February/March 2018 | view this story as a .pdf

By Joan Connor

Where was Togo? And where was the picnic basket? The chums huddled together under the old oak. Suddenly barking and yipping cut the air.

“Wolves,” Bess stammered.

No namby-pamby, our feisty girl detective shook her head. “We have to go find Togo,” she announced.

George agreed. Bess stooped to pick up the basket which had already vanished.

A cry rose over the barking.  Bess stumbled over the missing basket.

“Let’s go,” our plucky detective said, “let’s go find Togo.”

The three friends walked down the hill in the direction of the barking. But the barking had stopped. And the cry had long faded.

“Where are we headed, chum?” lanky George asked her blonde cousin with the red highlights.

“This is a disappointing chase, I admit,” Nancy stated. “Keep walking. I have an instinct about this mystery.”

The three kept walking along the grass path. Nancy occasionally bent to study patches of matted grass on the path.

“Hmmm,” she opined. “I suspect an ominous escape.”

“What is it, Nancy,” George asked eagerly. “Is it a clue?”

“Yes, “ said Nancy. “It is a clue and a plot plant so that when I shortly reveal the disastrous news you will not be surprised.”

At that moment a coincidence happened to advance the plot. Togo trotted down the path toward the three chums.

“Togo,” George yelled.

“Togo,” Bess yelled with delighted surprise.

Only Nancy seemed unsurprised as she welcomed her wriggling little fice. “Come on, all” she said. “Follow me.”

They followed her into a little copse. Togo trotted over to the base of a tree. Ned Nickerson clung to one of the branches, fortunately strong enough to climb and cling as a member of Emerson’s varsity basketball, baseball, football.

Nancy laughed and shook her head. He might speak Cantonese, but that couldn’t keep the dogs from treeing him.

“What?” asked Bess.

“What?” asked George.

“Don’t you see?” Nancy asked. The footsteps in the grass were Ned Nickerson’s. Ned snatched the picnic basket as the storm neared. Togo smelled the mystery meat and hung onto it. The first scream we heard was Ned’s–to distract us. The smell of the mystery meat attracted other dogs who pursued Ned, forcing him to climb the tree. The second cry was also Ned’s as he escaped from the dogs.”

Bess fluttered her eyes.

George asked, “But why did Ned swipe our picnic basket?”

“Why indeed?” Nancy asked, facing Ned, arms akimbo.

“It was a joke,” Ned, ever the prankster, said. His eyes sparkled.

Nancy laughed. Oh that scamp. “Come down, Ned.”

Ned came down. “I am afraid that the dogs got the picnic basket.” He handed Nancy half of a mystery meat sandwich that he still squeezed in his hand.

“Why, Ned,” Nancy said with dancing eyes, “what a startling gift.”

The foursome laughed and laughed.

Back in River Heights in Carson Drew’s living room, Hannah Gruen served the chums angel cake and fruit juice.

“This is yummy,” Bess said with a plump mouthful.

George nodded in agreement.

“This came for you,” Hannah said. She handed Nancy an envelope. Nancy, sporting one of her trim shirtwaist dresses, sat down in Carson Drew’s wingchair.

“Whatever could this be?” she asked. Nancy tore open the envelope and removed a photograph. She studied it. “What a spooky photograph.” She turned it over and read off the back, “The old haunted mansion.”

“Uh oh,” George said.

“Uh oh,” Bess mumbled through angel cake crumbs.

“Uh oh,” Togo said doggedly.

“The old haunted mansion,” Nancy Drew said. “I wonder where that is,” she mused.

 

The End