join the theater troupe, she thought. No wonder you toyed with studying acting."

Yeah, but I was in a couple of one-act plays when I was a freshman in college, taking all the ‘Mickey Mouse’ courses that all freshmen have to take. Unfortunately, these one-act plays were comedies and I scarcely got a laugh. Because of that, I woke up to the harsh realization that I’m definitely not a comedic actor and scarcely an actor at all. He waved a hand in dismissal. That’s when I decided to switch to journalism. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Larry was my best friend and that’s what he was already majoring in. Not to mention we were in the same university.

They had arrived at the car. Adam loaded the bags in the trunk, unlocked the passenger side door, and helped her in. As he slid behind the steering wheel and started the car, she said, Did Larry go to college with something else in mind?

No. Being a reporter was all that ever interested Larry. Remember those nice reviews I mentioned? She nodded. Larry wrote one of them. He was no doubt overly nice.

Well, I’m sure Larry’s glad he talked you into journalism school.

Why? Just because I’m an excellent writer and he gets to use my talents for free?

I really doubt that using you for free has anything to do with it.

Oh yeah? You don’t know Larry like I know Larry. He’s a skinflint’s skinflint, a cheapskate’s cheapskate, a…

Okay, she said. I get the picture. I doubt he’s as bad as all that, though.

I could tell you stories. But I won’t bore you with them. Let’s talk about something else that’s a little more pleasant. Tell me about more of the essays you received, He said as he found the highway he needed and headed toward Sarah’s house about an hour away.

I will, but first I want to tell you something that you may not know. I think now is as good a time as any to tell him, she thought. Just as you never told me you like to act, I never told you I like to act. I belong to the Canary Corners community theater.

That doesn’t surprise me. A lot of English teachers dabble in the theater, as I understand it anyway.

She squeezed his hand excitedly and an extra sparkle came into her eyes. "We’re actually trying to get a cast together right now for this year’s Christmas performance of A Christmas Carol."

That’s a great play. I must’ve seen it ten times growing up, and, naturally, I’ve seen a movie in one of its various incarnations on TV probably an equal number of times. He thought about turning down what he interpreted as an invitation, but knew He really would enjoy trying out for the play even if, ultimately, He didn’t get a part. You think there might possibly be a part in it for me? I assume you’re going to be in the play.

I am if I get a part. I’d really like to play the Ghost of Christmas Past—that’s usually portrayed by a woman and I’ve played the ghost before.

Well, you certainly qualify for that, being a woman I mean. He grinned, although she couldn’t see him do it anymore.

All right, let’s not start that again. Yes, to answer your question, I imagine there’d be a part for you. I can’t picture you as Scrooge, however. Although, she thought, he’d be perfect for the part. Instead, she said, You’re much too generous for that part. It would hardly be type-casting.

You don’t think I could play a curmudgeon?

Sweetheart, I think you could do anything you put your mind to.

Adam smiled. She had yet to use a term of endearment. He hadn’t used one either. Okay, enough about that. Let me hear some more essays.

Chapter 2

This looks like a nice place, Marti said as they drove up in front of Sarah’s house. What little of it I can see in the dark. Nice front yard.

It is a nice place. She and my mother bought the house before my mother passed away. My mother grew up near here. Several of her friends from many years ago were at the funeral. The daughter of one of her friends took care of Ryan and Sheila while Sarah spent time with Mom at the hospital.

Ryan opened the door and came running out while Adam walked around to the passenger side of the car to help Marti out. Uncle Adam, Ryan said excitedly, giving his uncle a hug. Marti looked at Adam quizzically, wondering why Ryan called him Uncle Adam. As far as she knew, he went by Ram. She wanted to ask him, but thought she’d wait until they were alone.

As they walked to the house, a girl of about eight opened the door saying, Uncle Adam, before giving him a hug.

Adam, Sarah said as she came into the living room. Sarah had been prepared to call Adam Ram or Robert but, because the kids called him Uncle Adam, she thought she’d better go along with the story he’d probably tell Marti, if he hadn’t already. I’d better ask him about it, she thought.

Marti, this is my sister Sarah. As you’ve probably surmised, this young man, Adam pointed at his nephew, is Ryan, and this beautiful young lady is Sheila.

Marti reached out a hand and Sarah shook her hand warmly. So pleased to meet you, Sarah. Ram has told me a little bit about you and how lovely you are, but it’s nice to finally meet you and learn that he’s been telling the absolute truth. Ram has a tendency towards blarney.

My dear brother speaks blarney? I don’t believe it, Sarah said with a smile and a wink.

Based on your tone, I think you do believe it, Marti said.

Yes. Adam does have a tendency to exaggerate the truth. He didn’t exaggerate about you, however. You’re every bit as beautiful as he described.

I see you have the gift of blarney too. Marti smiled.

If you say so. Sarah looked at Adam. Does she always have trouble accepting compliments?

She does indeed, he thought. It seems so. Adam looked at Sarah as if seeing her for the first time. What’re you doing home? I thought you told me you were the new night manager of the Far North Hotel?

I am. But even the night manager gets a night off now and again.

Hello. Adam’s Aunt Mary came into the room. Sorry but I was in my room and fell asleep.

Aunt Mary, Adam said, taking Mary into his arms. Aunt Mary, I want you to meet Marti.

Marti reached out her hand and Mary shook it.

I’m their aunt, Mary, their mother’s sister. She died a couple of months back.

I know and I’m very sorry.

Sarah tells me you’re staying here so she can be the night manager at the Far North Hotel, Adam said.

I am. Mary nodded. There wasn’t anything to keep me in Bangor, so when Sarah told me about her promotion, I was happy to come help. I was only renting so it wasn’t a problem to stay here. Actually, I appreciate the opportunity to be with the kids. I never seemed to be able to get here very often when Agnes was alive.

Everyone understood why not, Aunt Mary, Sarah said.

That may be, but I still felt guilty about not being here more often to see Agnes before she passed.

It wasn’t your fault you got a cold and the doctors wouldn’t let you visit Mom anymore.

Mary shrugged.

Did you have to rearrange your schedule to accommodate our arrival? Marti asked Sarah.

No. I’d already made arrangements to be able to see Ryan’s play. But, even if I had, rearranging my schedule would’ve been worth it. I love meeting Adam’s friends and I certainly want to be here as much as I can while you two are visiting.

Marti turned to Ryan. I hear that you’re playing a major character in the play and you sing a couple of songs.

Ryan nodded but didn’t say anything.

Is it true you have a solo? Marti said.

Yes. I’ve been practicing. Ryan nodded, looking at the floor shyly.

So you’re ready for tomorrow night?

He’s ready. As a matter of fact, he’s getting antsy, Sarah said.

Ah, Mom, Ryan said.

It’s true, Sheila said.

Ryan punched at her arm good-naturedly.

Now none of that. We have guests, Sarah said.

Can we play Yahtzee? Ryan asked. They always played Yahtzee whenever Adam visited.

Adam looked at Sarah, who nodded. But only one game. It’s kind of late and you have a big night tomorrow, He said.

Okay, Ryan said, going into his bedroom to get the game.

While Ryan sets the game up, would you like to see the rest of the house, Marti? Sarah asked.

I would. It’s very nice.

It is. My mother found it. We flew out here to look at the house, the yard, and surrounding area and decided to buy it. Mom lived near here when she was no older than Sheila. They all followed Sarah as she showed Marti the house and Ryan set up the game. When they finished looking at the house, they played one game of Yahtzee that Ryan won easily as he’d thrown the only Yahtzee.

Another game? Ryan asked.

The deal was one game, Adam said.

Ryan hung his head in dramatic fashion. Shoot. He got up, walking around the table and picking up the score sheets.

As Ryan and Sheila headed for the hallway, Sarah said, No reading. I expect your lights to be out as soon as you get your teeth brushed.

Yes, Mother, Sheila said as she and Ryan continued down the hallway into the bathroom.

Sarah turned around, looked at Adam, and said, Shall we adjourn to the living room or do you want to go on to the hotel?

That depends, Adam said. Did you reserve our rooms?

Of course I did, and I made sure they knew you’d be in sometime after six.

Then we don’t have to be in a hurry.

Would you like some tea and, maybe, a piece of coconut cherry pie?

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise. Mom’s recipe?

Yes. I made sure she taught me how to make the pie before she got sick again. It’s not as good as she made, but it’s okay.

I’m sure it’s good. Adam looked at Marti. How about you? Mom made a mean coconut cherry pie. If Sarah’s is even close...

Please. It sounds yummy. Marti licked her lips. I love most anything made with coconut.

So do I, Adam said.

You want the pie with tea or with a glass of milk? Sarah knew Adam didn’t drink coffee.

What kind of tea do you have? Adam asked. Marti and I like mint with sugar and milk.

It just so happens I have some mint. With the pie, then?

Marti nodded and Adam said, That’ll work.

Do you need any help? Marti asked.

I don’t. But you’re welcome to stay with me in the kitchen.

Marti looked at Adam. He nodded and followed Mary into the living room. Soon they were back in the kitchen where they all enjoyed the pie and tea. While they ate, Sarah told Adam what time he needed to be there Saturday for the play.

As soon as Adam pulled away, on their way to the motel, Marti turned to him with narrowed eyes and tight lips. I’ve got a question.

He glanced at her. Upon seeing her expression, he asked, Am I in trouble? I wonder what I did now, he thought.

I suppose that depends on how you answer the next question.

Ouch. What is it?

Why did Ryan and Sheila call you Uncle Adam? I thought your name was Robert. She really hoped he had a reasonable explanation, but it had taken her by surprise.

He’d prepared himself for this before the trip. He knew the kids would call him Uncle Adam. It is. It’s Robert Adam Madigan. The answer to your question is easy. When I was growing up, I ran with a bunch of boys—several of them named Robert and a couple who went by Bob or Bobby. That being the case, I had them call me by my middle name, Adam. From then on, it sort of stuck. I hope she buys it, he thought.

But I thought you told me that everyone always called you Ram.

That came a bit later, after my sister already had the habit of calling me Adam. Then she continued to do so. Naturally, her kids picked up the name from her. Even my mom had the habit of calling me Adam.

Well, no offense, but I’ve never really liked the name Ram. It seems a bit harsh, or something, for a man of your sensibilities. If you don’t mind, I’d like to call you Adam as well, unless you would rather I call you Bobby.

Please, not Bobby. That was the name of one of my good friends in college who died a horrible death. You’re welcome to call me Adam.

Adam it is. I hope you didn’t think I was too nosey, but I was a bit confused when the kids called you Adam. She scratched her head absently.

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. You weren’t being nosey. I’m sure the name change was a bit confusing. I should have told you before and then you wouldn’t have been surprised. I meant to, but I simply forgot. Can you forgive me?

Don’t be silly. There’s nothing to forgive. I’m just glad my question had a simple explanation.

In another few minutes, the hotel came into view. They checked in and the clerk handed them two key cards.

Adam sat Marti’s bag in her room and turned to see her leaning against the doorjamb. Did I forget something? Adam asked.

No, she said, opening her arms. I just want you to hold me for a minute. It’ll help me sleep.

I hope you didn’t think I’d refuse an offer like that.

I was hoping you wouldn’t.

He took her in his arms, pulling her into the room so he could close the door. He whistled softly as he left her room a short time later.

After breakfast the next morning, Adam and Marti decided to take a drive because Marti had never been in Maine and Adam hadn’t spent much time there. When they returned late in the afternoon, they hurried to their rooms to change. Adam was waiting in the hall when Marti came out wearing a silver lamé gown. My gosh, Adam said, leaning against his door, you’re more beautiful every time I see you. He wore a light orange shirt with a blue sport coat and gray slacks.

You don’t look too bad yourself. She put her hand in his. Together, they walked to the elevator.

They reached Sarah’s house at about quarter after six. Sheila came outside to greet them this time. Mom was starting to worry.

When they walked into the house, Adam said, My confidant tells me you were worried. Surely you didn’t think we were going to miss this?

Sarah turned, holding a coat she’d pulled from the coat closet. She held it out to Sheila. I knew you wouldn’t miss it, but I’d begun to wonder whether you were going to be here in time for us to take Ryan early enough.

We still have almost fifteen minutes before we need to leave. Adam glanced at the wall