The Cold Cash Caper by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Children's Books, Action & Adventure, Growing Up & Facts of Life, Friendship; Social Skills & School Life, Boys & Men, Mysteries & Detectives, Children's eBooks, Literature & Fiction, Detectives
Amazon: B0092PUKB8
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2012-12-04T07:00:00+00:00

9 Close Shave

* * *

Joe heard a garbage truck turn into the alley as he circled the booth one more time. Growing cold in the dark night, Joe shivered under his jacket as he headed toward the alley to see what was keeping Frank. It was so cold that Joe could see his breath when he reached the back alley. He saw the garbage truck pulled up nose first in front of the Dumpster. But where was Frank? The mechanical arms on either side of the truck were lowered toward the Dumpster.

As Joe approached, the driver hopped out of the cab and attached the arms to the brackets on the side of the Dumpster. Then he punched a button in the control panel located on the side of the truck and hopped back into the cab.

Joe watched the arms swing the bulky Dumpster to the back of the truck. With a clang, the arms stopped, tilting the Dumpster upside down and emptying the trash into the back of the truck.

“Frank, where are you?” Joe called as he continued along the dark alley.

The sound of the compactor was deafening. Joe was about to turn around when he spotted the booth’s trash basket beside the Dumpster.

“Frank!” Joe cried, realizing instantly that something was wrong. He ran to the side of the garbage truck and threw the emergency lever. With a slow grinding of gears and a great squeal, the truck’s compactor stopped.

Immediately, the driver called out to Joe. “What’re you doing, kid? Why’d you stop my truck?

“Frank? Are you in there?” Joe called down into the compactor, ignoring the driver.

“Get me out of here,” came Frank’s frantic answer. “I’m stuck!”

Joe jumped onto the rear bumper, leaned inside, and spotted Frank. His older brother was covered in garbage. There were heaps of refuse between Frank and Joe, but Joe was able to reach Frank’s hand and help him slowly work his way out of the truck.

The driver, standing beside the truck, watched openmouthed as Frank emerged from the compactor. “What on earth do you kids think you’re doing? Garbage trucks can be dangerous. You’re not supposed to goof off around them!”

“We weren’t goofing off, believe me,” Frank explained, dusting the garbage from his clothes. “Someone knocked me out and threw me into that Dumpster. You were about to flatten me into lunch meat!”

The truck driver turned white. “I’m sorry, kid,” he said. “I had no idea! Are you all right?”

“I’m okay,” Frank said. “A little bruised, but otherwise, fine.”

“That’s all relative,” Joe said, pinching his nose. “Unharmed—maybe. Stinky—most definitely.”

As they walked back to the van, Joe asked Frank, “Did you see who hit you?”

“No. I didn’t even hear whoever it was until it was too late,” Frank said. “I guess the snow muffled his footsteps.”

“Or hers,” Joe said. “That Dumpster is right outside Leona Turner’s back door. She could have been in the back of the shop. Maybe she saw you out there and decided it was a good time to put you out with the trash.

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