Dognapped! (3 page)

‘What? You mean those animal rights people could have kidnapped Fluffy?’ Max’s eyes were like saucers. ‘And they might be after Auntie Sue too?’

I thought about it for a minute and had to admit that it was a bit far-fetched. Max saw Fluffy in the yard at 2.10 pm. Was it likely that someone from this animal rights group would be in the area just at the very time Fluffy was left in the yard alone? That they were parked on the patch of waste ground, lying in wait, heard her barking, saw her in the yard, sneaked in, grabbed her, carried her out to the car and drove off with her, all in the twenty minutes between Max seeing her and me discovering that she was missing? And, knowing Fluffy, she would have barked like mad if someone tried to drag her off, yet I’d heard nothing. ‘Well, we have to consider all possibilities, but I still reckon it’s someone closer to home. The first thing to do is find out what everyone was doing at the time when Fluffy went missing.’

‘How are we going to do that?’ asked Max.

‘Interview them. And I’m going to start with Mr Winkleberry. He was in at the time, so he might have seen or heard something. You keep quiet. Let me do the talking,’ I warned him.

PC Lambard had gone now, and Mr Winkleberry was sitting on the couch in the guest lounge, close to Gran. Too close. He’d been all over Gran like a rash since Fluffy had disappeared. And, come to think of it, he hadn’t been that bothered when I told him Fluffy had gone. Maybe he let Fluffy out so Gran would turn to him? It was strange how he kept coming to stay at Beachview, year after year. Gran said he sometimes came a few times a year. I wouldn’t want to spend all of my holidays in the same place. Maybe he was soft on Gran. So soft, that he resented all the time and attention she gave to Fluffy?

I took out my notepad and pen and went over to him. ‘You were in the house when Fluffy went missing, Mr Winkleberry. Did you hear or see anything suspicious?’ I asked. ‘Did you happen to look in the yard, or go out there at any point? Perhaps you noticed someone hanging around?’

‘If I had, young lady, I’d have told the police officer, wouldn’t I?’ Mr Winkleberry snapped. ‘Now, why don’t you stop playing detective and go out and see if you can find the dog. After all, you’re the one responsible for this.’

‘That’s not fair, someone deliberately let Fluffy out of the garden,’ Max blurted out.

I shot him a warning glance, but before I could say anything more, Emily poked her head around the door.

‘Any news about Fluffy, Mrs Carter?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid not,’ Gran said, dabbing her eyes with a crumpled tissue. ‘The poor dear has been out all night. I hope she isn’t lying injured somewhere.’

‘I’m sure she isn’t, or someone would have found her by now,’ Emily reassured her. ‘Try not to worry, she’s sure to turn up soon.’

I followed Emily out into the hall. ‘Were you in yesterday afternoon between 2.10 pm and 2.30 pm when Fluffy disappeared?’ I asked. ‘If so, I wondered if you saw or heard anything strange?’

Emily shook her head. ‘You know I wasn’t, you saw me come in later.’

I had, hadn’t I? Although it was possible she’d come in and gone back out again. But Emily adored Fluffy, she’d be the first one to say if she saw anything strange.

‘I was just checking,’ I told her. ‘I can’t believe that Fluffy has disappeared without anyone seeing or hearing anything. I mean, she’s the sort of dog you notice.’

‘She’s a lovely dog, and I’m sorry I can’t help, but I’ll keep an eye out for her,’ Emily promised.

‘Amy, can you please go to the corner shop and get me some milk,’ Gran called.

I hated going to the store, but I felt so guilty for losing Fluffy, I would do anything to help Gran at the moment. ‘Sure. No probs!’

It turned out that, as usual, Gran didn’t just want a bottle of milk, but a whole heap of stuff. I took the list from her, and set off. Max followed me. Great – it really didn’t do my street cred any good to have a little kid with me.

‘Haven’t you got a home to go to?’ I asked as soon as we were outside.

‘Charming! Well if that’s how you feel, don’t expect me to come running when you want some help finding Fluffy!’ he retorted, storming off.

He had a point. I needed him right now. I guess I could let him hang around with me until we had found Fluffy.

‘Okay, you can come with me,’ I shouted.

He turned around, arms folded. ‘Well, maybe I don’t want to now,’ he scowled. ‘Not unless you ask me properly.’

If I let him have the upper hand, I’d never hear the end of it. But, could I conduct the investigation without his help? I weighed up the odds of him storming off. He’d been hanging around me since I arrived, I didn’t reckon he’d stop doing it now. So I shrugged, ‘Please yourself,’ and set off up the street to the corner store. Sure enough, a few seconds later I heard Max running after me.

Mrs Brewson was already in the store, talking to another neighbour. She glanced at us, then walked over to the counter to pay for her shopping. But not before I had a chance to check out the contents of her basket.

‘Does Mrs Brewson have a dog?’ I quietly whispered to Max.

Max looked at me in surprise. ‘No, why?’

‘Because she’s buying a tin of dog food.’

Max spun around to stare at Mrs Brewson, I yanked him back. ‘Don’t let her know we’ve sussed her out. Just act natural.’

I raced around the store, gathering the stuff Gran wanted, hoping to finish at the same time as Mrs Brewson, but she got out of there pretty sharp and was halfway down the street by the time we left.

‘She knows we’re onto her, that’s why she made a quick getaway,’ I told Max.

‘Do you really think she’s got Fluffy?’

‘Well I don’t reckon she’s bought the dog food to make a pie, do you? You said yourself she doesn’t like Fluffy, and doesn’t get on with Gran.’

‘But if she doesn’t like Fluffy, why would she want to steal her?’ Max objected.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Duh! To teach Gran a lesson, of course. Let’s drop this shopping off at Gran’s, then stake out Mrs Brewson’s house. If Fluffy is in there, I’m going to get her back!’

I could hear Gran and Mr Winkleberry talking to someone in the guest lounge, so shouted out, ‘I’ve left the shopping in the kitchen, be back soon,’ and made a quick exit, pretending I hadn’t heard Mr Winkleberry shout for me to come back. He was only a guest, I didn’t have to take orders from him.

Max was waiting for me at Gran’s back gate. ‘What’s the plan?’ he asked.

I thought for a moment. Max lived nearer to Mrs Brewson, so it would be easier for him to keep an eye on the front of the house. ‘You watch the front, pretend you’re playing in the garden or something, and I’ll watch the back,’ I told him.

Max sneered. ‘I’m too old to play in the garden.’

I ignored him. ‘If we see or hear anything suspicious, we make a note of it. Then we compare notes later. Oh, and if Mrs Brewson goes out, let me know right away. Okay?’

‘How long do we watch the house for?’

‘As long as it takes.’

I went around the back to try and find a spy hole in Mrs Brewson’s fence, but there wasn’t one. I couldn’t see into the back yard at all, so I decided that I’d be better off watching from my bedroom window. I had a pretty good view from my attic room. But as soon as I went inside, Mr Winkleberry collared me. ‘Your gran’s having a lie down, so you can help me prepare the dinner.’

‘But I’ve got things to do,’ I protested.

‘Really? As it’s your fault that your Gran’s so upset, I’d have thought you’d want to help her.’

Talk about blackmail. I had to peel the potatoes and prepare the cabbage while all Mr Winkleberry did was shove a few pork chops in the oven. If the doorbell hadn’t rung, I’m sure he’d have had me scrubbing the floor and vacuuming as well.

It was Max. ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded. ‘You’re supposed to be watching the back of Mrs Brewson’s house.’

‘I was, but Mr Winkleberry made me help him do the dinner,’ I explained. ‘What’s up?’

‘I’ve just seen Mrs Brewson go out,’ Max said. ‘And guess what?’ He paused dramatically.

‘What?’

‘I’ve just heard a dog bark inside her house.’

‘So, she has got Fluffy. I knew it! Well I’m going to get her back,’ I told Max.

‘How?’

‘I’ll have to find a way of getting into Mrs Brewson’s house. You stay here and keep watch. Warn me if Mrs Brewson comes home.’

‘How?’

Honestly, Max really was annoying sometimes. I searched in my pocket for the whistle I always carry, and handed it to him. ‘Just blow on this whistle three times.’

Knowing Mr Winkleberry would collar me to do another job as soon as I set foot in the kitchen, I sprinted around the corner to the back of the houses. I stood outside Mrs Brewson’s gate and peered over the top. The yard was empty apart from Kittikins curled up under a bush.

I tried the latch and was relieved to find the gate open. Cautiously, I stepped inside, closing the gate behind me before creeping up to the house. I pressed my head against the wall and listened intently. I was sure I heard a quiet whimpering – the sort of sound a dog would make if they were left alone in a strange place. I was certain now that Fluffy was in there. I had to get her out.

I tried the back door, but that – as expected – was locked. So I scanned the house for an open window. There was one half-open on the second floor. If I climbed up the drainpipe I should be able to slip my hand through and open it just wide enough to climb in.

The drainpipe wobbled and clanged. I was terrified that it would either come off and hurl me crashing to the ground or someone would hear the noise and come out to see what was going on. I wasn’t sure which was the worst scenario. Either way, my life wouldn’t be worth living.

I was halfway up when I heard someone come out of the house next door to Max’s. Looking down I saw an old lady, tall and sparrow-thin, carrying a black refuse sack over to the green bin near the back gate. She must be one of the Arnold sisters that Max had told me about. I wondered how good her eyesight was because if she turned around, there was no way she could miss me dangling from her neighbour’s drainpipe, unless she was half-blind. I didn’t dare climb back down, out of sight, in case the drainpipe clanged and gave me away. So I kept still, hardly daring to breath, hoping she wouldn’t turn around and see me.

‘Ethel!’

Just my luck! The other sister had come out now. She was like a puffed out version of the first one; same features, just rounder. ‘Ethel’ turned around to face her sister.

Don’t look over here, I begged silently. Please don’t look over here!

‘Hurry up Ethel, your tea is getting cold,’ ‘round’ sister said.

Ethel dumped the sack into the bin and hobbled back into the house.

Phew! I climbed up to the open window as quick as I could and scrambled through, almost knocking over a statue of a woman holding a parasol. I moved the figure along the sill a bit and stepped down into a rather old-fashioned bedroom with huge oak wardrobes and a massive wooden bed covered with a floral quilt. That was a close call. Now to find Fluffy and get out of here before Mrs Brewson gets back.

I opened the bedroom door and headed across the landing, listening carefully for any sound that would alert me to where Fluffy was being kept. I noticed a faint doggy-like whimpering downstairs and the pad of pawsteps along the hall.

‘Fluffy!’ I called, hurrying to the stairs.

‘Woof! Woof!’

Hang on, that bark was a bit loud for Fluffy.

‘GRRR!’ A huge, brown, very unfriendly looking pit bull terrier, that definitely wasn’t Fluffy, bounded up the stairs towards me, growling and snarling. I turned around and bolted back to the bedroom, the dog snapping at my heels. How I managed to get inside and slam the door shut before it took a chunk out of me, I’ll never know. I leant against the closed door, my heart pounding as the dog hurled itself at it, trying to open it with brute force. Boy, that was close!

Then three shrill whistles pierced the air.

Oh no, Max was warning me that Mrs Brewson was on her way back. I had to get out of here! I ran over to the window and looked out, dropping to my knees when I saw the Arnold sisters in their back garden again. To my horror, I heard the front door open as Mrs Brewson came in. The dog careered down the stairs to greet her. I was trapped!

Think, Amy, think. I told myself. What would Vince Bronson do? He always told Mac that there was a way out of every situation.

I quickly poked my head up to look out of the window again. Although the Arnold sisters were there, they weren’t facing this way. Dare I risk it?

I saw Max running along the path at the back of the houses, probably coming to check that I’d got out in time. I stood up and pointed down to the Arnold sisters. He was quick on the uptake, I’ll give him that, because he immediately knocked on their back gate and called to them. ‘Round Sister’ opened the gate, ‘Sparrow Sister’ was close behind her.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ I heard Max say loudly, ‘but I wonder if you’ve heard that Auntie Sue’s dog, Fluffy, has gone missing.’

‘What? That lovely little white thing?’ Sparrow Sister gasped.

Max nodded and started telling them all about it. I just hoped he could keep them talking long enough for me to make my escape. I scrambled out, forgetting about the statue. I caught it with my foot and sent it flying out of the window. Luckily, Max saw what had happened and started coughing loudly to try to cover the SMASH as the figure hit the ground below and broke into pieces. I shinned down the drainpipe, jumping off as I came to the wobbly part that clanged. My landing was softened by a bushy plant, but I still came down on my backside with a bump. I’d just got to my feet when the back door opened and the pit bull came charging out. It rounded on me, barking menacingly, determined not to let me get away this time. My instincts were screaming at me to run, but I knew that was asking for trouble, so I stood very still and said loudly but firmly, ‘NO!’ I’d seen Vince do that in a movie once, and the dog had immediately stopped barking.

This dog carried on barking.

‘Stop it, Buster!’ Mrs Brewson came out, stared at me in astonishment and grabbed the dog’s collar. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

‘Oh, hello, Mrs Brewson. I was just about to knock on your back door.’ The dog looked like it wanted to tear me into little shreds and was pulling so hard it nearly yanked Mrs Brewson off her feet.

Kittikins got up from the bush, strolled past Buster, tail in the air, and into the house. And this was the cat little Fluffy was supposed to terrorise?

‘Buster! In!’ Mrs Brewson opened the back door wide, pushed the dog inside and closed it again. Then she turned to me. ‘What are you doing in my back garden? Why didn’t you come around to the front if you wanted to speak to me?’

I pointed to the broken statue. ‘You left your window open and the wind blew this off the windowsill, so I came to tell you about it.’

Vince would have been proud of me. Talk about cool and calm in a crisis.

Mrs Brewson looked up at the window. ‘How careless of me. No wonder Buster was barking upstairs when I came in. He must have heard the crash and thought someone had broken in.’

‘I didn’t know you had a dog,’ Max piped up, peering over the gate.

‘He’s my sister’s dog. I’m looking after him while she’s on holiday,’ Mrs Brewson replied. ‘Now, thank you for coming to tell me about the statue, but next time, can you please come to the front door? I don’t want to risk Buster escaping like your Gran’s dog.’

So we were no nearer to finding Fluffy, I thought, as I went out of the gate – Mrs Brewson bolted it firmly after me. Although, as Vince says, the trick to solving a crime is to class everyone as a suspect, then eliminate them one by one. At least I could tick Mrs Brewson off the list.

Or could I? Just because she wasn’t hiding Fluffy didn’t mean she hadn’t let her escape. After an eventful few hours of investigating, we still didn’t know whether Fluffy was lost or dognapped!