The Case of Dunc's Doll (5 page)

“Lucky I've still got some pepper left.”

“Couldn't we just talk to him?” Amos said. “I mean, he's not hurting me. He's just hanging on. Couldn't we talk before we do the pepper again? Couldn't we—”

It was too late. Dunc reached around to where the Rottweiler was hanging on the back of Amos's pants.

He opened the wrong hole on the pepper can, and instead of sprinkling through the small openings, he dumped half a tablespoon of pepper right on the dog's nose.

The great lips wrinkled, flubbered, wrinkled again, and the dog blew snot all over Amos's back.

“Yeeccch!”

“Run!” Dunc said. “To the window—get in the house.”

They made it.

Dunc clambered in, and Amos followed.

Inside, the house was dark, pitch black. The boys stood just inside the window while Dunc found the penlight. He flicked it on once, for half a second, then off.

In the sudden glare the room looked huge, filled with hulking furniture, high shadows.

“Wrong room,” Amos whispered. “It's the next one toward the back of the house.”

Dunc started walking, and Amos moved next to him.

“Why are you limping?” Dunc asked.

“The dog,” Amos said. “He got my shoe when I came through the window.”

“Oh.”

They crossed the room carefully, slowly,
and moved through the doorway into the next room.

“Flick the light,” Amos said.

Dunc turned it on and off at the same time. In the quick flash they saw more furniture, couches and tables—all antiques— and in the back the glass case with the curtain.

“There,” Amos said. “That's it.”

They moved to the case, or tried to. Halfway across the room Amos caught a chair leg with his foot and tripped.

He went down forward, tripped Dunc on the way down. Dunc fell over onto an end table next to a large chair. The end table held a glass lamp with dangly crystals all around. The table and lamp went over with a sound loud enough to stop traffic during rush hour.

For a second, almost two, Dunc thought they'd gotten away with it.

Then they heard steps upstairs. Heavy steps. Two men, coming from two different rooms.

“What's that?” one of them said.

“I don't know. I think something fell downstairs. Did you let the dog in?”

“Not likely—we'd have heard long before this. I can't even leave him in the garage. Last time, he chewed one of the tires off the car.”

“Well, get down there and check it out.”

Dunc and Amos had been frozen in the dark on the floor, and when the speaking stopped they heard steps moving toward the top of the stairs. Dunc grabbed Amos by the collar and dragged him across the room.

There was a large chest next to the wall covered with a small Indian rug. Dunc tried it, and the lid came up. It was empty.

“Inside,” he said into Amos's ear. “Hurry.”

They both climbed in, and he tried to hold the rug in place as he let the lid gently down.

“It's dark,” Amos whispered. “Your elbow is in my face.”

“Shhhh.”

They heard the light switch click on.

“Oh,” the man said. “Oh, great.”

He turned away, facing back up the stairs. “The window was open, and there must have been a gust. The end table and lamp blew over.”

“Check the cabinet.”

The boys heard steps, then the sounds of the glass case opening.

“It's all right.”

“Fine. Close the window and get back to your room. We have to move the doll early tomorrow morning.”

Until then everything had been going well. Or sort of well. The dog wasn't so good and the table wasn't so good, but Dunc and Amos still had luck on their side.

Until then.

At that moment the pepper container in Dunc's windbreaker pocket fell to the side. It was still open from the last sprinkle on the dog's nose.

It was almost empty. But some pepper had caught on the lip at the top, and when
it fell sideways, the pepper dropped out and down.

Directly into Amos's nose.

It wasn't just a sneeze. The sound was more like a machine gun going off inside the trunk.

“Cha! Cha! Cha! Cha!”

The trunk lid opened almost immediately, and Dunc looked up to see a large man leaning over them. He looked like a human version of a Rottweiler.

“What are you doing in there?”

This could be going better, Dunc thought. The man was not smiling. Amos was upside down with his nose buried in the corner, still sneezing.

“We're refugees,” Dunc said, thinking fast, making his voice sound foreign. “We got lost.”

“Get out of the trunk.”

“Is this where we fill out our papers?”

“Get out of the trunk now. Slowly. Don't try anything funny.”

“What does this mean—funny?”

“Out.”

Dunc stood and stepped out of the trunk, and Amos sat up. The man saw his face.

“You look familiar. Why is that?”

“Cha!” Amos sneezed.

“What is it, Grant?” An older man with gray hair came down the stairs.

“I found these two in the trunk.”

“Oh, my—now what do we do?”

“I think,” Grant said, “we have to get rid of them.”

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“Tell me”—Amos rubbed his nose, leaned close, and whispered in Dunc's ear—“was this part of your plan?”

“No.”

“That's what I thought. This isn't good, is it?”

“Not very, no.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Grant said.

“Why do you want to get rid of us?” Dunc asked. “We didn't do anything.”

“Exactly, Grant,” the older man said. He was wearing a silk cloak with dragons up
either side and silk pajamas beneath the cloak. “Why be hasty?”

Grant turned and stared at the older man. “What do you think we should do?”

“Why, the same as with any other burglar. We'll call the police and have them arrested.”

“What?”

“I said—”

“I
heard
what you said. Have you forgotten about the—”

“I haven't forgotten anything. These two boys have broken into our house, and the police will come and take them away. There is nothing here that anybody cares or knows about to complicate matters.”

“Oh—I see what you mean.” He nodded and grabbed a phone from a nearby table and dialed the police. “Yes, officers, two boys have broken into our home. We're holding them for you. I'll have the gate open for you.” He hung up and went to the wall by the front door and pushed a switch.

And Dunc thought, great, the cops will
come, and we'll tell them about the doll and—

“No,” Amos said suddenly, interrupting Dunc's thought, holding up his hand, “that won't work either. See, without the doll we're just breaking and entering, but as soon as the police get here we tell them about the doll, and that gives them probable cause for a search and they'll find the doll, and there you'll be …” His voice trailed off, and he looked at Dunc, who was staring at him in horror. “I screwed that up, didn't I?”

“A little,” Dunc said. “Well, maybe a lot. I don't think you had to tell them.”

The two men looked at Amos, and the older man nodded. “Quite right. If there were such a thing as this ‘doll' you're talking about. I'm sure I really don't know what you're talking about.” But his eyes flicked to the case against the wall, and Dunc knew he was lying.

Dunc had been studying the case while the two men talked. It had curtains covering
the glass. There didn't seem to be any real chance to escape—the men were between the boys and the window, or near it. But there was an opening toward the case. If they could break the glass, grab the doll, and run, they might be able to cause enough confusion to escape. Or at least make a mess of things until the police arrived.

“Why don't you lock our friends into the other room while I handle the situation here?” The old man's eyes went to the case once more.

Now, Dunc thought. It has to be now. Grant's hand was next to his shoulder, half an inch away, and he suddenly slammed sideways into Amos and yelled.

“The case—break the glass. Grab the doll.
Now!
”

Amos was moving before he knew why. His hand went down automatically and grabbed an ashtray off an end table by the couch, threw it overhand, and smashed the glass in on the curtain.

Dunc's hand was right in back of the ashtray. He slid the curtain aside and grabbed the small doll from a stand in the middle of the case.

“Run!” Amos turned, fell sideways, and used his body to block into the legs of Grant, who went down like a wall falling. His hand brushed Dunc's back. The older man made one grab for him, caught his ear, and twisted it before he pulled free, and he was at the window.

It was still open.

Just enough. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amos just to his rear. He aimed his head at the opening and dived, at a full run, out the window.

Dunc hit the ground hard and next to him sensed a dark form, a large dark form covered with hair and snarling snot, and before either he or the form could move, Amos shot through the window and landed directly on the huge shadow.

Which was the Rottweiler.

There was a moment of stunned silence,
half a second, then another half, and Dunc was up, the doll in one hand, his feet moving. “Come on—run for the gate!”

Another sound, this time like somebody trying to swallow a bowling ball.

“Gackkk!” Amos said.

Dunc stopped. He was almost away, almost free, he had the doll and was almost gone, and he stopped. Amos wasn't coming. He couldn't leave without Amos. “What?”

“Ummmpphh, gackkk!” Amos said.

“We have to leave, Amos.”

“Gackkk!”

It was impossible to see in the dark, but Dunc leaned down over the Rottweiler, and it seemed that he had Amos's whole head in his mouth.

The men were coming. They had gone back around through the door and were coming. Dunc threw the doll back into the bushes alongside the house and turned to meet them.

Amos was on all fours, his head and face in the dog's mouth.

“Oh,” Dunc said, “I'm sorry. I forgot. I still have some pepper left.”

“Ummmpphhh, gackkk, no!”

But it was too late. Dunc sprinkled the last of the pepper on the dog's nose. The sneeze blew Amos back four feet.

“Oh, man, I've got snot
under
my eyelids!”

“Run—” Dunc started to say, but it was too late. Grant had him by the arm, and the older man grabbed Amos.

“Where is the doll?” the old man asked.

“What doll?”

There was a small moment when Dunc thought Grant would hit him, but before he could raise his arm or Dunc could duck, sirens seemed to come from all directions, and three squad cars came down the driveway and they were surrounded by flashing red lights and police.

A large officer stopped next to Grant. “Are these the two boys?”

“Yes, officer,” the older man said. “They broke into our home—”

“We were after the doll,” Dunc cut in. “They have Dickens's daughter's doll—the one that was in the papers. We did some undercover work and found out they stole it and came looking for it.”

The policeman sighed. “You did, eh? Have you ever heard of calling the police?”

“Yes, sir, but there wasn't time, and nobody would listen to us anyway.”

“You seem familiar,” the cop said. “I've seen you before, haven't I?”

Dunc was silent, but Amos—he looked like a rat drowned in spit—coughed.

“You probably remember us from when we broke that appliance stealing ring.”

The cop nodded. “Oh yes, that's right. You two just about blew the whole riverfront away.”

“Well, it wasn't our fault, really,” Dunc said. “You see, there was this parrot—”

“Officer,” the old man said, “I know it's nice to chat, but it's really very late and I have to get some rest.”

“The doll,” Dunc broke away from
Grant, who was still holding his shoulder. “They stole that doll. It's worth a lot of money, and they stole it from this nice man who drives around to shows.”

“I know.” The policeman nodded. “I read the reports. But I don't see a doll, do you?”

Dunc turned and moved into the bushes. “I threw it here, over here.” He rummaged around where he thought he'd thrown it and couldn't find it. He tore the bushes apart but saw nothing. Then he looked up and saw the Rottweiler sitting at the edge of the bushes. A doll's leg hung out of his mouth.

“The dog's got the doll!” he said. “See?”

“How,” the policeman asked, “do we get it away from him?”

“I'm out of pepper. And he won't let go— we tried to get him to let go of something before. He's stubborn. Unless …”