Backyard Bandit Mystery

by Beverly Lewis

  Backyard Bandit Mystery

  Copyright © 1996

  Beverly Lewis

  Cover illustration by Paul Turnbaugh

  Story illustrations by Janet Huntington

  Ebook edition created 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  eISBN 978-1-4412-6078-9

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  For

  Rochelle Glöege,

  my editor and friend.

  Happy Birthday!

  I know a fine editor—Rochelle,

  Her excellent work I must tell.

  She edits; she writes,

  Stays up late some nights.

  What a wonderful person, Rochelle.

  B. L.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Sever

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  About the Author

  Other Books by Author

  Back Cover

  ONE

  Stacy Henry couldn’t sleep.

  Whew! Too hot.

  She was supposed to be sleeping in the teeny-weeny attic. With a teeny-tiny window that didn’t open.

  Stacy didn’t mind, because her grandparents were visiting. They were staying in her bedroom.

  But such heat! The attic bedroom was way too hot.

  She fanned herself with a pillow.

  She tried counting sheep. But thinking of sheep wool made her hotter.

  Some fresh air would be nice. Some cool air.

  Stacy sat up and lifted her hair off her neck.

  Her puppy opened his eyes.

  “I need a ponytail,” she told him. “My head’s too sweaty.”

  Sunday Funnies seemed to understand. He stood up and shook himself.

  Stacy got out of bed and went to the hallway.

  Fuzzy little Sunday Funnies followed.

  They stood at the top of the steps and listened.

  The house was quiet.

  “Everyone’s asleep,” she whispered to the pup.

  Then . . .

  Tippity-pat-pat. She crept downstairs.

  Jingle-pat-pat. Sunday Funnies came along.

  Suddenly, Stacy stopped. So did her pup.

  They heard a low rumble.

  Grandpa’s snoring. He said he got his best sleep that way.

  “Let’s be quiet,” Stacy said to Sunday Funnies.

  She tiptoed down the hall.

  Flap-flop. Stacy’s slippers slapped against her feet. They were big enough for an elephant. She tossed them off and went barefoot.

  Inside her own room, Stacy sneaked past the round, snoring bodies. She hurried to the dresser.

  Silently, she pulled open the top drawer. There, she found her hairbrush and a rubber band.

  Then she went outside.

  The top step was cooler than the wooden porch.

  Stacy sat there and looked at the streetlight.

  She wished for a breeze.

  But the night was still. Breathless.

  She brushed her hair back and made a ponytail.

  AHH! Much better.

  Sunday Funnies sat at her bare feet.

  Stacy glanced down at him. “Some night we should sleep outside,” she said. “It would be lots cooler.”

  She leaned back and stared at the sky.

  “The Cul-de-sac Kids oughta have a sleep-out this summer,” she said.

  Sunday Funnies went and rolled in the cool grass.

  “Smart boy,” Stacy said.

  She looked up and down Blossom Hill Lane.

  The houses were dark. Middle-of-the-night dark.

  No lights were shining from the windows. No sounds were springing from the doorways.

  The whole cul-de-sac seemed gloomy.

  Her best friend, Abby Hunter, was camping this weekend. Abby’s house next door looked lonely.

  Stacy missed her friend.

  She wondered if Abby was asleep yet. Or was she too hot? Or maybe homesick?

  Stacy stared at the other houses.

  Jason Birchall’s was across the street.

  Mr. Tressler’s house was at the far end of the cul-de-sac.

  Eric Hagel’s house was between Mr. Tressler’s and Jason’s houses.

  Dee Dee Winters’ and Dunkum Mitchell’s houses were at the other end of the cul-de-sac.

  Besides being dark, the houses looked dull. Boring!

  Stacy was thinking about Flag Day. Next Friday.

  The houses on Blossom Hill Lane needed some American flags.

  But Stacy was broke. She couldn’t afford even one flag.

  “Psst,” she whispered to Sunday Funnies. “I know what we need. A yard sale! For all the Cul-de-sac Kids. Then we’ll have enough money to buy flags!”

  Her puppy jumped up and ran to her. He licked her face.

  “Good idea, huh?” she said.

  Then she glanced at Abby’s house next door.

  “Rats, it won’t work,” she said. “Abby’s gone. The president of the Cul-de-sac Kids has to call the meeting. And we all have to vote.”

  Sunday Funnies squirmed in her arms.

  “It was such a great idea,” she said sadly. “Too bad.”

  TWO

  It was early Saturday morning.

  The sun peeked through the teeny-weeny attic window.

  Yikes! Stacy felt warm licks on her face.

  Sunday Funnies was wide awake.

  “OK,” she laughed. “I get the message.”

  As soon as Stacy yawned, she remembered her idea.

  “I’m gonna talk to Dunkum today,” she said.

  Dunkum’s real name was Edward Mitchell. He was the tallest and best hoop shooter around. Everyone called him Dunkum.

  “Maybe we could have a club meeting after all,” she told her puppy.

  But Stacy felt funny inside. Abby and her brothers and sister were part of the club, too. It wouldn’t be fair to vote without them.

  Would it?

  Sunday Funnies turned his head and looked up at her. He seemed to think her idea was OK.

  Stacy wasn’t too sure. She’d have to check with Dunkum. He would know what to do.

  Stacy couldn’t wait to finish breakfast.

  She poured a glass of juice. Then she sliced a banana on her cereal.

  At last, she hurried down to Dunkum’s house.

  He was outside shooting baskets. “Hi, Stacy. What’s up?” he asked.

  “I have a great idea,” she said.

  He stopped shooting. “What is it?”

  “We need to have a club meeting,” she told him.

  “Right now?” He glanced up the street. “Looks like the rest of the Cul-de-sac Kids are sleeping in.”

  “Summers and Saturdays,” she said under her breath.

  “What’s the meeting about?” he asked.

  Stacy told him the Flag Day idea. “We need to jazz up Blossom Hill Lane,” she said. �
��With flags.”

  Dunkum grinned. “Cool idea!”

  “Only one problem. We have no money,” she said.

  “There’s a little in the club fund,” Dunkum said. He put his ball down and ran into the house.

  Stacy hoped there was enough money to buy seven flags.

  She looked at the houses again.

  Flags would really spiff things up.

  She crossed her fingers.

  Stacy waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more.

  What’s taking so long? she wondered.

  At last, Dunkum came outside.

  His face looked like a prune.

  “What’s wrong?” Stacy asked.

  “I counted the money twice.” Dunkum shrugged his shoulders. “I thought there was more.”

  “How much is there?” asked Stacy.

  “Only two dollars and fifty-three cents. Mostly dimes and nickels,” replied Dunkum.

  Stacy uncrossed her fingers. “Not enough for seven flags.”

  “Not even close.” Dunkum picked up his basketball.

  “What about a fund-raiser?” said Stacy. “A yard sale . . . at my house? This afternoon?”

  Dunkum was silent. He aimed high, shot, and made it.

  He looked at her. “Abby’s gone,” he said. “We can’t vote without our president.”

  “I thought of that, too,” said Stacy. “Besides, Carly, Shawn, and Jimmy aren’t here to vote, either.”

  “You’re right,” Dunkum said.

  She watched him make some fancy moves.

  “Well, what if we broke the rules? Just once?” she suggested.

  Dunkum didn’t say anything. He kept shooting.

  Stacy kept talking. “What do you really think?”

  “Abby probably wouldn’t mind,” he said.

  “Should we talk to the others about it?” she asked.

  Dunkum nodded. “Wanna?”

  “Why not?” Stacy said with a grin.

  But she had a strange feeling.

  They’d never done this before!

  THREE

  Stacy stared at the beanbag president’s chair. Abby Hunter’s seat.

  Poof! Stacy sat down too hard.

  “The meeting will come to order,” she said.

  Dee Dee raised her hand. “Is this a real meeting?” She looked around the room. “Because if it is, there’s four of us missing.”

  Stacy nodded. “You’re right.”

  Dunkum tried to explain to little Dee Dee. “We wanna buy some flags for Flag Day.” He glanced over at Stacy. “It’s a great idea. We just wanna talk about it.”

  Eric Hagel and Jason Birchall liked the idea. They both said so.

  “Why do we have to vote?” Jason asked.

  “Yeah,” said Eric. “Abby doesn’t care if we make some money. It would be a good surprise!”

  “When the cat’s away, the mice’ll pay,” Jason said.

  Dee Dee giggled.

  Stacy didn’t laugh. “So, is it settled?” she asked everyone.

  Five heads nodded yes.

  “Well, are we gonna vote?” Dunkum asked.

  “Go for it!” shouted Jason.

  “OK,” said Stacy. “How many in favor of a yard sale?”

  Five hands went up.

  “How many want the yard sale to start today?” she asked.

  Same five hands.

  “Yes!” said Dunkum. “We’re in business.”

  “Yay!” Stacy said. “Let’s start gathering up our old loot. Anything we don’t want.”

  “Hey! Your trash could be my treasure,” Jason teased.

  Dunkum and Eric agreed.

  So did the girls.

  “This’ll be so-o cool,” Dee Dee said.

  “I’m gonna search for hidden treasure,” Eric said. And he went right home.

  So did everyone else.

  Stacy hurried into the house. “Do we have anything to sell?” she asked her mom.

  “Like what?” her mom said, smiling.

  “You know, trash or treasures. For a yard sale,” Stacy said.

  Her mother thought for a moment. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Ple-e-ease, will you look?” Stacy pleaded.

  “What’s the sale for?” asked her mother.

  “Money for Flag Day,” answered Stacy. “The Cul-de-sac Kids wanna buy flags for every house on the block.”

  “Flags?” said Grandpa. “What a nice idea.”

  Stacy smiled. “I thought so, too.”

  “Where will you put the flags?” asked her granny.

  “On all the porches,” Stacy explained.

  Grandpa got off the couch and headed down the hall.

  “Where are you going, dear?” asked Granny.

  “To scout around,” Grandpa said.

  “Where?” Granny asked.

  “In the suitcase,” Grandpa answered.

  Granny’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh no!”

  “It’s OK,” Stacy said. “I’m sure he’ll find something.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” replied Granny.

  “I’ll go help him,” Stacy offered.

  Now her mother was frowning. “Better let Grandpa do his own looking,” she said.

  Stacy glanced at Granny. She was really frowning now.

  “Oh, sorry,” Stacy said quietly.

  She knew she better stay out of it.

  So she went to the attic.

  It was time for some scouting of her own.

  FOUR

  Later, Stacy and Grandpa hid out in the attic.

  Some of their old treasures were piled on the bed.

  “Don’t let Granny catch you with these,” Grandpa whispered.

  Stacy looked through her grandpa’s things.

  There was a bottle of men’s cologne, nearly full.

  Stacy twisted the cap and gave a sniff. “Don’t you want this?” she asked.

  “Never liked the smell,” he said with a grin. “Granny’s the one who bought it.”

  Stacy shrugged. “Won’t she be upset?”

  “Ah, she’ll get over it.” He waved his hand.

  “What if she doesn’t?” Stacy asked.

  “She’ll just have to buy it back.” He was laughing.

  Next he held up his pajama top.

  “I think you might need that, Grandpa,” said Stacy.

  He laughed. “In this heat? No chance!”

  It was hot for June. Especially June in Colorado.

  “Just skip the pajama top and sleep in your undershirt,” Stacy suggested.

  “Hallelujah!” said Grandpa.

  And he went downstairs.

  I don’t wanna get in trouble, thought Stacy.

  But she wasn’t too worried. She remembered what Grandpa said. If Granny missed his stuff, she could just buy it back.

  Hallelujah!

  Before lunch, Dee Dee came over.

  Stacy showed off some of her treasures. She showed some of her not-so-great treasures, too.

  There was an old fish bowl.

  Used magazines.

  Some baby books with thick pages.

  A beanbag angel with wings.

  Three sets of skirts and blouses. Two sweaters.

  Dee Dee held up one of the skirts. “I like this one,” she said.

  “It’s not for sale . . . not yet,” Stacy said.

  Dee Dee folded the skirt and put it away. “What about this?” She held up the beanbag angel. “It’s real cute.”

  Stacy nodded. “Abby gave me that a long time ago.”

  “Don’t you want it anymore?” asked Dee Dee. “It’s so-o sweet.”

  “I’m tired of it,” Stacy said.

  Dee Dee played with the angel. She made it fly around. “What’ll Abby say?” she asked.

  Stacy laughed. “Abby won’t care about a silly little beanie angel.”

  “Are ya sure?” Dee Dee asked.

  “Of course,” Stacy rep
lied. “Besides, it’s really old.”

  Dee Dee put the angel back in the pile. “OK, then.”

  “Let’s see your things,” said Stacy.

  Dee Dee’s face lit up. She pulled out an old cat collar.

  “This was Mister Whiskers’ baby collar,” she said. “Think it’ll sell?”

  “Sure will,” Stacy replied.

  There was more. Several old guitar albums.

  Three stuffed animals—a parrot, fish, and a bee.

  And a pink piggy bank.

  “You’ve got some good stuff,” Stacy told Dee Dee.

  Dee Dee smiled. “Wait’ll ya see Dunkum’s loot.”

  “Really?” Stacy said.

  “Come with me,” said Dee Dee.

  And the two of them hurried down the cul-de-sac.

  Dunkum had a bunch, all right.

  There were two baseball gloves.

  Toy cars and trucks—a toy box full.

  A stack of comic books.

  And an old radio with star antennas.

  “Nice things,” Stacy said.

  “Not to me,” Dunkum said. “I’ve got new toys.”

  Dee Dee picked up the old radio. “Does this work?”

  Dunkum plugged it in. Music blared out.

  Dee Dee clicked her fingers. “Hey, cool,” she said.

  Then Stacy, Dee Dee, and Dunkum headed to Eric’s house.

  “I wonder if Eric’s grandpa gave him anything for the sale,” Stacy said.

  “How come?” Dunkum asked as they walked.

  “Well, I was thinking about Grandpa’s pajama top,” she said. “It would be nice if someone donated a bottom.”

  “A what?” Dee Dee giggled.

  Dunkum laughed, too.

  Stacy tried to explain. But they were laughing too much.

  At last, they stopped.

  Stacy told about her grandpa and his pajamas. “He gets too warm in the summertime,” she said.

  “He oughta sleep in his birthday suit!” Dee Dee said.

  Stacy and Dunkum howled. They laughed so hard, they could barely walk.

  They passed Jason Birchall’s house. Next door was Eric’s house.

  Jason and his frog were there, too. “What’s so funny?” he asked. “I heard you laughing all the way up the cul-de-sac.”

  Dee Dee told about the pajama problem. “We need a complete set of pj’s. For the yard sale.”

  Jason looked confused. “What’s so funny about that?”

  Dunkum tried not to laugh. “Maybe we’ll borrow your pj’s, Jason.”