Mary Anne and the Search for Tigger

  Dawn loves a good storm, but she was a little spooked — by the Tigger-napping, and by Buddy’s stories of rashes of pet-nappings. Would a pet-napper, she wondered, try to break into a house to steal a dog? A bassett hound, for instance?

  CRASH went the thunder!

  In a flash, Dawn had picked up the phone and called me. We talked until she felt better. We talked about my dad and her mom. (No dates planned.) Then we talked about Logan.

  “Poor guy,” said Dawn.

  “Poor guy?” I exclaimed. “He’s being impossible. He’s unpredictable, and he certainly hasn’t been very understanding or sympathetic lately.”

  “He’s having a hard time on the ballfield.”

  “He is?”

  “Well … he did once, anyway. I happened to be watching practice, and he dropped a ball that he’d caught and had right in his mitt. The coach yelled at him, and his teammates teased him.”

  “So he had a bad day.”

  CRASH! CRASH! Lightning lit up the sky at the same time the thunder sounded.

  “Dawn?” I said. “We better get off the phone. My time is up and I don’t think you’re supposed to use the phone during an electric storm.”

  Dawn sighed. “Okay.”

  We hung up, both of us wondering what the next afternoon would bring.

  How I made it through school on Tuesday is beyond me. All I could think about was Tigger, and our plan for the afternoon. What had we gotten ourselves into? Were we in any danger? I didn’t really think so, but you never know. Maybe we were fooling around with ex-cons or something. But Logan was right — the culprit was probably a kid. And I hoped he had taken Tigger, so I could have him back.

  At lunch that day, Kristy, Claudia, Dawn, Logan, and I sat together at a table that was as far from the crowded ones as possible. (Jessi and Mal eat during a different lunch period.) We had decided not to discuss the Tigger-napping at school, just in case the wrong person should overhear something, but Logan wanted to go over the details of our plan once more.

  “Mary Anne?” he said. “You fixed the envelope?”

  I nodded. “It’s just a regular letter envelope. It looks like it’s full of bills, though. I put in Monopoly money — fifteen tens, so it’s not too stuffed.”

  “Good. And you know what to do today?”

  “Every step of the plan.”

  “Great. The rest of you — you have your hiding places picked out?”

  “Yup,” replied Kristy. “And we’ll meet up with you so I can show you your hiding place. Oh, and Mary Anne, you know where I’ll be hiding, right?”

  “Yes. In the tall grass behind the sycamore tree.” I needed to know Kristy’s hiding place so I could hide with her after I returned from pretending to go home. That way, she could give me news, if there was any, about what had happened after I’d left the envelope. I could have hidden with Logan, but he wanted to be alone in case he had to rush out and do something daring. What he didn’t realize was that if he did, I’d join him in a second, followed by all the other members of the Baby-sitters Club.

  We stick together.

  At any rate, our plans were set.

  “And now,” said Kristy, “we better not talk about this anymore. We should just be our regular Baby-sitters Club table having lunch. So in that case, anyone care for some fish eyes and glue?” she asked, holding out her dish of tapioca pudding.

  I know my face turned green.

  * * *

  That afternoon, we all went home in whatever way we usually would, except for Kristy, who walked home with Claudia, pretending she was going over to her house for the afternoon. It was easier than going to her house and then having to come all the way back to our neighborhood.

  When I reached my house, I let myself inside and pounced on the envelope I’d fixed up. I was so afraid it would be missing. (What was the big deal? I’d get another envelope and put some more Monopoly money in it.) I think I was just worried about what might happen in Brenner Field — and soon.

  I looked at my watch. Three-thirty. My friends were probably already hidden.

  Three forty-five. With trembling hands, I picked up the envelope. It was time to go. I had to be at the big rock by four o’clock.

  I left my house, locking the door behind me, and got on my bicycle. Bicycling would be a quicker way to travel when I was pretending to come home later. Then I turned onto the street, rode past Jamie’s house, stopped by a wooded area, and locked my bike to a tree. Clutching the envelope, I walked through the grove and entered Brenner Field. It was damp and muddy in places from the storm the night before. I couldn’t see any of my friends. I knew they were there, but they must have been awfully well hidden.

  I had to pretend I was alone, though, so I just walked through the field, heading straight for the rock. When I reached it, I looked around. Was Tigger’s kidnapper somewhere nearby? Was Tigger nearby? I saw nothing.

  I laid the envelope on the rock. I put a smaller rock on top of it to keep it from blowing away. Then I left. I walked right back through the field the way I’d come, unlocked my bike, rode home, and put the bike away.

  I waited for five very long minutes. Then I dashed across the street, through Claudia’s yard, through several other yards to Jamie’s, and approached the field from a different direction.

  Bending over to keep low, I ran to Kristy’s hiding spot, a tree in the middle of the field. I sank down against the trunk and looked hopefully at Kristy.

  “Good work,” she whispered. “I think. I mean, everything went smoothly. Let’s just hope no one saw you come back. But nothing happened while you were gone.”

  “Darn,” I replied.

  Puff, puff, Pant, pant. I worked at getting my breath back.

  Kristy and I peeked around the sides of the sycamore tree. We could just barely see the big rock. We stared at it. We stared and stared and stared.

  Half an hour went by.

  “I guess it was a joke,” I whispered at last. “Maybe someone thought we’d think the note was funny, or that we wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Maybe Sam did it,” suggested Kristy glumly.

  Just as she finished speaking, I saw a flash of red across the field.

  “Look!” I cried softly, pointing.

  Kristy’s head snapped up.

  The two of us jerked to attention. We watched as a boy stepped into Brenner Field. He looked from left to right several times, as if he expected to see something … or someone. Then he shaded his eyes and stared toward the big rock.

  “His hands are empty,” I whispered to Kristy in disappointment. “He doesn’t have Tigger with him.”

  Kristy made a sad face but didn’t say anything, since we were supposedly being as quiet as possible.

  The boy crept through the field, looking from left to right and behind him.

  Suddenly I gasped.

  Kristy looked at me around the back of the tree.

  “That’s the kid I met when I was putting up posters,” I whispered indignantly. “He’s the one who pretended he’d seen Tigger.”

  Kristy frowned. We returned to our watching.

  The boy reached the big rock. He saw the white envelope with the stone on top, brushed the stone away, and pocketed the envelope. He didn’t even look inside it. Then he began to walk off.

  “Hold it!” someone shouted.

  Logan leaped out of the hiding place Kristy had shown him. He ran for the boy, but the boy raced away.

  In a flash, we were all after the kid. Logan caught up with him first and grabbed him. Then the rest of us — all six of us — surrounded him.

  “Where’s Tigger?” I demanded.

  “Tigger?” the boy repeated.

  “That’s right.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You mean you can’t remember those posters you watched me put up?”

  Kristy, standing next to me, was smiling. I could imagine her saying, “Way to go, Mary Anne.”

  I
don’t usually stand up for myself.

  “Oh, um,” stammered the boy, “yeah, those posters. Now I remember. Tigger is a missing … skunk?”

  “Kitten,” replied Logan through clenched teeth. “And where is he?”

  “Where is he?”

  “Yeah. You’ve got your envelope,” said Logan fiercely. “Now give us Tigger.”

  “After I see what’s in the envelope.”

  Logan moved as quickly as a striking rattlesnake. One second the envelope was in the boy’s hand, the next second it was in Logan’s. “Give us Tigger and I’ll give your money back,” he said.

  I widened my eyes. All this for Tigger? (And maybe for me?)

  “Give me the money and I’ll tell you where Tigger is,” countered the boy.

  “No way,” said Kristy. “And remember, it’s seven against one.”

  “And we can wait around all afternoon. All night, if necessary,” added Jessi.

  The boy scowled. “Okay, okay,” he said.

  Goody, I thought. Now comes the part where he tells us where Tigger is.

  “I don’t have your stupid cat,” the boy went on. “I just said I did so I could earn some fast money.”

  “You little —” I began, but Dawn put her hand on my arm. I knew she meant, Don’t let him know he got to you. I changed course. “What a stupid thing to do!” I exclaimed. “It didn’t work, did it? You got caught, and now you look like a fool!”

  “Whoa,” said Kristy under her breath.

  If the boy could have backed up then, I think he would have. But he turned round and saw Mallory blocking his path. No way out. He began to look scared.

  “What’s your name, kid?” asked Logan.

  “I — I’m not telling. I mean, why do you want to know?”

  “Do you know that what you did is a felony?”

  I have no idea whether this is true, since Logan can make things up pretty easily, but it sure sounded good.

  “It is?”

  “Yes. And in the state of Connecticut, it’s punishable by twenty-five to fifty years in the slammer. Even for juvenile offenders.”

  Now I knew Logan was just talking. He loves to use cop-show words like those.

  “We could make a citizens’ arrest,” Logan went on. He looked around at us and we nodded as if to say, The seven of us are in agreement on everything.

  “Are you going to?” asked the boy. “Arrest me, I mean?”

  Logan looked at us girls. Then just at me.

  I shook my head. “Nope. He’s not worth it.” (The boy let out a breath he must have been holding for at least five minutes. That’s how deep it sounded.) “So let go of him and show him the money,” I said. “Let him see what he’s missing.”

  Logan grinned. “Sure thing.” He opened the envelope and pulled out the Monopoly bills.

  “That’s all you’d have gotten away with anyway,” I told the kid.

  “That? Fake money?” he cried.

  “Well, it just goes to show,” spoke up Claudia. “Crime really doesn’t pay.” She grinned.

  Everyone laughed except the boy, who looked disgusted. We moved aside and let him escape. He ran through the field the way he had come, and disappeared. The rest of us walked back to my neighborhood.

  Our adventure was over. But where was Tigger?

  That was a horrible thought, but Claudia certainly wasn’t the only one to think it. I’d thought of it the very first night Tigger was gone, and it had been hanging over me like a dark cloud ever since. You can’t help but wonder about the worst possibilities, yet you tell yourself all along that they could never happen. Anyway, Claudia’s notebook entry didn’t surprise or offend me.

  It was Wednesday, the day after our rendezvous with the jerky kid in Brenner Field. My friends and I were trying to get back on normal schedules. I wanted to search for Tigger, but I had a feeling it would be pointless. I would just have to keep my eyes and ears open and let the posters do their work. So I was baby-sitting for Kerry and Hunter Bruno again, and Claudia was at the Perkinses’.

  Myriah and Gabbie are really great kids. This is the truth. I knew it from the very first time I baby-sat for them. They adore Laura, their baby sister, they love to sing and dance, and they’re very imaginative. Most kids just play house. You should see the games they invent. The afternoon that Claudia was there they played detective games.

  When Claudia arrived, Mrs. Perkins reminded her where the emergency numbers were posted. Then she gave Claud a few instructions, and she and Laura left. Claudia sat down at the kitchen table, where the girls were having a snack. Her first thought as she sat down was one I always have when I’m at the Perkinses’: How weird to think that this used to be Kristy’s house. It doesn’t look the same from the inside, and it doesn’t even feel the same. I guess that’s good. It would be too weird if it looked and felt the same as ever.

  Claudia watched Myriah and Gabbie, who were dunking Oreos in glasses of milk. “What do you want to do today, you guys?” she asked.

  “Gosh,” replied Myriah, “there are so many things.”

  Claudia smiled. She wouldn’t mind being five again. “Like what?” she asked.

  “Like dancing or singing or making up a play.”

  “Sounds like fun. Which do you want to do, Gabbers?”

  “Mm, let me think.” Gabbie put down her glass of milk. “I would like to sing, Claudee Kishi,” she replied. (Gabbie calls most people by their full names.) “I would like to sing Christmas songs.”

  “Christmas songs!” exclaimed Claudia. “But Christmas is months away.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Myriah spoke up.

  “I guess not,” said Claudia.

  Myriah and Gabbie jumped up from the table. “We know ‘White Christmas,’” said Myriah. “And ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas.’”

  Claudia was surprised. They did? What about the simple songs like “Jingle Bells” or “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?” But the Perkins girls know a lot of long, grown-up songs. And sure enough, they knew both of these, word for word. They performed them with hand motions and everything.

  Claudia was impressed. “Hurray!” she cried, clapping her hands. “Hurray!”

  The girls took bows. “Thank you, thank you,” they said.

  “And now,” Myriah went on, as if she and Gabbie were putting on a show, “we will perform that oldy but goody, ‘Blue Suede Shoes,’ by Mr. Elvis Presley.”

  Claudia was even more impressed. Apparently, Myriah and Gabbie knew an entire rock and roll song — and she didn’t. Furthermore, for years Claudia had thought the singer’s name was Elbow Presley.

  Gabbie and Myriah ran to their bedrooms. They returned wearing black sunglasses and Hawaiian shirts. Then they bopped their way through the song.

  “Hey!” exclaimed Myriah when they had finished, and Claudia had stopped clapping. “Gabbie, you know what we could play now?”

  “What?”

  “Hawaiian detectives. We’re all dressed for it.”

  “Hawaiian defectives? What are they?”

  “They’re people who live in Hawaii and look for things.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Missing things. Like Tigger.”

  “Oh.”

  Claudia had stood up. She was clearing the kitchen table. She put the dirty plates and cups in the dishwasher. Then she sponged off the counter and tabletop.

  “Claudia?” asked Myriah suddenly. “Do real detectives look for pets?”

  Claudia had no idea, but she said, “Well, I don’t see why not. They look for people all the time. So I’m sure they look for animals, too.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Come on, Claudee Kishi,” Gabbie said, as Myriah led her sister outdoors.

  Claudia followed the girls. As the three of them stepped onto the back porch, they were greeted by joyous woofs. There was Chewbacca, ready to play. He looked as if he wanted to say, Okay, guys. Here I am. All ready. What do we do first?

  G
abbie glanced at Myriah. “Is Chewy going to be a defective, too?”

  “Yes,” replied Myriah. “He is. He will help us find R.C. I mean, Tigger.”

  Claudia smiled. R.C. is the Perkinses’ cat. Claudia had a feeling the girls were going on a fake Tigger hunt. She also thought it was pretty interesting that Myriah didn’t even expect to find Tigger anymore. Only a Tigger stand-in.

  “Now, Gabbie,” Myriah began, as she sat on the lawn with Claudia, Chewy, and her sister, “we are playing a special Hawaiian detective game called ‘private eyes.’”

  “Private eyes?” repeated Gabbie, puzzled.

  “Don’t worry about it. They’re detectives. A lot of them live in Hawaii.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. They just do. At least on TV. But it doesn’t matter. Now, the first thing private eyes do when they’ve got a case is —”

  “Go on the swings!” cried Gabbie. She jumped up, heading for the swing set.

  “No!” exclaimed Myriah. “Don’t you want to play, Gabbers?”

  And Chewy looked at Gabbie with eyes that said, Oh, please, please, please, please, please stay and play with me!

  “Okay,” she replied, and sat down again.

  Claudia pulled her into her lap.

  “All right. There’s a missing cat,” Myriah began. “I mean, kitten. His name is Tigger. It’s our job to find him. Are you ready for that job, Private Eye Gabbie?”

  Gabbie was poking at a beetle in the grass.

  “Private Eye?” Myriah asked again. “Private Eye?”

  “You’re the private eye,” Claudia whispered to Gabbie.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said.

  Sometimes we forget that Gabbie is only two and a half.

  “Hmm. Maybe we need one more private eye around here,” said Myriah.

  Claudia didn’t really want to play detectives, and started to say so, but before she could open her mouth, Myriah said, “Can we see if Jamie can come over?”

  “Sure,” replied Claudia, even though sometimes this is a good idea, and sometimes it isn’t. Jamie, Myriah, and Gabbie are good friends, but every now and then they get just a tiny bit wild.

  Claudia walked the girls and Chewbacca over to Jamie’s house, spoke to Mrs. Newton, took Jamie by the hand, and then walked everyone back to the Perkinses’.