everything.
The door flings open.
“I know all about the Beetle crashing into the school already,” I tell her.
She ignores my testy tone. “You have to help me,” she cries. “You must have seen something. You have a perfect view of the school from your house.”
Is it my imagination or has the whole skateboard crowd stopped to listen?
“Maybe I did,” I say much more quietly.
A cyclist whirs by us, hand in the air, brushing all the leaves in the tree. He’s the tall freckle-faced kid with rusty hair in grade eight at our school, friendly-looking. Everyone calls him Red. At the library, he dismounts and heads past us to lock up his bike at the rack. He doesn’t seem to notice us at all. Still, I wait for him to finish.
Then I make what could be the biggest mistake of the day, mistake number two, when I ask Renée, “How can I help you?”
day two, mistake three
Renée looks around and lowers her voice. “Here, let me take Ping.”
I hand her his leash.
Suddenly, we hear someone call, “Hey, Ping!” Red, the cyclist, turns from the library door and walks back toward us. Ping rushes to greet him and gets rewarded with pats, so of course, Pong muscles in for attention.
Renée takes deep breaths. I know she’s dying for the guy to leave.
He suddenly squints up at me, his grey eyes sharp with suspicion. “What are you doing with the Bennetts’ dogs?”
Immediately, I pull out a Noble business card and hand it to him. “I’m their walker. The Bennetts are away for a few days, so I’m looking after Ping and Pong for them.”
He studies the card. “Oh, okay.” He tries to pass the card back.
“That’s all right. You keep it. Maybe you know someone who needs a pet walked.”
Renée rolls her eyes.
The cyclist nods. “Our Pomeranian could use a lot more exercise. She’s getting a pot.” He tucks the card into his front pocket and heads back for the library.
Renée lets go a gigantic sigh.
“I just want to help my dad grow his business, Renée.” We start walking, the dogs sniffing along the grass as we go.
“Yeah, well, you’re handing your phone number to people you don’t even know.”
“It’s a business phone. That’s what it’s for.” Still, Renée plants a worry in my head. Maybe this is mistake number three of the day, only it’s something I do on other days all the time. “We both know Red from school.”
“Never mind that now. Come over here. Sit, Ping! Give them treats so we can talk.”
Both of the dogs slump under the tree, and I give them each a liver bite.
“So, what did you see?” Renée asks.
“Well, the dogs came to stay with me last night. And around midnight, they started barking out the window. I got up to see what their fuss was about and saw that Volkswagen Beetle in the parking lot.”
“Who was driving it?”
“Remember there’s only one light over the parking lot — I couldn’t tell.”
“Darn. So you can’t ID the perp for the police.”
“No. Why? Are you planning to join the force?”
“My brother texted me twenty minutes ago. The police officers took him in for questioning.”
“Can you blame them? He did spray paint a tank crashing into the wall of Champlain High.”
Renée frowns. “And the Beetle belongs to him.”
“Attila owns a car?” Ping gives a little growl now, so I dump out two more treats for the dogs.
Renée nods. “My grandfather gave it to him.”
“But I saw Mr. Sawyer driving it yesterday afternoon.”
“You know Mrs. Watier had him transferred to Champlain High.”
I didn’t know that, actually. “So, he’s custodian there, now. I’m glad he didn’t lose his job totally.”
Pong stretches out and flips to his back. Rubbing his tummy soothes him and me. Don’t get too attached to the clients, I hear my father’s voice in my head.
“My brother and some of his classmates were working on the Beetle during auto shop. Everyone has access to the keys there. Mr. Sawyer probably borrowed it.”
“Mrs. Watier was driving it yesterday evening.”
“She’s marrying Attila’s shop teacher, Mr. Moody.”
“So, she borrowed it, too?”
Renée nods. “Someone put something in her car’s gas tank. It stalled on the way to the high school, so she borrowed the Beetle to get to her appointment.”
“The wedding dress fitting, I remember. How did you find out about the gas tank, though?”
She chews the side of her mouth. “Well, my brother and his friends were laughing about it last night.”
“How did they know about it?”
“They didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Well, they do have a strange sense of humour.” I stop patting Pong as he sits up and begins scratching his ear. “And your brother’s graffiti on the high school wall was a picture of a crash, after all. You can see how the police might suspect him.”
She nods as she scrubs at Ping’s head. “I swear it wasn’t Attila.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask.
“Because he was souping the car up for Beetle Cruise Night at the mall. He might like painting a picture of a crash on a wall, but he would never have crashed that car.”
My phone plays a funny half-note and I grab it to answer. “Hey, I’m getting my first text message ever!” I select the little envelope icon and find a strange sentence from someone named M.Y.O.B.
Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. Otherwise, the dogs will get it.
So, who is this M.Y.O.B.? Mistake number three was definitely handing that particular person my business card.
day two, mistake four
My breathing speeds up and my heart does a drum roll as the message sinks in. “Oh my gosh, Renée. Someone’s threatening me.”
