Blackjack Bikack and the Case of the Near-Sighted Nabber

By Maggie Claire

“Blackjack, come quick! Someone’s been stealing from the food bowls!” my trusty assistant, Greta Gumshoe, called from the kitchen in fright. I sprang from my home office desk, quickly padding across the floor to see what was wrong. Finally, I had a case to crack. After all, there’s nothing better for a detective like me than a good mystery to solve – even if it’s happening in my own backyard!
Follow Blackjack Bikack as he tracks down the clues and meets some colorful characters during his search for the Near-Sighted Nabber!

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jul 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781955086523

Maggie Claire

Maggie Claire gave up a career in education to pursue her dream of becoming a published author. In addition to House of Vultures, she is the author of Attila the Hummer, a chapter book for middle grade readers. She is also a freelance photographer who regularly posts her photos on her website and social media. She lives near Waco, TX.

Book preview

1.png

Blackjack Bikack

and the Case of the Near-sighted Nabber

by

Maggie Claire

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WCP Logo 7

World Castle Publishing, LLC

Pensacola, Florida

Copyright © Maggie Claire

Smashwords Edition

Paperback Color ISBN: 9781955086509

Paperback ISBN: 9781955086516

eBook ISBN: 9781955086523

First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, July 26, 2021

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

Smashwords Licensing Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Illustrator: BC Smith

Editor: Maxine Bringenberg

Chapter 1

The morning started out simply enough. At 5:30 a.m., after a delicious breakfast consisting of last night’s table scraps and some fresh water from the tap, I trotted over to the door and flipped the open sign so that anyone passing by my home office could see that Blackjack Bikack’s Detective Agency was ready for business today.

For the first hour, my large paws nervously tapped on my desk, waiting and hoping for a case to fall at my feet. Every time I heard a car whiz by, my tail thumped wildly in expectation. My ears perked up when car lights shone through my window, anticipating the moment when the doorbell would finally ring, and I’d have a case to solve.

As the minutes ticked by, I slumped behind my desk and shuffled paperwork, begging the phone to make itself useful and ring. Business had been slow for the last few months, and my paws were itching for some action. If I don’t get a crime to solve soon, my detective skills will rust, I grumbled, filing the last of my billing statements from four months ago into the cabinet beside my desk.

Suddenly, a thought hit me so hard that I barked and whirled in my chair, growling at my assistant, Greta Gumshoe! What are you doing? Why am I the one knee-high in paperwork? Isn’t that the secretary’s job?

My adorable yet sometimes flighty assistant stood up from behind the canvas she’d propped in my living room last week. Her paint set was dangerously perched on her left paw, and I immediately started tallying how much money it would take to get scarlet acrylic out of my carpet. Oh, Blackjack! You know I have to get these paintings done for the Underprivileged Westie auction! I tried not to howl with laughter at my assistant’s face; she had blue and green streaks dripping from her forehead and a long pink smear under one eye.

You know you’re covered in paint, right? I muttered, failing in my attempt to sound stern.

Greta grinned, her dark eyes sparkling, Well, what’s the point of painting if you can’t play in it?

What will the clients think when they come in and find my secretary covered in acrylics while I’m doing her job filing paperwork? I mumbled, struggling to hide my smile.

They’ll think that I’m one clever cutie to get my boss to do my job for me, Greta yipped at me with a wink as she swirled her paintbrush in the water.

Underprivileged Westies, hmm? I smirked, shaking my head at the thought. How do you all manage?

While I was sure it was a good cause, I couldn’t help the twinge of anger that flared in my veins. Greta was a purebred Westie; she came from a loving family with all the best toys, food, chewies, and most of all, love. On the other hand, I was born a mongrel from the back streets that no self-respecting purebred would ever dare to visit. I earned every scrap of everything I’d ever had, and I worked hard to create this detective agency.

Yet Westies had charities to help out their own. No one ever created an Underprivileged Mongrel fund to help those poor creatures on the streets, did they?

Blackjack, you’re muttering again, Greta cooed, waltzing over to my desk. What’s troubling you, old friend?

I’m just bored! I snarled, tossing a crumpled paper into the already full wastebasket. We have no cases, and I need something to do! And before you tell me to paint, the answer is no! I’m not doing your charity work for you.

Greta huffed in annoyance, sauntering into the kitchen to grab a quick snack before completing her masterpiece. I ground my teeth as she disappeared, my nerves raw as I felt the seconds drag on while the clock snickered at me.

Little did I know at the time, but the case I was seeking was far closer than I could have guessed. While I was brooding, Greta’s shrill yapping punched into the silence as she shouted, Blackjack, come quick! Someone has been stealing from the food bowls! I leapt from my desk in triumph. It didn’t matter that the thief was in my own home. Finally, FINALLY, I had a case!

The disarray in the kitchen knocked the wind from my lungs. Crumbs littered the tile floor, and water dripped from the upturned bowl that was a permanent fixture on my kitchen table. Some of the larger bits of food were soggy in the middle of the puddle. Chairs had been