Written by Karen King

Published by Top That! Publishing plc,
Tide Mill Way, Woodbridge, Suffolk, IP12 1AP, UK
www.topthatpublishing.com
Copyright © 2010 Top That! Publishing plc.
All rights reserved

Copyright and Credits

Are you a top detective like Amy Carter?

As the drama unfolds, join the hunt and become a great detective yourself! As well as seeking out clues as you read, download audio evidence via podcast to help you uncover the truth!

Whenever you see this icon go to www.amycartermysteries.com/podcasts and download the relevant podcast number. Listen carefully, as many times as you like, then piece together the evidence to get to the bottom of the case. Time is already ticking away, so get reading and stay alert – the clues are out there!

Download the final thrilling podcast to learn if you successfully spotted all of the clues to solve the case.

Chapter 1

Fluffy

I knew that dog was going to be trouble as soon as I saw her. When we walked in, she bounded out of her basket, and then sat glaring at Gran’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. I wasn’t too pleased about that either, but hey, she was my Gran and hadn’t seen me since I was nine. Sitting in front of me, the dog started barking angrily. She was a Bichon Frisé and looked real cute with her curly white fur and bright eyes, but her pink jewelled collar, the pink velvet cushion in her basket and assortment of doggy toys scattered around the floor told me she was one spoilt pooch. And judging by the way she was yapping at me, she didn’t like sharing Gran with anyone.

‘Hello, Fluffy darling,’ Gran cooed softly, scooping the little dog up into her arms. ‘This is Amy, my granddaughter from America. She’s going to be living with us for a while.’

Fluffy snarled at me and snuggled up to Gran.

‘Poor darling, I think she’s a teeny-weeny bit jealous,’ Gran said. ‘Give her a cuddle, Amy.’

As I reluctantly reached out to stroke her, Fluffy growled menacingly deep down in her throat, the way dogs do when they want you to stay right away from them.

I quickly withdrew my hand. ‘I don’t think she likes me.’

‘Nonsense, she just needs to get used to you,’ Gran replied. ‘She’s got a very sensitive nature, you know. Did I tell you she was a show champion?’

‘Yes, Gran.’ Gran had talked non-stop about Fluffy as we’d driven from the railway station – how clever she was, all the shows she’d won, how she was favourite to win the Rivington Show next week. And if Gran hadn’t told me, the display cabinet full of trophies in the corner of the lounge shouted it out. On the top of the cabinet stood a big colour photo of Fluffy with the words ‘Princess Fluffball – Best of Breed 2007’ underneath it. Princess Fluffball was her pedigree name, and that’s what Fluffy was to Gran, a little princess.

When my parents offered me the chance to stay with Gran in England, I jumped at it. Now I was thirteen, I didn’t fancy tagging along with them on the European tour of the musical show they star in, staying in crummy hotel rooms and watching their cringe-worthy dancing and singing act night after night. Gran had a bed and breakfast in Cornwall, so I thought there’d be lots of mysteries for a crime-buster like me to solve, what with suspicious guests at the B&B and smugglers’ caves on the beach.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. Beachview, Gran’s terraced guest house, was a lot smaller than I’d imagined, and the guests didn’t look in the least bit suspicious. There was Mr Winkleberry – or David as Gran gushingly called him – who’d been staying at Beachview every summer for ten years. Goodness knows why; he spent most of the time reading the newspaper in the lounge. Then there were Mr and Mrs McFarlane, a Scottish couple who collected postcards and liked going for long walks, and Emily Williams, a really quiet young woman who was a vegetarian and screwed up her nose in disapproval whenever she smelt Gran cooking meat. Mr Winkleberry had a really irritating twitch in his left eye and Mrs McFarlane had a hairy moustache. Honestly, they were enough to make you yawn.

I’d brought my laptop with me, but Gran didn’t even have a computer, never mind internet access, so I couldn’t go online and speak to my friends back home. Not that I’d have much to tell them. I’d been here three days already and hadn’t had the chance to look around the town or hit the beach yet. I was too busy helping Gran look after the guests and, of course, Fluffy. By now, the dog had realised I was here to stay, so was very reluctantly tolerating my presence while ensuring I didn’t threaten her position as Gran’s favourite. I also spent a lot of time trying to avoid Max, the nosy kid next door. Did I really have to endure an entire summer of this?

Max was leaning over the wall right now, watching me as I brushed Fluffy in the back yard.

‘You’re brushing her too hard. Want me to show you how to do it?’ he offered. ‘Auntie Sue lets me brush her sometimes.’

That’s what he called Gran, Auntie Sue. It bugged me a bit that he was closer to my Gran than I was.

‘No, I don’t!’ I snapped. ‘Just clear off and play with your Duplo!’

I moved the brush swiftly over Fluffy’s back and snagged a tangle near her tail. Fluffy yelped like mad and snapped at my fingers. I lost my balance and fell back into the mud.

‘You stupid dog, now I’ve messed up my pants!’ I yelled, getting back up.

Max fell about laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ I glared, pointing to my muddy clothes. ‘Look at the state of these.’

‘They’re trousers,’ he told me between giggles. ‘Pants are what you wear underneath.’

I felt my cheeks go hot and turned away quickly as I realised what Max was laughing at. Gran was always correcting the things I said. Fridge not ice box, biscuits not cookies, postman not mailman – it drove me insane!

The door opened and Gran scooped up Fluffy, who was yelping like she’d been tortured.

‘What have you done to her, Amy?’ she demanded.

‘Nothing. The brush got caught in a couple of tangles,’ I explained, defensively.

‘Really, Amy, I told you to ease the brush through the tangles, not yank them,’ Gran snapped. ‘It’s important that Fluffy isn’t upset before the show next week. A calm temperament is one of the things the judges look for.’

‘You’ve done it now,’ Max told me, leaning back over the fence, a big grin on his freckled face. ‘She’ll be mad at you all day.’

That boy drove me crazy. He was always there, watching me, asking questions, trying to get me to be friends with him. As if I wanted to hang around with a nine-year-old boy! He was right, though. Gran would be mad at me for the rest of the day. The way this holiday was going, I was beginning to wish I’d joined my parents on their European tour. I sighed and went indoors to make Gran a frothy coffee. I made one for Mom whenever she was mad at me, and it usually worked a treat, so I decided it was worth a try on Gran too.

I guess it was only natural that Gran was so fond of Fluffy, I thought, as I topped the coffee with a squirt of cream, then sprinkled chocolate powder over it. The little dog was the only ‘family’ Gran had, what with her one and only child (my dad) living on the other side of the world. (He went to America to follow his dream of becoming an actor, then met my mom, got married and stayed.) My grandad ran off with the local barmaid when he went through a midlife crisis a few years ago. The barmaid had soon dumped him, but Gran refused to take him back, so Grandad was now travelling the world, looking for the ‘meaning of life’. He’d come to stay with us for a while last summer. It was seriously weird. I mean, lots of my friends had parents who’d split up, but you didn’t expect your grandparents to do it.

The frothy coffee worked its magic, and Gran had forgiven me by the time she went out later that afternoon to meet her friends.

‘I’m off now, Amy. You will look after Fluffy, won’t you?’ she asked as she came through the kitchen all dressed up. Gran liked to ‘make an effort’ as she called it, but she often pencilled in one of her eyebrows higher than the other one. It made her face look a bit odd, but I didn’t dare mention it to her.

‘Don’t worry, Gran, she’ll be fine with me,’ I promised, stirring some strawberry milkshake powder into a glass of milk. ‘I’ll be in all afternoon. There’s a film I want to watch; it starts in a minute.’ I opened the cupboard and took out a packet of cookies.

‘Remember to let her out to do her business when she wakes … and clean up after her,’ Gran added. ‘There’s a pooper-scooper and some plastic bags in the cupboard under the sink.’

I grimaced as I tucked the packet of cookies under my arm and picked up the milkshake. Cleaning up doggy poop was not one of my favourite jobs, but with a bit of luck, Fluffy might wait until Gran came back! ‘Will do. Now go, have a good time and don’t worry. Fluffy will be fine.’

Thankfully, after poking her head into the guest lounge to say goodbye to Mr Winkleberry, Gran finally left.

Fluffy was still sleeping soundly in her basket, so I switched on the TV and settled down to watch the film. It was a detective film featuring my favourite FBI agent, Vince Bronson. Vince was on the trail of a notorious jewel thief, and the plot was full of twists and turns. I was gripped, though I had to turn up the volume to drown out Fluffy’s snores. Then, just as it got to a seriously exciting bit, the dog started barking.

‘Yap! Yap! Yap!’

I tore my gaze from the screen and saw that Fluffy was standing at the door. She turned to me, barked again, then turned back to the door. Trust her to want to go out now, just whenVince was about to catch the thief.

‘Hang on a minute,’ I told her, looking back at the screen.

Fluffy yapped louder and scratched at the door. I groaned and got up. Gran would go totally loco if I let Fluffy mark the door. ‘Okay, okay.’

As I let her out into the back yard, Fluffy gave me a disdainful look and sauntered leisurely around, sniffing every bush and plant. I swear she was deliberately taking her time.

‘Come on, Fluffy!’ I hissed.

Fluffy ignored me and trotted off up the path. The film would be finished at this rate. I looked over at Fluffy sniffing happily around. The gate was shut and the yard was enclosed by a high fence. There was no way she could get out. I’d just leave her for a minute while I watched the end of the film. Leaving the back door open so Fluffy could come in when she wanted, I hurried back into the lounge. Vince was now hot on the tail of the jewel thief, who was about to snatch some precious diamonds. I sat down, engrossed, as Vince caught the thief red-handed, then proceeded to tell his sidekick, Mac, exactly how he’d solved the crime. One day, I’ll be a top FBI agent like Vince, I vowed as I switched off the TV. People would come to me from all over the world to investigate for them; famous people, kings, queens, pop stars …

Then I remembered that Fluffy was still outside and, what’s more, was suspiciously quiet.

I hurried out through the kitchen and into the yard. ‘Fluffy!’ I shouted, looking around for the troublesome bundle of curly white fur.

There was no sign of her. At the top of the yard, the open gate swung in the breeze.

Chapter 2

Missing!

‘She was here a few minutes ago.’ Max’s crop of short red hair appeared over the fence. He gasped when he noticed the swinging gate. ‘You didn’t shut the gate properly!’ he accused me. ‘Now Fluffy has run off.’

‘It was shut. I checked!’ I protested as I raced up the yard. But I hadn’t checked that it was latched securely, had I? The wind must have blown it open. I reached the gate and looked around wildly. ‘Fluffy! Fluffy!’

Max joined me. ‘You look that way, and I’ll look this way,’ I told him, dashing off to the left. I raced around the corner of Gran’s end terrace house and down the street, shouting for Fluffy at every turn. She couldn’t have gone far. Max said he’d seen her in the yard a few minutes ago. Oh why hadn’t I checked the gate was latched properly?

‘Fluffy!’ I ran down the street, frantically looking in all the pocket-sized front gardens as I passed. Then I spotted one of the neighbours standing at her garden gate, holding a smug-looking tabby cat. ‘Have you seen a little white dog wearing a pink collar?’ I asked her, trying not to stare at the big hairy mole on her chin.

The lady narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re that girl from America, aren’t you? Sue Carter’s granddaughter?’

I nodded. ‘Gran’s dog has run away. Have you seen her?’

‘No, I haven’t. And I don’t want to either. She’s a menace.’ The woman clutched the cat even closer to her, turned and strode swiftly back into the house, slamming the door behind her. Sounds like she didn’t like Fluffy very much.

I searched the narrow streets surrounding Gran’s house, asking everyone I met if they had seen Fluffy, but there was no sign of her. Where had she gone? I tried not to think of what Gran would say when she returned home and discovered that her precious pooch was missing. I glanced at my watch, she’d be back soon. What was I going to tell her?

I sat down on a nearby bench and tried to think logically. Where was the most likely place for Fluffy to have gone?

‘Have you found her?’ spluttered Max as he hurtled down the street towards me.

‘Yeah, she’s in my pocket,’ I replied sarcastically. ‘Does it look like I’ve found her?’

‘No need to be funny with me,’ Max retorted, ‘I’m not the one who lost her.’

I ignored him and concentrated on thinking what a pampered pooch like Fluffy would do when she tasted freedom. I remembered how my pal Rory’s dog would bolt to the end of the road whenever he got the chance, get scared, run back and sit on the doorstep waiting for someone to discover that he was missing. He certainly knew where he was well off. I bet Fluffy did too. She was probably yapping at Gran’s back door right now, waiting for someone to let her in.

‘Where are you going?’ Max asked as I jumped up and headed back to Gran’s.

The back door was still wide open. I’d been in such a panic when I found Fluffy missing that I’d dashed off without stopping to close it. I ran in, hoping to find Fluffy curled up in her basket. It was empty. Through the open door of the guests’ lounge I could see Mr Winkleberry sitting in his usual armchair, reading the newspaper.

‘Have you seen Fluffy?’ I asked.

He looked over his glasses at me, his left eye twitching, as usual. Even if Gran hadn’t told me, I’d have known he used to be a schoolteacher, it was written all over his raised eyebrows and pursed lips. ‘I thought Sue, er … your Gran asked you to look after her.’

‘I did. I … I left her in the yard and … um … somehow she got out.’

Mr Winkleberry’s look and tone were laced with reproach. ‘Well, I suggest you find her quick, young lady. Your Gran will be back any minute.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

I went back into the yard just as Max came through the gate. He pushed it shut behind him and I heard the latch click.

CLICK?

I raced down the path and opened the gate. Then I gave it a push. It sprang back and clicked shut. CLICK! I opened it and did the same again. CLICK! I tried to pull the gate open but it wouldn’t move until I released the latch.

Max looked at me as if I was deranged.

‘Watch,’ I told him. I carried on experimenting with the gate, trying to push it shut without it actually locking, but it was impossible.

‘Okay, you’ve learnt how to shut the gate,’ Max drawled. ‘Wonderful. Shame you didn’t do it before Fluffy went missing.’

‘Don’t you see? Unless you leave the gate at least half open, it springs shut and the latch automatically drops. There’s no way it could have blown open.’

‘So?’ Max didn’t look too impressed.

‘So … someone deliberately opened the gate and let Fluffy out.’

That got his attention. ‘That’s really evil. Why would anyone want to do that?’

That’s exactly what I was asking myself. ‘There are only two reasons I can think of. Either someone wanted Fluffy to run away and get lost or someone’s stolen her.’

‘Fluffy! Where are you darling? Mummy’s back!’

I froze as I heard Gran’s voice. Then I heard Mr Winkleberry talking to her, and the next minute Gran flew out of the back door, her face ashen.

‘Is this true, Amy?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve lost my darling Fluffy?’

I swallowed. ‘It wasn’t my fault, Gran. Someone let her out of the yard and she ran off.’

‘Amy thinks someone might have stolen her,’ Max butted in.

Gran clutched her throat ‘What?’

‘The gate was shut when I left her in the yard, but when I came to let her in again, it was wide open and Fluffy was missing,’ I explained. ‘Someone opened it and let Fluffy out on purpose.’

‘Are you sure it wasn’t you?’ Mr Winkleberry demanded. ‘You’ve made it quite obvious that you find the dog annoying. Maybe you left the gate open hoping Fluffy would run off.’

I glared at him. ‘Of course I didn’t! I wouldn’t do that!’ I turned to Gran. ‘I wouldn’t. Honest, Gran.’

Gran dabbed her eyes. ‘I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose, Amy. But you did leave Fluffy in the garden alone.’

‘Only for a little while. She wouldn’t come back in, and I wanted to watch the end of the film …’

‘How long has she been missing?’ Gran asked.

‘About an hour. We’ve looked everywhere … I’m sorry!’ I shouted, as Gran hurried back into the house. She grabbed her car keys and headed for the front door.

‘Sue, wait!’ Mr Winkleberry called after her. ‘You’re in no state to drive. I’ll come with you. We’ll look for Fluffy together.’

‘I’ll have another look too,’ I shouted. Gran was so upset that I felt really guilty. I should never have left Fluffy on her own like that. I knew how much she meant to Gran.

When Mr and Mrs McFarlane returned, they joined the search too. So did Emily Williams. She adored Fluffy and always made a fuss of her. Actually she loved animals, period. I saw her stop to stroke a vicious-looking cat in the street yesterday. The cat looked like it would scratch your eyes out as much as look at you, but it came meekly to Emily and happily cuddled up to her.

We all searched until it was too dark to search any more, but there was still no sign of Fluffy. The little dog seemed to have vanished off the face of the Earth (or at least from the town of Little Cragg). Gran was distraught.

‘My precious little princess, what can have happened to her?’ she sobbed. ‘She’ll be scared and hungry. What if she’s trapped somewhere? Or injured?’

I felt terrible, I can tell you. ‘I’m sorry, Gran. I’ll find her,’ I promised. ‘First thing tomorrow, I’ll be on the case.’

‘On the case! I think you watch too many detective movies, young lady,’ Mr Winkleberry said scathingly.

I didn’t bother to tell him that I was actually a bit of a detective myself and had solved a couple of mysteries back at home. I thought I’d keep that information to myself for a while. My instincts told me that whoever was responsible for Fluffy’s disappearance was someone who knew her well, and I didn’t want that person to be on their guard. As Vince always says, the culprit is usually right under your nose!

Chapter 3

Suspects

I thought about how Vince would try to find Fluffy. Find a reason for the crime, list the suspects then eliminate them one by one is what he always told his sidekick, Mac. So, the first thing I had to work out was whether someone had let Fluffy out of the garden hoping she’d get lost, or whether she’d been taken. I remembered Gran telling me that Fluffy was favourite to win a dog show next week. Could this be why someone had stolen her?

I got out my notepad and lucky green pen, and sat in bed, making notes:

I knew that Mr and Mrs McFarlane had gone out right after breakfast, as usual, and I had seen Emily fussing over Fluffy in the hall at about eleven thirty, just as she was on her way out too. (Emily wasn’t one for getting up early.) I looked back at my notes. That meant there was a ‘window of opportunity’ of thirty minutes when Fluffy could have been taken.

First thing in the morning I checked out the crime scene. Standing outside Gran’s garden, with my back to the open gate, I looked around. Facing me was a patch of waste ground, where people often parked their cars, then gates backing onto another row of houses. High fences or walls surrounded each of the yards, so unless anyone was walking past, or looking out of their bedroom window, someone could have opened Gran’s gate and let Fluffy out, completely unnoticed.

With so many conflicting thoughts flying around my head, I had to keep a record of all the possible reasons for Fluffy’s disappearance. Opening up my notepad at a clean page, I wrote:

‘What are you doing?’

It was Max – again. I was about to tell him to shove off, when it occurred to me that he might be useful. He knew more about Gran, Fluffy, the neighbours and the neighbourhood than I did.

‘I’m going to find out who’s taken Fluffy,’ I said. ‘Do you know if any of the neighbours have a grudge against Gran or might want to get rid of Fluffy?’

‘Mrs Brewson,’ Max said immediately. ‘She and Auntie Sue are always arguing ’cos Kittikins, Mrs Brewson’s cat, digs up Auntie Sue’s plants, and Fluffy keeps chasing Kittikins and frightening her.’

Kittikins. I remembered the woman with the hairy mole clutching the tabby cat yesterday, saying Fluffy was a nuisance. ‘Where does she live?’

‘Two doors away from us,’ Max told me.

That was definitely the woman I saw.

I wrote another heading. Suspects. Underneath it I wrote – Mrs Brewson.

‘What about the other neighbours? Has Gran fallen out with any of them?’

‘Well … she doesn’t like the Arnold sisters – they live next door to us. She says their house is messy. It is too! Mum’s always moaning about it. Auntie Sue says it’s bad for trade.’ Max frowned. ‘And then there’s Mrs Crystal. She lives in Seagull Villa, a B&B over the road. One of her guests left her to stay at Beachview last year and she’s never forgiven Auntie Sue for it.’

‘Ok, we have three neighbours who could be suspects then.’ I added the Arnold Sisters and Mrs Crystal to the list.

‘Do you think one of them could have taken Fluffy?’ asked Max.

I shook my head. ‘No, they live too close and wouldn’t be able to hide her. But they could have let her out on purpose, hoping she’d get lost. We can’t eliminate anyone just yet.’

Time for some more deductions. If Fluffy was stolen rather than set free, how did the culprit do it, and more importantly, why? I put another header into my notepad:

‘Do you know the names of any of Gran’s competitors?’ I asked Max. ‘You know, people who enter their dogs in shows too.’

Max considered this. ‘There’s Mr Mudlark. He was mad ’cos Fluffy won ‘Best of Breed’ at the last show. His Bichon, Maisy-May, is entering the Rivington show next week.’

‘Amy! Can you come here a moment please,’ Gran called from the back door. ‘PC Lambard wants to question you.’

Gran had telephoned the police last night and they’d promised to send the local officer around this morning to investigate Fluffy’s disappearance. ‘Better go,’ I told Max.

‘Doesn’t he want to talk to me too?’ he asked. ‘I was the last one to see Fluffy in the garden.’

He had a point. Max told me he’d seen Fluffy a few minutes before she went missing. ‘What time did you see her?’

Max didn’t hesitate. ‘Ten past two.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Amy!’

‘Coming!’ I looked at Max. ‘You come too.’

PC Lambard took a statement from me and Max, then asked Gran for a photo of Fluffy. ‘Dogs disappear all the time,’ he said. ‘Sometimes they turn up again a few days later, sometimes we never find them.’ He looked sternly at me. ‘You should have taken better care of …’ he glanced at his notepad, ‘Fluffy, young lady. There are a lot of holidaymakers down at this time of year. If someone saw a valuable dog like that wandering the streets, they could have taken her home with them.’

‘Oh no, poor Fluffy! I might never see her again!’ Gran wailed.

Mr Winkleberry put his arm around her shoulder and glared at me.

‘Don’t you think someone local might be behind her disappearance?’ I asked.

PC Lambard gave me another stern look. ‘This isn’t New York. We don’t have such crimes in Little Cragg. Besides, Fluffy is too well known. No one could hide her for long. Nope, I reckon she’s either wandered off or been taken well out of the area by now I’m afraid. I presume you have her micro-chipped, Mrs Carter?’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Gran sniffed.

‘Sooner or later a dog will need to go to thevet, and that’s when we’ll find her. Until then, there’s nothing we can do but wait and hope she turns up.’

‘I’m not going to sit around hoping Fluffy will turn up,’ I told Max as I went into the kitchen to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. ‘I’m going to find her. This crime will be a cinch for a super-sleuth like me to solve.’

‘Super-sleuth?’ he raised an eyebrow cheekily. ‘You?’

‘Yes, me. I have solved quite a few mysteries back home in the US,’ I told him.

‘Really?’ He didn’t sound too convinced.

The music on Gran’s kitchen radio suddenly faded, and a newsflash came on. ‘We’re interrupting this programme to bring you some breaking news. Threats have been made against entrants of the Rivington dog show, due to be held next week,’ the newscaster’s voice boomed.

The Rivington Show? That was the show that Fluffy was supposed to enter.

‘Shhh!’ I told Max, turning up the radio so I could hear the bulletin …

PODCAST 1

Go to www.amycartermysteries.com/dognapped-1

Max looked at me wide-eyed. ‘Do you think it has anything to do with Fluffy’s disappearance?’

‘I really hope not,’ I replied. ‘Because if it has, we might never see Fluffy again, and Gran could be in great danger.’

Chapter 4

A Lead

‘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.’

Chapter 5

Cornered

‘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!

Chapter 6

A Sighting

The next day, the local newspaper published an article about Fluffy’s disappearance. It was on the fourth page, under the headline: ‘Prize-winning show dog disappears’. There was a picture of Fluffy and brief details of how she’d gone missing from the back garden, with an appeal to phone the local police station with any news of her whereabouts. It also mentioned a reward of one hundred pounds for her safe return.

Apparently, the ‘someone’ Gran and Mr Winkleberry had been talking to when I brought back the shopping yesterday, was a reporter. I was a bit annoyed at missing out on the chance of speaking to a reporter, just to get chased by an angry pit bull and nearly break my neck climbing drainpipes. Gran was upset that the story hadn’t made the first page, and Mr Winkleberry was angry that they hadn’t mentioned his name, simply referring to him as a guest.

‘We’re having some flyers printed too,’ Gran told me. ‘David … Mr Winkleberry suggested it. Fluffy’s insured so the insurance company will pay for advertisements and contribute towards the reward.’

‘That’s a good idea, the more publicity we get, the more chance we’ve got of finding Fluffy,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll help you give out the flyers, Gran. I’m sure we’ll find Fluffy before the show next Sunday.’

‘I hope so, Amy. The flyers will be ready to pick up after two, so could you collect them and distribute them for me? See if any of the local shops will put one in their window.’

Just then the telephone rang. ‘I’ll get it,’ I said. I pressed the button. ‘Hello, Beachview,’ I answered politely. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I’d like to speak to Mrs Carter, please. My name is Mr Mudlark.’

Mr Mudlark. Gran’s competitor.

‘Who is it, Amy?’

‘Er … sorry … it’s Mr Mudlark.’ I passed Gran the phone and busied myself with my cellphone, pretending that I wasn’t listening, but from what I could gather from Gran’s end of the conversation, Mr Mudlark was offering his sympathy and saying he hoped Fluffy was found in time for the show.

‘How kind of Mr Mudlark to phone me,’ Gran said when she’d finished the call. ‘He’s a bit worried that some organised gang has taken Fluffy and that his dogs might be a target too. I’ve promised to let him know as soon as we hear anything.’

‘I thought you two were rivals,’ I said.

‘We are I suppose, which just makes his phone call even kinder.’

Even more suspicious, I thought. It could be just a cover up, to see if anyone was on to him yet. ‘Does he live near here?’

‘About half an hour away, in Frimplea.’ Gran stared at me. ‘Why all the questions, Amy?’

Half an hour. Near enough to drive over here and let Fluffy loose to scupper her chances in the show next week. Or even to kidnap her. I didn’t say this to Gran, though; a good detective like me keeps things to herself. ‘No reason,’ I shrugged. But I decided that, as soon as I could, I’d take a trip over and stake out Mr Mudlark’s place.

After lunch I slipped my micro-recorder into my jacket pocket and set off for the printers. I was hoping to bump into some of the neighbours so I could question them about Fluffy. People tend to get cagey when I whip out a notepad and pen as I talk to them. By taping the conversations instead, I could play back what people had said, listen to their tone of voice and pick up clues.

Gran lent me Grandad’s old bike. It looked like it had come out of the ark, but got me around quicker than walking, and there was a basket on the back where I could put the flyers. I was just glad that none of my friends from back home could see me riding it. Especially Rory. He’d be doubled up.

‘Where are you going?’ Max yelled, leaning out of his bedroom window.

For once I was pleased to see him. I could do with some help posting flyers. ‘To the printer to pick up some flyers about Fluffy. Then I’ve got to hand them out to stores and stuff. Want to come?’

‘You bet! Hang on while I get my bike.’

He appeared at the back gate a couple of minutes later, with a blue bike that was a lot cooler than my sad effort. He glanced sympathetically at my bike.

‘It was Grandad’s,’ I told him. ‘You should see the bike I’ve got at home, a silver lowrider with chrome and alloy wheel trims, the lot.’

Max didn’t seem impressed by this information. ‘You can borrow my sister’s bike if you like, she hardly uses it,’ he offered.

‘No thanks, this’ll be fine.’

On the way, we saw a woman across the road, weeding her front garden. Max told me it was Mrs Crystal, Gran’s rival B&B owner.

‘I’m going to ask her some leading questions and tape her answers, so leave the talking to me,’ I told Max. I slipped my hand into my jacket pocket to switch on the micro-recorder, then started talking to Mrs Crystal about Fluffy. She was friendly, but said she hadn’t seen or heard anything suspicious. Not that she had the chance to say much, with Max’s constant chattering. I felt like gagging him.

‘I said to button it and leave the talking to me,’ I snapped as we rode off. ‘I don’t want the tape full of you talking nonsense.’

‘But you don’t know everyone, so why would they want to talk to you?’ Max argued. ‘Besides, I might have some important questions to ask too.’

He had a point. I guess it was best if he approached people first, as he knew them. ‘Ok, well you can start off talking to them, then leave it to me unless you think of something really, really important. Right?’

The printer was quite chatty, and told me that he thought Fluffy had been kidnapped by an organised gang. ‘They find out who’s got valuable dogs and target them,’ he said. I pointed out that the gang wouldn’t know Fluffy was in the garden by herself, but he said they’d lie in wait and watch for days. ‘There’s big money to be made selling pedigree dogs on the black market,’ he said.

I wasn’t sure I agreed with him, but I recorded the conversation anyway.

We spent the next couple of hours distributing the flyers. Some of the local stores agreed to put them in their windows, while others stuck them on the wall inside. We left a couple in the library, and posted others through mailboxes. A lot of people stopped to talk and give us their theories on Fluffy’s disappearance. I couldn’t wait to get home and play back all the conversations to see if anything struck me as suspicious. It had been hard to think clearly with Max’s endless interruptions.

As I approached Beachview, I could see Mr Winkleberry sitting in his car, engine running, and Gran about to get into the passenger seat.

‘Someone’s just phoned … they think they’ve just seen Fluffy by the harbour,’ Gran shouted to me.

‘Can I come?’ I asked. ‘I feel real bad about losing Fluffy; I want to be there when she’s found.’

‘And me,’ begged Max.

‘Get in then, quick, but not you Max, you’d best go straight home, your mother’s already been looking for you.’

Max went to protest, but his mother came out and ordered him in. I put my bike in the front garden, got into the back of the car and we set off. But when we got to the harbour, there was no sign of Fluffy, or any other dog for that matter.

‘She must have wandered off somewhere,’ Gran said. ‘Oh, if only that woman had picked her up and brought her home.’

Gran had brought Fluffy’s favourite squeaky toy with her and kept squeaking it so Fluffy would hear it and come running – but she didn’t.

We looked around for hours. Finally, we went home, tired and exhausted.

‘I’m dying to put my feet up and have a cup of tea,’ Gran said, taking out her keys. As she opened the front door, we saw a white envelope lying on the mat. The words ‘Mrs Carter’ were written on it in big black capital letters.

‘Now who’s sent me a note at this time of night,’ Gran said, picking it up. She opened it up and pulled out a sheet of paper.

‘Oh my goodness!’ she gasped, her face white. ‘It says that if I want Fluffy back safe, I’ll have to pay £2,000.’

Chapter 7

Dead or Alive!

‘We’ll call the police immediately,’ Mr Winkleberry exclaimed. ‘I’m not letting them hold you to ransom like this!’

‘I can’t. It says that if I tell the police I’ll never see Fluffy alive again. Look.’ Gran held out the letter, her hand trembling.

‘Let me see, Gran.’ I said quickly. This was the first real piece of physical evidence we’d seen so far, so I wanted to study it carefully. I certainly didn’t want Gran and Mr Winkleberry making any rash decisions about calling the police or otherwise, until I’d had a chance to work out whether this was the work of Fluffy’s captor, or just someone trying to make some money out of Gran while she is desperate and vulnerable.

I cleared my mind, took a deep breath and started reading:

‘Well, whoever it is, they don’t live very far from here. Or they’ve got an accomplice nearby,’ I said.

‘How do you know that?’

‘The letter’s been hand-delivered, Gran. Probably by the same person who sent us out on that wild goose chase down to the harbour.’

‘You mean someone just wanted to get us out of the way, so they could deliver the letter?’ Gran looked really upset. ‘How awful to think that someone local has kidnapped my precious little princess. They could be watching the house now, waiting to see what I’ll do.’

‘Well I think the letter is a fake and we should inform the police immediately,’ Mr Winkleberry said, snatching the note back from me. ‘And the less we handle it the better, they might want to check it for fingerprints.’

Gran was reluctant to get the police involved, not wanting to put Fluffy’s life in danger, but she eventually agreed to call them first thing in the morning. She put the note in the top drawer of the dresser in the private lounge, where she kept all her important papers.

I wanted another look at the note before the police took it away. Gran usually got up at 7.00 am to cook breakfast, so I set the alarm on my phone for 6.30 am the next morning, and crept downstairs. As I went through the kitchen, I was surprised to find the back door slightly open. Gran always made sure that all the doors were locked before she went to bed at night. Then, I heard someone talking quietly. I peered out of the crack in the door and saw Mrs McFarlane talking on her cellphone.

‘With Fluffy out of the picture, Maisy-May is bound to win the show, John, then all your worries will be over,’ she said.

Maisy-May. Wasn’t that Mr Mudlark’s dog? Was Mrs McFarlane speaking to Mr Mudlark? I strained my ears, but Mrs McFarlane had walked further down the garden and I couldn’t hear anymore. A few minutes later, she ended the call and started to head back towards the house. I hurried into the private lounge and closed the door, trying to digest this new information:

Mrs McFarlane knew Mr Mudlark.

She had got out of bed early so she could phone Mr Mudlark without anyone – even her husband – knowing. She had said that now Fluffy was out of the way, Maisy-May would win.

Were Mrs McFarlane and Mr Mudlark in this together, so that Maisy-May would win the show? But why would that solve all Mr Mudlark’s worries? I thought the winners just got a cup or rosette. Did they get money too?

I opened the dresser drawer, took out the note and read it again. It could be important evidence that I might need to refer to later. I took a photo of it with my cellphone, made a new folder called ‘Fluffy File’ and saved it to that, then put it back in the drawer. I was on my way upstairs when the front door opened and Emily walked in. She looked very surprised to see me.

‘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.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked as he passed the dog to me with a concerned frown.

‘Making sure she gets found.’ Maisy-May wasn’t too happy about leaving Max and squirmed in my arms. I held her tight and ran over to the newsstand, placing her down on the ground just as she started barking wildly.

‘Now don’t run off,’ I told her.

I quickly checked my clothes for dog hairs, then pushed open the door and walked into the store just as the policewoman walked out.

I went straight to the chewing gum display by the window so I could watch what happened next. Maisy-May had now discovered the garbage bin and was foraging inside it, yapping with delight. The policewoman stopped, stared at the dog then reached down for her radio.

I paid for the chewing gum and walked out of the shop just as the PC was radioing that she’d found Maisy-May. ‘Hey, you,’ she called as I walked past.

I turned around and gave her a friendly smile. ‘Yes, officer?’

‘Did you notice this dog when you walked in?’

I looked at Maisy-May and shook my head. ‘Can’t say that I did. Is she lost?’

‘Well, she was, but now it seems she’s found again.’ The policewoman went to grab Maisy-May’s collar, but Maisy squirmed out of her grip and went to run off. I reached out and grabbed her collar.

‘Thanks,’ the policewoman smiled at me as she scooped Maisy-May up into her arms. ‘This is a very valuable dog you know. The owner will be very relieved to have her back.’

‘Glad to help,’ I said.

I walked over to the garages where Max was waiting for me.

‘You’ve got a nerve,’ he said admiringly.

‘You need it in this game,’ I told him, getting on my bike. ‘Race you home!’

Gran was really stressing when I got home. She’d heard about Maisy-May being found and was worried sick about Fluffy.

‘Why did they let Maisy-May go and not Fluffy?’ she asked me. ‘Oh my poor baby, what on earth are they doing to her? It doesn’t bear thinking about!’

‘It sounds like Maisy-May wandered off by herself, Gran,’ I said. ‘Mr Mudlark probably forgot to lock her in the pen.’

‘The police suggested that, but he’s sure he locked it. He said the dogs were barking so loudly that he went to see what was going on, and that’s how he found her missing. He thinks he disturbed the thieves and Maisy managed to get free.’ Gran dabbed her eyes with a tissue, smudging one of her pencilled eyebrows. ‘Oh I wish Fluffy could escape too. I’d do anything to get her back. Anything.’

‘We’ll find her, Gran, you’ll see.’ I gave her a hug, which is not really my style, but I felt sorry for her. ‘Now how about a nice frothy coffee?’

‘Thank you, Amy. I know you’re a good girl, really,’ she sniffed.

I wasn’t sure she’d think that if she knew that I was the one who’d taken Maisy-May. But I’d lost Fluffy and I was prepared to do whatever it took to get her back. Which is why, when I saw another ransom letter on the mat later that evening, I didn’t tell Gran about it. Instead, I quickly shoved it into my pocket and went up to my room to read it:

The note looked like it had been made by the same person as before. I opened the ‘Fluffy File’ on my cellphone and checked out the photo I took of the original letter. Yes, it was definitely the same. Whoever made this didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t going to tell anyone at all. Especially Gran. And I’d definitely be at the ‘dog beach’ (wherever that was) at 8.30 pm tomorrow night, ready and waiting to catch the culprit.

Chapter 10

Blackmail

Max and I had swapped cellphone numbers that afternoon, so I sent a text to him later that night to tell him what had happened. I also wanted to ask if I could come around the next morning to use his computer to print something out. His reply said to come around at ten when everyone else was out.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asked when I arrived at 10 am on the dot.

‘Set a trap for the blackmailer,’ I told him. ‘You have got a scanner haven’t you?’ I hadn’t thought to check that with him last night.

‘Yeah, the printer scans and photocopies. Why?’

‘Because we’re going to make some fake money to fool the blackmailer.’ I grinned at him. ‘Can you cut straight?’

‘I don’t need to, Dad’s got a paper trimmer. I’m not supposed to use it – Mum thinks I’m going to cut my fingers off – but she won’t be back for a couple of hours, so she’ll never know.’

‘Where are your sisters?’ Max had two step-sisters, both a few years older than him. I’d only caught a glimpse of one of them, dressed completely in black, with jet black hair, black make-up and a couple of face piercings.

‘At work. And Mum’s over the road, doing Mrs Crystal’s hair,’ Max replied. ‘She doesn’t like to leave me on my own … thinks I’m still a baby, but I told her I’d be fine for an hour or two.’

‘Great. Let’s get cracking then.’ I took the ransom note out of my pocket and showed it to Max. ‘Gran doesn’t know about this. It came last night. So, not a word to anyone, okay?’

‘She’ll be mad that you haven’t told her.’

‘She won’t ever know. I’ll meet the blackmailer tonight and get Fluffy back. Job done.’

‘How is this going to work? Where are you going to get £2000 from?’

I grinned triumphantly and whipped a twenty pound note out of my pocket. ‘I’m going to make one hundred copies of this!’

‘Hmmm,’ Max didn’t look too impressed. ‘You reckon that will fool him, do you? And what about Fluffy? When the thief finds out the notes are fake, you won’t get her back.’

‘The thief could be a “her”,’ I snapped, stung at his lack of enthusiasm for my brilliant idea. ‘I do think that a good copy will stall the blackmailer for a while. Long enough for me to sneak up and take a photo of him – or her – on my cellphone. I can show it to the police, and they can trace the blackmailer and rescue Fluffy.’

Now Max did look impressed. ‘That’s clever.’

‘I know,’ I said smugly, putting the ransom note back in my pocket. ‘Mind you, the blackmailer might not have Fluffy. The note could have been sent by someone who read about Fluffy going missing and thought they’d try to get some easy money out of Gran.’

Max scowled. ‘That’s really nasty.’

‘But a strong possibility, which is why I don’t want Gran to see the note.’ I told him. ‘Any idea where the dog beach is?’

‘Yeah, it’s a little beach the other side of the harbour. You have to go down some narrow steps to it. It’s called Craggmor Beach really, but it’s known as the dog beach ’cos it’s the only beach dogs are allowed on in the summer.’

I thought about this. ‘So that means a local person must have written the note, because someone on holiday wouldn’t know about it being called the ‘dog beach’ would they?’

‘I guess not.’

‘Right, now let’s get on with scanning in this banknote.’

I scanned in the front of the twenty pound note. I could get three on each page. Then I scanned the back of the note and did three of those on another page, making sure they would match the fronts. Finally, I printed them out and glued the two pages together. Then, I colour-copied one page.

‘Where’s the trimmer?’ I asked Max. ‘I need to check that I’ve got the notes matched properly before I make all the copies.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Max took a small paper trimmer off the shelf, put it on the desk and carefully lined up the sheet of paper. A couple of minutes later he handed me three ‘twenty pound notes’.

I took the real banknote out of the scanner and compared them. The paper quality was different, of course, but I folded the fakes up a bit to make them look more used. I thought they looked pretty convincing, but were they good enough to fool the blackmailer? There was only one way to find out.

We printed out another thirty-three pages, which gave me two extra notes that I could use to practise folding up. The ink was getting pretty faded by the time we got to the last couple of pages, but I didn’t figure the blackmailer would stay around to count them all – he, or she, wouldn’t want to draw attention to themselves.

I practised folding the two spare notes. I finally, decided that folding them in four lengthwise and bending over the corners a couple of times, then opening them up again, gave the best effect.

‘Fold them like this, then put them in wads of two hundred pounds, with an elastic band around each wad,’ I told Max. ‘Make sure the faded copies are in the middle. Then we’ll put them all in a big envelope. Have you got a big envelope?’

‘Yep, Dad’s got everything.’ Max opened the desk drawer and took out a thick brown envelope.

‘Great. How about a carrier bag?’

‘Mum keeps some in a drawer in the kitchen.’ Max went off to get one, coming back a couple of minutes later holding a pink plastic carrier bag with a white heart in the middle. ‘It’s all I could find,’ he said defensively when I pulled a face at it.

We’d just finished when we heard the front door open. I quickly shoved the carrier bag of ‘bank notes’ into the rucksack I’d brought with me.

‘I’m back, Max!’ Mrs Todd called. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yes, Amy is here. We’ve been on the computer.’

‘I’ll be off now, see you later.’ I told Max. I slipped the rucksack on my back. ‘Bye, Mrs Todd! Thanks for letting me use the computer.’

‘Hang on, Amy. Max said you have a laptop. Do you know if it’s a wireless one?’

‘Yes it is. But Gran hasn’t got internet access so I can’t use it,’ I told her.

‘You should be able to access the internet through our router, it’s a wireless one.’ Mrs Todd wrote something down on a piece of paper. ‘Here’s our password. We’ve got an MFV5. I’m sure you’ll be able to pick it up next door.’

She was right, my laptop had picked up a MFV5 router, but it had been password protected. ‘Great!

Thank you!’ I smiled. ‘I really appreciate it.’ Now I’d be able to surf the net, talk to my mates, and all from my bedroom at Gran’s. Brilliant!

At eight that night, I told Gran I was going for a stroll and set off with the bag of fake money to meet the blackmailer. Max had been texting me all afternoon, begging to come with me, but I’d refused. I had no idea who the blackmailer was, or how many of them there were. It was safer to go alone, then I’d only have myself to look out for.

Despite it being the height of the summer season, it was a bit chilly outside, so I was glad I’d brought my hoodie with me. I slipped it on, pulling up the hood, and hurried past the harbour to the beach. I looked at my watch. Ten past eight. I glanced around. Was the blackmailer watching me?

Most of the shops were still open and the sea front was packed, but as I passed the harbour the crowds dwindled. I realised why the blackmailer had chosen this beach now; it was much quieter at this end of the town. I peered over the wall, the beach below was deserted. I ran down the narrow stone steps and looked around. There was nowhere for anyone to hide without being spotted, so I put the bag in the bin by the wall, as the note had said, and ran back up the steps. Where could I hide to keep an eye on what was going on? Across the road I saw three huge green bins lined up against the wall of the last shop. I hurried over and squeezed behind one of them, crouching down to watch out for the blackmailer. My heart was beating very fast now.

I waited for ages, checking my watch every few minutes. Half past eight came and went. A couple of people walked past the wall, but no one went down the steps to the beach. At ten to nine I got a text message from Max:

The note must have been sent by someone playing a stupid trick. I squeezed out from behind the bins, crossed the road and peered over the wall. The beach was empty. I ran down the steps and reached into the bin for the carrier bag. As I pulled it out, a hand clasped me on the shoulder. Someone had followed me down the steps! My heart racing, I spun round and found myself face to face with PC Lambard. He yanked down my hood and shook his head sorrowfully.

‘Well, Amy, I’m very disappointed in you. I can’t believe that you’ve been blackmailing your Gran.’

‘I didn’t. I haven’t. You’ve got it all wrong.’

‘Save it for the station, young lady. I’ll phone your Gran and tell her to meet us there.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’ll have the bag.’

I looked at the bag, noticing for the first time that it was dark blue. ‘This isn’t the bag I left,’ I protested as PC Lambard snatched it out of my hand. ‘Mine was a pink one.’

‘Stop talking and start walking,’ he ordered. As he marched me up the steps, I glanced up and caught a brief glimpse of a pale, pointed face beneath a black beanie hat peering over the wall, but when we got to the top it was gone. If only I’d waited a few more minutes, we’d have caught the real blackmailer.

When we got to the police station, PC Lambard took the envelope out of the bag and emptied it onto his desk. Piles of shredded newspaper tumbled out everywhere.

‘Did you really think we’d leave £2,000 in a litter bin for you to collect?’ he said.

‘I didn’t ask you to. I didn’t send the ransom letter. I went to the beach to meet the blackmailer,’ I explained. ‘I put a pink bag full of fake money in the bin.’ PC Lambard stood up straight and folded his arms. ‘A pink bag with fake money?’ he repeated, unconvinced by my story.

Fortunately, I still had the ransom note and the spare two fake twenties in my pocket, so the mix-up was cleared up by the time Gran and her shadow, Mr Winkleberry, arrived. PC Lambard went back to the beach, but the bag of fake money had gone. He wasnvery pleased. ‘If anything else happens, you come to me instead of playing detective, or I’ll have you arrested for withholding evidence,’ he boomed.

On the way home, Gran told me how they’d received a letter at lunch-time telling them to leave the money at 9.30 pm in the bin at the dog beach. The blackmailer must have changed his plan. I bet he was dead chuffed to see me being whisked away by PC Lambard. Gran said Mr Winkleberry had persuaded her to tell the police, so the officer had been watching for someone to go down the steps and take the bag of money from the bin. Then she gave me a lecture about acting irresponsibly and putting myself in danger. So did Mr Winkleberry. Then, when I got home and sent a text to Max, he phoned back and gave me a blasting too.

‘I told you I should have come with you,’ he said. ‘I could have kept watch and warned you about PC Lambard. And I might have seen the blackmailer.’

‘Yeah, and I’d have been in even more trouble for putting you in danger as well,’ I retorted. ‘Gran would have been so mad she’d have probably sent me back home on the next flight.’

I went to sleep feeling pretty low I can tell you. I’d been so close to catching the blackmailer, maybe even the dognapper, and I’d blown it.

Chapter 11

Scarface

I’m not one to be down for long, and I woke up the next morning feeling more positive. I’d gone up a few wrong tracks before I worked out who was sabotaging our baseball games back home, and even Vince Bronson didn’t always work out who the culprit was right away. I just had to keep trying.

I wondered how long it had taken the culprit to realise that the bank notes were only copies. And when he – or she – found out, what did they do with them? They’d have to dump them somewhere. Maybe I should go back down to the ‘dog beach’ to see if I could find any clues.

I waited until Gran was on the phone to one of her dog-breeder friends before making my exit. ‘Just going for a walk, I’ll be back soon!’ I waved, and was out of the back door before she could ask where I was going.

‘I’m coming too!’ Max announced, opening his back gate. I swear that boy had me tagged or something. I couldn’t seem to go anywhere without him. ‘I’ve been watching out for you,’ he said. ‘I thought you might try to sneak out without me.’

‘Detective work is too dangerous for a kid like you,’ I told him. ‘I should never have let you get involved in the first place.’

‘Yeah, right! The only time you get caught is the time I’m not with you.’

I had to admit he was right. And an extra pair of eyes might come in useful. ‘Okay. I’m going to the dog beach to see if the blackmailer has left any clues. Then I’m going to look around and see if the fake money has been dumped anywhere.’

There were no clues on the beach and no sign of the twenty pound notes we’d made. I guess the blackmailer had checked out the envelope at home and dumped the notes in their own bin. Well, there was no way I could go around nosing in bins.

‘Let’s go for a milkshake and discuss what to do next,’ I told Max as we passed a burger bar. ‘Don’t worry, it’s my treat.’

‘Thanks.’ He grinned.

We were sitting, drinking our milkshakes – strawberry for me and banana for Max – discussing whether we could eliminate any of the suspects, when Mr Winkleberry walked in. I had to look twice to make sure it was him; a burger bar was the last place I’d expect Mr W to visit. He seemed more the tea-and-cream-scones type to me. He walked by without noticing us; not really surprising as our table was partly concealed by a big palm tree-like plant. He ordered a coffee, then sat in the corner table, by the counter.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Max whispered.

‘He’s waiting for someone by the look of it,’ I whispered back. ‘Try not to let him see us.’

I kept an eye on the door and a few minutes later a pointy-faced man, with a scar running down one cheek and a black beanie on his head, walked in. He looked pretty similar to the man I saw peering over the wall last night. Mr Winkleberry raised his hand and the scar-faced man went over and sat down next to him. Mr W sprang up, ordered a coffee and a burger and handed them to Scarface, who started eating as if he hadn’t had a meal for a week.

‘I’m sure that’s the man I saw at the dog beach yesterday,’ I whispered to Max. I stared hard at the man. He looked as if he slept rough. Why was Mr Winkleberry meeting him? And why was he passing Scarface a wad of money?

Scarface scoffed his burger, downed his coffee and then left. Mr Winkleberry followed a few minutes later. When he got up, I ducked down behind the plant, motioning Max to do the same, but I needn’t have bothered, Mr W didn’t even glance at our table.

‘Something’s going on and I’m going to find out what it is,’ I told Max. ‘Let’s follow that man and see where he goes.’

Making sure we kept our distance, we followed Scarface through the narrow back streets to the other side of town, where he opened the back gate to a run-down terraced house and went inside. We waited a while, but he didn’t come out again.

‘Bit of a dump this,’ I said, peering over the gate. ‘The windows are all boarded up and the yard’s like a tip. There’s trash everywhere.’

‘It’s a squat,’ Max told me. ‘Mum said that homeless people live here. There’s no running water or electricity or anything.’

Just then, something pink fluttering among the pile of rubbish by the wall caught my eye. It was a pink carrier bag with a white heart on it. It was the same carrier bag I’d stuffed with false notes and left in the bin on the dog beach.

I ducked back down. ‘It’s him. He’s the one who sent the ransom note,’ I whispered to Max. ‘Yes, I know there are other carrier bags like it,’ I said as he went to interrupt, ‘but, I’m sure it was Scarface I saw looking over the wall at the beach yesterday.’

‘So, where do you think Fluffy is?’ Max asked.

‘I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out. The windows are boarded up, so no one will see me unless they come out of the back door.’

I clicked open the gate and cautiously stepped inside, glancing over at the house. The back door was firmly shut. I ran over to the carrier bag and opened it up. It was empty. I dropped it and swept my gaze over the yard. The man might have thrown the carrier bag down and taken the envelope inside before checking the money. Then what would he do with it? Put it in the bin? I ran over to the garbage bin and opened the lid. Inside, was a big brown envelope, and peeping out of it was a fake twenty pound note! I’d just reached in to grab it when I heard the back door open.

I shut the lid and pretended to be searching for something on the ground.

‘Hey, you! What are you doing here?’

‘My ball went over the fence. I was just looking for it,’ I said, getting up. It was Scarface.

‘Get out of here!’ he yelled.

‘But my ball …’

‘Want me to kick you out?’ He took a small, but threatening step towards me.

‘Don’t worry, I’m going!’ I ran out of the yard, slamming the gate behind me.

‘Run!’ I shouted to Max. We kept running until we reached the main street, then we both collapsed onto the nearest bench.

‘He was the one who sent the ransom note,’ I told Max when I finally caught my breath. ‘I saw the envelope full of our fake money in his bin.’

‘Really? Are you going to tell Auntie Sue?’

‘Not yet. I want to find out how Mr Winkleberry fits into this story. Gran said he persuaded her to call the police. Why would he do that if he was working with Scarface? And why did he give Scarface money? It doesn’t make sense.’

When I got back home, Gran was sitting on the couch in the lounge, crying over a photo of Fluffy.

‘Oh, Amy, I wonder where my precious princess is,’ she sobbed. ‘She’s been gone almost a week now. I should be getting her ready for the show, having her coat clipped, booking her in for a shampoo and groom. How could anyone steal her?’

I put a comforting arm around Gran’s shoulders. ‘I’m sure we’ll get her back, Gran.’

Gran sniffed. ‘I know people think I’m daft about Fluffy, but she’s all I’ve got, Amy. She’s my baby and I want her back.’

Poor Gran. First Dad went away, then Grandad and now Fluffy. I had to find that dog and bring her back home. If I didn’t, Gran would be heartbroken.

Chapter 12

The Interview

Vince often tells his sidekick, Mac, that there was always a clue to the culprit if you looked hard enough. So, after lunch, I opened the drawer of my bedside cabinet and took out my notepad. It was then that I saw my micro-recorder lying right beside it. I suddenly remembered the interviews I’d recorded when Max and I had been giving out flyers. The first ransom note had arrived that night and so I’d forgotten all about them. I thought back to the people I’d interviewed. Nothing had struck me as suspicious, but then Max did babble on a bit, so I might have missed something important.

I flung myself on top of the bed, sprawled out and turned the recorder on. I’d interviewed Mrs Crystal first, then the printer followed by several other people we’d met in the street. They all said that they hadn’t seen Fluffy, and then shared their own theory about what might have happened to her. The favourite seemed to be that she’d been taken by an organised gang. However, one woman seemed to think Fluffy might have wandered off and got trapped down a badger sett, (apparently that had happened to her dog once). I stopped the tape and replayed the conversation. Silly as it may sound, it was a possibility I hadn’t considered and there was a lot of countryside surrounding Little Cragg. I jotted it down in my notepad, then restarted the tape. We’d interviewed so many people – lots of them had dogs themselves and said how upset they’d be if they lost them. Suddenly, something caught my attention. I sat up and replayed the tape. I replayed it again. Then I sent a text to Max and asked him to come round straight away.

‘What’s up?’ he asked as he bounded in a few minutes later, without knocking on the door. ‘Auntie Sue said I could come straight up.’

‘But, did she say you could just walk in without knocking too?’

‘Sorry.’ Unperturbed, Max sat down on the bed. ‘Well, have you got some new evidence?’

‘I think so. What do you make of this?’ I replayed the interview:

PODCAST 3

Go to www.amycartermysteries.com/dognapped-3

‘Oh, I remember that lady, she was really nice,’ Max said. ‘Surely you don’t think she’s got anything to do with this?’ ‘Not her – but what about the young woman on the train, the one with the dog in the bag?’

‘There are other Bichon Frisés about and she didn’t say what train,’ Max pointed out.

‘No, but she did say it was the other day and she’s down here for a week, so it must be on a local train. And why would anyone put a dog in a bag?’

‘Lots of people do. I think it’s like the fashion or something.’

‘Yeah, for really small dogs like Chihuahuas maybe, Bichon Frisés are a bit big for that. I think it sounds really suspicious, so keep an eye out for someone with a colourful patchwork suede bag and text me immediately.’

‘I will,’ Max said. ‘So you don’t think the man who sent the ransom note took Fluffy then?’

‘I don’t know who did what,’ I admitted. ‘Everyone’s a suspect at the moment.’

Max listened while I played the rest of the interviews, but there were no other obvious clues.

‘If you hadn’t interrupted me so much, I might have got more information from some of them,’ I told Max as I switched the tape off.

‘That’s not fair! If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even have known what the bag was like!’

‘Hmm, well come on, let’s have a ride around to see if we can spot anyone carrying a bag like that.’

We both ran down the stairs, reaching the bottom, just as the front door opened and Emily came in. Over her shoulder was a big coloured patchwork suede bag. We both stared at the bag, then at each other.

‘What’s up with you two?’ Emily asked. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

I wasn’t sure what to say. My head was reeling. Not Emily. It couldn’t be Emily. She loved animals and always made such a fuss of Fluffy. Luckily, Max came to the rescue.

‘Where did you get that bag from?’ he asked.

‘I’d like to get one for my Mum. It’s her birthday soon and I think she’d like it.’ Not a very convincing story, but I think we got away with it.

Emily glanced at her bag. ‘I got it from a market stall in Penzance on Saturday.’

So, she bought it in Cornwall, which meant that probably quite a few other people owned the very same patchwork bag.

‘Excuse me kids, I want to go up to my room,’ Emily said with a smile. ‘Honestly, you two are on another planet today.’

I realised that we were still standing at the bottom of the stairs, blocking her way, so I stepped aside. ‘Sorry Emily,’ I replied, a little distracted.

‘That’s okay.’ She smiled again and dashed up the stairs, out of sight.

‘It can’t be Emily. She’s too nice,’ Max said.

‘Maybe, but we can’t rule out anyone, not without investigating them. I’ve got to check out that bag. There could be some of Fluffy’s hairs in there. I need to sneak a look in it.’

As it happened, I didn’t have to wait long for my chance. Gran collared us before we could go out and roped us into helping her prepare the tea. By the time we’d finished doing that, Emily had come down again, minus her bag, and asked Gran if she had any leaflets about local attractions. ‘I’m going home on Saturday and I’ve hardly done any sight-seeing,’ she said. ‘I’ve been on the beach every day but I’m sure there must be plenty more to see.’

‘I usually leave a pile of brochures in the hall, but I’ve been a bit distracted lately, what with poor Fluffy going missing,’ Gran said. ‘I think I’ve got some in the drawer here, I’ll just check.’ She opened the kitchen drawer and rummaged through it.

‘Is there still no news about Fluffy?’ Emily asked in a concerned voice.

‘I’m afraid not,’ Gran said sadly.

I motioned to Max that I was going upstairs. I needed him to follow me and keep an eye out.

Emily’s door was half-open and I could see the patchwork bag on her bed. ‘Keep watch at the door and cough if you hear Emily coming,’ I told Max.

I pushed open the door, ran over to the bed and picked up the bag. It was almost empty. Just a couple of magazines and a purse. I peered inside for small white dog hairs. None. I picked it up to check for a doggy smell.

‘What are you doing here, young man?’

I jumped as Mr McFarlane’s voice boomed in the hall outside. He was standing in the doorway talking to Max. Any minute now he was going to glance around and see me looking in Emily’s bag. I threw the bag on the bed, dropped to my knees and peered at the carpet.

‘And what are you doing in there, Amy?’ Mr McFarlane demanded.

I looked up to see him glaring at me.

‘Are you sure you saw a spider in here?’ I asked Max, desperately hoping he’d be quick-thinking enough to play along.

He was. ‘Yes, it was about to run under the bed.’ He pointed. ‘Look, there it is, by your knee.’ He gave a little scream for effect.

I picked up one of Emily’s shoes and pretended to swat the troublesome spider.

‘Did you get it?’ Max pleaded, convincingly.

‘Get what?’ Emily was now standing in the doorway too.

‘I saw a big black spider scuttle into your room and Amy went in to get it,’ Max explained.

Emily screamed and clasped her hand over her mouth. ‘It hasn’t crawled into my bed has it? Tell me it hasn’t crawled into my bed.’

‘No, it’s okay. I hit it with your shoe.’ I upturned the shoe and looked at the sole. ‘Ew, it’s a bit splattered. Anyone got a tissue?’

‘You mean you killed it?’ Emily looked horrified.

‘I’m really sorry, but it went to run under your bed and I just grabbed the nearest thing I could find to hit it with.’

‘Here you are,’ Max had fetched some bathroom tissue to keep the story going.

‘Thanks.’ I wiped the imaginary splattered spider from the sole of the shoe, then put the shoe back down on the floor. I crumpled the tissue in my hand and walked out of the bedroom.

‘I’m petrified of spiders. Thank goodness you spotted it. I do wish you hadn’t killed it though,’ she added.

I went to the bathroom and flushed away the tissue, then gestured to Max to follow me.

‘Did you get a chance to find anything in Emily’s bag?’ he asked as soon as we were in my room with the door firmly closed.

‘Nothing to show that Fluffy had been in the bag, but I did find this.’ I held out a train ticket.

‘What, for Tuesday?’ Max gasped.

‘No, the ticket is for yesterday. But, it proves that Emily uses the train. And she has a big patchwork bag, so we need to consider her as a suspect too.’

Chapter 13

Suspect Everyone

‘I don’t get it. If Emily was the one who stole Fluffy, where’s she taken her to?’ Max asked. ‘And why would she steal her anyway? She’s potty about animals.’

‘Maybe that’s why. She loves Fluffy so much, that she wants to keep her. It’s possible.’

‘Then why didn’t she steal her next Saturday when she goes home?’

‘Er … Let me think. Fluffy goes missing just as animal-mad Emily leaves. Now, I wonder who could have taken her?’

Max scowled. ‘There’s no need to be sarky. I’m just saying, it doesn’t make sense for Emily to steal Fluffy. Why would she do that? And what would she do with her?’

‘I don’t know, but we can’t just dismiss the possibility. I can’t afford to eliminate anyone from the enquiry just yet.’

‘You’ll be telling me you suspect me next!’ Max replied, jokingly.

That took me aback. It had never crossed my mind that Max could be involved in Fluffy’s disappearance, but I should consider it. Vince always said – suspect everyone – no matter how innocent they seem. And Max had been first on the scene when I discovered Fluffy was missing.

‘What? You mean you do suspect me?’

‘Er … no, of course not. Unless … ’

Max folded his arms and said slowly in a very quiet voice, ‘unless what?’

‘Unless you saw Fluffy in the garden and went to play with her and accidentally let her out, but didn’t like to own up.’ I watched Max’s expression carefully to see if I could see any sign of guilt. No, he just looked furious.

‘You really think I’d be that horrible to Auntie Sue? That I’d let her worry so much about Fluffy?’ He jabbed a finger into my chest. ‘Well if you want to suspect everyone, how about you?’ Another jab. ‘You couldn’t stand Fluffy! Maybe you got rid of her, so you could have your Gran all to yourself?’

‘Stop doing that!’ I yelled as he went to poke me again with even more force.

Max leaned towards me, angrily. ‘You’re the one who put Fluffy in the garden. Maybe you left the gate open on purpose so that she would run away.’ With that final remark, he stormed out.

‘What on earth was that all about?’

Gran was standing right behind me, and by the look on her face, had heard everything.

‘Nothing. Just Max overreacting,’ I told her. ‘He’ll be back when he’s calmed down.’

Gran gave me a searching look. ‘Dinner will be ready in half an hour,’ she said. ‘Don’t be late.’

I felt a bit uncomfortable as Gran went back downstairs. Had Max made Gran suspect me now?

I had to find Fluffy, and quick, before we all started falling out with each other. I took my notepad out of the drawer and turned to a clean page. Then I wrote down some questions and answers, just like Vince did when he was trying to solve a crime:

That leaves me with the following strong suspects:

It’s time to test your detective skills!

Note down all of the clues you’ve discovered so far, then decide who or what was responsible for Fluffy’s disappearance.

At the end of the book, you will find out if you’re right!

I read through all of my notes again. The strongest suspect was definitely Mr Mudlark; he was the one with the most to gain. And what about that phone call between him and Mrs McFarlane. I had to find out how those two were connected. And the best way to do that was to keep Mrs McFarlane under surveillance. From now on, wherever she goes, I will be close behind her.

I glanced at my watch, better get going. Gran said dinner would be in half an hour and I didn’t want to make her mad by being late.

‘Amy, come and listen to the news. Another boarding kennel’s been broken into and the dogs have been let loose,’ Gran called as I walked into the kitchen. I poked my head around the door of the private lounge and saw Gran sitting on the couch, glued to the television screen. For once, Mr Winkleberry wasn’t with her.

She turned the television up a bit and beckoned me over to sit with her.

‘So far none of the missing dogs have been found,’ the newsreader said. ‘There are unconfirmed reports that it’s the work of the Animals Have Rights Society, who have threatened to disrupt the Rivington Dog Show this weekend. No one from the society has been available for comment so far.’

‘Someone’s broken into the boarding kennels at Kimpton – about twenty miles from here – and let out all the show dogs,’ Gran told me. ‘First it was Fluffy, then there was that break-in at Mr Mudlark’s when Maisy-May got away. Someone must be deliberately targeting the dogs entered in the Rivington Show.’ Gran got up from the couch and paced around agitatedly. ‘That means poor Fluffy could still be wandering around somewhere, lost and hungry. Or lying injured.’ Her voice tailed off as she reached in her cardigan pocket for a well-used tissue.

One of the women I’d interviewed told me that her dog had got trapped down a badger sett. Was Gran right? Had Fluffy been let loose by Animals Have Rights fanatics and got lost or injured?

But what about the ransom note? And the phone call I’d overheard between Mrs McFarlane and Mr Mudlark? Besides, it was me who had taken Maisy-May, so Mr Mudlark’s dogs hadn’t been targeted, had they? And what had happened at Kimpton might have no connection with Fluffy at all. Someone might have a grudge against the owner and let out their dogs to spite them.

‘Oh, Amy. I can’t bear not knowing what’s happened to Fluffy.’ Gran blew her nose. ‘Do you think that animal rights group is behind all this?’

‘I’m not sure, Gran,’ I told her. ‘But one thing still puzzles me.’

‘What’s that dear?’

‘Well, you aren’t exactly a ‘breeder’ are you? You’ve got one dog that you keep in the house and treat as a pet. This Animals Have Rights Society seems to be targeting the big breeders who keep lots of dogs in outdoor kennels. Why should they pick on you?’

‘Because Fluffy is one of the favourites to win the show?’ Gran suggested.

Maybe. But it didn’t make sense to me. For one thing, if the Animals Have Rights people were targeting show dog owners, why hadn’t they broken into Mr Mudlark’s kennels? Of course, I couldn’t say that to Gran. She thought they had, and I wasn’t about to tell her otherwise. I was now sure though, that Mr Mudlark and Mrs McFarlane were somehow involved in Fluffy’s disappearance.

Chapter 14

On the Tail

Mr and Mrs McFarlane set off after breakfast, as usual. They were dressed in shorts and tee shirts – not a pretty sight I can tell you. Personally, I think there should be a law passed banning anyone over forty from wearing shorts. Mr McFarlane had his camcorder and was holding a map. I had an awful feeling that they were planning a sightseeing trip.

I slipped my micro-recorder into my pocket (it could come in useful) and went to the yard to get my bike, expecting to see Max hanging around, trying to find out where I’d been, but there was no sign of him. I guess he was still sulking over our row yesterday. Well, I wasn’t about to apologise to him after the things he said to me. Anyway, it would make a nice change to do things by myself without his constant interruptions.

I rode around to the front, just as Mr and Mrs McFarlane got into the car and shot off. I managed to follow them for a while, but once they were out of the narrow winding streets of Little Cragg, I lost them. Well, if I couldn’t tail Mr and Mrs McFarlane, maybe I could find Mr Mudlark, I thought. I headed for his house, hoping I could remember the way as I’d left the map in my bedroom. I needn’t have worried, though, it was clearly sign-posted.

I glanced over at Mr Mudlark’s house as I cycled past (intending to sneak in the back way via the field again) and nearly fell off my bike when I saw Mr and Mrs McFarlane’s blue car parked in the drive! I checked the number plate, just to make sure, although the spotted nodding dog in the back window was proof enough. What on earth were they doing here?

It was too much of a coincidence. They had to have something to do with Fluffy’s disappearance. Maybe Fluffy wasn’t being kept in the kennel block with the other dogs, but in the house, and Mr Mudlark intended to set her free once the show was over. Maybe he – or the McFarlanes – had released other dogs in kennels as a cover because it would look suspicious if only Fluffy had gone missing. It was possible that I had given them the idea when I took Maisy-May.

Why were the McFarlanes involved though? What was their motive in all this?

Once again, I put my bike over the fence, hiding it behind the hedge. Then I switched my cellphone to mute – I didn’t want it ringing at an awkward moment. I raced across the field and climbed over the gate, into the grounds of Mr Mudlark’s house.

One of the windows was open and I could hear Mr Mudlark’s voice clearly. I slipped my hand into my pocket and switched the mini-recorder on, then crept closer still.

‘I’m going to have to sell up, Lil. The money Mother left isn’t enough to do the repairs on this place, never mind pay for the upkeep.’

‘I hope you’re not suggesting I give you my share? Mother left all of this to you, as well as half of her money,’ Mrs McFarlane sounded quite bitter.

Mother? I pricked up my ears. New information. Mrs McFarlane and Mr Mudlark were in fact brother and sister.

‘And I’m the one who spent the last ten years looking after her, while you carried on merrily with your own life.’

‘Well, now that Fluffy is out of the way, Maisy-May should win the show and you’ll get the sponsorship deal,’ Mrs McFarlane said. ‘So you’ll have enough money to do the repairs.’

‘I hope so, but … ’ The phone rang and interrupted whatever he was going to say next.

I crept nearer to the window, hoping to hear the phone conversation, but the dogs started barking so loudly, I couldn’t hear anything at all. I switched off the recorder and ducked around the side of the house, just in case Mr Mudlark came out to quieten the dogs. He did. When he came back in I heard Mrs McFarlane say they had to go and she’d be in touch later. Then they were gone.

I checked out the grounds, but couldn’t find any other kennels. If Mr Mudlark did have Fluffy, he must be hiding her in the house. I hung around for a bit, hoping he’d come out into the garden so I could sneak in and have a look, but no such luck. So, I decided to head home and re-examine the evidence instead.

I checked my phone before I went. No text messages from Max. I guessed he was still sulking.

On the way home I decided to go past the house where Scarface lived, hoping to pick up some more clues. I could ask around, find out his name. I wanted to find out what his connection to Mr Winkleberry was. Perhaps Mr Winkleberry was paying him for getting rid of Fluffy?

As I turned into the alleyway behind his house, I heard a shout, then Max came hurtling past on his bike, with Scarface hot on his heels.

‘If I see you snooping around here again, you’re going to regret it!’ he yelled at him.

‘Hey, pick on someone your own size!’ I said, furiously, manoeuvring my bike between him and Max. ‘He’s only a kid!’

‘You as well!’ The man glared at me. ‘Get out of here before I thump the pair of you.’

‘Yeah, and get yourself an assault charge?’ I told him. ‘Besides, if you touch us, we’ll tell everyone that you sent the ransom note … and that you’re the one who stole Fluffy.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the man blustered.

‘Yes you do, the fake notes are in your bin,’ I told him. ‘I took a couple out and I bet they’ve got your fingerprints all over them.’

The man looked furious. He marched towards me and grabbed the handlebars of my bike. ‘If you know what’s good for you, kid, you won’t show those notes to anyone. I know where you live … where both of you live. And next time it won’t be a dog that goes missing. Got it?’ He lowered his face close to mine. I tried not to flinch, but it was difficult … his breath smelt really bad.

‘Good job I’ve got all that on tape then isn’t it?’ I said, calmly, ‘’cos they’ll know who to come looking for if anything happens to us.’ I jerked the handlebars out of his hands. ‘Come on, Max!’

We both rode off as quickly as we could to the main street, stopping by the nearest bench.

‘You okay?’ I asked Max.

He nodded. ‘You were so brave standing up to him like that.’

‘It was nothing,’ I said. To be honest, I was so furious with the man for bullying Max and trying to rob Gran, that I hadn’t had time to think of any possible danger.

‘Have you really got it all on tape?’ Max asked.

I shook my head. ‘I wish I did, but I didn’t have time to switch the tape on. What were you doing there anyway? You could have got into some major trouble on your own.’

He glared at me defiantly. ‘I wanted to find some evidence to prove that he took Fluffy. Then you’d know that it wasn’t me who let her out.’

I sighed. ‘Look, I don’t really think it was you. You just got me mad.’

‘I don’t think it was you either.’ He sat down on the bench. ‘So where have you been today?’

I sat down beside him. ‘To spy on Mr Mudlark, and guess what I saw?’

I filled him in on the McFarlane’s visit to Mr Mudlark’s place, then played the recording.

‘Wow! You mean Mrs McFarlane and Mr Mudlark are brother and sister?’

‘Yep, and by the sound of it, Mr Mudlark needs to win the sponsorship deal to pay for some repairs to his home, otherwise he’ll have to sell it.’

‘Do you think they’re the ones who took Fluffy?’

I hesitated. ‘I’m not sure yet. But there’s one good way to find out.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m going to set a trap.’

Chapter 15

The Trap

The guest house received a lot of mail the next day. I picked up the letters from the mat and sifted through them. ‘Three for you, Gran, one for me from my folks,’ I said, taking the letters into the dining room where everyone was having their breakfast. ‘And one for everyone else.’

I slipped my letter into my back pocket, handed Gran hers and glanced at the three remaining ones. ‘Oh, these haven’t got stamps on them,’ I said.

‘I’ll take them, thank you.’ Mr Winkleberry snatched the letters out of my hand, selected his, handed one to Mr and Mrs McFarlane and put Emily’s down on the side. She hadn’t come down for breakfast yet – no doubt waiting for everyone else to finish so she didn’t have to look at the bacon and remember that it used to be a pig. Mr W read his letter quickly, his left eye twitching like mad, then pursed his lips and shoved it in his trouser pocket. He looked seriously bothered.

‘Is everything all right, David?’ Gran asked.

‘Junk mail,’ he said. ‘It’s all I ever seem to get nowadays.’ He reached for the teapot. ‘Would you like me to pour?’

Neither of the McFarlanes had showed the slightest interest in opening their letter, it was still lying on the table by their plates. When they’d finished their breakfast, they disappeared upstairs, taking the unopened letter with them.

‘Poor Fluffy has been missing for a week now,’ Gran said sadly. ‘I’ve almost given up hope of getting her back. The dogs let loose from Kimpton Kennels were all found, you know,’ she added.

‘I reckon someone’s keeping Fluffy safe, Gran, and you’ll get her back soon,’ I told her.

‘Well, it’s nearly show day … not that I care about the show, I just want Fluffy home,’ Gran sighed as she stood up to clear away the dishes.

Mr Winkleberry jumped up. ‘I’ll do those for you. You sit down and have a rest.’

Was he just being kind, I wondered, or did he have a guilty conscience?

Emily came down a little later, grabbed some toast and her letter and went back upstairs again.

When all of the guests had gone out, I offered to help Gran tidy the rooms. Her obvious delight at my help made me feel guilty that I was only doing it to see if anyone had left the letters in their rooms. But hey, a detective has got to do what she’s got to do, and it would all be worth it if I managed to bring Fluffy back home safely.

There was no sign of a letter in Mr Winkleberry’s room or the McFarlane’s room, but Emily’s letter was lying, still unopened, on her dressing table. I picked it up and looked at the envelope. The big black letters would have made me so curious I’d have wanted to open it right away, but Emily obviously wasn’t interested. I put it back down on the dressing table and turned to go out of the room, when something on the floor glistened and caught my eye. I bent down and picked it up. It was a silver shield-shaped badge; there was a dog’s head on it and the words ‘Animals Have Rights’ were spread around the edge of the shield.

So, Emily was a member of the Animals Have Rights Society. Now that was interesting.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and quickly dropped the badge back on the floor. I picked up the cleaning cloth and turned to smile as Emily came into the room.

‘Hi, I’m helping Gran tidy the rooms,’ I told her.

‘That’s good of you. Could you ask her for a clean pillowcase and a fresh towel, please?’ Emily asked. She opened her wardrobe door and took out a yellow sweater. ‘It might get nippy later,’ she said. She put the sweater into her patchwork bag, picked up the letter from the dressing table, dropped that in the bag too, then went out.

Could it be her? I wondered, as I heard Emily shout goodbye to Gran, then go out of the front door. Well, if my trap worked, I’d find out soon.

Max texted me:

Max came round straight after lunch. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

‘Yep,’ I replied defiantly.

‘Amy, can you please go to the shop for me before you go out?’ Gran called.

I groaned. ‘I’m in a bit of a rush, Gran.’

‘It will only take you five minutes. I just need some milk and gravy powder.’

I glanced at my watch. ‘Okay.’

There was a queue in the corner store, so it took me fifteen minutes. ‘We’ll be late,’ Max said as I rode back to Gran’s with the shopping.

I glanced at my watch again. ‘If we hurry, we’ll still get there first.’

We cycled as fast as we could along the narrow cobbled roads until we came to the outskirts of Little Cragg, then we took the left turning to the old chapel. The now derelict building was deserted.

‘Good, no one’s arrived yet,’ I told Max.

We cycled up to the chapel and parked our bikes around the side, so they weren’t visible to anyone from the road.

‘Do you think this will work?’ Max whispered.

‘It’s foolproof. Whoever’s taken Fluffy will be worried sick when they read that letter and come to find out who’s on to them,’ I told him. ‘Any minute now we’ll find out who the dognapper is.’ We ducked down behind the chapel wall and waited.

After a few minutes, a familiar silver car came along the road.

I nudged Max. ‘Look!’

I felt a bit sick as the car pulled up by the chapel and Mr Winkleberry got out. Okay, I didn’t like him, but Gran did, and she’d be really upset to learn that he was the one responsible for her precious Fluffy’s disappearance. Mr Winkleberry looked around nervously, then another car came into sight. A blue one. I stared at it in astonishment. What was going on?

Mr Winkleberry, his face a mask of fury, stormed over to the car as it pulled up behind his, and Mr and Mrs McFarlane climbed out!

‘So, it was you two!’ Mr Winkleberry shouted. ‘I always thought there was something suspicious about the pair of you. How dare you abuse Mrs Carter’s hospitality and steal her beloved dog. What made you do it, eh?’ He stood right in front of Mr McFarlane and wagged his finger at him, just missing his nose. ‘Don’t point your finger at me!’ Mr McFarlane yelled, his chin visibly quivering in anger. ‘You’re the one who stole the dog, that’s why you’re here.’

‘How dare you!’ Mr Winkleberry thundered. ‘I’m here because I saw that we all had the same letter this morning, so I knew that if I came here, I’d catch the thief.’ He took the letter out of his pocket and waved it at them. ‘See, it says: “I know you took Fluffy and where you are hiding her. Meet me at 2pm at the old chapel or I’ll inform the police.”’

‘That’s the reason we came,’ said Mr McFarlane. ‘We saw that everyone had the same letter, so we knew that whoever turned up was the thief. We were trying to help.’

‘That’s the reason I came too.’ I watched in astonishment as Emily walked over to them, she’d come along the cliff way, so no one had spotted her earlier. She held out her letter. ‘It seems like we all had the same idea.’

Mr Winkleberry coughed awkwardly but couldn’t think of much to say. ‘I see … well, er… ’

‘No need to apologise,’ Mr McFarlane said rather sarcastically.

‘I think we should show these letters to the police,’ Mrs McFarlane suggested. ‘It should be easy enough to trace who sent them.’

‘Leave it to me,’ Mr Winkleberry said hastily. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

‘Would one of you mind giving me a lift back to the B&B?’ Emily asked. ‘It’s quite a long walk.’

‘I’d be delighted to,’ Mr Winkleberry said.

Max and I watched as they all got into their cars and drove away from the scene.

‘After all that, we still have no idea who the thief is,’ Max groaned.

He was wrong. I knew exactly who the thief was. They had just given themselves away. Now all I had to do was prove it.

Amy is sure that she’s found the culprit. Have you? It’s time for you to look at all the evidence and solve the case … then read on to find out if you’re right!

Chapter 16

Red-handed!

‘I reckon Mr Winkleberry’s gone to see Scarface,’ I told Max. ‘Let’s follow him.’

Max looked at me as if I was insane. ‘Hello, he’s got a car and we’ve got bikes,’ he said very slowly, as if explaining something to an idiot. ‘How are we going to follow him? He’ll be there and gone before we’re halfway there!’

‘No he won’t, he’s giving Emily a lift back, remember. If we hurry, we’ll get to Scarface’s house before he does.’

We cycled as quickly as we could, but Mr Winkleberry’s car was already parked outside when we reached Scarface’s house. ‘Stay here!’ I told Max as I crept over to the garden. I could hear raised voices, it sounded like they were arguing outside. I found a chink in the fence and squinted through it. Mr Winkleberry was standing by the back door, facing Scarface, who actually looked like he’d had a wash and changed his clothes. They were both really angry.

‘I told you it wasn’t me. Just get off my case, will you!’ Scarface shouted.

I didn’t dare hang around to see what they were arguing about, so I reached in my pocket, switched on my recorder, got down on my knees and slid it under the gate, slipping it to the side, behind a brick. I just might hear something useful. Then I went back to Max. ‘Let’s move away from here, things might turn nasty if they spot us hanging around again.’

We cycled over the road where we could keep an eye on Mr W’s car without being spotted. About five minutes later, he came storming over to the car, got in and drove off. Telling Max to stay with the bikes, I quickly ran back to Scarface’s garden to pick up my recorder.

‘Got it,’ I told Max when I returned. ‘Now let’s get home. I’m going to set a trap for the thief.’

As soon as we were in my room, I played the recording of the conversation between Mr Winkleberry and Scarface …

PODCAST 4

Go to www.amycartermysteries.com/dognapped-4

‘So, Mr Winkleberry does know him!’ Max gasped. ‘What do you think he meant by saying they’d both be in trouble with the police? Did Scarface take Fluffy?’

‘We’ll soon know.’ I booted my laptop and keyed in the password Mrs Todd had given me the other day. Now I could go online through their router. I logged onto a free podcast programme I often used, and set to work.

‘What are you doing?’ Max asked, peering over my shoulder.

‘Making a podcast, pretending that Fluffy’s been found.’ I told him. ‘I’m going to play it through my mp3 speakers and hope it fools whoever took Fluffy into thinking it’s a real radio broadcast.’

‘Why?’ Max frowned.

‘Because once they hear that Fluffy’s been found, the dognapper should panic and make a phone call to check how she escaped. Then we’ll have them. I’m going to record now,’ I warned him. ‘So don’t talk until I’ve finished, or you’ll ruin it.’

Max, for once, kept quiet. In fact, he was watching me with a sort of awe-struck look on his face. It made me feel good, I can tell you. One of the bonuses of hanging around with someone younger than myself, I guess. Back at home, making a podcast was no big deal. We do it all the time.

I played back the podcast, but even though I’d tried to disguise my voice, it was too clear and very obviously me! It took me several attempts to disguise it enough to fool anyone.

‘What do you think?’ I asked Max, playing the finished podcast.

‘It’s perfect,’ he replied honestly. ‘It really doesn’t sound anything like you!’

Luck was with us, because all of the guests were indoors for once, talking in the guest lounge. Or rather, Mr McFarlane was doing the talking – something about some dolphins they’d seen that morning – and the others were listening. Even Emily was there.

‘You go into the lounge and keep an eye on them while I set up the recording,’ I told Max.

I went into the kitchen. Gran’s radio was on, as usual. I selected the podcast on my mp3, plugged in the speakers, turned up the volume and pressed play. I’d programmed it to play a bit of music first in an attempt to – hopefully – make it sound more like a radio. I just hoped it was good enough to fool everyone. Then I turned off Gran’s radio and walked calmly into the lounge.

‘I like this song,’ Emily said as the latest song from Blaze boomed out from my mp3.

‘Me too,’ I told her. ‘They play it on the radio a lot at the moment.’

The song finished, there was a crackle, then a voice that, thankfully, even to my ears, sounded nothing like mine:

‘And now for the latest news. A show dog kidnapped last week has been found safe and well. Princess Fluffball, a Bichon Frisé owned by Mrs Sue Carter of Little Cragg, was found wandering the streets about one hour ago.’

Gran was so startled that she almost fell out of her chair. ‘Did you hear that?’ she exclaimed. ‘Fluffy’s been found!’

‘That’s marvellous,’ Mr Winkleberry said, but he looked a bit pale.

‘Wonderful,’ agreed Mrs McFarlane. She and Mr McFarlane exchanged worried looks.

‘See, I told you she’d be all right,’ Emily said.

Then they all dashed out and went straight to their rooms. I crossed my fingers that I’d figured out the right culprit.

Gran frowned. ‘I don’t understand it, why haven’t the police told me, instead of announcing it on the radio like that?’ She stood up. ‘I’m going to phone PC Lambard.’

Oh no! It hadn’t occurred to me that she might do that. ‘Er, not just yet, Gran.’ I told her.

‘Why ever not?’ Gran asked. Suddenly, she frowned as the recording stopped. ‘Who turned the radio off?’ A look of suspicion crossed her face. ‘Amy? Are you up to something?’

I heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. It was Emily, closely followed by Mr Winkleberry and then Mr and Mrs McFarlane.

‘Don’t let any of them go out!’ I whispered to Max. He grinned and held up the door keys. That boy could be smart sometimes!

I took the stairs, two at a time, dashed into Emily’s room and slid my recorder out from under her bed. Quickly selecting play, I listened to the first few seconds, then grinned. Result!

‘Amy!’ Gran’s voice was like thunder. ‘Come down here. Now!’

‘What’s up?’ I peered over the banister and saw Gran holding my mp3 player and speakers.

‘Er, I can explain …’ I said.

‘It had better be very good,’ Gran warned me.

‘I think I’ll go out and leave you to it,’ Emily said, hopefully.

‘No!’ I shouted, racing down the stairs. ‘No you can’t go out!’

Everyone stared at me.

I quickly switched on my recorder, full volume. Emily’s voice boomed out:

Hello. Rika, it’s Emily. I’ve just been listening to the news. What happened? How did Fluffy escape?

Another voice, inaudible. Then Emily’s voice once again:

Are you sure she’s still there? Go and check.

Pause for a few minutes. The inaudible voice again. Then Emily:

There must have been a mix-up. It definitely said on the news that Fluffy has been found. Yes, okay. But keep an eye on her. Someone might be on to us.

Everyone turned around and stared at Emily.

‘You!’ Gran said, astonished. ‘But, why?’

Emily tossed back her hair, eyes defiant. ‘Because Fluffy’s got no life with you, that’s why!’ she said. ‘You never let her run around free. You keep her caged up like an exotic bird, always grooming her and trying to get her to do clever tricks. She’s a dog. She should be running across fields, having fun, getting muddy …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Now listen to me, young lady.’ Mr Winkleberry was so angry that his eye wouldn’t stop twitching. It made me feel quite giddy. ‘Sue dotes on Fluffy and looks after her very well. You can’t steal dogs from people, just because they don’t treat them how you think they should. Fluffy has a fine life here.’

‘Where is she?’ Gran asked, her voice trembling. ‘What have you done to my little princess?’

‘I gave her to someone from the Animals Have Rights Society. She’s living on a farm now, running around free, like animals should,’ Emily told her, looking a bit guilty. ‘Don’t worry, she’s happy, I saw her just the other day.’

That was probably the day she stopped out all night, I thought to myself.

‘A farm?’ Gran’s voice squeaked in panic. ‘Oh no, she could have picked up all sorts of nasty diseases. Give me the address. I must get her back.’

‘Oh we’ll get her back, all right. I’m going to phone the police and get this young lady arrested,’ Mr Winkleberry declared. ‘They’ll soon get Fluffy back for you.’

A look of panic crossed Emily’s face. ‘Arrested? Oh no. Please don’t tell the police.’

But it was too late, Mr Winkleberry was already dialling the number.

Fluffy was returned to Gran a few hours later. She looked a bit dirty and scruffy, but happy and healthy nonetheless. Gran was delighted to see her, and so was I. I think Fluffy was pleased to see me too, she even let me stroke her without snapping or growling. That was a first! Gran called the vet who examined her and gave her a clean bill of health.

‘Thank you so much, Amy. It’s your detective work that found Fluffy for me,’ Gran said that evening, sitting happily with Fluffy on her lap.

‘I can’t believe Emily was responsible,’ Mr Winkleberry said.

‘Do you think she was the one who sent the ransom note?’ Gran asked.

Mr Winkleberry flushed. ‘No, I’m afraid that it was the son of an old friend of mine,’ he admitted. ‘Not that I knew it at the time. Jed’s been living rough since he left home. Tony, his dad, died a few years ago, then his mum married again, but Jed didn’t get on with his stepdad. Anyway, he got in with the wrong crowd and owed a lot of money to some rather unsavoury characters. When he heard that Fluffy was missing, he thought he’d try and get the money to pay off his debts.’ He coughed awkwardly. ‘I know I shouldn’t have covered for him, but he’s a decent lad at heart, and these ruffians were threatening him. He sent the ransom note because he was desperate.’

‘So, Mr Winkleberry gave him the money to pay off all his debts instead,’ I added. ‘And now he’s going straight.’

Mr Winkleberry stared at me in astonishment. ‘How do you know that.’

I touched my nose with my finger ‘A good detective finds out these things,’ I told him.

Gran, being so soft-hearted, agreed not to press charges against Scarface, now that she had heard the full story, and especially as Mr Winkleberry could get in trouble for not reporting him. She also asked for Emily to be let off with a caution, saying her love for animals had clouded her judgement, and the Animals Have Rights Society had obviously brainwashed her. She’s a nice woman, my Gran.

‘What I don’t get is how you knew it was Emily?’ Max asked when he came around later that evening with a very welcome bar of fruit and nut chocolate and two milkshakes. He passed the strawberry shake to me. ‘You must have been pretty sure it was her to put the recorder under her bed, instead of one of the other guests.’

I grinned. ‘Give me half of that chocolate and I’ll tell you how I worked it all out.’

‘Deal.’ Max broke the bar in half and handed half to me …

PODCAST 5

Go to www.amycartermysteries.com/dognapped-5

‘You’re very clever … working out all of those clues,’ Max said when I’d finished.

‘I know,’ I said smugly. ‘Amy Carter, crime-buster–that’s me.’

I broke off two squares of the chocolate and popped them into my mouth. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so boring in Little Cragg after all.

THE END

About the Author

Karen King began her writing career with the teenage magazine Jackie, and spent many years writing for various children’s magazines, including Winnie the Pooh, Rosie and Jim and Nursery Education, before concentrating solely on writing books. With over one hundred children’s books published, Karen writes both fiction and non-fiction titles for children from pre-school to teens. Karen’s published work includes Foul Play, Cosmic Whizz Kid, Space Chase on Planet Zog and The Gold Badge. Her picture book I Don't Eat Toothpaste Anymore won the Gold Award for Best Product, and her book entitled The Birthday Surprise, won the Practical Parenting Award.

If you enjoyed Dognapped, read the next Amy Carter mystery, Sabotage!

Disaster after disaster befalls Old Joe's cottage following his refusal to sell it to a property developer. Luckily, Amy Carter is on the case and, with side-kick Max, she sets out to expose the saboteur. Podcast clues take you to the heart of the action.

Available from all good bookshops!

This edition published in Great Britain in 2010 by Top That! Publishing plc, Marine House, Tide Mill Way, Woodbridge, Suffolk, IP12 1AP, UK
www.topthatpublishing.com

0 2 4 6 8 9 7 5 3 1

Creative Director – Simon Couchman
Editorial Director – Daniel Graham
Art Editor – Matt Denny
Commissioning Editor – Donna Ramsey
Podcast Engineer – Paul Strandoo

Written by Karen King

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. Neither this book nor any part or any of the illustrations, photographs or reproductions contained in it shall be sold or disposed of otherwise than as a complete book, and any unauthorised sale of such part illustration, photograph or reproduction shall be deemed to be a breach of the publisher’s copyright.

ISBN 978-1-84956-264-5

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

With thanks to the following voice actors:
Amy Carter: Kaitlin Schmidt
Max: Cameron Casey
Female Broadcaster: Donna Ramsey
Outside Reporter: Nick Wooldridge
Lady from Kennel Club: Linda Wooldridge
Lady interviewed in street: Leeann Ling
Mr Winkleberry: Mick Farrow
Scarface: Nick Wooldridge

Table of Contents

Title Page

Introduction

1. Fluffy

2. Missing!

3. Suspects

4. A Lead

5. Cornered

6. A Sighting

7. Dead or Alive!

8. The Rescue

9. Double Trouble

10. Blackmail

11. Scarface

12. The Interview

13. Suspect Everyone

14. On the Tail

15. The Trap

16. Red-handed!

About the Author

Copyright and Credits