The Case of Dunc's Doll
Page 4
A large officer stopped next to Grant. “Are these the two boys?”
“Yes, officer,” the older man said. “They broke into our home—”
“We were after the doll,” Dunc cut in. “They have Dickens’s daughter’s doll—the one that was in the papers. We did some undercover work and found out they stole it and came looking for it.”
The policeman sighed. “You did, eh? Have you ever heard of calling the police?”
“Yes, sir, but there wasn’t time, and nobody would listen to us anyway.”
“You seem familiar,” the cop said. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
Dunc was silent, but Amos—he looked like a rat drowned in spit—coughed.
“You probably remember us from when we broke that appliance stealing ring.”
The cop nodded. “Oh yes, that’s right. You two just about blew the whole riverfront away.”
“Well, it wasn’t our fault, really,” Dunc said. “You see, there was this parrot—”
“Officer,” the old man said, “I know it’s nice to chat, but it’s really very late and I have to get some rest.”
“The doll,” Dunc broke away from Grant, who was still holding his shoulder. “They stole that doll. It’s worth a lot of money, and they stole it from this nice man who drives around to shows.”
“I know.” The policeman nodded. “I read the reports. But I don’t see a doll, do you?”
Dunc turned and moved into the bushes. “I threw it here, over here.” He rummaged around where he thought he’d thrown it and couldn’t find it. He tore the bushes apart but saw nothing. Then he looked up and saw the Rottweiler sitting at the edge of the bushes. A doll’s leg hung out of his mouth.
“The dog’s got the doll!” he said. “See?”
“How,” the policeman asked, “do we get it away from him?”
“I’m out of pepper. And he won’t let go— we tried to get him to let go of something before. He’s stubborn. Unless …”
“Unless what?”
“Unless we give him a substitute. Amos,” Dunc said. “Come over here by the dog and give me your arm.…”
• 13
“I think it worked out fairly well, don’t you?” Dunc said. They were sitting on the front steps to Dunc’s house. Dunc wasn’t allowed to leave the boundaries of the porch until he was forty-six years old. Amos’s parents were more lenient and had restricted him for only a week, with extra conditions. It had been two weeks since they had rescued the doll.
“I don’t see how you can say that.” Amos shook his head. “I had to dress up like a girl, was half swallowed by a Rottweiler—I still have spit in my ears—and I have to call home every hour on the hour for the rest of my life.”
“Those two are in jail, and we got the reward, didn’t we? A thousand dollars?”
“Right,” Amos snorted. “And then we gave it back to the guy with the dolls so he can use it to take that motor home around and do the shows.”
“It seemed the best thing to do.”
“Giving away a thousand dollars isn’t the best thing to do. Ever. I can think of many best things to do, but that isn’t one of them.”
“He gave us each a doll, didn’t he?”
Amos looked at Dunc and didn’t say anything, and Dunc nodded.
“I know, I know. It was an original set of Barbie and Ken dolls from the sixties. But he said they were collector’s items and would be worth a lot of money someday.”
“I gave mine to Melissa yesterday,” Amos said. “It was kind of a present.”
“Well there, you see? What did she do?”
“She’s still laughing, but I don’t know if it was the dolls or my hair. I can’t get it to comb right. Dog spit makes it stand up funny. I think I had my head in that dog’s mouth a little too long. I keep wanting to smell tires and chase cats.” He stopped. Dunc was looking at a series of maps.
“What are you looking at?”
“There’s a river rafting trip scheduled for next month. It’s sponsored by the chamber of commerce, and I happen to know there are two seats still left. I was just looking at the map, and it goes through a place that looks interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“Down here, in the middle of the Brant Wilderness area—see here? There’s a place called Dead Man’s Chute. I read an article about that in the paper a month or so ago. It seems that four or five people have disappeared over the years, all right in that one place. I thought it would be something to go down there with the rafting trip—wait a minute, where are you going?”
Amos was halfway to the street. “Home. Forever. Good-bye.”
“Melissa,” Dunc said.
Amos stopped. Turned. “Melissa what?”
“She’s going on the rafting trip.”
Amos stared. “For sure?”
Dunc nodded. “I got it from my parents, who got it from her parents. Direct. It seems to me that sooner or later she’d have to talk to you, floating for a week on a raft.”
Amos looked up at the sky, the trees. He sighed. “All right. When do we leave?”
Be sure to join Dunc and Amos in these other Culpepper Adventure/Mystery books:
The Case of the Dirty Bird
(Culpepper Adventure/Mystery #1)
When Dunc Culpepper and his best friend, Amos, first see the parrot in a pet store, they’re not impressed—it’s smelly, scruffy, and missing half its feathers. They’re only slightly impressed when they learn that the parrot speaks four languages, has outlived ten of its owners, and is probably 150 years old. But when the bird starts mouthing off about buried treasure, Dunc and Amos get pretty excited—let the amateur sleuthing begin!
Culpepper’s Cannon
(Culpepper Adventure/Mystery #3)
Dunc and Amos are researching the Civil War cannon that stands in the town square when they find a note inside telling them about a time portal. Entering it through the dressing room of La Petite, a women’s clothing store, the boys find themselves in downtown Chatham on March 8, 1862—the day before the historic clash between the Monitor and the Merrimack. But the Confederate soldiers they meet mistake them for Yankee spies. Will they make it back to the future in one piece?
(August 1992)
Dunc Gets Tweaked
(Culpepper Adventure/Mystery #4)
Best friends Dunc and Amos meet up with a new buddy named Lash when they enter the radical world of skateboard competition. When somebody “cops”—steals—Lash’s prototype skateboard, the boys are determined to get it back. After all, Lash is about to shoot for a totally rad world’s record! Along the way they learn a major lesson: never kiss a monkey!
(September 1992)