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

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

    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 people and they were a man and a lady with two children, a boy and a girl. The lady answered the door. She was wearing boots which looked like army boots and there were 5 bracelets made out of a silver-colored metal on her wrist and they made a jangling noise. She said, “It's Christopher, isn't it.”
    I said that it was, and I asked her if she knew who killed Wellington. She knew who Wellington was so I didn't have to explain, and she had heard about him being killed.
    I asked if she had seen anything suspicious on Thursday evening which might be a clue.
    She said, “Like what?”
    And I said, “Like strangers. Or like the sound of people arguing.”
    But she said she hadn't.
    And then I decided to do what is called
Trying a Different Tack,
and I asked her whether she knew of anyone who might want to make Mrs. Shears sad.
    And she said, “Perhaps you should be talking to your father about this.”
    And I explained that I couldn't ask my father because the investigation was a secret because he had told me to stay out of other people's business.
    She said, “Well, maybe he has a point, Christopher.”
    And I said, “So,