I didn’t know what to say.
“They sure did,” said the policeman. “They tracked down the license number of the vehicle involved in the thefts. They also spotted your dog over in New Hope and called us in to check out the situation.”
“That’s incredible,” said Mrs. Mancusi. “You must have been working really hard on this.”
“Well, I felt kind of responsible for Cheryl’s being stolen,” I mumbled.
“Oh, Dawn,” said Mrs. Mancusi. “It wasn’t your fault. We never thought that.”
“I know,” I said. “Still, I wanted to do whatever I could to get her back.”
“Well, I sure am glad you did,” she replied. “Cheryl says she is, too. Right, Cheryl?” Cheryl cocked her ears and wagged her tail and — I swear this is true — she smiled. “But who stole the dogs — and why?” Mrs. Mancusi asked the policeman.
“Karl Tate stole them,” said the policeman.
“Karl Tate?” repeated Mrs. Mancusi. “But he’s one of the richest men in Stoneybrook.”
“Not anymore,” said the policeman. “Apparently he’s been losing a bundle in the real-estate market. So he came up with a bunch of schemes for making money and shopped them around. The pet store people were the first ones to bite. What they did was steal dogs — to order. They’d get a customer who was looking for a Great Dane, see, and then the next thing you know —”
“Cheryl gets stolen,” finished Mrs. Mancusi. “What kind of people would steal dogs from their owners?” she went on, shaking her head. “What a horrible thing to do.”
“Lucrative, though,” said the policeman. “They found out there was big money in it. In fact, there was more money in stealing dogs than in running a pet store. Lots of times they just wouldn’t even bother to open the store.”
Mary Anne looked at me, eyebrows raised. “That’s why it wasn’t open that day I rode downtown,” she whispered to me.
“Anyway,” the policeman went on, “they’re all under arrest now, Mr. Tate and the couple who owned the store. I don’t think any more dogs are going to be stolen around here!” He grinned at me, and I grinned back.
“Have you found all the dogs that were stolen?” I asked.
“Not quite. There were a few out at Tate’s house,” said the policeman. “This one here,” he pointed to Shannon, “and those other two. We’re tracking down the rest of them — the ones that were already sold. Everybody should have their dogs back within a few days.”
“Shannon!” I heard Kristy shout, behind me. She had just run in, along with David Michael. They both knelt on the floor, and Shannon jumped all over them, squirming and wriggling with joy. David Michael looked even happier than he had when the Krashers won their game.
“Hi, you guys,” said Kristy, when she finally stood up. “There was a message at home for us to come down here. I can’t believe Shannon’s safe and sound! Isn’t this great?”
We nodded, smiling. David Michael and Shannon were still rolling around on the floor.
“Are you girls ready to have your pictures taken?” asked the police officer.
“What?” I said.
“The Stoneybrook News called a little while ago. They want to interview you, and put your pictures in the paper. They’ll be here any minute.” He smiled. “You can use the ladies’ room to clean up, if you want.”
I remembered the twigs in my hair and the mud on my shirt. “Thanks,” I said. Then I turned to Kristy and Mary Anne. “While I clean up, can you guys call everybody?” I asked. “I want every member of the BSC to be in this picture, since you all helped.”
It was fun being interviewed, and the photographer let us pose any way we wanted to. Our picture was going to look really neat. But it was a relief when the photographer left and it was just us — the good old BSC — again.
We trooped out of the police station and went to the coffee shop, where Bart and Logan were waiting to meet us. It was time for a celebration! We laughed and talked and discussed every detail of the case we’d solved and the game the Krashers had won. But after awhile, I grew quiet, thinking about what I’d learned about people and their pets. And when we left the coffee shop, I took Mary Anne aside for a second.
“Want to stop by the pet store?” I asked. “The old one, I mean.”
“Sure,” she said. “But why do you want to go there?”
“To buy a treat for Tigger,” I told her. “And then we’ll go home and give it to him — and I might even let him kiss me!”
The author gratefully acknowledges
Ellen Miles
for her help in
preparing this manuscript.
About the Author
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright © 1993 by Ann M. Martin.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First edition, February 1993
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
e-ISBN 978-0-545-75662-4
Ann M. Martin, Dawn and the Disappearing Dogs
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