Free The Sound and the Furry by Spencer Quinn Page B

smell of the sponge in the tub after one of Leda’s long
     baths; back in the Leda days, of course. Bernie always took showers, and so did Suzie,
     so there were no more sponges at our place. I missed them: a damp sponge in your mouth
     is a nice feeling, as long as it’s not too soapy. Here’s another thing about the smell
     of the whitish fringe. It made my eyelids heavy.

    Bernie’s a real deep sleeper, can sleep through just about anything—like when that
     truck loaded with cymbals rolled over practically right in front of our house!—but
     I’m not like that. Even if part of me is sleeping deeply, there’s another part that
     always knows what’s what. For example, we’d slowed way down, the sound of the Porsche
     throttled down to just a mutter. I opened my eyes.
    We were driving along a street in some little town. On one side stood some trailers
     up on blocks, a few houses, all a bit lopsided, and a store or two, green things sprouting
     in every open space. And what was this? Chickens on the loose? Plus some members of
     the nation within the nation—that’s what Bernie calls me and my kind—resting in the
     shade.
    “Ch—et?”
    On the other side was one of those canals they seemed to have out the yingyang in
     these parts. A bayou? Was I getting this right? Don’t count on it. Lining the near
     bank of the bayou was a long and narrow wooden boardwalk, with some piers extending
     out in the water. Boats, big and small, were tied to the piers. Across the bayou was
     a setup that looked pretty much the same—a little settlement with boats docked in
     front of it. Nothing seemed to be moving except for us and the chickens pecking at
     the dirt: not the air, not the water—a deep dark green, like no water I knew—not a
     branch or a flower. I sat up very straight, always best when coming into someplace
     new.
    Bernie parked at the foot of one of the piers. “This is it, big guy,” he said, wiping
     sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. “Boutette family pier is third from the
     end.” We hopped out—me actually airborne, Bernie not—and walked out along the pier.
     Fish smells hung in the still air, and so did a scent that reminded me of frog or
     toad or snake, but more peppery, an odd kind of peppery mixed with poop. Other than
     that, this pier didn’t seem to have much going for it. No boats, for example. All
     the other piers had boats tied to them, but not this one. So therefore? That was Bernie’s
     department. I followed him to the end of the pier and got in a quick lick of the arm
     he’d used to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
    Bernie gazed across the water for a bit, then looked up the bayou to where several
     little bayous seemed to flow into it, and finally down the bayou, shading his eyes
     from the sun. The bayou got wider in that direction, bent in a long curve, the water
     vanishing behind a wall of trees.
    “Could hear a pin drop,” he said.
    Kind of a puzzler. Bernie was saying he was capable of hearing a pin hit the floor?
     Like one of those pins Suzie used for stickingnotes on the wall of her cubicle back when she was with the Valley Tribune ? Or did he mean a bowling pin? I’d gone with him to the Police Athletic League Bowling
     Night once, probably wouldn’t be doing that again anytime soon. But I remembered the
     racket whenever the bowling ball blew those pins sky high. Bernie could hear that,
     no problem. I pointed my ears up. Not a peep from any type of pin I knew, but I did
     hear a low throb-throb coming from beyond the bend in the bayou.
    Bernie turned and started walking back to the foot of the pier. I stayed where I was,
     eyes on that distant gleam of water where the bayou rounded the bend.
    “Chet?” Bernie said. “Let’s go, big—” He paused, gave me a close look. “Something
     up?” He came and stood beside me. We’re partners, me and Bernie.
    The nose of a boat came into view, and then the whole boat, small and metal, with
     a