The Best Mistake Mystery by Sylvia McNicoll

Author:Sylvia McNicoll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2016-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

day two, mistake seven

“Toilet papering Mrs. Watier’s house — that’s a joke, not vandalism,” I tell Ping and Pong as they strain to go back. “People tie signs and cans to wedding cars all the time.” Mr. Sawyer may have driven that orange Beetle in the afternoon, but the toilet-papering joke doesn’t mean he drove it into the school.

Do you joke with someone who had you transferred? Someone who might have broken up with you? She is marrying someone else, after all. But now that he works at Champlain High School with Mrs. Watier’s fiancé, maybe the two of them like to play tricks on each other.

As a quick double-check, I pull out my cell and press “return call” on M.Y.O.B.’s text. Then I stop the call immediately. What am I thinking? What if M.Y.O.B. really is Mr. Sawyer? He’ll imagine I’m trailing him, and it will be me and the dogs, alone against the Mad Mopper.

I stash the phone in my pocket and walk a few steps. Pong jostles into me from the back. That funny bleep, bleep sound comes from my pocket. My classic mistake, number seven of the day, has to be butt-dialing M.Y.O.B.

Luckily, nothing rings, buzzes, or sings on Mr. Sawyer. I grab my phone, press “end,” and lock the keyboard this time. Meanwhile, Mr. Sawyer disappears into the pizza place.

That probably puts him in the clear, although he could have left his phone in the car.

The dogs don’t give me a lot of time to stew about it. Across the street, a rabbit hops through one of the yards, and they drag me toward it. From there I lead the team to our house rather than the Bennetts’.

“Da-ad!” I call as we step inside. “I’m home! School got cancelled today!”

“I heard. Lucky!” he answers from the kitchen.

As usual, he’s acting all positive so I don’t get anxious. But this time, it’s about a real crash, not just a threat.

I unleash the dogs and they rush to Dad. I follow behind in time to see Pong jump on him and Ping just jump, up and down, like a Jack-Russell-in-the-box.

“Down!” Dad rustles a bag of his liver bite treats, and Ping immediately stops. He shakes Pong off his legs with his knee. “You know, you could work on training these guys while their owners are away.”

“I’m trying to get them to walk nicer. Remember you suggested they were too hard to even take out together.”

“That’s true. You’re doing well.”

My mouth opens for a moment to say something else. But if I talk to Dad about the threatening text, won’t he just tell me I shouldn’t worry, that it’s just some kid fooling around?

Or worse, he could decide we have to go to the police, which would put the dogs in danger. I decide not to share with him. Instead, I know I need to tell him about the free walk he has to give, but I stall with some good news first. “Mr. Mason wants another bag of treats for Bailey.

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