The Bicycle Thief

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Gosh, this is hard! Joe thought. His legs were starting to hurt. How do real bike racers do it? he wondered.

  Finally he found his way. It was a left at the grocery store and a left at the pharmacy! He rode carefully across the path in Mrs. Ackerman’s backyard, avoiding her many flower beds. Frank’s bike had already gotten a flat tire. Nothing else could go wrong today.

  Bayport Park appeared in front of him. He rode back to where he’d left Frank and his bike. In a few minutes they’d have the tire patched. And then he could try to rejoin the race—and beat his brother, at least, if no one else!

  Except, when he got back to the ditch, there was no Frank! There was no bike! Something in the back of Joe’s mind began to tingle. This was starting to feel like a mystery. And if there were one thing Joe loved more than biking (and beating Frank in a race), it was solving mysteries.

  Joe looked around. Luckily the ground in the ditch was still muddy and wet from recent rain. He could see clearly the place where Frank’s bike had gone over the edge. The ground was all torn up where the bike had landed. And next to it he saw three sets of footprints. One was his, and the other was Frank’s. There was also one he didn’t recognize.

  He knew his and Frank’s footprints because he and Frank had carved distinctive patterns into their shoes, so that if one of them was ever lost, the other could find him. Joe’s shoes had stars on them, and Frank’s had dinosaurs. Their mom had gotten mad about it, because the first time they had done it, they had cut all the way through the soles! But they got it right the second time.

  Today it had come in handy at last! Joe followed the track of dinosaurs up out of the ditch. They stopped at the road. Joe judged the angle. After a little looking, he was able to pick up the tracks on the other side of the path, in the park proper. He didn’t make it far before Frank nearly ran straight into him.

  “Joe!” yelled Frank. “Guess what?”

  “Your bike was stolen,” said Joe.

  “How did you know?” Frank stared at him in shock. How did Joe know that?

  4

  The Six Ws

  Joe said nothing. He just smiled.

  “How did you know someone took my bike?” asked Frank again.

  “Say I’m the smartest.”

  Frank stuck his tongue out.

  “Say it!”

  “Fine,” said Frank. “I’m the smartest.” This time it was his turn to smile. “Now, how did you know?”

  Joe laughed. He knew when he’d been beaten fair and square. “Because you don’t have it with you,” he said. “And I followed your footprints out here, and there was no bike tread, which means you didn’t bring it out here and then hide it.”

  Frank nodded. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a case,” he said. He wasn’t happy that his bike was missing. He knew his parents were going to be upset if it was gone. It would cost money to replace it, and his piggy bank was low. The bike had been a birthday present. If he had lost it, he was going to be in a lot of trouble. It might take him months to be able to afford a new bike. But still, he couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. If there were anything he liked better than biking, it was solving a mystery. And he was pretty sure he and Joe could figure this one out. They’d already solved more than one case.

  Frank reached into his bag and pulled out a notebook and a pen. The boys sat beneath a big tree.

  They began to list out the six Ws of mystery solving—What, When, Where, Why, Who, and How?

  What. Joe took the pen and notebook. “So, what was taken?” he said. “My bike,” Frank replied.

  One red BMX bike, kid-size, wrote Joe. “Let me,” said Frank. “I can describe it better.”

  Frank took the pen and wrote out a description of his bike. He had detailed it himself. He had drawn the head of a Tyrannosaurus rex (his favorite dinosaur) on the seat and had covered the frame with stickers of dinosaurs. Around the back wheel was painted the word “Bayport,” and on the front was the word “Bandits.” Frank and Joe had both painted their wheels for when the Bandits had won the local Little League championship and they’d been in the winner’s parade. Finally, the handlebars had blue tassels on the ends. Not just because Frank liked how they looked, but also because the string often came in handy for fixing things or tying things together.

  Once he’d finished describing the bike, he drew it—just in case they needed to make a “lost bike” poster.

  No one else had a bike quite like his. Bayport was a small town. Anyone who saw it would know it was his.

  When. “How long were you gone with Mrs. Ackerman?” Joe asked.

  “Not very long. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

  Joe wrote down ~ fifteen minutes. Their mother had taught them that the symbol ~, or “tilde” as it was called, meant “about” or “almost.”

  It was useful shorthand when taking notes on a case.

  “That wasn’t much time,” said Joe.

  “Whoever took your bike made off with it fast.”

  Where. “Well, that one is easy,” said Joe.

  Bayport Park bike trail, he wrote in the notepad. He drew a large square to represent the park. Then he drew a curvy line for the bike trail. Finally he put an X where the bike had been.

  Why. Joe wrote the word “why” in big letters. Then he stopped. For a moment both boys scratched their heads.

  “Someone could have taken it to use themselves,” said Joe. He wrote it down in the notebook.

  “True,” said Frank. “But they’d have to be my size. And it would be pretty obvious that it was my bike.” He thought for a second. “Maybe they took it for the parts?”

  Joe wrote down Parts.

  “What if someone took it to get back at you?” said Joe. Not everyone was always happy with their mystery solving. They’d gotten more than one person in trouble in the past. Frank hated to think he had an enemy, but it was possible. He nodded.

  Joe wrote down Enemy in the notebook.

  Who. This was the most important question.

  “It had to be someone nearby,” said Joe. “Think back. Who did you see?”

  “I ran into Mr. Mack and Lucy!” said Frank. “And you know how Lucy is.” Lucy was a great dog, but she had a habit of stealing things and burying them in the woods.

  “A bike seems pretty heavy for Lucy to drag away,” said Joe. “But who knows? And maybe Mr. Mack saw something.”

  He wrote them down in the notebook.

  “Who else?” he asked.

  “Well, I saw Speedy. I don’t think she’d take my bike, but she’s a witness. We should talk to her.”

  Cissy “Speedy” Zermeño, Joe wrote.

  “Oh!” said Frank. “When Mrs. Ackerman took me to the ranger station, Adam stayed behind. And I’d told him that I’d fallen off my bike.”

  If anyone had reason to be mad at Frank, it was Adam. They’d caught him playing tricks on people a few times in the past. It would be just like him to steal Frank’s bike.

  Joe added his name to the list. “Cool,” he said. “Is there anything else we should write down?”

  Frank thought for a moment. He shook his head and jumped to his feet. “Nope! Let’s get started.”

  “Right,” said Joe. “But first I’m going to lock my bike up to a tree, now that we have your bag. I’d hate to lose both our bikes in one day!”

  5

  All Bark, No Bike

  Let’s talk to Mr. Mack first,” said Frank.

  “But Adam’s our best suspect,” said Joe.

  “Yeah, but Mr. Mack was the first person I saw. And we don’t have any proof that Adam took my bike. Maybe Mr. Mack saw something. You know Dad says to get all the evidence first. And to start with the people who are going to be the most helpful. Besides, we don’t know where Adam is.”

  “We don’t know where Mr. Mack is either,” said Joe.

  “But it’s easy to find him. Just follow the whistle!”

  Mr. Mack was always whistling. He was a great whistler, an
d he could do just about any song he’d ever heard. Lucy liked to bark along with his whistling. They would be easy to find in the park.

  Frank and Joe started off in the direction Frank had last seen Mr. Mack headed—running after Lucy toward the big lawn. The big lawn was at the center of Bayport Park. It was where people went to sit on picnic blankets and play Frisbee. There was a pond at the center, where dogs liked to drink. Sometimes they even swam in it.

  “Running around and taking stuff is thirsty work,” said Frank. “I bet Lucy was heading toward the pond.”

  Sure enough, Lucy was paddling around in the pond when the boys showed up. Mr. Mack was sitting on one of the benches, reading his paper.

  “Hi, boys!” said Mr. Mack. “How’s that arm, Frank?”

  “Not bad,” said Frank.

  “That’s good. Sorry I couldn’t stop to help you earlier. She’s been crazy today.” He pointed toward Lucy, who was happily paddling back and forth in the water.

  “It’s okay. But maybe you can help us out now!” said Frank. He explained what had happened to his bike. He showed Mr. Mack the picture he had drawn of it.

  “Oh no!” said Mr. Mack. “That’s terrible. Who do you think took it?”

  Frank looked at Joe. Joe looked at Frank. They both looked at Lucy. Neither wanted to be the one to say it.

  “Well, sir . . . we thought maybe—,” Frank started.

  “Remember that time when Lucy took Jason Prime’s mitt?” Joe asked. Jason was the star player on the Bayport Bandits. Lucy had taken his mitt and buried it right before a big game.

  “You don’t think . . . Lucy?” said Mr. Mack. “I don’t know, boys. A bike would be an awful heavy thing for her to drag around. But she has been off leash all day.”

  “Do you know where she’s been hiding things?” asked Frank. Lucy always hid the stuff she stole somewhere in the woods.

  “There’s one way to find out.” Mr. Mack pulled a chew toy shaped like a bumblebee out of his bag. “This is one of her favorite things to hide.”

  He threw the chew toy into the air. Lucy came racing out of the water and grabbed the toy before it hit the ground. Then she was off and running.

  “Chase after her, boys! I’ll do my best to keep up,” yelled Mr. Mack. He didn’t need to tell Frank and Joe twice.

  Lucy raced through the big lawn. She was fast, but Frank and Joe were two of the best runners at Bayport Elementary School. Their father always told them that a good detective counted on his brain the most—but his legs were a close second!

  If it had been a regular race, Frank and Joe would have been able to keep up with Lucy. But Lucy zigged and zagged. She ran through picnics and volleyball games. Frank and Joe had to run their hardest just to keep up with her.

  “Sorry!” yelled Frank as he ran through a family’s barbecue.

  “Coming through!” yelled Joe as he interrupted a game of catch.

  Slowly Mr. Mack’s whistling faded into the background. When Frank looked back, he couldn’t even see him anymore. If they lost Lucy now, they’d have to wait until she came back and start all over again!

  Lucy loved taking stuff. But she also loved being chased! If it were possible for a dog to smile, Lucy would have had a huge smile across her face.

  Finally, after running around the big lawn three times, Lucy ran into the woods.

  “Careful!” yelled Frank. “We don’t want to lose her now.”

  “Right!” yelled Joe. “And I’m going to try not to lose an eye, either.”

  It was hard to see Lucy through the trees. But they could still hear her running. Then, suddenly, the sound stopped. It was replaced by the sound of digging.

  “She’s burying the toy,” said Joe. “But where is she?”

  The boys looked around. There was no sign of Lucy. Then they saw dirt flying up into the air.

  “There!” yelled Frank.

  The boys ran over. She was sitting at the bottom of a deep hole, happily kicking dirt around. The hole was filled with things. Aside from Lucy’s favorite toy, there were three tennis balls, two dolls, a book, two pairs of glasses, an empty backpack, and dozens of sticks.

  But there was no sign of Frank’s bike.

  “Darn,” said Frank. He hadn’t really thought Lucy had stolen his bike, but he’d gotten his hopes up anyway.

  “Sorry, Frank,” said Mr. Mack, who had just caught up with them. “So that’s where my glasses went!” He began to pick all the important things out of the hole.

  “It’s okay,” said Frank. “I’m glad she wasn’t the one who took it.”

  “But,” said Joe, “maybe she can help us find out who did take it?”

  “We’d be happy to help you boys any way we can. But how?” asked Mr. Mack.

  “Well, she’s good at finding where she hid all of this stuff,” said Joe. “So maybe she can track whoever took Frank’s bike.”

  “Good idea!” said Frank.

  Together Frank, Joe, Mr. Mack, and Lucy all headed back to the last place Frank had seen his bike.

  “Okay, Lucy,” said Frank. “I need you to find my bike. Can you do that, girl?”

  Lucy whined and sniffed all around where the bike had been. She laid her ears flat against her skull. She put her nose low to the ground. Slowly she started walking away. Frank and Joe followed her down the path. Halfway through the park, she suddenly turned off the path, onto the dirt.

  “Look,” said Frank. He pointed to the ground. Lucy was following a set of footprints—and a bike track!

  Lucy followed the tracks across the big lawn. But when they came to the road that ran through the center of the park, she lost them. The ground was drier here, and the tracks disappeared. They searched up and down, but neither the boys nor Lucy could find the trail again. They walked back to where they’d last seen the footprints. Frank kneeled down and drew them in his notebook.

  “I’m sorry to get your hopes up, boys,” said Mr. Mack when he caught up with them.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Mack,” said Frank. “Lucy helped us more than you might guess. I think I know whose footprints these are!”

  6

  So Close and Yet So Far

  I’ll bet you anything those footprints belong to Adam Ackerman,” said Frank.

  “They’re definitely the right size,” said Joe. “But how can you be sure?”

  “Look at the tracks,” said Frank. “See how the left footprints are all deeper than the right ones? They were made by someone who couldn’t step as hard on one side as the other. When Mrs. Ackerman took me to the ranger station, she told Adam to stay behind because he’d hurt his foot!”

  “Let’s find him!” said Joe.

  That turned out to be easier said than done. Bayport Park was large, and Adam could have been anywhere. He might have even left the park already!

  The boys decided to start their search where Lucy had lost the trail. They left the road behind and walked deeper into the park. Mr. Mack and Lucy followed behind them until Lucy grabbed a Frisbee and took off running.

  “You boys keep going,” said Mr. Mack. “We’ll catch up.”

  The boys walked a little farther by themselves.

  “Do you hear that?” said Joe.

  “It sounds like little kids crying—and Adam Ackerman yelling,” said Frank.

  “Yup. Come on!”

  They followed the sounds to the kids’ playground. Adam was sitting on one of the swings, while two younger kids were sitting on the ground, crying.

  “But it was our turn!” yelled one of them.

  “Well, it’s my turn now!” said Adam. “So beat it!”

  The kids ran away, still crying.

  “Very nice,” said Joe. “Picking on little kids.”

  “Hi, Joe. Hi, Frank,” said Adam. He looked very happy about something. And Frank was pretty sure he knew what it was.

  “Okay, Adam, where is it?” said Frank.

  “I have no idea where your bike is,” said Adam. He pumped his legs and star
ted to swing. The smile on his face grew bigger, until he swung too hard and made his foot throb.

  Serves him right, Frank thought.

  “If you don’t know where my bike is,” said Frank, “then how did you know that was what I was going to ask you about?”

  “Lucky guess,” Adam said.

  “We’ll see about that!” said Frank. Right as Adam was at the top of his swing, Frank darted forward and grabbed his right shoe.

  “Give that back!” yelled Adam.

  “I will. In just one second,” Frank said.

  Joe took out the notebook, and Frank held the shoe up to the drawing he had made. It was a perfect match!

  “I thought so!” said Frank. “You took my bike, and I want it back!”

  “I’m not telling you anything,” said Adam as he got off the swing.

  Adam grabbed for his shoe, but Frank wouldn’t let go.

  “Give me my shoe!”

  “Give me my bike!”

  They went back and forth, each of them pulling as hard as they could. Suddenly a voice yelled from behind them.

  “Boys! What is going on here?”

  Adam and Frank both let go of the shoe at the same time. They went flying backward, landing on their backsides. It was all Joe could do to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Nothing! We were just playing, Mom!” Adam’s mother was standing at the edge of the playground, her hands on her hips, a suspicious look on her face.

  “Adam took my bike—,” Frank started to say.

  But Adam cut him off. “I took Frank’s bike and moved it to a safe place!” he said quickly. “I saw he’d left it by the bike path, and I was afraid someone was going to steal it.”

  “Yeah,” said Frank. “And I was just giving him his shoe so he could lead us to where he put it.”

  Adam’s mother looked at the two of them. Frank put his arm around Adam’s shoulder. They both tried to look innocent.