The Runaway. Alison Hart
she was dabbing it with a napkin. “Just stay close by.”
“Thanks. Come on, Beverly.” Maryellen started jogging toward their house. “The Happy Hollisters have a job to do.” Beverly, who was skating next to her, looked puzzled. But since her sister was always happy to tag along, Maryellen knew she’d be up for detective work.
When they reached the carport, Maryellen threw away her ice cream stick and wiped her sticky hands on her pants leg. Beverly sat on the concrete floor and took off her skates. “What are we going to do?” she asked.
“We’re going to follow the ice cream truck.” Maryellen told her sister about the brown hairs and the dog treats.
“Do you really think that Mr. Brad the ice cream man stole Scooter?” Beverly asked.
Maryellen wrinkled her nose. It did sound sort of crazy. “I don’t know what to think. Maybe he just decided he wanted a second dog and Scooter was wandering around outside. It’s up to us to follow the clues, and right now those clues point to Mr. Brad.” Maryellen pushed her bike from the carport.
“Then let’s go.” Beverly mounted her own hand-me-down bike, which had training wheels and was even older and slower than Maryellen’s. Sleek bikes like Davy’s or a Schwinn Starlet sure would have made sleuthing easier. At least the ice cream truck wouldn’t be hard to follow. All they had to do was listen for the bell and watch for a swarm of kids.
They found the truck parked on the next block. Maryellen stopped her bike a short distance away and watched as Mr. Brad handed out treats to a dozen kids.
Finally, the kids wandered off, eating their sherbets and cones. As Mr. Brad closed the side window, a brownish-red dog Maryellen didn’t recognize trotted over, wagging its tail. “Hey, Buster!” Maryellen could hear him greet the dog. “Are you ready for your treat?” Buster jumped up on Mr. Brad’s leg, and the ice cream man gave the dog a friendly pat.
Maryellen’s eyes widened as Mr. Brad stepped back and Buster hopped into the open passenger side of the truck.
“Did you see that, Beverly?” she exclaimed. “Now we have proof that Mr. Brad is stealing dogs—which means he must have Scooter!”
chapter 4
Vanishing Tracks
MARYELLEN GRITTED HER teeth in anger. Should she confront the dog thief? Or wait and tell her parents?
Before she could make a decision, Tom came skating down the sidewalk hollering, “Mom says to come home!”
Maryellen whipped her head around and motioned frantically for him to shush so that Mr. Brad wouldn’t notice they had followed him. By the time she looked back, the ice cream truck was pulling away.
With Buster in the truck? Maryellen scanned the yards and sidewalks but saw no sign of the big reddish-brown dog. Jumping on her bike, she pedaled after the ice cream truck, but it had already turned the corner and disappeared.
“Mom says now,” Tom hollered after her.
With a deep sigh, Maryellen braked and rode her bike back up the sidewalk. Tom was already skating back toward home, but Beverly remained almost where Maryellen had left her, hunched over her bike. “You saw that, Beverly, right?” Maryellen asked her sister.
“Saw what?” Beverly straightened.
“Saw that big brown dog hop into Mr. Brad’s truck.”
“Umm…” Beverly’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t. My pants leg got caught in my bike chain and I was trying to get it loose without tearing it.”
“Phooey!” Maryellen hit the handlebars. “I saw that dog Buster jump into his truck, but I didn’t see if he jumped out again because Tom came hollering down the sidewalk.” She glanced at the nearby lawns and porches to see if she could spot the dog, but Buster still wasn’t in sight. “What if Mr. Brad took him?”
“Why would he? More likely Buster ran home,” Beverly said, turning her bike. “Which is where we need to be going. Maybe the Happy Hollisters can look for Mr. Brad again tomorrow after school. The ice cream truck usually comes around about then.”
“Maybe.” Maryellen blew out a frustrated breath. Maybe it was time to call the police and report what she had seen. Only what had she seen? Beverly could be right: Buster might have simply run home.
When she got back to her house, Maryellen called Angela and the Karens to let them know Scooter was still missing.
“I’ll help you look tomorrow,” Karen King said when Maryellen phoned her.
“You must be soooo sad,” Angela said when Maryellen told her the news.
And Karen Stohlman insisted that calling the police was the right thing to do.
Mr. Larkin helped Maryellen write down important details to tell the Daytona Beach Police Department. Her stomach did flip-flops as she dialed, but her dad gave her an encouraging smile.
She was put through to an Officer Polansky, who took her information. “Other folks have reported pets missing in the area,” he told her, “so we’ve asked the officers to keep an eye out for strays.”
“Scooter is not a stray,” Maryellen declared. “He has a red collar and a family who loves him.” She described the dachshund in detail so that if a policeman did find him, he would know to call the Larkins right away. She thought a moment before adding, “You might want to check with ice cream truck drivers in the area.” She knew she couldn’t accuse Mr. Brad of anything yet, but she could at least alert the police. “They drive through neighborhoods and may have seen something suspicious.”
When she hung up, her father smiled. “Don’t look so sad, honey. You did a good job, and I bet by tomorrow, Scooter will be waiting at the back door.”
Only he wasn’t.
In the morning, the moment Maryellen’s eyes opened, she hurried to the back stoop to check for Scooter. By now the kibble in his bowl was soggy, so she threw it out and washed the bowl.
When Maryellen arrived at school, her friends met her with serious faces.
“We all agreed that if Scooter wasn’t home today, we would help you look for him after school,” Karen King said.
“I forgot I can’t today because I have a piano lesson,” Angela said, looking especially glum.
“My mom said she’d pick us up after school and take us to your house,” Karen Stohlman said.
Karen King grinned excitedly. “I can’t wait to do some detective work just like Nancy Drew!” Now here was a detective worth imitating, Maryellen thought. She and her friends loved Nancy Drew mysteries.
“If only Nancy Drew was real,” Karen Stohlman said. “She, George, and Bess would solve ‘The Case of the Missing Dachshund’ in nothing flat.”
The bell rang, and all four girls hurried to their classes with the other students. Maryellen usually loved school, but she couldn’t wait for the day to be over so she and her friends could search for Scooter.
That afternoon, the two Karens and Maryellen quickly ate an after-school snack of Wheaties. Maryellen planned on getting her friends to tromp up and down the streets that her family hadn’t searched, and she wanted to check on Mr. Brad again, too. The ice cream man was still the perfect suspect—he was always in the neighborhood, he’d admitted he loved dogs, and she’d seen Buster jump into his truck for a treat. She couldn’t picture Scooter jumping up into the cab—his legs were too short—but maybe Mr. Brad had helped him inside, getting hairs on his uniform. It made sense, because who wouldn’t love a pudgy sweetie pie like Scooter?
“I sure would like to be Nancy Drew,” Karen Stohlman said with a sigh.
“No, Maryellen gets to be Nancy. It’s her dog,” Karen King declared.