Who'll Pick Me? Read online

  “But it might mean there is a burglar.” Lynn Ann paused before she continued, “Or maybe there’s someone who’s playing tricks on you.”

  “So, how do we begin our investigation?” asked Winkie.

  “I thought about it last night after I went to bed. We’ll start by recreating the scenes starting from when you remember last having the handkerchief and the cap.” She paused and then added, “And now the shoe. Then we’ll write down everything that happened until you noticed the things were missing.”

  “And we should write down anything unusual that could have happened . . . like the storm,” said Winkie.

  Lynn Ann nodded. “I brought a notebook for us to write down our investigation.” She reached into her tote bag, but instead of grabbing a notebook, she grabbed a handful of damp fur. “Squirt!” yelled Lynn Ann.

  Winkie looked down. Squirt had nosed her way into the tote and found the paper sack that held the sticky bun. Squirt looked up, her eyes woeful and her black nose covered with light brown goo.

  “Squirt! Shame on you!” Winkie pulled on the puppy’s collar. “Bad dog!” She looked at Lynn Ann. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled. “Actually, it was your sticky bun. I bought two, but couldn’t wait to eat mine.”

  Winkie laughed with her friend, but then her face became serious when she returned her attention to Squirt. “That’s a bad girl, Squirt.”

  Squirt squirmed closer to Winkie and whimpered, laying her head on Winkie’s foot.

  “Oh, don’t be mad at her,” pleaded Lynn Ann. “She’s so cute. And besides, look how sorry she is.”

  Winkie had to admit that Squirt did look pretty pitiful. So pitiful, in fact, that Winkie couldn’t stay mad. Winkie leaned over and stroked Squirt’s head. “It’s all right, but you can’t go around eating other people’s food.”

  Lynn Ann ruffled the fur on Squirt’s neck. “You’d make a great detective with your keen sense of smell!”

  Winkie barked, wagged her tail, and then settled in between the girls as Lynn Ann recorded everything Winkie said about how the items came to be missing. When they’d finished, they went back over everything one more time.

  “So now what do we do?” asked Winkie.

  “We’re going to retrace your steps.”

  “But I’ve already tried that,” objected Winkie.

  “I know, but we’re going to do it one more time,” said Lynn Ann.

  “And if we don’t find them?” asked Winkie.

  “We’ll think of who might have moved them.” Lynn paused. “Maybe we’ll make flyers to hand out. Who knows? Maybe the wind blew them away and someone found them and didn’t return them because they didn’t know who they belonged to.”

  “Well, I can understand someone wanting to take Aunt Susan’s handkerchief and Daddy’s Atlanta Braves baseball cap. But a muddy old tennis shoe?” Winkie added. “And was the wind from the storm strong enough to blow away the shoe?”

  Lynn Ann pursed her lips and rested her chin on her fist. She had to admit. Those were good questions, very good questions indeed.

  Lost and Found

  The girls dropped Squirt off at the Lambs’ house, made sure the puppies had fresh water, and then returned to Winkie’s house. While Winkie prepared their sandwiches, Lynn Ann packed a brown bag with some apples and granola bars. On the way out the door, they grabbed a couple of bottles of water and they headed back to Pioneer Square.

  “While we eat, we’ll make a list of what we need to do,” said Lynn Ann.

  “Do you really think we’ll find my missing things?” asked Winkie. In her heart, she doubted any of this would do any good.

  “Of course, we will. Things just don’t vanish into thin air,” reassured Lynn Ann.

  “I know.” Winkie kicked a pine cone off the sidewalk and into the street. “Maybe I did do something with them and just can’t remember . . . or maybe I’m a sleepwalker!”

  Lynn Ann laughed. “I guess that’s possible, but I don’t think that’s the answer.”

  When they arrived at the square, they found an empty bench under a sprawling oak tree.

  “Well, it seems to me,” began Lynn Ann as she opened her bag and spread out a napkin. “We should begin by narrowing our attention on the area between your house and the Lambs’ house.”

  “But what if something got blown away,” interrupted Winkie. “Or maybe some wild animal carried off these things.”

  Lynn Ann closed her eyes and shook her head. “I said we should begin there.” She opened her eyes and stared at Winkie. “If we don’t find anything, then we’ll widen our search.”

  “We should make flyers and hand them out, too.” Winkie’s words came out in a rush.

  “And we’ll go door-to-door and talk to people, see if maybe they’ve seen any of these things lying around.” Lynn Ann placed a hand on her friend’s knee. “We won’t stop until we get to the bottom of this.”

  Winkie hesitated. “I don’t know.” She dragged out the last few words. “I mean about going door-to-door. I don’t think my daddy would want me talking to people I don’t know.”

  Lynn Ann dismissed Winkie’s concern with a wave of her hand. “I’ve lived in Bell Buckle all my life and I know everybody.”

  Winkie hesitated. “Then I guess that will make it all right.”

  “Of course it will.”

  Winkie opened a brown bag and pulled out the sandwiches. She’d made peanut butter and strawberry preserves. The strawberry jam had been made from strawberries from Mr. Littlejohn’s farm. His berry farm was one of the biggest in the area, and his wife made homemade preserves that Farmer Dan’s Fresh Market sold. Aunt Susan wouldn’t serve any preserves except for Mrs. Littlejohn’s.

  “Well, hey there, Lynn Ann!” came a male voice.

  Winkie looked up to see a man in a sheriff’s uniform. He had a head covered with thick gray hair and wore bifocals. He reminded her of Santa Claus without the beard.

  “Hey, Sheriff Watson,” said Lynn Ann. Pointing to Winkie, she continued, “This is my new friend, Winkie Hardy.”

  Sheriff Watson smiled down at Winkie, his eyes disappearing into thick wrinkles. “You must be Susan Hardy’s niece.” he said.

  “I am.” Winkie grinned. “My daddy and I just moved here from Knoxville.”

  “I know. Your aunt sure is proud to have y’all here.” Sheriff Watson pushed back his hat. “When I talked with Susan last week, she said y’all were coming.” Then his face saddened. “Sorry to hear about your mama.”

  Winkie swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  Lynn Ann could see tears beginning to well in Winkie’s eyes. “We’re working on an investigation.”

  “An investigation?” asked Sheriff Watson, his eyes widening. “What kind?”

  Lynn Ann explained about Winkie’s missing things and their plan on how to find them.

  “You know,” drawled Sheriff Watson, rubbing his chin. “We have a Lost and Found over at the City Courthouse. Y’all might want to check there before beginning this investigation.”

  “That’s a great idea!” exclaimed Winkie as her eyes brightened. “I never thought of that.”

  “There’s a lot of stuff in there. May take a while,” said Sheriff Watson.

  Lynn Ann and Winkie looked at each other.

  “Let’s begin there instead,” said Winkie.

  “Just tell Mrs. Maples over at the courthouse what y’all told me.” Sheriff Watson smiled. “I need to get a move on or I’d go with y’all, but you ladies let me know if y’all need anything else.” He tipped his hat and walked away.

  Lynn Ann took out her notebook and wrote down number one. Beside it she scribbled: Check Lost and Found. Then she wrote down number two, and beside that, she scribbled: Retrace steps.

  * * * * *

  After they finished with their lunch, the girls walked over to the City Courthouse and explained their situation to Mrs. Maples, the receptionist at the front desk. Mrs. Maples had dark
black hair and red, rosy cheeks. She also had long red fingernails that made tap-tap-tapping noises as she typed on her computer keyboard. She led them down a long hall and into a large room that had rows and rows of boxes.

  “They’re not in any particular order,” explained Mrs. Maples. “You’ll just have to rummage around and see if what you’re looking for is in there.”

  “Thank you,” said Lynn Ann.

  “Thank you,” said Winkie.

  Mrs. Maples nodded. “If you need anything, come get me.” Then she turned and left the room, leaving Winkie and Lynn Ann to their search.

  Brown corrugated boxes lined the walls from one end of the room to the other. Each box was filled to overflowing with things, just plain-old-ordinary-everyday things. Mrs. Maples was right; the lost things weren’t in any order at all!

  Winkie’s shoulders slumped. “Where do you want to begin,” she asked.

  “Why don’t you start with that box down at that end,” said Lynn Ann as she pointed to a carton in one corner of the room. “And I’ll start at the other end.” Then she stretched her other arm in the opposite direction.

  “We can meet in the middle,” said Winkie.

  Winkie sat down on the hard Linoleum floor and leaned over the first box. At the other corner of the room, Lynn Ann did the same. The girls pulled out sunglasses, keys, sweatshirts, T-shirts, books, and pens. They pulled out caps, many, many caps. A lot of them were Atlanta Braves caps, but not one was her daddy’s Atlanta Braves cap. She’d recognize his hat anywhere because Squirt had grabbed it from her head that day and left an imprint of tiny puppy teeth on its brim. They also rummaged through countless shoes . . . sandals, boots, flip-flops, high heels, and tennis shoes but not one matched Winkie’s other shoe. However, they didn’t find even one handkerchief. After a couple of hours, the girls met each other in the middle of the row of boxes and searched the last box together. They didn’t find any of Winkie’s lost things in that box either.

  “Well, at least you shouldn’t feel bad about losing your things,” said Lynn Ann.

  “No kidding!” Winkie laughed. “I didn’t know there could be so many lost things.”

  Lynn Ann took out the notebook and a pencil. She drew a line threw through “Check the Lost and Found.” She looked at Winkie. “The next thing we’ll do is retrace your steps, beginning with the area around your house and then we’ll move down the path you took to the Lambs’ house.

  Retracing Steps

  “Okay,” said Lynn Ann as she stood in the family room of the bed and breakfast. “You’re sure this is the last place you remember having your Aunt Susan’s handkerchief?” She placed a hand on each hip and stared into Winkie’s forlorn face.

  “I was sitting on that sofa right there when Aunt Susan tucked the handkerchief in my pocket and told me to be sure not to lose it since it was a gift from a special friend.” Winkie’s heart squeezed. Her aunt would never trust her with anything again since she’d been so irresponsible with the handkerchief.

  “She put the handkerchief in your pocket?” questioned Lynn Ann.

  Winkie’s head bobbed up and down.

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t still in the pocket when you came home?”

  “I’m sure!” insisted Winkie. “Aunt Susan looked for it when she did the wash the next day and didn’t find it.”

  “Did you look in the sofa?” asked Lynn Ann.

  Winkie’s eyes perked. “I never thought to look in the sofa.” She smiled. “People are always losing things down between the cushions.”

  The girls pulled all the cushions from the sofa and stuck their hands into the areas where there were small gaps. They found pencils, pennies, a button, and a partially wrapped chocolate candy left over from last Christmas. They found a paper clip, lots of cookie crumbs, and a sewing needle, but they didn’t find the missing handkerchief.

  They replaced the cushions.

  “Now we look under the sofa,” announced Lynn Ann.

  They got down on their hands and knees and pulled up the sofa’s skirt and looked underneath. They found the mate to one of Aunt Susan’s fuzzy pink bedroom slippers, a couple of dust balls, and a screw driver, but they didn’t find the missing handkerchief.

  “What did you do after your aunt put the handkerchief in your pocket?” asked Lynn Ann.

  “I went to take care of Molly and her babies,” said Winkie.

  “Did you go out the front door or the back?” asked Lynn Ann.

  Winkie twisted her mouth as she tried to remember. “I went out the back door because that’s where I put on my old tennis shoes.” Then Winkie frowned. “Back when I had two of them, that is.”

  The girls went to the back porch and looked from one end of the porch to the other and then they searched the surrounding area. When they found nothing, the girls retraced Winkie’s steps along the sidewalk from her house to the Lambs’.

  The afternoon sun had climbed directly overhead, causing the impatiens to wilt and the birds to seek shelter in the branches of trees. Perspiration beaded on Lynn Ann’s upper lip.

  Winkie raised her shirttail and wiped her forehead. “Boy, it’s hot!”

  “Just wait until July and August. It gets really hot then,” said Lynn Ann. “Most everybody spends the afternoons inside or over at the swimming pool in the park.”

  The girls walked along the sidewalk, with Winkie searching one side and Lynn Ann searching the other. They pulled back branches in thick hedges, separated flowers in blooming beds, and moved aside pine straw as they scoured each area hoping to find one of the missing items, or at least a trace of one of the items.

  When they arrived at the Lambs’ house, they searched the front yard and the path that led to the back yard.

  As they stood before the gate, Lynn Ann asked, “What did you do next?”

  “It was hot like today, so I went to get the bucket and hauled water to the trough.”

  Winkie lifted the bar on the gate. The puppies were at the far end of the yard playing, rolling, and tumbling in little groups. When Squirt saw Winkie, she ran up to her, her tail wagging back and forth.

  “That puppy sure does love you,” said Lynn Ann.

  Winkie smiled and picked up Squirt. “She’s a great puppy and I could really get used to her, too.” Winkie cradled the furry ball in her arms. “I miss having a dog.” Then Winkie shared what happened to her cocker spaniel, Gigi, with Lynn Ann.

  “I’m sorry.” Lynn Ann placed a hand on Winkie’s shoulder. “Maybe you could talk to your daddy and you could buy Squirt.”

  Winkie shook her head no. “The Lambs breed Labradors. All their dogs are expensive, and besides, all these puppies already have people who want them.” Tears filled her eyes. “And now that all these things are missing, he’ll say that I’m not responsible enough to care for a dog.”

  Winkie placed Squirt back on the ground. The puppy sat, her head tilted upward and panted. “I need to get everybody some water.”

  “Great,” said Lynn Ann. “Do it just like you did the day you lost the handkerchief.”

  And Winkie did. She filled the bucket with water from the spigot.

  “I only fill it halfway now because that day I had the bucket too full and it sloshed all over me.” Winkie laughed at the memory. “And that day the puppies knocked me down and licked me all over.”

  “Maybe that’s when you lost it. Maybe it was sticking out of your pocket and one of the dogs got it!”

  After they filled the water trough, the girls looked all over the yard for the missing handkerchief. They looked by the tool shed and by the back porch. They combed the area behind the dog house and in front of it. While Lynn Ann looked inside the doghouse and then searched through the flower pots, Winkie walked along the perimeter of the fence.

  The girls settled under the shade of a sweet gum tree by the tool shed. Lynn Ann pulled up a dandelion and blew on the feathery flower. White puffs floated into the air.

  “I didn’t find anything. What abou
t you?” asked Lynn Ann.

  “Nothing except some places where the puppies dug holes.” Winkie sighed. “Well, I guess that takes care of retracing steps.”

  Lynn Ann sighed in silent agreement. “What about the hat and the shoe? When’s the last time you remember having them?”

  “On the back porch. I took them off before I went inside.”

  “And we’ve already looked everywhere around the porch.” Lynn Ann stood and stretched her arms above her head.

  “I know.” Winkie stood, her eyes cast downward. “Thank you for helping me.” Then she added. “And for believing me.”

  Lynn Ann placed a hand on Winkie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find your missing things. I just know it.” Lynn Ann smiled. “Tomorrow we’ll make flyers to hand out.”

  An Unexpected Visitor

  The next morning Winkie awoke early. After a quick breakfast of cereal and juice, she made her way over to the Lambs’ house. They were coming home this afternoon and she wanted to make sure everything was in perfect order when they arrived. The sky was overcast and the scent of rain hung in the air.

  When Winkie finished with feeding and watering the puppies and scooping their poop, she sat down. Before her bottom hit the grass, Squirt bounded into her lap and began licking Winkie’s face. Little bits of dog food clung to her soggy tongue and stuck to Winkie’s cheek as Squirt lapped. Then she bit the end of her chin.

  “Ouch!” screamed Winkie and she pushed the puppy away. “I don’t like that!”

  Squirt tumbled head-over-heels. She sat up, cocked her head to one side, and thumped her tail. Lowering her head and shoulders, she crept back into Winkie’s lap, squirming around until she found a comfortable position. Despite her annoyance, Winkie laughed. She buried her nose into Squirt’s velvety fur and sniffed her sweet puppy smell. Squirt nuzzled closer under Winkie’s neck.

  Tears rolled down Winkie’s checks. She was going to miss Squirt when the Lambs came home. After she fed the dogs tonight, she’d probably only have a few more days to play with Squirt before the new owners came to pick her up. Squirt rubbed her cold nose across Winkie’s wet cheek, waiting for a scratch behind her ears.

  Winkie reached for a nearby stick and threw it. She watched as Squirt’s back legs raced to keep up with the rest of her body. She grabbed the stick, but instead of bringing it back to Winkie, she plopped down and began to gnaw on it. Loud crunching noises filled the morning air as Squirt became more interested in destroying the stick than playing with Winkie.