It was a great plan. I ran upstairs to tell Mary Anne about the article and about the green car. She was excited, too.
“Let’s call Kristy,” she said. “I know she’ll want to help. After all, she’d do anything to get Shannon back.”
We spent the rest of the evening calling the members of the BSC. (I totally forgot about my homework!) Everybody agreed to help watch for the car, and I went to sleep that night feeling sure that the case was as good as solved.
The next day was Thursday. My friends and I had agreed to meet after school and figure out a plan for getting that license plate number. By three o’clock, everyone was gathered at the elementary school playground.
“It was right over there,” said Mal, pointing. She was telling the others about how she’d seen the green car. “Remember, Dawn?”
I nodded. “I sure do,” I said. “Boy, do I wish I’d gotten that plate number right then.”
“You couldn’t have known it was important,” said Kristy. “But we know now. And we’ll find that car.”
We decided to split up into pairs, just for safety. After all, the thieves could be dangerous. Besides, only a few of us had even seen the car before. This way, Mal, Jessi, and I could pair off with club members who hadn’t seen it.
“I just came to hear about your plan,” said Stacey. “I can’t really search today, because I’m sitting for Charlotte Johanssen. But I’ll keep my eyes peeled, anyway.” She headed off to her job, and the rest of us broke into pairs.
Later that day my friends and I gathered again to tell each other what we’d seen. I had asked everyone to take notes so we could submit a report to the police. (Everybody teased me for acting so official, but I was too excited about solving the case to care.) Here’s what they wrote:
* * *
As you can see, the afternoon was kind of a failure. But we agreed to try again on Friday, after school and before our club meeting. And that’s when Kristy and I got lucky.
We had been riding around all afternoon. We’d checked the same places as the day before, and some new ones, too. But we still hadn’t seen any sign of the dark green car. It was almost five o’clock, and we were over on Reilly Lane, near the Rodowskys’ house.
“Let’s take one more trip past the elementary school,” said Kristy. “Then we better quit and head over to Claud’s for our meeting.”
We rode for awhile in silence. I was feeling kind of depressed. I had thought it would be so easy to find the car and help the police, but my plan wasn’t working out the way I’d imagined. Then, just as I was at my lowest point, I saw something that made me slam on my brakes. “Kristy?” I said. “There it is!”
She screeched to a halt. “What? Where?”
“The car! Over there!” I pointed. A dark green car — exactly like the one I’d seen before — was parked in front of a house. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. I could see the outline of a head and shoulders.
“What’re they doing in this neighborhood?” Kristy wondered out loud.
“Probably watching somebody’s dog,” I said.
“I can’t believe it. Boy, I’d like to go right up to that car and yell at whoever’s sitting in it. How could they go around stealing people’s dogs?”
“Kristy, don’t!” I said, grabbing her sleeve. “They might be dangerous, remember?”
“I wasn’t really going to,” she said. “I just get so mad whenever I think of David Michael. He misses Shannon so much.” She looked sad.
“Okay,” I said. “Here’s what we’ll do. First, we’ll park our bikes. Then you watch while I sneak up behind the car and copy down the plate number.”
“Got it,” said Kristy. I was surprised that she didn’t seem to mind taking my orders. Usually she likes to be the one in charge.
We pulled our bikes over to the side of the road, and Kristy ducked down behind some bushes. “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead. I’ll be watching, and if I whistle, you come running back.”
My heart was thumping as I sneaked up to the green car. I tried to stay low and walk near the bushes on the side of the road. Once I thought I heard Kristy whistle, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. But when I looked back she was waving me on. I crept up until I was near the back of the car. (I didn’t want to get right in back of it — what if the driver suddenly put it into reverse?) Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little pad and pen I’d been carrying around. I’d been hoping for this moment, but now that it was here I could hardly write because my hands were shaking.
Finally, I had written down the plate number. Then I ran, all bent over to look less conspicuous, back to Kristy.
After she’d given me the high-five, we jumped onto our bikes and rode away as fast as we could. “Great job,” said Kristy as soon as we’d turned the corner.
“Thanks,” I said. I was out of breath just from being so scared. “Do we have time to go to the police station before our meeting?”
She checked her watch. “Let’s go,” she said. “I think we can just make it.”
We rode downtown as fast as we could. The police station is a big building — the kind that makes you feel small as soon as you walk into it. But Kristy marched right up to the main counter.
“Yes?” asked a bored-looking police officer. He leaned over and raised his eyebrows. “Can I help you?”
“We’d like to report a crime,” said Kristy. “I mean, not a crime exactly, but some criminals. Or at least one criminal.”
“Go on,” said the officer, now looking amused.
I broke in. “We have an important clue for you. It’s about the dog-theft ring.”
“Oh? Well, go on.”
“We’ve got the license plate number of a car that belongs to the criminals!” I said proudly. I was sure his mouth would drop open in surprise.
Instead, he yawned. “Do you, now?” he asked. “How do you know it’s their car?”
“I just do,” I said. “I’m sure of it. I saw the car driving around slowly, just before a dog I was taking care of got stolen.”
“It’s not a crime to drive slowly,” said the policeman, smiling. He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Why don’t you girls run along?”
I turned to Kristy. She looked angry. “Listen,” she said. “This is important. What about all those people whose dogs are missing?”
“Right, right,” said the policeman. “We’re doing everything we can to solve the case.” He looked at his watch. “In fact, I’m pretty busy right now….”
“Please,” I said. “I’ve been working hard to get you some good clues. I can give you reports on everything my friends and I have been doing.” I reached into my backpack.
He shook his head. “We don’t need any more reports around here,” he said, pointing to a huge stack of papers on his side of the counter. “But we certainly do thank you for your help.” He looked at his watch again and picked up some files. “Now, if you’ll excuse me —”
“Won’t you at least take this number and check it out?” I asked. “I just know it’s a good lead. Please, won’t you?”
“Sure, sure, sure,” he said. I guess he was tired of hearing me beg. “Leave it with me, and I’ll have someone check it out.”
I had been hoping that he could punch the number into a computer while we waited, so I was kind of disappointed. But at least he’d agreed to take it. “Here,” I said, passing the paper over the counter. “And thanks. How long will it take?”
“Oh, a day or two,” he said, yawning.
“Talk to you soon, then,” I said, but I don’t think he even heard me. He was answering the phone as we left. Kristy and I walked back outside. “Boy, he doesn’t seem to care at all!” I said. “Can you believe it?”
“I think he just didn’t take us seriously,” she said. “But at least he finally took the number.” She checked her watch. “Wow! It’s almost five-thirty.”
We hopped on our bikes and rode to Claud’s as fast as we could. We had a lot to re
port to the other members of the BSC.
That Saturday, Kristy was baby-sitting while her mom and stepfather were out at a fancy luncheon. Kristy’s grandmother had taken Emily Michelle shoe shopping, and Karen and Andrew (Kristy’s stepsister and stepbrother) were at their mother’s, so Kristy had only one charge: her little brother David Michael.
It was the day after I’d gotten the license number of the green car. The other members of the BSC had been impressed by the detective work that Kristy and I had done. But by Saturday morning, Kristy had other things on her mind, and she’d practically forgotten about the green car. Saturday was the day of the first Krashers practice, and Kristy and Bart would be coaching together for the first time.
Kristy was a little nervous. Since the Krushers and the Bashers were usually deadly rivals, it might be hard for some of the players to learn how to cooperate with each other. “I hope those Bashers behave,” she said to David Michael as they walked toward the playground. “Remember how they used to tease us?”
“What?” asked David Michael, after a moment. He’d been peering into a neighbor’s backyard as he and Kristy passed by. “Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”
“Never mind,” said Kristy. She’d only been thinking out loud, anyway, and there was no reason to pass her worries on to her little brother. He had enough on his mind. Shannon had been missing for a long time, and he looked for her everywhere he went, put out food for her every day (hoping to tempt her back if she had run away), and carried a leash with him at all times, just in case he found her.
Kristy gave David Michael a pat on the shoulder. “Hang in there,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing Shannon again soon.” Actually, Kristy wasn’t sure at all, but she felt she had to say something to cheer David Michael up. He looked miserable.
“Remember when we first got Shannon?” David Michael asked. He took Kristy’s hand for a moment, as if he were a much younger kid.
“I’ll never forget it,” she answered. “She was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. She made me feel happy again, even though I was so sad about Louie.”
Louie was a collie. He had belonged to the Thomases, and Kristy and David Michael had loved him with all their hearts. Kristy even has a baseball cap with a picture of a collie on it; it’s one of her favorite possessions.
But Louie, who was pretty old, got very sick and had to be put to sleep. This happened soon after Kristy had moved into Watson’s mansion. She was having a hard time fitting in to her new neighborhood, and one of the reasons was that she thought the other kids who lived there were snobby. They all seemed to have beautiful pedigreed pets, and some of them made fun of scruffy old Louie.
Soon after he died, though, one of those neighbors made peace — and made friends — with Kristy. The neighbor was Shannon Kilbourne (one of our associate members, remember?), and she made peace by giving David Michael a puppy. A Bernese mountain dog puppy, to be exact. And you can probably imagine how that puppy got her name. It was David Michael’s idea to name her after Shannon Kilbourne. So now there are two Shannons in that neighborhood: one human and one canine.
Or at least there were two.
“Shannon didn’t replace Louie,” mused David Michael, who was still gripping Kristy’s hand. “Nobody could do that. But I sure did — do love her.”
“Me, too,” said Kristy. She gave his hand a squeeze.
“Look!” said David Michael, pulling his hand away. “There’s one of our posters.” He ran to a sign posted on a telephone pole. “I just want to check that our right phone number is on this,” he said. “I mean, what if somebody found her but they couldn’t tell us because the number was wrong?”
“Don’t worry,” said Kristy. “We were very careful to get everything right when we made those signs.”
“Oh yeah?” asked David Michael. “What about this?” He pointed to the heading on the sign. MISING DOG, it said. NAME: SHANNUN. BREED: BERNAISE MOUNTIN DOG. “Aren’t a lot of words spelled wrong in this poster?”
“Oops,” said Kristy. “You’re right. Claud must have made that one, and she’s not the world’s greatest speller. But look,” she said, pointing, “the phone number is right. Even Claudia would be careful about that.”
David Michael looked down at his sneakers and kicked at a rock. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he said. “Shannon’s gone, and we’ll never see her again.” He sounded as if he were about to cry.
Kristy bent down to hug him. “Don’t talk that way,” she said gently. She gave him a squeeze. “Come on, now. It’s time to play some ball.”
When Kristy reached the playground, she saw that Bart had beaten her there. He and several of the kids on his team were throwing a ball around. “Hey, Bart,” Kristy called. She gave what she hoped was a nonchalant wave. She didn’t want Bart to know that she was even a little nervous about their first practice together. She told David Michael to join the Bashers players. Then she headed for one of the benches near the backstop and started to look over her check-off lists of team members, equipment, and other details. Kristy can be very organized.
Bart loped over to where Kristy was sitting. “How ya doing?” he asked, smiling.
“I’m fine,” said Kristy. “How are you?”
“I’m a little nervous, to tell you the truth,” said Bart. “We’ve never tried combining the teams before. I hope it works out.”
Kristy blinked. “You’re nervous?” she asked. “Really? Me, too!” She heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m sure it’ll be okay,” she said. “Look, I’ve figured everything out.” She showed him her lists. “All we have to decide on is the starting lineup, but we can work that out later.”
Bart looked over what she’d done. “Hey, this looks great,” he said. “You’ve got everything under control.”
“Everything but the kids,” said Kristy, pointing to the playing field.
David Michael was staring off into space as Buddy Barrett, who had just arrived, tried to get his attention. “Catch, David Michael,” said Buddy, throwing the ball. David Michael snapped to attention just in time to watch the ball sail by his head. It bounced to a stop in front of one of Bart’s players, who was in the process of dropping the ball he’d just caught. Meanwhile, Matt and Haley Braddock, who had come with me (I was baby-sitting for them), were signing furiously in the middle of the field. They looked as if they were fighting about something, but Kristy couldn’t figure out what it was. And Jackie Rodowsky, whom we often call the “Walking Disaster” because of his ability to break things, make messes, and accidentally cause trouble, was busy distributing equipment. Bases, balls, and bats were strewn across the field. Jackie had picked up more than he could carry and was dropping things everywhere.
Kristy and Bart looked at each other, shrugged, and smiled.
“Jackie!” called Kristy. “Whoa, there. I think you need some help.”
“Yo, Dave,” called Bart, to the Basher who had dropped the ball. “Pick up the one behind you, too, and then bring it over here. Let’s get organized.”
Soon Bart and Kristy had rounded up all the kids on both teams, and everyone was gathered by the backstop. I sat on the sidelines with Mary Anne, who had just ridden her bike to the playground. She was out of breath, but she and I talked a little while Kristy and Bart did their best to organize the kids.
“I can’t believe it,” said Mary Anne, huffing and puffing. “I rode all the way downtown to do a special errand, and the store was closed. Isn’t that silly, to close a store on Saturday?”
“What were you shopping for?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” said Mary Anne. “Just a little something for Tigger.” She glanced at me and blushed. She knows I think she’s crazy to spend as much money as she does on that kitten. She’s always buying him treats and special toys. Most of the toys just gather dust, too, because Tigger would rather play with a plastic straw than anything else!
“They had such neat cat toys at that new pet store,” Mary Anne went on. “I was so
disappointed when I saw that it was closed. I rode all the way there for nothing! I guess I should have called first, but I didn’t think of it. The stores are always open on Saturday.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “I guess Tigger will just have to be deprived a little longer.”
Mary Anne made a face at me, and then smiled. “So how’s the combined practice going?” she asked. “I talked to Kristy last night, and she said she was nervous about it.”
“It’s going great,” I said. “Look, Kristy and Bart asked the kids to introduce themselves.” I pointed. “That’s cute.”
The kids were lined up in two rows, according to teams, and each kid in turn was telling his (or her) name and a little about himself (or herself).
“Jackie Rodowsky,” said Jackie. “Shortstop. Or second base, depending.”
“Jerry,” said one of Bart’s kids. “Third base.”
“I’m Haley, and that’s Matt,” said Haley Braddock. “You’ve played with us before, so you know that Matt is deaf. But he always knows what’s going on, since he watches so well. I’ll teach you the signs we use during games. They’re really easy.”
“My name’s Joey,” said a tall boy on Bart’s team. “And this is Chris,” he said, pointing to a shy-looking boy. “I’m on first, and Chris plays outfield.”
The introductions went on, until they were suddenly interrupted by a yell on the sidelines. “Unfair! Unfair! Krashers are unfair!” Kristy looked surprised, until she turned and saw who it was. Claire Pike was parading up and down the third-base line, carrying a sign. Suzi Barrett and Patsy Kuhn trailed behind her, also carrying signs. The signs said things like, “Let Us Play!” and “Krashers Are Mean!”
Dawn and the Disappearing Dogs Page 5
