A Musical Mess Page 3
“Let’s hide!” George hissed. She nodded at the giant fan and said, “Behind that thing!”
The voices grew louder as the Clue Crew ducked behind the fan. After a few seconds the girls slowly peeked out. Nancy felt Bess squeeze her arm. Standing onstage just a few feet away were . . .
“Pirates!” Bess whispered.
Nancy stared at the pirates as they swaggered back and forth on the stage. The lead pirate wore an eye patch and a bandanna over stringy black hair. He said in a booming voice, “Man the cannon, ye cowardly swags—and blow the man down!”
The pirate drew his sword and raised it high.
Bess gave a little shriek. This time she didn’t grab Nancy’s arm. Instead she grabbed the back of the fan. Nancy heard a click, then—
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHH!
A giant gust of wind exploded from the fan, toward the pirates. Nancy could hear them shout as hats and wigs blew off their heads. Even parts of their costumes were ripped off by the powerful wind!
“Bess, shut it off!” Nancy said.
Bess flicked the switch from side to side. The fan began blowing from side to side too. “I can’t!” she cried.
“Give me that!” George said. She flicked the switch down. The fan stopped swerving. It began to sputter, until finally it stopped.
Nancy gulped as she looked at the pirates. Without their hats and wigs she could see who they were. They were Winslow Minty and his actors—and they looked mad!
“Who’s there?” Winslow demanded.
The girls stepped out from behind the fan.
“Um . . . it was kind of stuffy in here,” Bess said. “We thought we’d turn on the fan—”
“That is not a fan!” Winslow bellowed. “It is a wind machine used to create a storm at sea!”
“Sorry,” Nancy said. “But we were looking for Sammy, the dog from Francie.”
“And you thought you’d find him here?” Winslow demanded. “Why?”
“The name of your play is Sea Dog on Deck!” George said, folding her arms across her chest. “How do you explain that, Mr. Minty?”
“ ‘Sea dog’ means ‘pirate,’ ” Winslow explained. “In pirate talk, that is.”
“Oh,” George said.
“We also saw you sneak out of Sammy’s dressing room with that,” Nancy said, walking over to the crate. “A crate big enough to hold . . .” She pulled up the lid and stared inside. “Wigs?”
Things Get Hairy
Bess and George looked inside the crate too. Inside were piles of wigs—straight, curly, even multicolored clown wigs!
“The hair I slipped on must have come from one of these wigs,” George murmured. “Not Sammy.”
Nancy turned to Winslow. “So that’s what you were taking out of the theater?” she asked. “A bunch of wigs?”
“The wigs belong to the Croaking Frog Players,” Winslow insisted. “They had been in the theater since our last show.”
“But . . . we heard you say you did something bad!” Nancy told Winslow.
Bess was busy at the crate, going through the wigs. “These are awesome!” she said. “May we try some on, Mr. Minty?”
“Absolutely not!” Winslow said. “Those wigs wouldn’t fit you, anyway.”
“This one would,” Bess said. She pulled out a blond curly wig and popped it on her head. “See? A perfect fit!”
Nancy stared at the wig. That wasn’t just any wig! “That’s Francie’s wig!” she declared.
“Kira did say it was missing,” George said. “But how did it get here?”
Winslow cleared his throat as the girls turned to look at him. “Weelll,” he said slowly.
“Oh, go on, Winslow,” an actress said. “Tell the girls the truth.”
Winslow took a dramatic breath. He then looked at Nancy, Bess, and George, and said, “I was mad at Francie for using our theater. So I stole the lead actress’s wig.”
“Where was it?” Nancy asked.
“On a stand in the makeup room,” Winslow said. “No one was in there, so I just grabbed it.”
“Yeah, but why did we see you coming out of Sammy’s dressing room,” George asked, “and not the main door?”
“That used to be my dressing room!” Winslow frowned. “I didn’t know they had given it to a dog!”
“If you stole the wig,” George said, “you could have stolen Sammy, too.”
“Never!” Winslow boomed.
“Why not?” Nancy asked.
“Because I’m allergic to dogs!” Winslow declared. “Why would I want something that makes me miserable?”
Allergic? Nancy shot her friends a glance. Winslow had sneezed like crazy after Shelby’s dogs had come over.
“Well?” Winslow asked impatiently.
“I guess we believe you, Mr. Minty,” Nancy said. Then she quickly added, “But you really should return Kira’s wig.”
“Yes!” Bess said as she handed Winslow the wig. “Unless you want to play the part of Francie one day!”
Winslow muttered under his breath as he grabbed the wig. The Clue Crew thanked the pirates, then left the cookie-factory-turned-theater.
“Winslow is innocent,” Nancy said. “Which means we have one fewer suspect.”
“That leaves us with zero,” George said. “Zero, zip, zilch!”
“I know.” Nancy sighed.
The Clue Crew was back to square one!
“I just thought of something,” George said as they walked through the park once again. “What if Francie leaves before we find Sammy?”
“That’s why we can’t give up,” Nancy insisted.
“Like Francie’s song says!” Bess said. She stopped walking to sing at the top of her lungs, “I neeeeeever giiiiiiiiive up!”
“Spare me!” George pleaded.
Bess kept singing until suddenly, out of nowhere, charged a sandy-colored dog. He jumped up on Bess and began licking her face!
“Ew!” Bess cried. “Yuck!”
Nancy couldn’t believe her eyes. The big dog licking Bess was an Airedale!
Bark in the Park
“Get him off!” Bess cried. By now she was on the ground, the dog still licking away. “It’s sooooo gross!”
Nancy and George reached to grab the dog’s leash. The dog stopped licking, turned, then dashed off into a thicket.
“Dog spit!” Bess said as she picked herself up off the ground. “There’s nothing yuckier!”
“Deal with it, Bess,” George said. Her dark eyes were flashing. “Did you see what kind of dog that was?”
“A gross one,” Bess said.
Nancy shook her head and said, “It was a dog just like Sammy. Let’s find him!”
The girls looked over the bushes for the mysterious Airedale. All they could see were humans sitting on the grass, playing ball, and buying Popsicles from a cart. The only dog walking by was a tiny Chihuahua with its owner.
“It had to be Sammy!” Nancy insisted. “He did what Sammy does during the song.”
“Sing it again, Bess!” George urged. “Maybe he’ll come back!”
Bess scowled at George and kept wiping her face.
Nancy wanted to look for the mystery dog more than anything—but then she glanced at her watch. “I have to go home now,” she said, “to walk my own dog.”
“I’m going home too,” Bess said, rubbing her sticky cheek. “To take a shower!”
Nancy hurried home. But before she walked Chip, she told her father all about the dog in the park who looked just like Sammy.
“He even licked Bess’s face when she sang ‘I Never Give Up,’ ” Nancy said excitedly. “Do you think that dog was Sammy, Daddy?”
“Many dogs must look like Sammy,” Mr. Drew said. He smiled as he handed Chip’s leash to Nancy. “But only one dog now needs a walk.”
“On it, Daddy!” Nancy smiled back. She gave the leash a gentle tug. “Let’s go, Chip!”
“Woof!” Chip barked, wagging her tail.
Nancy
walked Chip up and down the block. The puppy wagged her tail as she sniffed at tiny flowers growing along the curb. All Nancy could do was think about Sammy. What if Francie was already packing to leave River Heights? What if—
“Beep, beep!” A voice interrupted her thoughts.
Nancy turned to see a girl speeding down the block on her bike. It was Mia “Trophy” Murphy.
Mia slowed down and nodded at Chip. “Is that your dog?” she asked Nancy.
“Yes,” Nancy replied. “But you can’t borrow Chip for the dog agility course tomorrow.”
Mia laughed out loud. “I don’t need Chip for the Doggy Summer Games,” she said. “Or anyone else’s dog.”
“Why not?” Nancy asked, trying to keep Chip away from the bike. “Did you decide to enter your dog, Ralph?”
“Not Ralph,” Mia said. “The pet I’m entering is a star. A superstar!”
“A star?” Nancy said. Her eyes popped wide open. George had told Mia she needed a star for the games. A star like Sammy!
“What’s his name?” Nancy asked.
“That is top secret for now,” Mia said. “All I can tell you is that his name begins with an S.”
Mia pumped her legs as she pedaled off.
Nancy’s heart began to pound faster and faster.
“S stands for ‘Sammy,’ Chip!” she said. She frowned as she watched Mia turn the corner at the end of the block. “It also stands for ‘suspect’ . . . which Mia Trophy is now!”
Game On!
“If it was Mia who took Sammy,” Bess said, “where would she find another Airedale to switch him with?”
“Good question, Bess,” Nancy said.
It was a hot, sunny Monday morning—the morning of the Doggy Summer Games. As they walked through the park Nancy told Bess and George all about Mia and her mysterious star pet.
“Maybe Mia switched Sammy with her dog, Ralph,” George suggested. “She told us Ralph was a chewer and a howler—just like the dog in the show!”
Nancy, Bess, and George hurried straight to the Doggy Summer Games. Not only was the agility course set up, but so were snack stands, balloon carts, and tables selling dog treats. There were plenty of doggy water dishes around too.
A man and two women sat behind a table, studying notes. Nancy guessed they were the judges. But where was Mia?
The girls watched as owners walked by with their dogs. Some wore T-shirts reading TEAM SPARKY or TEAM RASCAL.”
“There she is!” Bess called out. She pointed to Mia lugging a pet carrier. Helping her was a boy of about ten.
“Who’s he?” George asked.
“I don’t know,” Bess said. “He doesn’t look like he goes to our school.”
Mia and the boy set the kennel on a table near the agility course. They dusted off their hands and high-fived.
“I don’t care who that boy is,” Nancy said. “I just want to look inside that kennel.”
The girls hurried over to Mia.
“Hey, Mia!” Nancy called. “Can we—”
The boy held up his hand and shouted, “Stop!”
“Why?” Bess asked. “We just want to see your pet.”
“The star can’t be bothered before the event,” the boy said, his nose in the air.
“Who made you boss?” George demanded.
“This is Miles,” Mia said quickly. “The star’s owner.”
“Owner?” Nancy asked.
Mia was about to explain when a golden retriever padded over. His tail wagged as he sniffed at the kennel.
From it came a loud “Meeeeooooowww!”
Nancy, Bess, and George traded stares. Dogs didn’t meow. What was up?
While Mia and Miles tried to shoo the dog away, the girls ran to the kennel. Peeking through the wire door, they saw a big orange—
“Cat?” Nancy cried. “Your star pet is a cat?”
“Not just any cat,” Mia said. “Simon is the national cat agility champ.”
“But this is a contest for dogs!” George said.
“The judges won’t mind,” Miles said with a shrug. “I hope.”
“I want to pet the kitty!” Bess insisted. She opened the kennel door a crack. “If I just squeeze my hand in—”
“Don’t!” Miles shouted.
Simon gave a hiss. He squeezed out the kennel door and shot off!
“Thanks a lot, Bess!” Mia snapped. “Now we’ve lost Simon!”
“No, we haven’t!” Miles cried. He jumped up and down, pointing to the agility course. “Look at that cat go!”
Everyone cheered as Simon zipped through the tunnel, leaped over the bar, and jumped through a row of hoops. Miles was there to catch him after he rocketed across the finish line.
“Nailed it!” George cheered.
“He’s a star, all right!” Bess declared.
“But definitely not Sammy,” Nancy said.
The girls left the park. They were glad Mia wasn’t guilty of taking Sammy. They were also glad Simon had aced the agility course.
“But now we have no more suspects,” George said. “And we looked everywhere for clues.”
Nancy was about to agree when a thought crossed her mind. They had never looked for clues inside Sammy’s dressing room.
“We did look everywhere,” Nancy said. “Everywhere but the scene of the crime!”
Room with a Clue
“You mean Sammy’s dressing room?” Bess asked. “How would we get inside?”
“Especially since there’s no show in the theater now,” George said. “The Francie performances were canceled, remember?”
“Let’s worry about that when we get there,” Nancy said. “But first, let’s get there!”
The girls walked the few blocks to Main Street. The Francie poster was still hanging on the wall outside the theater. This time it had a red sticker on it that read CANCELED. Were they too late?
The outside door to Sammy’s dressing room was locked. Nancy rang the bell on the stage door. After a few seconds a woman wearing a gray guard’s uniform opened the door. Embroidered on her jacket was her name: MAXINE.
“Sorry, kids,” Maxine said. “There are no Francie performances right now.”
“We know,” Nancy said.
“So why are you here?” Maxine asked.
Nancy shot her friends a worried glance. She hadn’t thought of an excuse to get into the theater. Luckily, George did!
“We were at the show the other day,” George blurted out. “And I lost something in the theater.”
“Tell me what you lost, and I’ll look for it,” Maxine said with a smile.
“Um, I lost my pet!” George said. “My pet mouse!”
Nancy tried hard not to giggle as Maxine wrinkled her nose.
“It jumped out of my pocket during the show,” George went on. “He’s gray with—”
“There’s no way I’m looking for a mouse,” Maxine cut in. She stepped aside. “Go in and look yourselves.”
“Thank you!” Nancy said as the girls slipped past Maxine and through the door. Maxine nodded and sat on a stool to read a magazine.
“Okay, we’re in,” George whispered. “But where’s Sammy’s dressing room?”
“On the outside it’s next to the stage door,” Nancy said, figuring it out. “So it’s probably near the stage door on the inside.”
They walked a few steps down the hall to the first door. Quietly Nancy opened it and they slipped inside.
“Wow!” Nancy gasped when she saw the room.
Inside was a canopied dog bed, crystal treat jars—even a vanity covered with canine grooming products. Glossy pictures of Sammy lined the walls.
“Talk about a pampered pup!” George said.
Bess pointed inside a closet filled with dog coats, booties, and even a few hats. “Sammy has more clothes than I do!”
“Stop looking at the clothes, Bess,” Nancy said, “and let’s start looking for clues!”
The girls split up to search the room. Nancy looked u
nder the bed and mattress. All she found were some dog hairs and kibble crumbs. George looked inside the portable kennel. There was nothing in it but a fluffy white towel and a rubber squeak toy shaped like a shoe.
Suddenly Bess cried out, “Yucky!”
“What’s yucky?” Nancy asked.
“Empty dog food cans.” Bess pointed into a small garbage pail. “Carlos must have thrown them out the day of the last show.”
Nancy peered inside the garbage pail. She saw the cans Bess was talking about. She then saw something else. . . .
“Is that a yellow scarf?” Nancy asked.
George pulled the yellow cloth out with her pointer finger and thumb. It was stained with dog food. It also had the words ADOPT ME printed on it!
“That’s the same scarf Shelby’s shelter dogs wore,” Nancy said slowly.
“Sammy was once a shelter dog,” George said, still holding the scarf. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Throw it back in the garbage, George,” Bess said, squeezing her nose. “It smells just as bad as the—”
“Wait!” Nancy said. “That might be a clue!”
“A grubby scarf?” Bess asked.
“What if the dog that was switched with Sammy is a shelter dog?” Nancy asked. “One of Shelby’s shelter dogs!”
“They did wear yellow ‘Adopt Me’ scarves,” George said. “But why would Shelby want to put a shelter dog in Sammy’s place?”
“I don’t know,” Nancy said. “But if she did, Sammy might be at Rollover Rescue!”
The girls left through the front door and headed straight to the shelter.
A man wearing a yellow Rollover Rescue T-shirt greeted them at the door. Nestled in his arm was a tiny Chihuahua with huge ears and eyes.
“My name is Roy, and this is Genghis,” he said, introducing the dog. “Are you girls interested in adopting a pet?”
“We all love animals!” Nancy said, smiling at the Chihuahua. “May we look at some more dogs, please?”
Roy nodded. He pointed in the direction of the playroom. “There’ll be volunteers inside to help you,” he said. “Good luck.”