Bow Wow by Spencer Quinn

Author:Spencer Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2017-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

“So where are we, Bowser?”

We were on West Bank Road, which led from the Lucinda Street Bridge back to Gaux Family Fish and Bait. Birdie had to know that! We’d walked this way a zillion times, if zillion was a big number, and I was pretty sure it was. I gave her a close look. She didn’t seem feverish or anything like that.

“Someone in a moss-green pickup drove Snoozy away from the tattoo parlor, but who? It wasn’t Deke—he rides a Harley, doesn’t even own a truck. And Mr. Longstreet’s pickup is too light, actually more like kelly green. So who was driving that truck? Or am I being too fussy about the color? Maybe a cloud was covering the sun when Joe Don looked out, or maybe …”

Poor Birdie! I hated when she was worried. I leaned against her leg, cheering her up.

“Bowser!”

Did Birdie stumble? Maybe the slightest bit, but she didn’t fall. Birdie has great balance, just one of the reasons we go together so well.

“What gets into you, Bowser?”

Did she seem more cheerful? I thought so. We went into the store. Grammy was by herself. Grammy by herself is always on the move—rearranging things, cleaning up, buying this, selling that, running the business. But now she was standing very still, gazing out the back window, a glass of ice tea in her hand.

“Hi, Grammy.”

Grammy turned our way. She had a faraway look in her eyes. Had Grammy been daydreaming? If so, that was a first. She smiled a very warm smile, the kind where the eyes get involved. Coming from Grammy, it made me a bit uneasy.

“Hi, Birdie.” She pointed with her chin. I love that human chin-pointing thing! “What you got there?”

“Oh,” Birdie said. “It’s this sketch.” She handed it to Grammy.

“My, my,” said Grammy. “This is very good. Who did it? Wait—signature right here at the bottom—J. D. Matisse, the ‘J. D.’ real small.” She looked up. “Joe Don did this when we were there?”

“No,” Birdie said. “Just now.”

Grammy’s dreamy-eyed look was fading fast. Fine with me: I prefer when humans stay put in their normal selves, if you get what I’m aiming at, and Grammy’s normal self is far from dreamy. “What on earth were you doing over there?”

“Well, it’s about greens, I guess. All the different shades of green. See how he used so many in the picture?”

Grammy examined it again, squinting this time. “Actually I didn’t, but I do now. What got you interested in green?”

“I’m mainly interested in moss green,” Birdie said. “Joe Don said the pickup that took Snoozy away from the tattoo parlor was moss green, so I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what that was.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw a green pickup that might be the one—it even had some nets and buoys in the back, which matches up with what Mrs. Roux said.”

Grammy shook her head. “I’m starting to regret telling you about Sherlock Holmes and his little clues. Didn’t the sheriff say to give it a couple of days?”

“Yeah, but the sheriff—” Birdie stopped herself.

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