asked.
“I think we should knock on doors,” Karen King said. “Maybe a lonely little old lady has Scooter and is feeding him steak so he doesn’t want to leave.”
Maryellen was torn about what they should do first. “Let’s go to Beachside Street. My family didn’t check there, and Scooter can cut through our backyard to get to it. If the ice cream truck comes by, we’ll check out Mr. Brad again.”
“Good plan, Nancys!” the Karens chorused.
“Wait—I’d better leave my mom a note.” Maryellen ran inside the house.
By the time she ran back outside, Mrs. Stohlman was waiting on the curb.
The two Karens hurried past her and into the house to get their school clothes and books. “Sorry, we have to go,” Karen King apologized.
Karen Stohlman gave Maryellen an encouraging pat on the shoulder as she left. “You’re still Nancy Drew, so keep investigating!”
Maryellen waved good-bye, not quite believing that they’d spent the entire time time getting ready to be detectives. She turned toward the house with a frustrated sigh, and then stopped midstep. Her friends had given her some good ideas. The afternoon hadn’t been a total waste.
She tucked the flashlight into her waistband and shoved the whistle in the pocket of her pedal pushers along with the twenty cents she’d put there earlier. Then, sitting on the front step, she began to write in her notebook.
For her first entry, Maryellen put yesterday’s date and wrote down what the Happy Hollisters had discovered:
Spots: the Bateses’ Dalmatian missing for two weeks
Misty: brown and white dog missing for how long??
Mr. Brad: dog hairs on his uniform
Chow-Chow treats in truck
loves dogs
drives all over the neighborhood
lured Buster into his truck and may have taken him
Officer Polansky: other dogs reported missing too
When she finished, Maryellen realized that she had quite a lot of information. Only none of it told her exactly where Scooter was.
How would Nancy Drew find a missing pet? Of course—she’d try to find its trail. Yesterday they’d been so busy hunting up and down the neighborhood, they’d never checked for tracks.
Maryellen ran into the house and out onto the back steps. No one had played in the backyard since Scooter had gone missing. Using the flashlight and magnifying glass, she searched for paw prints. She remembered it had drizzled the night he disappeared, which could have washed away tracks, so she would have to search carefully.
She found ants crawling up the steps to some spilled kibble, and an earthworm squirming in the moist earth. But there were no Scooter tracks around the steps or leading into the backyard. That meant he probably hadn’t gone toward Beachside Street.
She wrote her findings on her pad and then hurried to the front porch. When she’d let Scooter out the front door, it was the last time she’d seen him.
Carefully, she looked around the steps and down the Larkins’ walkway. There would be no prints in the concrete, she knew, but maybe there was a muddy one on it that the light rain hadn’t washed away.
She made her way down the length of the walkway until it met the main sidewalk. Nothing. It was as if Scooter had disappeared into thin air.
Or turned into a ghost like Casper.
Maryellen plopped dejectedly on the curb. If Scooter were here, he’d be playing her faithful sleuthing partner who could track lost kittens and, well, lost dogs. He would have helped her solve his own disappearance in a finger snap.
She sighed, missing him with an ache. Don’t give up, she told herself as she got to her feet. Scooter depends on you.
Taking baby steps, she made her way down the sidewalk along the street, searching for a sign of where he might have gone. Suddenly, she gasped. Muddy paw prints!
They came from the direction of the Larkins’ grassy front yard, crossed the sidewalk, and then disappeared right at the curb. Maryellen checked the prints carefully with her magnifying glass. They were faded and slightly dried, and about the size of Scooter’s paws. Had he crossed the street to the other side? Her stomach did a flip-flop. She really hoped he hadn’t. The speed limit was only twenty miles an hour, but the street was still no place for a little dog.
She used the flashlight to search the asphalt and found no sign of prints in the road. She blew out a relieved breath but then frowned in confusion. It was as if Scooter had stopped at the curb and then…flown into the sky?
Or been lifted from the curb and put into an ice cream truck!
Maryellen clenched her fists. Mr. Brad said he often parked in front of the Larkins’ house. She knew what she needed to do next.
It was time to confront the ice cream man.
chapter 5
Something Odd
TOO MANY CLUES pointed to Mr. Brad. Sitting on the curb, Maryellen jotted down her findings. As she slipped the notepad into her pocket, her mother pulled into the driveway.
Mikey was crying, and Tom was arguing with Beverly as the two got out of the station wagon. “You took my lollipop,” he accused her.
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
Mrs. Larkin climbed out the driver’s side, looking tired. Maryellen knew it was the wrong time to run off and be a detective. Instead, she helped her mom carry in the bags of groceries.
“Will you run an oatmeal bath for Mikey?” Mrs. Larkin asked. “He can’t stop scratching. Your father is working late, so it’s an early supper of tomato soup and grilled cheese for you kids.”
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