“Sorry, old girl," I said to [the bicycle] Gladys in the gray dishwater light of early morning, "but I have to leave you at home."
I could see that she was disappointed, even though she managed to put on a brave face.
"I need you to stay here as a decoy," I whispered. "When they see you leaning against the greenhouse, they'll think I'm still in bed."
Gladys brightened considerably at the thought of a conspiracy. [...]
At the corner of the garden, I turned, and mouthed the words, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," and Gladys signaled that she wouldn't.
I was off like a shot.”
- Alan Bradley, A Red Herring Without Mustard