Dawn and the Halloween Mystery

  “And play games, right?” asked Daffodil.

  “That’s right,” I said. “And no using your magic wand to help you win, either, Miss Glinda!”

  Daffodil giggled.

  “Let’s move on,” I said again. “It’s getting dark, and I promised your parents you’d be home for dinner.”

  We proceeded down the sidewalk. The girls walked slowly, their full treat bags bumping against their knees. Then, all of a sudden, Daffodil shrieked. “Aaah!” she cried. “Did you see that?”

  “What is it?” I asked, alarmed. I hadn’t seen anything.

  “A black cat!” said Daffodil. “It ran right across the street in front of us, up there by Erick and Ryan’s house.”

  “I guess that cat knows it’s Halloween,” I said soothingly.

  “But it’s bad luck!” said Stephie.

  “Not tonight,” I said, making up a new superstition as I went along. “On Halloween night it’s good luck for a black cat to cross your path.”

  “Really?” asked Daffodil.

  “Really,” I said. “Cross my heart.” I smiled at her, but inside I felt another of those little shivers. Then we passed a group of kids dressed as the Three Stooges: Moe, Larry, and Curly.

  “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk,” said Moe, sounding just like the real thing. He pretended to stick his fingers into Curly’s eyes.

  I laughed out loud, forgetting about my shivers. Then I led the girls on down the street. They stopped at three more houses, and after the third I checked my watch. “It’s about time to finish up, girls,” I said.

  “Awww, really?” asked Clover.

  “Yup. You can go to the next house, but after that I’ll have to take you home. You don’t want to be late for the party, do you?”

  Daffodil looked at the house we were standing in front of. “But there’s nobody home here,” she said. “The lights are all out.”

  I looked up. “Oh!” I said. It was the Fords’ house. I hadn’t realized we were approaching it. Of course nobody was home: Timmy was out trick-or-treating, and Mr. Ford was … in jail. “I mean, that’s okay,” I said quickly, trying to hide my surprise. “We’ll just go to the next one.”

  We walked past the blank, dark windows of the Fords’ house. The kids trotted ahead of me, eager to reach the next house, which was lit up brightly and had three jack-o’-lanterns on its front steps. As I walked behind them, I glanced into the Fords’ backyard.

  Shivers again. Major shivers.

  Somebody was in that yard. I stopped walking, letting the girls run ahead, and stared into the dusky gloom, trying for a better look. Then I gasped and took two steps back. It was as if my body reacted before my mind did, and my body was saying “Run away! Run away!” Here’s what my body was reacting to: the robber who held up Speedy Jack’s was standing in the middle of the Fords’ backyard! He was wearing the same all-black outfit (that’s who I must have seen running through the yards) and the very same clown mask, with the silly pink hair. His back was to me, so he didn’t see me looking.

  I put my hand over my mouth. My brain was still working hard, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. It was so bizarre that I couldn’t take it in right away. First of all, the clown was digging in the yard. And, if that wasn’t strange enough, the clown was digging in the same spot where that dog had been digging only a few days earlier.

  Of course, that still wasn’t the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was that if I was seeing the robber in Timmy’s backyard, then Mr. Ford wasn’t the robber — because at that very moment he was with the police!

  “Oh, no!” I whispered. I ran to the house next door. The girls were just coming down the walk. “Clover, Daffodil, Stephie!” I said. “Come with me! Right now! I need to go over to Erick and Ryan’s for a second.” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, since I didn’t want to scare them. But I did want to get them off the streets as quickly as possible.

  “Oh, goody,” said Daffodil. “You mean we can go to one more house?”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, herding them across the street. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure the robber hadn’t seen us, I banged on the DeWitts’ door.

  Cynthia threw it open. “Dawn!” she said, before I could open my mouth. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She smiled brightly at Clover, Daffodil, and Stephie. “Girls, I want you to go on upstairs and show Erick and Ryan and Timmy your candy, all right? Sunny is up there with them.”

  The kids ran upstairs eagerly. “Cynthia,” I said, as soon as they were out of earshot, “the police have the wrong man!”

  “I know, honey,” said Cynthia. “That’s why I was so happy to see you and the kids. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the girls, but the police just made an announcement over the radio. They want everybody inside, off the streets.”

  “I saw —” I began.

  Cynthia didn’t seem to hear me. “Mr. Ford — John — was able to prove without a doubt that he was at a job interview at the time of the first robbery,” she went on.

  “That’s great,” I said, “but —” I wanted to get to a phone fast to call the police and let them know about the robber in the Fords’ backyard.

  “I’m so happy for John,” said Cynthia. She was so keyed up she didn’t seem to notice that I had something to say. “But I’m frightened, too. This means the robber is still at large.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” I finally burst out, not caring anymore if I sounded rude. “He’s at large right now, across the street. I have to call the police!”

  The police arrived within minutes. Cynthia and I watched from the window as several squad cars pulled up silently — no sirens, no flashing lights — and police officers jumped out and quietly surrounded the Fords’ backyard.

  It happened so fast I almost missed it. The capture wasn’t like the ones on TV, with chases and gunfights. I looked away for just a second, and when I looked back the cops were leading the guy in the clown mask toward one of the cars. His hands were cuffed behind him, and his head was down.

  “I have to see who it is,” I said. I opened the front door and ran outside before Cynthia could stop me. I ran right up to the small crowd of officers, with Cynthia following. We arrived just in time to see Officer Garcia reach over and pull the mask off the robber’s head.

  I gasped, thinking there had been a terrible mistake. The person under the mask wasn’t a man at all.

  It was a woman.

  The blonde woman from Frank’s Franks, the one behind the counter who had stared at us that day. The one Sunny had pegged as an undercover agent. Now I was totally confused.

  There was a brief silence. Officer Garcia looked at the woman’s face, down at the mask in her hand, and back at the woman. Then she began to speak. For a second, I expected her to say something about having made a mistake. But instead, she said, “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent….”

  I looked at Cynthia. She was staring at the woman, frowning as if she were trying to remember something. The woman didn’t meet Cynthia’s gaze; she was looking down at her feet (she was wearing Fly Highs!) and I heard her sniff. She was crying!

  Just as Officer Garcia finished her speech, another officer handed her something wrapped in a plastic bag. “This was in the yard, there,” he said. “Where she was digging.”

  Officer Garcia took the object and looked at it. Even from where I was standing, I could see that it was a gun. So that’s why she had been digging in the yard. She must have been hiding her gun there. And the dog that was digging that day must have been hoping for a bone, instead. I stifled a terrible impulse to giggle.

  Officer Garcia handed the gun back. “Tag this as evidence,” she said, “along with that mask.”

  Then Cynthia stepped forward. “Evelyn?” she said. The woman looked up, but she didn’t smile. “Evelyn Ford?” The woman nodded, slowly. She looked as if she were in shock.

  Suddenly my stomach seemed to do a backflip. Ford? Was this woman re
lated to Timmy somehow?

  Cynthia stepped back so she was standing next to me and whispered into my ear. “That’s Timmy’s mother,” she said.

  My stomach did another backflip. “What —? Why —?” I began. I had so many questions I didn’t even know where to start.

  “Why?” Cynthia echoed my question. “Evelyn, why?”

  “You don’t have to talk, ma’am,” one of the officers reminded Mrs. Ford. “Not without a lawyer present.”

  “A lawyer?” said Mrs. Ford softly. “No lawyer’s going to be able to help me. I did it. I robbed those stores. I admit it.” She paused, looking at Cynthia. “And if you want to know why,” she said, a little more loudly, “I’ll tell you. It was for my boy. For Timmy.” She started to cry.

  Officer Garcia put her arm around Mrs. Ford’s shoulders. “Are you ready to come with us?” she asked gently. One of the other officers stepped forward to open the back door of a police car parked nearby.

  “I’ll come,” said Mrs. Ford. “But first I just want to explain something.” She turned pleading eyes toward Cynthia. “I love my son,” she said quietly. “And I want so badly for him to live with me. But how can I support him on what I make at that — that hot dog place? Do you know what they pay? It’s not enough.” She paused, looked down at her shoes, and started to cry again. “I had to spend almost a whole week’s paycheck just to get shoes comfortable enough for standing all day,” she said. “I know it wasn’t right to hold up those stores. But I just couldn’t think of any other way.”

  “You could have asked me for help,” said Cynthia, near tears herself. “I would have tried to help you figure something out.”

  “Thanks for saying so,” Mrs. Ford said with a trembly smile. She turned to Officer Garcia. “I want to make sure my husband doesn’t get into any trouble,” she said. “We’re separated, and he doesn’t know a thing about this. I used his car when I knew he wasn’t home.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “He might have heard that the car used in the robberies looked like his. I think that’s why he kept the garage door closed all the time.”

  “That’s probably right,” said Cynthia softly.

  “He’s a good dad, John is,” said Mrs. Ford, speaking to Cynthia again. “Timmy will be safe and happy with him. I know that. But will you keep an eye on him, too? For me?”

  “I’ll be glad to,” said Cynthia, wiping her eyes.

  I couldn’t stop staring at Mrs. Ford. She was obviously a very troubled woman, and I felt terrible for her, even though what she had done was wrong. She had done it out of love for Timmy. It was so sad.

  The officer stepped forward then to help Mrs. Ford into the squad car. She sat down in the back and stared straight ahead as the car started up and drove away. The whole scene had taken only a few minutes. I stood there, stunned.

  “I want to thank you, Dawn,” said Officer Garcia, before she got into her car. “You were a big help.”

  “A big help?” I said. “Are you kidding? Everything I did was wrong. I was sure the robber was a man, for one thing. And I told you to arrest the wrong person. I messed up, totally.”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “You made some incorrect assumptions. We all did. A few hours ago, the evidence certainly pointed to Mr. Ford. And none of us thought that the robber might be a woman.” She shook her head. “But you knew what to do when you saw the criminal. You called us right away, and that’s the main thing.” She slid behind the wheel of her car. “By the way, Mr. Ford should be home soon. We’ll want to question him all over again, now — for background on his wife. He knows his son is in good hands with the two of you. Anyway, thanks again!” she called, waving as she drove off.

  Cynthia and I looked at each other.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Wow is right,” she answered. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Now, don’t we have a party to go to? We’d better get moving.” Cynthia had agreed to be one of the chaperones at the party. “Let’s not tell Timmy anything for now,” she said. “He can enjoy the party, and by the time he comes back, his dad will be home. I’m sure John will figure out the right way to explain what’s happened.”

  We headed back inside to find that the kids hadn’t missed us at all. They’d been too busy trading candy, and every one of them had chocolate smears around their mouths.

  * * *

  An hour later, the party was in full swing. The gym looked awesome with the lights turned down low and all the decorations up. There was the sound of shrieking as kids took their turns going through our haunted house, and of music blaring and then stopping suddenly as another group of kids played disappearing chairs.

  There must have been fifty kids at the party, all dressed in costumes and all having a terrific time. Oh, sure, there were a few teary episodes and a couple of screaming fits, but what can you expect from a bunch of kids who have been munching on candy all day long?

  “They’re having a blast, aren’t they?” Maggie asked me. She and I were standing near the refreshment table, taking a break with some Fruit Chewies while Sunny and Jill supervised the games. “I think Clover looks adorable!”

  “She does, doesn’t she?” I said, admiring Clover’s bunny costume again.

  Maggie adjusted the ears on her Pink Panther headpiece. “And Timmy’s alien costume is great,” she added.

  “I agree,” I said. “I have a feeling he’ll win a prize.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Maggie, nodding toward the end of the gym where we’d set up a platform. “It looks like the judges are about ready to announce the winners.”

  Up on the platform were Mrs. Stevens (from Ellie’s Variety), dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, and Cynthia, wearing that hilarious matron costume. Mrs. Stevens was trying to get everyone’s attention. “Kids!” she called. “Kids?” She clapped her hands, but nobody heard her.

  I walked up to the platform, stuck two fingers in my mouth, and gave a loud, piercing whistle. My dad taught me how to do that, and it’s a talent that really comes in handy once in awhile. It certainly worked that night. Every single kid dropped what he was doing and looked up at the stage.

  “Thank you!” said Mrs. Stevens. “Now, I’d like to announce the winners of the costume contest. Cynthia and I had a very, very hard time choosing, since all of your costumes are so wonderful, but I think you’ll agree with me that the winner for best costume has to go to Timmy Ford.”

  A cheer went up. Everybody loved Timmy’s alien costume. Timmy approached the stage shyly and accepted his chocolate trophy with a grin. “Grblopep,” he said. “That means ‘thank you’ on the planet I come from!”

  Everybody cracked up. Then they burst into applause. Timmy took a bow and left the platform. Cynthia and Mrs. Stevens continued to hand out dozens of prizes for everything from “cutest” (that went to Clover, naturally) to “most original” (which went to Erick, who was wearing his Life Savers outfit). A few kids I didn’t know won prizes: a boy dressed as Captain Hook won “fanciest,” and a girl wearing a baseball uniform won for “most athletic.”

  Finally, Mrs. Stevens announced that all the prizes had been given out.

  Cynthia tapped her on the shoulder. “Aren’t you forgetting one?” she asked. She leaned over and whispered in Mrs. Stevens’ ear.

  “Oh, of course!” said Mrs. Stevens. “We do have one final prize. It’s for ‘best last-minute costume,’ and it goes to one of the hosts of this wonderful party. Dawn Schafer — I mean, Pippi Longstocking — will you come up here please and accept your trophy?”

  I was so surprised that I jumped back, and my braids (which were sticking straight out from my head) bounced. Then I clomped up to the platform in my dad’s shoes.

  “Congratulations, Dawn,” said Cynthia, winking at me.

  “Great costume,” said Mrs. Stevens.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “I loved being Pippi back when I was eight, and it’s even more fun, now.” I looked at the chocolate trophy and wondered what I’d do with
it. Maybe I could send it to Stoneybrook. Claudia would love it! I turned and waved to the crowd of kids. “Happy, happy Halloween, everybody!” I yelled.

  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 © 1994 by Ann M. Martin

  Cover art by Hodges Soileau

  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, October 1994

  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 978-0-545-79166-3