Anyway, Kristy got the opening business over with fast. Then she said, “Today is going to be a combination regular club meeting and an emergency meeting. We’ll take job calls, but in between, we’ll try to figure out how to handle the ransom note.”
For some reason, that made me burst into tears. “Oh, that is so wonderful of you guys,” I said. “You’re the best friends in the world.” I paused. “But where are we going to get seventy dollars?”
Logan was sitting right next to me on the bed, which squished us next to Dawn and Claudia, but he didn’t do anything when I started to cry. So Claudia, on the other side of me, patted my arm and then gave me a hug. I had the feeling she wanted to give Logan a dirty look while she was at it.
“Let’s not worry about the money just yet,” said Kristy as I was drying my eyes. “For starters, we should take a look at the ransom note.”
“Yeah,” said the others.
But the phone rang then and we had to stop to schedule a job. When we were finished, I pulled the note out of my pocket.
“I saved the envelope,” I said pointedly.
My friends smiled. They knew what I was talking about.
I took the note out and laid it and the envelope side by side on the bed. Everyone crowded in for a look.
“It’s those first words that scare me,” I said. “They’re so threatening. ‘If you want to see your cat alive again …’ It sounds like, well, if anything goes wrong, then Tigger will be … will be … Oh, I can’t say it. Or maybe he already is … dead.”
My tears started to fall again and I glanced hopefully at Logan, but he was staring off into space.
“Well,” said Jessi, “the handwriting on the envelope and on the note are the same.”
“But is this the real thing or some kind of trick?” asked Claudia, our mystery expert. “Any time there’s a missing person, it seems as if about a million ransom notes suddenly turn up.”
“Yeah,” agreed Mallory.
“It seems to me,” Dawn spoke up, “that if the kidnapper wanted us to know he was the real one, he would have given us a better clue. For instance, an actual photo of Tigger — you know, a Polaroid — to show he’s alive now. Not just his picture cut from the poster we made. Anyone could do that.”
“Also,” said Mallory, “the posters have been up for two days. If someone really was going to take advantage of them, he — or she — could have written the note Saturday afternoon and delivered it to Mary Anne yesterday morning. Why wait?”
“Was that note mailed or just stuck in your box?” Logan asked me suddenly.
“Just stuck in the box,” I replied. I handed him the envelope. “See? No stamp.”
He nodded.
The phone rang again. Dawn saw that I was still a wreck, so she took the club record book out of my lap and scheduled what might well be the one and only job she’d ever schedule.
While the others were busy with the call, Logan looked over at me and whispered, “Mary Anne, would you calm down? You are being so … sensitive. You’re acting like such a girl.”
For a moment, I just glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with being sensitive,” I told him, “and besides, I am a girl.”
Claudia hung up the phone then, so Logan and I fell silent.
“The question is,” said Kristy, “what are we going to do? I don’t think we should worry about whether the note is a hoax. I think we should just follow up on it. It’s our only lead.”
“Right!” agreed Logan. “We should go to Brenner Field and get this jerk who took Tigger. We’ll beat him at his own game.”
“But how?” asked Dawn.
We stopped talking to think and to take two calls that came in.
Then, in a very small voice, and even though I had just been thinking the opposite an hour earlier, I said, “Maybe I should tell my dad about —”
“No!” exclaimed Logan. “We’re not involving any adults. No parents, no police.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because they’ll just get in the way. A kid wrote that note. Don’t you think so? Look at that big, babyish handwriting. And an adult would want more than a hundred dollars. Why would a grown-up go to all the trouble of stealing a kitten for three days, just to get a hundred dollars? It’s not worth it.”
“That’s true,” the rest of us agreed.
“So?” said Kristy.
“Well,” Logan went on slowly, “we don’t know if that note is from an actual kidnapper, or just from someone trying to take advantage of Tigger’s situation, but either way we should catch him —”
“Or her,” added Dawn.
“— or her. Don’t you think?”
I looked at my friends. We all nodded. This was getting sort of exciting.
“How are we going to catch the kidnapper?” wondered Jessi.
Logan frowned thoughtfully. He read the ransom note again. “‘In an envelope on the big rock in Brenner Field at four o’clock,’” he mused. “Do you know what the big rock is?” he asked the rest of us. “I don’t even know where Brenner Field is.”
“It’s right nearby,” Claudia told him. “That’s probably why you don’t know it. It’s not in our neighborhood. It’s sort of behind Jamie Newton’s backyard.”
“And do you know this big rock?” asked Logan.
“Oh, sure,” I replied. “Everyone does. There’s a boulder near one side of the field. We just call it the ‘big rock.’”
Logan nodded. “Listen, you guys,” he said to the six of us girls, “I’m getting an idea, but I’m going to need the help of all of you — or most of you — tomorrow.”
“We’ll be there,” said Kristy, without even looking at the record book.
“But Kristy!” I cried. “We’ve probably got jobs —”
“This is too important. We’ll look at the record book in a minute. Then we’ll reschedule whatever needs rescheduling.”
“Okay.” (Why was I protesting? I was the one who wanted Tigger back so badly.)
“Well,” said Logan, “this is my idea. Mary Anne goes to the rock at four, just like the note says to do. She leaves an envelope full of money —”
“What money?” I interrupted.
“Fake money. Monopoly money or something.”
“Well, as long as I’m not putting real money in the envelope, why do I have to bother with fake? Why can’t I just stuff an envelope with newspaper or notebook paper?”
“I don’t know,” said Logan irritably. “Fake money is what they always use on TV or in the movies. Maybe it looks more realistic from the outside. Don’t ask me.”
“So go on,” said Kristy. “Mary Anne stuffs an envelope with fake money —”
“Not too much,” I interrupted. “It’s only a hundred dollars. Ten ten-dollar bills wouldn’t look very fat. The envelope shouldn’t be too stuffed.”
“Mary Anne!” cried Claudia in exasperation.
“Sorry,” I said, “but we’re talking about Tigger. I want this to go right.”
Kristy sighed. “Logan?” she said. “After Mary Anne fills the envelope?”
“Then way before four, like pretty soon after we get home from school, the rest of us hide in Brenner Field, in places where we can see the big rock. Is that possible?”
“To hide in the field or to find places you can see the rock from?” asked Mal.
“Both,” replied Logan.
“Yes,” said Mal.
“Great. Okay, so we hide. At four o’clock, Mary Anne leaves the envelope on the rock. Then, Mary Anne, you better pretend to go home, in case you’re being watched. Actually, you should probably go all the way home. But then sneak back to the field. I think you’ll want to see what happens next. I have a feeling the kitten-napper will turn up. And we can catch him.”
It was a thrilling plan. I was so proud of Logan! We were talking and thinking of hiding places in the field when Kristy remembered the record book. I was the one who’d been so worried about it — and then
I’d forgotten.
“We have to find out what we’re doing tomorrow,” said Kristy. “If a lot of us are baby-sitting, then we have a problem, because we can’t all cancel.”
As it turned out, only one of us was sitting and we got Shannon Kilbourne to go in her place. Some of the others had classes or lessons but decided not to go. We would all be at Brenner Field the next afternoon.
My heart began to beat a little faster. This was exciting! It was like something from a cop show on TV. We were going to trick the kidnapper. He had tried to get us, and now we were going to get him back. Tigger would be returned to us and we’d teach the kitten-napper a big fat lesson.
As we left the meeting, my excitement grew. But all of a sudden, I felt terrible. How could I feel excited? What was the matter with me? If Tigger were home, where he belonged, I’d have nothing to feel excited about. I’d just have Tigger, which is the way it should be. And I’d trade a little excitement for Tigger any day.
Dawn didn’t say so, not in her notebook entry, but she was pretty spooked herself. It was just that kind of night. The Barrett kids were upset about pet-nappers, and then the storm came.
The Barrett kids are Buddy, Suzi, and Marnie. Buddy is seven, Suzi is four, and Marnie is only a year and a half. Dawn has sat for them for quite awhile; since not too long after she moved to Stoneybrook. She likes them a lot — even though at first they were the “impossible three.” Boy, did they give Dawn a hard time. But now they’re much better. Buddy, who is active and lively, likes to play with Pow, their dog. Suzi likes to play pretend games. And Marnie just tries to keep up with her older brother and sister. The best thing, though, is that their mother is more organized than she used to be. (Mr. and Mrs. Barrett are divorced.) Dawn’s mother is pretty disorganized herself — she’s apt to put the socks away in the bread drawer. But Mrs. Barrett used to do things like forget to clean the house, or give Dawn the wrong phone number for wherever she was going while Dawn was sitting. But now she’s much better. She got a job she likes a lot, and she’s been trying really hard ever since then.
“Hi, Dawn!” Suzi greeted Dawn happily at the door. “Mommy said I could let you in.”
Dawn entered the Barretts’ house, closing the door behind her. “A storm is blowing in,” she told Suzi. “It’s all windy, and I can smell rain in the air.”
Suzi found this hysterical. “A storm is blowing in?” she repeated. “You can smell rain in the air?”
“Yup,” replied Dawn.
Marnie toddled in from the kitchen. She stared shyly at Dawn, even though Dawn has sat for her so many times.
“Where’s your mom?” Dawn asked Suzi. “And where’s your big brother?”
“Mommy’s upstairs and Buddy’s downstairs. With Pow. He’s guarding him.”
“Guarding him? A guard-human and his dog?” said Dawn.
“I guess so,” replied Suzi, not understanding. “It’s so Pow won’t get bassett-napped. That’s what Buddy said.”
Very curious, thought Dawn. Pow is a bassett hound, that much she knew. Everything else Suzi was talking about was a mystery to her.
At that moment, Mrs. Barrett came flying downstairs. (She’s usually in a rush.) “Hi, Dawn!” she said breathlessly. “Suzi, wash Marnie’s face, please.”
Suzi took Marnie into the kitchen and began to wash cookie crumbs off of her face.
“I’m just going to be at the office,” Mrs. Barrett continued. “Special project. You’ve got my office number. I should be home by nine-thirty.”
“Perfect,” said Dawn.
“The kids should go to bed as follows: Marnie, now; Suzi, eight o’clock; Buddy, nine o’clock. No more snacks for anybody, and Buddy is allowed to watch Dragon Warriors on TV tonight. He asked me about it earlier, and I couldn’t make up my mind. You can give him the good news. It comes on at eight.”
“Okay,” Dawn replied.
Mrs. Barrett left in a hurry, Marnie crying behind her. Dawn picked Marnie up and talked to her. “Your mommy’s coming back. Your mommy’s coming back,” she kept telling her. “When you wake up tomorrow morning, guess who will be here — Mommy!”
“Dawn, will you help me guard Pow?” asked Buddy. He had placed Pow in an elaborate-looking box on which he’d drawn gears and levers. He had also wrapped string around it, stuck things to it with tape, and labeled it “Basset-Napping-Proof.”
“I will as soon as I’ve put Marnie to bed,” Dawn replied. “Is that okay? I’ll be down in a little while.”
“Anything’s okay as long as you’re not a bassett-napper,” said Buddy.
So Dawn took Marnie upstairs. She gave her a bath, since Marnie loves baths.
“Moy? Moy baff?” Marnie kept asking, as Dawn played with her. (That’s Marnie-talk for, “More bath?”)
“A little more,” replied Dawn. “Look. Here are Bert and Ernie. They’re in their boat. They’re sailing over to … Big Bird!”
Marnie laughed. Soon, though, Dawn was tired of boats and Big Bird, and Marnie’s fingers were looking pruny, so Dawn lifted her out of the tub and dried her off.
“Okay, bedtime,” she announced.
Marnie began to whimper. But when she’d been tucked into her crib with her animals and her blanket, she looked quite happy.
“Good night, Marnie-O,” whispered Dawn. She turned out the light and tiptoed out of Marnie’s room, leaving the door open a crack. At the head of the stairs, she stopped and listened.
Nothing. Good. Marnie would fall asleep quickly.
Two flights down in the family room, Dawn found Pow still in his box. “So what is this?” she asked Buddy and Suzi.
Buddy was sitting by the box, facing in one direction, Suzi was sitting by it facing in the other. Both kids looked scared yet determined.
“We’re guarding,” Buddy replied. “We’re not going to let Pow get dog-napped the way Tigger got kitten-napped. We heard about the letter Mary Anne found in her mailbox. We know about the kitten-napping.”
Thank goodness they didn’t know about Brenner Field or our plan.
“You heard?” exclaimed Dawn. “How? I mean, who did you hear it from?”
“Matt Braddock signed it to me.” (Matt is deaf. He communicates with sign language, which most of his friends know.)
“Who did he get the news from?” Dawn asked. Maybe that would be a clue to the mystery.
Buddy frowned. “Nicky Pike. Nicky said Jamie Newton told him.”
“Oh,” said Dawn. Darn. No clue there. “So you heard about the note,” she continued.
“Yup,” answered Buddy, and Suzi nodded her head vigorously.
“And you’ve protected Pow,” Dawn went on.
“Mm-hmm. We built him this special nap-proof box. We don’t want him to get napped, too,” said Suzi.
“Bassett-napped,” Buddy corrected her.
“Or Pow-napped,” Dawn added.
“Right,” agreed Buddy. “Anyway, you know what happens sometimes? Sometimes bad guys come into a neighborhood and start going around pet-napping. Mostly they take dogs and cats. They’re easier because they’re outdoors. And then they sell them to people who want nice pets, and the real owners of the animals never see them again.”
“Unless there’s a good detective,” said Suzi, “and he finds the bad guys.”
“Buddy, Suzi,” Dawn said, “I really don’t think you have to worry about this.”
“Yes, we do,” said Buddy firmly. “Sometimes there’s a — a rash of pet-napping in a neighborhood.”
“I just don’t think that’s going to happen here.”
“It might.”
“How long are you going to keep Pow indoors in this box?” asked Dawn.
Buddy frowned. “I don’t know.”
“How about a compromise?” Dawn suggested. “A compromise between you and Pow. Buddy, you agree that Pow doesn’t have to stay in the box, and Pow will agree to go outside only when you take him — until tomorrow afternoon. After tomorrow we’ll know if Tigger w
as really kitten-napped. If he was, there could be trouble. If he wasn’t, then the note was just a joke and you won’t have to worry.”
“How come you’ll know that tomorrow?” asked Buddy.
“We just will. Trust me,” said Dawn.
“Well … okay.” Buddy lifted Pow out of the box and Pow took off, looking as if he’d been released from prison.
“Suzi-Q,” Dawn began.
“Oh, no! Please! Just ten more minutes,” begged Suzi, before Dawn even said the word “bedtime.”
“Sorry. It’s too close to eight o’clock. We better start now. Say good night to Buddy and Pow. Then we’ll go upstairs. I think we’ll have time for a story.”
“Okay.” Reluctantly, Suzi said good night to Buddy, then found Pow and kissed his floppy ears.
Once Dawn and Suzi were in Suzi’s bedroom, everything was fine. Suzi changed into her nightgown and got ready for bed. Then she chose a book to read — Millions of Cats. They read it twice. At last Dawn stood up.
“Okay, Suzi-Q. Time to go to sleep.”
“No,” said Suzi, but her eyes were already half closed.
“Sleep tight,” whispered Dawn, as she turned out the light.
“Okay.” Suzi’s reply was so faint that Dawn could barely hear it.
Dawn dashed downstairs. The time was 8:05, and she’d just remembered something. “Buddy!” she called.
“Yeah?”
Dawn found Buddy in the playroom. He was about to open up his junior chemistry set. Perfect timing, thought Dawn. “Guess what,” she said. “I forgot to tell you. Your mom said it’s okay to watch Dragon Warriors.”
“You forgot to tell me, and I forgot about the show!” Buddy laughed. “Thanks, Dawn.” He abandoned his chemistry set, jumped up, turned on the TV, and was glued to it for the next half hour.
At eight-thirty, he went upstairs. Recently he has decided that he likes to get ready for bed on his own, and then put himself to bed. So he did just that. Dawn trusted him.
After he’d left, she sat in the playroom, the TV off, listening to the storm. The wind had picked up again and it howled around the house. Dawn could see lightning and hear great claps of thunder, but no rain was falling yet.