"Mary Anne! Mary Anne!" he said urgently.
I stooped down to his level.
"What's up, Jamie?" "Nicky Pike said if you find Tigger you get thirty dollars." "That's true." "If 1 had thirty dollars, I'd buy eleven hundred racing cars." I sighed. Here we go again, I thought.
"But you know what?" Jamie went on. "I'd rather just have Tigger back." I gave Jamie a huge hug.
Chapter 9.
We did not find Tigger that afternoon. Somehow, I wasn't surprised.
But I was surprised the next afternoon when Jamie Newton said to me, "Let's look for Tigger some more." It was Monday. I was baby-sitting for Jamie and Lucy, and the weather was gorgeous. Being outdoors would feel wonderful. But it seemed to me as if we'd already looked everywhere for Tigger. Every possible place. At least around here, and I couldn't very well take the Newton kids to some other neighborhood in order to go kitten-hunting.
"Don't you want to find Tigger?" asked Jamie.
"Of course I do!" I said.
"Then let's look some more. We might have missed a place. Or maybe . . . maybe" (Jamie's eyes were widening at whatever this new thought was) "he's moved, and he's sitting right in some place we already checked! He might be, you know. We better look everywhere all over again." I smiled at Jamie. "Is this really what you want to do today?" "Yup. You can put Lucy in her stroller. And when we get to your house, we'll ask Myriah and Gabbie if they want to help us look, too." "Well," I said slowly. "All right." When Jamie had made his suggestion, he was sitting at the kitchen table drinking grape juice and eating crackers. And Lucy had just woken up from a nap. So there was a lot to do before we could go Tigger-hunting. I changed Lucy, cleaned her up, and put a new outfit on her. (The lavender overalls she'd worn in the morning were covered with milk, grape juice, and mashed banana.) Then I packed a bag to take on our walk. When you're watching a baby, you can't go anywhere without a bag. In it I put Baby Wipes, a bottle full of apple juice, a pacifier, a spare diaper, and a toy.
When Lucy was ready to go I started in on Jamie. He had a gigantic grape juice mustache, which we got rid of with some scrubbing. Then I found his jacket. "Do you have to go to the bathroom?" I asked him as I picked up Lucy and her bag.
"Nope," said Jamie.
"Okay." Lucy's stroller was in the garage. At the garage door, I stopped to put her sweater on. "Are you sure you don't have to go to the bathroom?" I asked Jamie again.
"I'm sure." We went into the garage. I settled Lucy in the stroller and hung her bag on the back. "Last chance for the bathroom," I said to Jamie.
"I'm fine," he replied.
We set off. We were halfway down the driveway when Jamie said, "Mary Anne? I have to go to the bathroom." I sighed. But what can you do? Back we went. Ten minutes later we were on our way again. When we reached the Perkinses' house, Jamie rang their bell.
"No woof-woof," he remarked.
"Chewbacca must be in the backyard," I told him. (Chewy is the Perkinses' big black Labrador retriever. He loves people and gets excited when the bell rings. Usually, you hear galloping feet and excited barks when you push the doorbell.) But very small footsteps approached this time. Then the door opened a crack and Gabbie peeked out. When she saw us, her face broke into a grin. She threw the door open.
"Hi!" she cried, blonde hair bouncing.
"Hi-hi!" Jamie replied excitedly. "Do you and Myriah want to look for Tigger again? Mary Anne's here. She'll help us." "Okay. Let me ask Myriah." The excitement over looking for Tigger was great, and in moments, Jamie and his pals were in my front yard.
"This is where you last saw Tigger, right, Mary Anne?" asked Myriah.
I nodded. "That's right." "Then we'll start here." Myriah, Jamie, Gabbie, and I began whistling and calling and looking in trees and under bushes. But when I pushed Lucy's stroller into the backyard and found myself looking in our toolshed, a place I was sure I had checked at least twelve times already, I began to feel discouraged - and sort of disgusted.
"Lucy-Goose," I said, and Lucy strained her neck back to see me. She answers to that name as well as to Lucy and Lucy Jane, which is her full name. "Lucy Goose, let's go get the mail. I'm tired of this." And I'm afraid, I thought. I'm afraid that someone will find Tigger - dead.
Getting the mail is the highlight of any day for me, and I felt I needed the highlight just then. So I wheeled Lucy around to the front of my house and down the driveway. I opened the box. I looked inside. Stuffed! I absolutely adore a stuffed mailbox. I listened to the cries and shouts of Jamie, Myriah, and Gabbie while I struggled to pull everything out of the box. Then I pushed Lucy up to our front stoop, where I sat down and dropped the mail into my lap. There was so much it overflowed and fell on the ground. Lucy laughed as I tried to pick it up.
At last it was stacked neatly next to me. I sorted it into piles: bills for Dad, letters for Dad, magazines, catalogues, stuff we could probably throw out, letter for me. . . . Wait a sec. A letter for me?! I hardly ever get letters.
I picked up the envelope. It must be from Stacey, I thought. But, no, the address wasn't in her handwriting. Ooh, very exciting. A mystery letter! "Now this," I told Lucy, "is why I like getting the mail. You never know what you might find. I can't wait to see who this letter's from." Lucy blew me a raspberry, then smiled angelically.
I opened the envelope.
What I found inside gave me goose bumps.
"On, no," I cried softly.
Written in big, messy writing was a short message: If yoo want to see your cat alive again leave $160 in an envelope on The biq rocK in Brenner Field this aftrnoon.
A picture of Tigger was taped to the bottom of the page. It had been cut from one of the posters we'd made.
I swallowed, feeling sick. So Tigger had been kidnapped? But why? Because someone needed a hundred dollars?
"This is curious," I said to Lucy. What I meant was that it was chilling, horrible, disgusting, and the meanest thing in the world - only I couldn't say that in front of a little baby.
But what was I doing? Tigger had been kidnapped, and I was sitting on my front steps, talking to Lucy. I jumped up, dumped the mail in our front hall, then found Jamie and the Perkins girls.
"Listen, I'm sorry," I said to Jamie, "but it's time to go home." "Good," he replied. "We're bored. And I have to go to the bathroom." "Again?" I said. "Then let's go." We walked Gabble and Myriah to their house, then returned to the Newtons'.
I felt shaky all over by that time. I had to do something, but what? What do you do when someone is asking for a whole lot of money in order to give back something you love - and you haven't got the money? My friends and I had just barely been able to scrape together thirty dollars. There was a little more money in the treasury, but nothing close to seventy dollars. Maybe I could use the thirty dollars reward money and borrow seventy dollars from Dad. He must have seventy dollars in the bank. I could pay him back later from money I earned baby-sitting.
Okay. There was the solution. I felt a little calmer.
I was standing in the kitchen next to the telephone. From there, I could see into the Newtons' family room, where Jamie was watching Sesame Street and Lucy was sitting in her playpen. I hated to leave them there, but I was going to have to, for a few minutes anyway.
I picked up the phone. I dialed Dad's office. First I got cut off. Then I got a busy signal - three calls in a row. When I finally reached my father's secretary, she said he was on an important call, dear, and would I please hold?
I told her that no, I wouldn't, thank you. As I hung up, I thought, my call was important, too.
But maybe this was better. Maybe telling Dad about Tigger's ransom note wasn't a good idea. Dad's a lawyer. He would probably freak out, and he certainly wouldn't allow me to go to Brenner Field the next day.
I made another call. This one was to Logan. Kerry answered the phone, sounding quite cheerful, and handed me over to her big brother, who was actually home, which I hadn't really expected. He plays so much ball these days th
at he's usually on the field at school.
"Hi," 1 said glumly.
"Hi," he replied, just as glumly.
"You'll never guess what happened. Tigger has been kidnapped." "What?" (That wasn't the "What?" I'd been hoping for. I'd been hoping for a "WHAT??/") "That's right," I went on. "They left a ransom note." I read it to Logan. Then, tearfully, I added, "Oh, Logan, what are we going to do?" "We?" "Well, you and I and the rest of the Babysitters Club." There was a pause. "I'll have to think," replied Logan.
"We have a club meeting today," I told him hopefully.
Another pause. "All right. I'll be there. I guess it would make sense to discuss the problem together." "Thanks, Logan," I said. "I'll call Kristy and tell her what's going on. She should have been the one to ask you to the meeting, but I think she'll understand about this. It's an emergency." (Kristy loves emergencies.) Logan and I got off the phone then so I could call Kristy. She was completely understanding. Certainly more so than Logan. I couldn't help thinking that he didn't seem concerned. And that hurt. But when I told Kristy about the ransom note, I got the "WHAT??!" I'd been waiting for.
"See you at five-thirty," said Kristy, as we were getting off the phone. "And don't worry. We're going to get Tigger back. The Babysitters Club can do anything." Chapter 10.
Mrs. Newton came home at 5:15 that afternoon, so I made it to Claudia's house just a few minutes before the beginning of our club meeting. I brought the ransom note with me, envelope and all. (Once, near Halloween, 1 had received a mysterious chain letter. The other girls were really upset with me for throwing away the envelope it had arrived in, so I was careful to keep the envelope from the ransom note.) When we had all gathered, even Logan, we sat in Claud's room sort of stiffly. This always happens when Logan comes to a meeting. It's because he's a boy. Even though we know him and like him (especially me!), he just makes a meeting different. We worry about things such as what if Logan sits on something lumpy and it turns out to be some of Claudia's underwear? Or what is someone says "bra" or starts to tell a story about a girl we know who might be going out with a friend of Logan's? Not that Kristy lets much of that go on during meetings, but it does happen from time to time.
Anyway, Kristy got the opening business over with fast. Then she said, "Today is going to be a combination regular club meeting and an emergency meeting. We'll take job calls, but in between, we'll try to figure out how to handle the ransom note." For some reason, that made me burst into tears. "Oh, that is so wonderful of you guys," I said. "You're the best friends in the world." I paused. "But where are we going to get seventy dollars?" Logan was sitting right next to me on the bed, which squished us next to Dawn and Claudia, but he didn't do anything when I started to cry. So Claudia, on the other side of me, patted my arm and then gave me a hug. I had the feeling she wanted to give Logan a dirty look while she was at it.
"Let's not worry about the money just yet," said Kristy as I was drying my eyes. "For starters, we should take a look at the ransom note." "Yeah," said the others.
But the phone rang then and we had to stop to schedule a job. When we were finished, I pulled the note out of my pocket.
"1 saved the envelope," I said pointedly.
My friends smiled. They knew what 1 was talking about.
I took the note out and laid it and the envelope side by side on the bed. Everyone crowded in for a look.
"It's those first words that scare me," I said. "They're so threatening. If you want to see your cat alive again . . .' It sounds like, well, if anything goes wrong, then Tigger will be . . . will be ... Oh, I can't say it. Or maybe he already is ... dead." My tears started to fall again and I glanced hopefully at Logan, but he was staring off into space.
"Well," said Jessi, "the handwriting on the envelope and on the note are the same." "But is this the real thing or some kind of trick?" asked Claudia, our mystery expert. "Any time there's a missing person, it seems as if about a million ransom notes suddenly turn up." "Yeah," agreed Mallory.
"It seems to me," Dawn spoke up, "that if the kidnapper wanted us to know he was the real one, he would have given us a better clue.
For instance, an actual photo of Tigger - you know, a Polaroid - to show he's alive now. Not just his picture cut from the poster we made. Anyone could do that." "Also," said Mallory, "the posters have been up for two days. If someone really was going to take advantage of them, he - or she - could have written the note Saturday afternoon and delivered it to Mary Anne yesterday morning. Why wait?" "Was that note mailed or just stuck in your box?" Logan asked me suddenly.
"Just stuck in the box," I replied. I handed him the envelope. "See? No stamp." He nodded.
The phone rang again. Dawn saw that I was still a wreck, so she took the club record book out of my lap and scheduled what might well be the one and only job she'd ever schedule.
While the others were busy with the call, Logan looked over at me and whispered, "Mary Anne, would you calm down? You are being so ... sensitive. You're acting like such a girl." For a moment, I just glared at him. "There's nothing wrong with being sensitive," I told him, "and besides, lam a girl." Claudia hung up the phone then, so Logan and I fell silent.
"The question is," said Kristy, "what are we going to do? I don't think we should worry about whether the note is a hoax. I think we should just follow up on it. It's our only lead." "Right!" agreed Logan. "We should go to Brenner Field and get this jerk who took Tigger. We'll beat him at his own game." "But how?" asked Dawn.
We stopped talking to think and to take two calls that came in.
Then, in a very small voice, and even though I had just been thinking the opposite an hour earlier, I said, "Maybe I should tell my dad about - " "No!" exclaimed Logan. "We're not involving any adults. No parents, no police." "Why not?" I asked.
"Because they'll just get in the way. A kid wrote that note. Don't you think so? Look at that big, babyish handwriting. And an adult would want more than a hundred dollars. Why would a grown-up go to all the trouble of stealing a kitten for three days, just to get a hundred dollars? It's not worth it." "That's true," the rest of us agreed.
"So?" said Kristy.
"Well," Logan went on slowly, "we don't know if that note is from an actual kidnapper, or just from someone trying to take advantage of Tigger's situation, but either way we should catch him - " "Or her," added Dawn.
" - or her. Don't you think?" I looked at my friends. We all nodded. This was getting sort of exciting.
"How are we going to catch the kidnapper?" wondered Jessi.
Logan frowned thoughtfully. He read the ransom note again. " 'In an envelope on the big rock in Brenner Field at four o'clock/ " he mused. "Do you know what the big rock is?" he asked the rest of us. "I don't even know where Brenner Field is." "It's right nearby," Claudia told him. "That's probably why you don't know it. It's not in our neighborhood. If s sort of behind Jamie Newton's backyard." "And do you know this big rock?" asked Logan.
"Oh, sure," I replied. "Everyone does. There's a boulder near one side of the field. We just call it the Trig rock.' " Logan nodded. "Listen, you guys," he said to the six of us girls, "I'm getting an idea, but I'm going to need the help of all of you - or most of you - tomorrow." "We'll be there," said Kristy, without even looking at the record book.
"But Kristy!" I cried. "We've probably got jobs - " "This is too important. We'll look at the record book in a minute. Then we'll reschedule whatever needs rescheduling." "Okay." (Why was I protesting? I was the one who wanted Tigger back so badly.) "Well," said Logan, "this is my idea. Mary Anne goes to the rock at four, just like the note says to do. She leaves an envelope full of money - " "What money?" I interrupted.
"Fake money. Monopoly money or something." "Well, as long as I'm not putting real money in the envelope, why do I have to bother with fake? Why can't I just stuff an envelope with newspaper or notebook paper?" "I don't know," said Logan irritably. "Fake money is what they always use on TV or in the movies. Maybe it looks more realistic from the
outside. Don't ask me." "So go on," said Kristy. "Mary Anne stuffs an envelope with fake money - " "Not too much," I interrupted. "It's only a hundred dollars. Ten ten-dollar bills wouldn't look very fat. The envelope shouldn't be too stuffed." "Mary Anne!" cried Claudia in exasperation.
"Sorry," I said, "but we're talking about Tigger. I want this to go right." Kristy sighed. "Logan?" she said. "After Mary Anne fills the envelope?" "Then way before four, like pretty soon after we get home from school, the rest of us hide in Brenner Field, in places where we can see the big rock. Is that possible?" "To hide in the field or to find places you can see the rock from?" asked Mal.
"Both," replied Logan.
"Yes," said Mal.
"Great. Okay, so we hide. At four o'clock, Mary Anne leaves the envelope on the rock. Then, Mary Anne, you better pretend to go home, in case you're being watched. Actually, you should probably go all the way home. But then sneak back to the field. I think you'll want to see what happens next. I have a feeling the kitten-napper will turn up. And we can catch him." It was a thrilling plan. I was so proud of Logan! We were talking and thinking of hiding places in the field when Kristy remembered the record book. I was the one who'd been so worried about it - and then I'd forgotten.
"We have to find out what we're doing tomorrow," said Kristy. "If a lot of us are babysitting, then we have a problem, because we can't all cancel." As it turned out, only one of us was sitting and we got Shannon Kilbourne to go in her place. Some of the others had classes or lessons but decided not to go. We would all be at Brenner Field the next afternoon.
My heart began to beat a little faster. This was exciting! It was like something from a cop show on TV. We were going to trick the kidnapper. He had tried to get us, and now we were going to get him back. Tigger would be returned to us and we'd teach the kitten-napper a big fat lesson.
Baby-Sitters Club 027 Page 5