A tubby, black pup with lop ears and a scruffy tail was dragging a string of stolen sausages across the grass in front of the Kelly family’s farmhouse. 
    His mother, Alice, sighed to her young master, Jock. ‘It is no wonder Biffo was thrown out by his new owners. He cannot help getting into trouble, especially if it involves food.’
    Biffo suddenly let go of the sausages, darted at his sister, Tricks, and bit her tail. Tricks let out an ear-splitting squeal.
    Alice jumped off the verandah and cuffed Biffo over the head with a scratchy paw. ‘No, no, bad boy Biffo!’ she growled.
    ‘Don’t be hard on him,’ advised Jock, who was a dog Whisperer and could talk directly to his pet, ‘You cannot expect a five-month-old dog to behave well.’
    ‘You are probably right,’ Alice replied as she nipped Biffo’s own tail to show him what it felt like. ‘But he is causing too much trouble. I shall have to ask his father to explain how important it is to behave properly. Yesterday he tipped a bucket of greasy water over Mrs Grimm when she was scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees. Mrs Grimm looked like she had swallowed a bee.’
    ‘I know,’ grinned Jock. ‘She went nutso! But I doubt that Boyd will try too hard to make him see sense.’  
    Alice wagged her tail ever so slightly. Neither she nor Biffo’s father, Boyd, nor Jock liked Mrs Grimm and her husband, Reginald,who were managing the farm for his parents while they were away. They had taken a holiday with Grandma Kelly who was recovering from a bad case of pneumonia.
    At that moment the door of the farmhouse was thrown open. Out rushed sweaty-faced Mrs Grimm just as mad as she had been the day before. Iron-grey hair stuck stiffly out from her head like toilet brush bristles, and wet bullets of spit flew from her mouth. 
    ‘Get rid of that revolting animal right now!’ she yelled. ‘It is either him or me. That’s the third time he has stolen something this week. And it is only Tuesday.’ She swiped a broom at Biffo who hid behind Jock in a hurry. Mrs Grimm snatched the sausages off the ground and tried to dust them off.
    ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Grimm,’ Jock said politely. ‘We are trying to find a new home, but with my parents away it will take some time. Perhaps you shouldn’t leave the sausages where he can climb on a chair to get them.’
    ‘Don’t you tell me how to run my own kitchen, young man,’ Mrs Grimm snarled. ‘Keep him out of my way or I shall call in the dog catcher and report him as a Dangerous Animal.’
    Jock did not reply. He was too angry. For one thing, the farmhouse kitchen really belonged to Grandma Kelly. And he also guessed that Mrs Grimm was setting a trap for Biffo. He thought she was planning to call the dogcatcher anyway. Why otherwise would she open the kitchen door ‘just to let in a breath of fresh air’ when all that ever rushed in was Biffo himself along with a swarm of equally greedy flies?
    ‘That woman has an obsession about Biffo,’ he muttered as Mrs Grimm stamped back into the house.
    ‘What’s an obsession?’ asked Alice.
    ‘It’s where the same thought keeps going round and round in your head until it won’t go away even when you want it to.’
    ‘Sounds horrid,’ remarked Alice, who had never had such an unpleasant experience. Alice had been given a Worry Bone by her friend, Boxer, the Kellys’ blue heeler who was a retired sheepdog. When she gnawed the bone all her worries disappeared overnight. She never had a concern that the Worry Bone could not get rid of.
    ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Jock said. ‘We’ll take the pups down to the river for quick walk. That will give ghastly old Grimm a chance to cool down.’
    Alice flicked her tail happily and smiled through her black shiny-button eyes. Fat little Biffo danced around Jock’s legs, nearly tripping him up, as he began to jog off towards the river that ran through his parents’ farm. Tricks trotted in the proper sheepdog manner behind him.
    When they reached the riverbank Jock pulled a couple of melted chocolate biscuits from his pocket and sat down on a rock to eat them. Biffo watched enviously. He pushed his nose into Jock’s face, trying to lick off a crumb on his chin.
    ‘That’s enough, Biffo,’ Alice growled as Jock pushed him away so hard he fell into the muddy water at edge of the river. ‘Why can’t you behave properly like your sister? You are nothing but a big problem.’
    Biffo did not answer. He climbed out of the water and shook muddy droplets all over Tricks instead. Alice lifted her lip and showed her sharp teeth. 
    ‘Never mind,’ Jock said. ‘Biffo is not nearly as big a problem as Mrs Grimm and that revolting husband of hers.’
    Alice cocked her head. She sensed that Jock was really upset and she could understand why. Mrs Grimm was bad enough, but Mr Grimm was even worse. He had kicked old Boxer three times for being too slow to move out of his way. She put a scratchy paw on Jock’s knee to show she had the same opinion.
    Jock went on Whispering quietly. ‘You see, Alice, I think the Grimms are very bad farm managers, but I can’t prove it. 
     ‘Mrs Grimm said that one of Mum’s prize lambs died unexpectedly. It was perfectly well last week, so they must have been very careless.  Besides Mr Grimm spends most of his time talking on his phone with a smelly drink in his hand.’
Alice gave a low gruff of agreement. Both the Grimms had a nasty, beery odour, and that smell had recently become a dreadful pong.
    ‘The trouble is I don’t know how to get rid of them,’ Jock went on.
    ‘That’s easy,’ Alice replied. ‘We must look for examples of bad management. Your father will fire them if you can prove they are not doing their job properly.
    ‘I am sure we dogs can find many signs of neglect if we do a bit of detective work.’
    Suddenly Biffo pulled his head out of the rabbit hole he had been exploring. His hairy black face was covered in yellow dust. 
    ‘Detective work, Mum? Did you say detective work? Can I do some too?’
    ‘Certainly not,’ Alice answered. ‘You will only end up getting into trouble. You don’t know how to be careful. Detective work is not something a silly pup can do well.’
    Biffo’s ears drooped. Then he rolled over in front of Jock, sticking out his furry tummy to look cute.
    Jock smiled at him, but he Whispered, ‘I am afraid Alice is right. Maybe when you are grown up you can do detective work. But right now you are too young.’
     ‘That’s settled then,’ said Alice, ignoring Biffo’s scowl. ‘When we’ve had a swim, I will talk to Boyd and Boxer.’ 
    But Biffo refused to swim even though he knew he would enjoy himself. He did not want Alice and Jock to see him looking happy.  Instead he lay down and sulked on the riverbank. A big red wasp with a very pointy sting flew around his face and he snapped at it furiously. Luckily he did not catch it.

That night Biffo could not get to sleep. He was still very angry that he was not allowed to be a detective. Although he could not explain it, he knew that he would make a good one, and his mind was working out a way to disobey his mother.  Underneath all his bad behaviour he just wanted to be accepted for his own nature. He knew he was not a sheepdog like his father or an entertaining dog like his mother, but he knew he had an excellent nose for sniffing out problems.
    Biffo was also extremely stubborn As soon as anyone said he couldn’t do something, he made up his mind to prove them wrong. He lay awake thinking how to prove to his mother and Jack that his detective abilities were useful. At last he had a good idea, and as soon as dawn came, he crept out of the woodshed. 
    He had decided to find out how to get rid of the Grimms.
    The first place he chose was the milking yard. Young dogs were not allowed there, but Biffo didn’t care.
    ‘Good morning, Mona,’ Biffo said politely to the old house cow who was chewing her cud quietly in corner of the yard, along with two of her grown-up daughters. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I need to go into your shed to look around for a bit.’
    Mona was very deaf. But she did not like to admit she couldn’t hear a word, so she answered with a moo that meant, ‘That’s coooool by me.’ She had learned that if she said that most folks would leave her to enjoy the rest of her day, undisturbed.  All Mona wanted at her age was a quiet life.
    Biffo trotted to the corner where discarded pails were stacked, ready to be taken away for scrap metal. To his surprise he saw that dozens of flies buzzed around them and there was a stink of sour milk in the air. 
    Biffo quite liked that smell, but he knew that humans did not. Farmer Kelly always washed buckets carefully and rinsed them with some germ-killing liquid. Besides he would never use these battered, rusty ones. 
     It was obvious that the Grimms had been using them for some strange purpose.
    He decided to ask Mona. ‘Excuse me. Can you tell me what these old buckets have been used for?’
    Again Mona did not hear. Her older daughter Daisy answered.
    ‘Mrs Grimm milked us, very roughly I might add, to feed that lamb whose mother died.’
    Biffo was worried. ‘I thought my dad told me that lambs shouldn’t have cow’s milk. Farmer Kelly uses a special formula.’
    ‘Hmm,’ answered Daisy lazily. ‘So true. That lamb died too, you know.’
    Biffo realised that bad management had killed Mrs Kelly’s prize lamb, but it would be hard to tell his mother without letting on that he had been in the milking shed illegally.
    He would have to find another example. 
    In the meantime he had grown hungry as usual, and it was too early for breakfast. Biffo knew that good place to go for between-meal snacks was the compost heap at the back of the farmhouse. He was happy to see that Mrs Grimm had thrown out some soup bones. What luck!  Of course, Grandma Kelly would have been very upset. She never left such titbits there because she said that meat attracted rats. It was true the bones had gone a bit green and were giving off a rotting odour, but that pleased Biffo even more. He could rub his face in them for a nice after-dinner lotion.
    His belly filled and his fur perfumed with the juices of putrid meat, Biffo remembered that his real purpose was to find more examples of the Grimms’ poor management. It did not occur to him that throwing out meat for rats to eat, and dogs to roll in, would be a good one.
    Before long Mrs Grimm came out to feed the hens. As usual, she left the door wide open. Biffo snuck inside followed by a swarm of blowflies. He squeezed with difficulty under an old meat safe used for storing crockery.
    As soon as she came back, Mrs Grimm began muttering to herself. ‘What is that vile smell? How did all these flies get in?’  
She grabbed some fly spray and squirted it around the kitchen until it was white with mist. But she didn’t bother to cover the bucket of Mona’s milk that had been settling, ready for turning cream into homemade butter. Fly spray and buzzing flies dropped into it.
    Biffo knew that this was definitely bad management. Butter that tasted of fly spray and dead flies would not be pleasant, not even to Biffo.
    All he had to do now was to show Jock. And maybe his mother would be pleased with him when she saw how useful his detective work had been.
    As soon as Mrs Grimm left the kitchen, Biffo began to wriggle out from under the safe. But unfortunately he found that it was harder to get out than in.  He pushed and shoved but his plump stomach kept sticking in the narrow opening. In a panic, he began to buck against the bottom of the meat safe. It wobbled and finally crashed to the floor. Inside five cups and three plates cracked.
    Biffo rushed to the door, but not before Mrs Grimm tore back into the room, and snatched up her broom.  She yelled and swore and hit Biffo on the head as hard as she could.
    Biffo slumped down, knocked out cold.
    'That will teach you, you thieving horror. Look at how disgustingly fat you are,’ said Mrs Grimm. She leaned over and touched him to see if he was dead, but her fingers touched the rotting bone lotion that Biffo had spread across his neck and shoulders. She sprang back with a shriek, ‘Ugh! What repulsive muck have you been rolling in?’
    Mrs Grimm decided to call her husband, ‘Reggie, darling. I think I have managed to kill that awful dog that keeps stealing sausages. Please come and dispose of it.’
    Mr Grimm put his hand over the phone he was using and whispered. ‘Just a minute, Barbara. I am talking to… to those people who want to visit the farm.’ As he said this, his eyes darted around nervously as if he was worried someone would overhear him.  
     ‘I’ll throw it in the quarry as soon as I can.’ 
    Mrs Grimm glanced at Biffo, who was lying quite still although in fact he was beginning to recover his senses.
    ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘This pest is not going anywhere any time soon.’ She gave Biffo’s head a vicious prod with her broom, but fortunately Biffo, though he felt the pain, was still too groggy to make a whimper. However, if she had known Jock had taught him a little of the human language, Mrs Grimm certainly would never have spoken her next words:
    ‘But, Reggie, do hurry up. The sooner we get our money out of those people and escape this godforsaken farm, the better! I never want to see a cow or a sheepdog again.’
    Biffo’s heart jumped in his chest with shock. This was why the Grimms were such bad managers! They were not farmers at all, but were imposters who were planning something bad with visitors to the farm.
    Mr Grimm replied, ‘I’m making arrangements to pick the investment spotters up at the roadhouse this afternoon. I’ll get rid of the dead dog on the way back.’
    Biffo had no idea what an investment spotter was but he understood very well that they were not the kind of people the Kellys would have invited to their farm. He repeated the words several times in his head so that he would not forget them later.
    Meanwhile Biffo decided that the best way to learn more of the Grimms’ schemes was to play dead for a bit longer. And that was why when Mr Grimm threw him roughly into the back of the farm Ute with a huge pile of beer cans and other rubbish that Mrs Grimm could not be bothered to recycle, he made sure he did not yelp in protest.

By the time Mr Grimm and Biffo arrived in town, the sun was high in the sky and it was very hot. Biffo was already thirsty but he dared not move a muscle for fear that Mr Grimm would see him. It was a relief when at last the manager pulled into the roadhouse and left the vehicle in a parking bay. 
    Biffo leapt out of the tray of the Ute at lightning speed. He scuttled behind a green dumpster at the back of the building where he could hide until he had found a way to continue his detective work.
    The problem was that he had no idea how he could get close enough to Mr Grimm to hear more of his schemes. And, on top of that, Biffo’s grasp of human words was still quite shaky so he was not certain he would understand what they were saying. Still, if he could get into that diner to see whom Mr Grimm was meeting, he could report back to Jock privately - when his mother wasn’t listening. 
    Biffo quivered with excitement as he thought of his plan. This was going to be fun, especially as he detected the delicious smells of frying bacon wafting out of the kitchen. Biffo loved bacon more than any other treat in the world, although he was rarely allowed it because Grandma Kelly had been told not to give it to him by the mean old vet who looked after the farm animals. Biffo thought good health was only something that old dogs should worry about.
    Biffo slunk away from the dumpster towards the kitchen door, which was unfortunately tightly shut. However, he noticed that further along the building a roller door opened into the delivery bay where a van was parked. The driver was carrying a large crate of milk through a storeroom to huge walk-in fridge. Biffo was rapt to see that he did not stop to close the door behind him. As soon as the man had disappeared from view, he knew his chance had come. He sped through the opening and tucked himself behind a stack of unpacked boxes from where he could watch, unseen. 
    It seemed to Biffo that the deliveryman took hours to finish his job, but at last he heard the sound of the van leaving. Biffo scrambled from his hiding place and looked around for the door that would take him into the diner. Sure enough, there it was! A swing door too. So easy to squeeze through. This detective work was turning out to be as easy as falling off a log.

Back at the Kelly farm, Alice had become worried. Her mother’s instincts told her that something bad had happened to Biffo. She went in search of him and it was not long before she discovered that he had visited Mona in the cowshed, had rolled in the compost, and caused a bad accident in the kitchen. But still she did not know where he was. 
    ‘Jock,’ Alice whined, seeing him sitting at his desk playing a game on the tablet that his father had been given to him for his birthday. ‘Biffo has gone missing.’ 
    ‘Don’t worry,’ he muttered, without taking his eyes off his game, ‘I’m sure he’ll turn up.’
    Alice gave a loud, worried bark. ‘No, he won’t. I think he has gone off on that plan of his to be a detective. I am worried he will get into really serious trouble with the Grimms.’
    ‘Very well,’ replied Jock grumpily, closing his game and hauling himself up from his chair. ‘I’ll look for him. You get Boxer and Boyd to follow his scent.’
    Soon all the farm dogs were racing around, noses down in search of Biffo. But it was his sister who got the first clue.
     ‘I went to the kitchen,’ she said. ‘Biffo’s scent smelled very strongly of rotten bones going in, but there is no scent trail coming out.  
    ‘He must have been carried,’ Tricks said, proud of her discovery.
Jock questioned Mrs Grimm. ‘Mrs Grimm, did you take Biffo out of the kitchen and lock him up somewhere?’
    ‘No,’ she replied, her guilty eyes refusing to look at him. ‘Ask Mr Grimm. He might know where he is. But you will have to wait until he gets back from town. He’s gone to … to meet some friends of ours.’
    Jock said in an extremely polite voice, ‘I do hope nothing has happened to Biffo, Mrs Grimm. Mum and Dad will be very upset if another valuable animal has been hurt in any way.’
    Mrs Grimm opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. 
Jock turned on his heel to walk away when they heard the sound of tyres scattering gravel in the front yard.
    ‘Oh,’ said Mrs Grimm weakly, ‘that’s Mr Grimm come back. And …’ She choked a little as she looked out the window. ‘And look, no harm done. He’s got that dear little dog with him.’ Her lips couldn’t help but fix themselves into a very thin line, even though she was trying to smile as she said this.
    Jock did not notice her fake smile because he had run out to where Alice and the other dogs were racing around the Ute in great excitement. A heavy-set man with a red face was holding on to Biffo with a piece of dirty rope while Mr Grimm and another stranger climbed out of the truck. Biffo’s ears were drooping, and he did not look any of his family in the eye.
    ‘Thank goodness, you have found him,’ Jock said, taking Biffo’s lead from the man. ‘What happened? Where was he? ‘
    Mr Grimm laughed a bit too loudly. ‘The little rascal must have snuck in for a ride when I wasn’t looking. A waitress at the roadhouse found him staggering around with a dining chair on his head. Seems he got stuck in the chair legs. Must have followed me into the diner.’ 
    ‘Silly little thing,’ added Mrs Grimm in a tinkly voice. ‘Why he could have fallen out of that truck and no one would ever have known what had happened to him! But what can you expect, pups will be pups.’ 
     So true!’ Mr Grimm agreed. 
    He quickly changed the subject, looking at Jock as he spoke. ‘Our friends Kevin and Mike were just passing through town. They plan on staying a few days. I suggested they have a cup of tea with us now and, if they have time, we could show them around the farm. It’s a showpiece of modern farming, I told them.’ 
    Kevin, who turned out to be the red-faced man, stared at Mr Grimm in surprise when he heard his words. He was opening his mouth to say something when Mrs Grimm, who was standing behind Jock, put one finger across her lips and pointed at the boy. 
    ‘Say nothing,’ she mouthed.
    Kevin took the hint. He turned to Jock with a friendly smile. ‘So you are the Kelly boy, are you? Reg has told me all about how talented you are with dogs. Mike and I would be stoked if you could show us your dog, Alice. I heard she was once in a movie.’         This was perfectly true. Alice and all the Kelly dogs had starred in a movie in the year before Biffo was born.
    ‘She’s right here,’ replied Jock, calling Alice to his side. Kevin bent down to pat her, but Alice backed away from his outstretched hand. It was all she could do not to growl. She had seen Mrs Grimm’s secret message, and she did not trust Kevin any more than she trusted the Grimms themselves. And from the quivering of Biffo’s tail and legs, she could tell that she had not heard the whole truth about how he had been found. She took another step backwards and turned her head away rudely.
    Jock frowned. ‘That’s enough, Alice. These men are friends of Mr Grimm. Say hello properly.’ 
    Alice sat down slowly and lifted a reluctant paw. Kevin shook it firmly and grinned.
    ‘I see she is trained in good manners,’ he said. He did not realise that Alice was supposed to give a little yip of welcome as well. 
    Jock’s frown grew deeper, but this time it was because he was worried rather than cross. Alice was not the kind of dog to forget what to she had been trained to do. Something was wrong, and Alice was not happy about it. 
    However he was not going to show the Grimms that he had become suspicious so he said cheerfully, ‘Yes, Alice is a dog with many tricks, but Boyd here is the working dog. I’m sure we would both like to show you around the farm tomorrow.’
    Kevin and Mike nodded slowly and looked at each other. Then Mrs Grimm suddenly spoke up. ‘Oh Jock,’ she said, ‘I’m so sorry but you won’t be able to do that. We have to get you those new school shoes. Tomorrow is the only day I can spare to take you into town.’
    Only two days earlier Mrs Grimm had said, in a loud voice, that he would have to wait until his mother got home to buy new shoes because it was not her job to be his nanny. There was no reason why she should have changed her mind unless she didn’t want him to go with these men. 
    Jock looked at Alice whose shiny-button eyes were glaring at Mrs Grimm. Alice was right. There was something was definitely fishy about these men, and the Grimms’ friendship with them. 
    Biffo, watching them, was pleased to see that his family was starting to see the truth of things. Detective work was harder than he thought but definitely worthwhile.