Dognapped!

by Karen King

  ‘You’re up early, Amy,’ she said. ‘Is there any news on Fluffy.’

  ‘Gran had a ransom note last night.’ I said casually. ‘It looks like someone might have kidnapped Fluffy for the money.’

  Emily frowned. ‘Or maybe someone’s pretending they’ve got her so that they can get some money from your Gran.’

  ‘Yep, we’ve thought of that too,’ I nodded. ‘What do you think has happened to Fluffy?’ I asked. ‘Do you think she’s been dognapped?’

  ‘I don’t know, Amy, but Fluffy is a lovely dog and I’m sure if someone has taken her, they won’t harm her,’ Emily replied. ‘Now, I need to jump in the shower. I got talking to a friend last night and ended up sleeping on her sofa.’

  ‘Okay, see you later,’ I told her.

  Emily was halfway up the stairs when she turned to me. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself for Fluffy disappearing, Amy. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I replied. But I did blame myself – and so did everyone else, except Emily – and I was determined to do everything in my power to put things right by getting Fluffy back.

  I went to my room, took out my notepad, turned to a clean page and wrote:

  Ransom Note: Who could have sent it?

  I turned back to my list of suspects and frowned. I hadn’t managed to rule out any of them yet. Except maybe Mrs Brewson. She was hardly likely to be keeping Fluffy a prisoner with that crazy pit bull around, was she?

  What about Mr Winkleberry? He’d been quick to get Gran out of the house tonight after the phone call. Maybe he was working with an accomplice? But he liked Gran. Surely he wouldn’t try and take £2,000 from her. I shook my head. No, he wouldn’t do that. He’d made it clear that he thought the ransom note was a fake – although I noticed that he’d been quick to handle it after saying we shouldn’t touch it. I sighed. Somewhere there was a clue as to who’d taken Fluffy and I had to find it fast or we’d never get her back in time for the show.

  I decided to start by investigating Mr Mudlark. That phone call between him and Mrs McFarlane sounded very suspicious and, as Gran’s main competitor, surely he had the most to gain from Fluffy’s disappearance? If I knew where he lived, I could pay him a secret visit. Gran probably knew the address, but if I asked her, she’d guess what I was planning and forbid me from going there. If only Gran had internet access, I could do a search for it – and maybe find out exactly how much prize money a show dog like Fluffy could expect to win. Was it enough to solve someone’s ‘money worries’?

  The smell of bacon and sausages wafted up the two flights of stairs, making my mouth water. I was starving. I put my notepad away and went down. Mr Winkleberry and the McFarlanes were already tucking into their breakfast.

  ‘Yours is in the oven,’ Gran said, as I walked into the kitchen. ‘Be careful, the plate is hot.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I picked up the oven cloth. ‘Did you tell the police about the letter?’ I asked, taking my breakfast out of the oven.

  ‘Yes, they’re sending someone around later.’

  ‘Good.’ I paused. ‘Do you know of any internet cafés around here, Gran?’ I asked. ‘I really want to check my email.’

  ‘You can go on the internet at the library,’ Gran told me. ‘It’s free for children.’

  ‘Excellent. Where’s the library?’

  ‘It’s just around the corner from the printer. It’s a huge building. You won’t be able to miss it.’

  So, as soon as breakfast was finished, I set off for the library. I wanted to be back before the police officer came to see Gran about the note.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Max pounced on me as soon as I wheeled my bike out of the back gate.

  ‘To the library.’ I filled him in about the ransom note and Mrs McFarlane’s early morning phone call to Mr Mudlark. ‘I want to go on the internet and find out where he lives. Gran hasn’t got internet access, so I can’t use my laptop.’

  ‘Well, you can use our computer, we’ve got broadband,’ Max said.

  ‘You have? That’s excellent. Are you sure your folks won’t mind me using it?’

  ‘’Course not, there’s only Mum at home, and I’ll say you need it for a project or something.’

  ‘Cool.’

  Mrs Todd was busy loading the washer. She nodded briefly when Max told her we were going on the computer. Max logged on, then I did a search on Bichon Frisé breeders, which soon gave me Mr Mudlark’s address and telephone number. Next, I searched for information on prizes for dog shows, but I couldn’t find anything useful, so I found the number for the Kennel Club and gave them a call on my cellphone, pretending I was doing research for a school project:

  PODCAST 2

  Go to www.amycartermysteries.com/dognapped-2

  I relayed the conversation to Max as soon as I ended the call. ‘So that’s what Mrs McFarlane was on about this morning. She and Mr Mudlark must have planned Fluffy’s kidnap together.’

  ‘What about the ransom note?’ he asked.

  ‘That could be a red herring, to throw us off track. I’m going to pay Mr Mudlark a visit,’ I said, printing out a map of the route to his house.

  ‘I’m coming too,’ said Max.

  ‘No you’re not. Things could get dangerous if Mr Mudlark has got Fluffy and finds out I’m on to him.’

  ‘Yeah, well, who’s going to keep watch for you if I’m not there?’

  I thought about this for a second. ‘Okay, but you do as I say. Right?’

  Chapter 8

  The Rescue

  Gran must have meant half an hour in the car, because it took us over an hour to reach Mr Mudlark’s house on bikes, by which time I was glad of the bottle of water and bag of potato chips Max’s mom had given us both.

  Trillington Kennels – Mr Mudlark’s home – was right at the end of a row of big detached houses, next to a field. It was a pretty impressive set-up, not like Gran’s terraced B&B. He must have quite a lot of money. Either that, or a lot of debt, which might be why he needed his dog to win the show. I wondered if it bothered him that his main rival was my Gran, with her one pet dog. She wasn’t a big breeder like him. She’d bought Fluffy to keep her company when Grandad left, and started going to shows to keep herself busy. And now, Fluffy had a string of trophies and was one of the favourites to win the biggest dog show in England.

  There were no cars on the drive, but that didn’t mean Mr Mudlark wasn’t in. He could have parked in the garage at the side of the house.

  We cycled past the house, then I signalled Max to stop a few metres along, by the field. ‘I reckon that the dogs are exercised in this field, so there must be some direct access from here into the grounds. Let’s put the bikes in the field, behind the hedge, and see if we can find a way into the garden.’

  I was right, a heavily padlocked gate led to Mr Mudlark’s garden. The kennel block was right in front of us, thankfully it wasn’t in direct view of the house itself.

  ‘I’ll sneak in and find Fluffy. You warn me if anyone comes out of the house,’ I told Max. ‘You’ve still got the whistle, haven’t you?’

  He took it out of his pocket and held it up. ‘I’ll blow it three times if I see anyone.’

  As I climbed over the gate, Max called me back.

  ‘Here.’ He shoved his hand in the pocket of his shorts and took out a bag. ‘They’re doggy treats. You just might need them.’

  ‘Doggy treats?’ I opened the bag and saw some canine candy pieces. ‘Thanks.’ I stuffed the bag into my pocket, then ran over to the kennel block.

  There was a row of enclosed runs either side of the block, made of some sort of steel mesh, so I could see inside them. I checked out the runs on the side nearest to me. There were four of them. My heart sank when I realised that there was a Bichon Frisé in every one – hardly surprising as that’s what Mr Mudlark bred! And they all looked identical. How could I tell if one of them was Fluffy?

  The dogs barked like crazy as I got nearer. I stopped at every run, giving each
dog one of Max’s candy pieces to quieten them down.

  ‘Fluffy. Here, girl,’ I called out, hoping that one of the dogs would prick up their ears and come running over to me.

  None of them did.

  I ran around to the other side of the block. These runs held small brown terrier-like dogs with long, glossy coats. Then, finally, in the very end run, I saw a Bichon Frisé with a pink glittery collar.

  Fluffy.

  I’d found her!

  ‘Fluffy! Hello, girl,’ I said softly.

  Fluffy looked at me disdainfully.

  ‘Here, Fluffy!’ I coaxed, crouching down outside the run and holding out a candy piece.

  Fluffy cocked her head on one side and watched me curiously, but made no move to take the candy.

  There was no gate to the runs, but I could see a hatch in the back wall, leading, I suspected, to the dogs’ sleeping quarters. There must be a door in the kennel block to allow access to the dogs for feeding them, so I went to check the front. I found the door and was relieved to discover it open. This was also a bit worrying as I figured that meant Mr Mudlark was in. Surely he would keep the kennel locked if he was out? I glanced over at the house to check the coast was clear, then stepped inside.

  The dogs started barking like mad again. If Mr Mudlark was in, he’d soon be coming to see what was going on. I had to move quickly.

  ‘Fluffy! Here girl!’ I lifted the latch and opened the pen. Then I crouched down and held out the candy piece.

  Fluffy eyed me warily and crept forwards.

  ‘Come on, girl, nice girl.’ I kept my voice low, like Gran did. ‘Have some candy.’

  As she took the candy, I grabbed her collar and dragged her out of the pen. Fluffy was furious. She growled, stiffened her legs, dug in her paws and refused to budge.

  ‘This is no time to be stubborn,’ I told her. ‘I’m trying to help you, you stupid dog.’

  Fluffy growled again and snapped at my hand, luckily I moved it away just in time.

  The other dogs were frantic now. I tried not to panic. I’d just have to pick Fluffy up and run with her, but I needed to muzzle her first or she’d have one of my fingers off. I’d tied a hoodie around my waist before I went out, in case it got chilly, so I used that to wrap around Fluffy.

  ‘Sorry, Fluffy,’ I said as I scooped the wriggling bundle up into my arms. ‘Believe me, I’m doing this for your own good.’

  I ran out of the kennel block and over to the field. ‘I’ve got Fluffy! Quick, let’s get out of here!’ I panted when I reached Max. I tucked the squirming bundle under my left arm and used the other arm to balance as I climbed over the gate.

  ‘You mean Mr Mudlark did steal her?’ he gasped as we legged it across the field. ‘Shouldn’t we call the police now?’

  ‘Let’s get Fluffy back to Gran first, then she can tell the police.’ We’d reached our bikes now so I passed the wrapped-up Fluffy to Max. ‘Here, hold her a minute while I get the bikes over the fence – and don’t take that hoodie off her!’ I yelled as Max pulled back a corner to have a peep.

  I lifted both bikes over the fence, climbed over myself and grabbed Fluffy back from Max. I put Fluffy in the big wicker basket on the back of my bike and fastened the loop, hoping it was strong enough to withstand her wriggling.

  ‘She won’t be able to breath properly in there!’ Max protested.

  ‘She will, it isn’t airtight and my hoodie is only loosely wrapped around her,’ I reassured him. ‘I’ll let her out as soon as we clear the lane.’

  We had to cycle past Mr Mudlark’s house again. It was the only way out. As we approached it, we saw a dark-haired man mowing the front turf. Was that Mr Mudlark? If so, it was no wonder he hadn’t heard the dogs barking over the noise of the mower.

  ‘Just act natural, no one’s going to suspect some kids out cycling,’ I told Max, riding alongside him.

  As we reached the house, the man switched off the mower and walked, with a slight limp, over to a side gate, without even glancing our way.

  ‘Ride as fast as you can,’ I shouted to Max. I wanted to be well out of the way when Mr Mudlark discovered that Fluffy was missing.

  We raced up the lane and out of the village. I wanted to keep riding until we got to Little Cragg, but I was worried about Fluffy in the basket, so as soon as we’d covered a safe distance, I yelled to Max. ‘Pull over on the sidewalk by those garages. I want to check on Fluffy.’

  ‘What are you on about?’ he looked around puzzled. ‘What’s a sidewalk?’

  ‘This, Dumbo.’ I pulled over by the garages.

  ‘It’s a pavement, not a sidewalk,’ Max grumbled, pulling up beside me. I ignored him, got off my bike and opened the basket. Fluffy snarled and snapped at my finger.

  ‘Oww! She bit me!’ I yelled, rubbing my finger.

  Fluffy wriggled out of the hoodie and poked her head out of the basket.

  ‘I’ll take her, she’s more used to me than you,’ Max said. ‘Here you are, Fluffy’ he took a candy piece out of his pocket and gave it to the dog.

  Fluffy ate the candy, then grudgingly allowed Max to lift her out. ‘Poor thing, were you scared?’ Max said in a pathetic girlie voice.

  ‘Amy …’ Something about Max’s voice made me look up. He was staring at Fluffy, with a strange look on his face.

  ‘What?’

  ‘This dog … it isn’t Fluffy.’

  Chapter 9

  Double Trouble

  ‘What do you mean, this isn’t Fluffy?’ I demanded. ‘Look at her pink jewelled collar. Of course it’s her.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ Max insisted. ‘Fluffy has a darker halo around her eyes and her eyes are brighter.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I stared at the dog, confused. She looked exactly like Fluffy to me.

  Max nodded solemnly, ‘This definitely isn’t Fluffy. That’s probably why she was snapping at you so much, she’s scared!’

  The dog licked his hand, happy as you like. You wouldn’t think she’d almost had my finger off when I went to lift her. Mind you, if Max was right and she wasn’t Fluffy, then it was no wonder she didn’t want to come with me.

  And to make things even worse, if this wasn’t Fluffy, I’d broken into Mr Mudlark’s kennels and stolen one of his dogs. What’s more, he’d probably discovered it was missing by now and called the police. I had to think fast.

  The ring of my cellphone interrupted my train of thought. I took it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen as I pressed the answer button. It was Gran. She’d insisted on having my phone number when I arrived, but this was the first time she’d phoned me. Maybe Fluffy had been found.

  ‘Hello, Gran.’

  ‘Amy. Where are you? You’ll never guess what’s happened? Mr Mudlark’s just phoned. Maisy-May’s been dognapped too!’

  Maisy-May? I swallowed and looked over at the little dog Max was cradling. Fan-blooming-tastic. We’d only gone and stolen Mr Mudlark’s prize show dog. What a disaster!

  Keep your head. Find out if you’re a suspect first, I told myself. ‘So, do the police have any idea who’s taken her?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, two show dogs have been stolen in less than a week, so they think it must be the work of an organised gang,’ Gran said. ‘They’re warning all owners of show dogs not to leave their pets alone and to provide extra security for their kennels.’

  ‘Are they sure Maisy-May has been stolen? Couldn’t she have just wandered off?’

  Max’s eyes widened as he realised what I was saying. He looked at the dog and mouthed ‘Maisy-May?’ I nodded and mimed a zipping action across my mouth. I didn’t want him blurting anything out for Gran to overhear.

  ‘No, she was locked in her pen. Someone sneaked in and took her while Mr Mudlark was mowing the lawn,’ Gran replied. ‘They must have been watching and waiting for a chance to grab her, just like they did with Fluffy.’ I could hear the wobble in her voice. ‘I must pay that ransom. Goodness knows what those horrible people will do to darling Fluffy if
I don’t. I’m going to arrange a bank loan today.’

  ‘Don’t do anything hasty, Gran. We don’t know that the ransom note is genuine yet,’ I told her.

  ‘Well, I can’t do anything until I get another note telling me where to leave the money, but I’m not taking any risks; not now Maisy-May has been taken too. Oh, Amy, if only you hadn’t left her in the garden on her own.’

  Pile on the guilt why don’t you? ‘I’m so sorry …’

  ‘I know. Look, I have to go, the police might be trying to get through to me.’

  Gran ended the call right there and I relayed the whole conversation to Max.

  ‘One thing puzzles me though,’ I told him. ‘Why is Maisy-May wearing that pink collar? It’s as if Mr Mudlark is trying to pass her off as Fluffy.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ asked Max.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe because Fluffy is favourite to win, so he’s trying to copy her style?’ Over Max’s shoulder I saw a police car coming towards us. ‘Turn around, quick!’ I spun him around so his back was facing the road.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Max shouted.

  ‘Shhh … A cop car’s coming. You don’t want them seeing Maisy-May, do you? We’ll be in major trouble if they find out we took her.’

  ‘We? It was you who stole her,’ Max pointed out. ‘I’m not getting into trouble with the police.’

  ‘Yeah, well my folks won’t be best pleased either. But don’t panic, I’ll get her back to Mr Mudlark somehow. Just don’t turn around until I tell you to.’

  I bent down, pretending to look for a puncture in the tyre of my bike. I watched as the police car drove past; there was only one officer inside. The car stopped outside a newsstand down the road. A policewoman got out and walked into the store.

  A glimmer of a plan formed in my mind. Taking risks was all in a day’s work for a detective like me.

  ‘Quick. Give her to me. Now!’ I told Max, holding out my hands.