The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

football, which meant that we weren't going to go
    on an outing because Father wanted to watch the match on the television. So I decided to do some more detection on my own.
    I decided that I would go and ask some of the other people who lived in our street if they had seen anyone killing Wellington or whether they had seen anything strange happening in the street on Thursday night.
    Talking to strangers is not something I usually do. I do not like talking to strangers. This is not because of Stranger Danger, which they tell us about at school, which is where a strange man offers you sweets or a ride in his car because he wants to do sex with you. I am not worried about that. If a strange man touched me I would hit him, and I can hit people very hard. For example, when I punched Sarah because she had pulled my hair I knocked her unconscious and she had concussion and they had to take her to the Accident and Emergency Department at the hospital. And also I always have my Swiss Army knife in my pocket and it has a saw blade which could cut a man's fingers off.
    I do not like strangers because I do not like people I have never met before. They are hard to understand. It is like being in France, which is where we went on holiday sometimes when Mother was alive, to camp. And I hated it because if you went into a shop or a restaurant or on a beach you couldn't understand what anyone was saying, which was frightening.
    It takes me a long time to get used to people I do not know. For example, when there is a new member of staff at school I do not talk to them for weeks and weeks. I just watch them until I know that they are safe. Then I ask them questions about themselves, like whether they have pets and what is their favorite color and what do they know about the Apollo space missions and I get them to draw a plan of their house and I ask them what kind of car they drive, so I get to know them. Then I don't mind if I am in the same room as them and don't have to watch them all the time.
    So talking to the other people in our street was brave. But if you are going to do detective work you have to be brave, so I had no choice.
    First of all I made a plan of our part of the street, which is called Randolph Street, like this

    46
    44
    13
    40

    OUR
    HQU5E

    Then I made sure I had my Swiss Army knife in my pocket and I went out and I knocked on the door of number 40, which is opposite Mrs. Shears's house, which means that they were most likely to have seen something. The people who live at number 40 are called Thompson.
    Mr. Thompson answered the door. He was wearing a T-shirt which said
    BEER
    Helping ugly people have sex
    for 2,000 years
    Mr. Thompson said, "Can I help you?"
    I said, "Do you know who killed Wellington?"
    I did not look at his face. I do not like looking at people's faces, especially if they are strangers. He did not say anything for a few seconds.
    Then he said, "Who are you?"
    I said, "I'm Christopher Boone from number 36 and I know you. You're Mr. Thompson."
    He said, "I'm Mr. Thompson's brother."
    I said, "Do you know who killed Wellington?"
    He said, "Who the fuck is Wellington?"
    I said, "Mrs. Shears's dog. Mrs. Shears is from number 41."
    He said, "Someone killed her dog?"
    I said, "With a fork."
    He said, "Jesus Christ."
    I said, "A garden fork," in case he thought I meant a fork you eat your food with. Then I said, "Do you know who killed him?"
    He said, "I haven't a bloody clue."
    I said, "Did you see anything suspicious on Thursday evening?"
    He said, "Look, son, do you really think you should be going around asking questions like this?"
    And I said, "Yes, because I want to find out who killed Wellington, and I am writing a book about it."
    And he said, "Well, I was in Colchester on Thursday, so you're asking the wrong bloke."
    I said, "Thank you," and I walked away.
    There was no answer at house number 42.
    I had seen the people who lived at number 44, but I did not know what their names were. They were black