Read Online Eleven and Holding by Mary Penney - Free Book Online

the corner did ask me if I knew Jesus. Then he threw his head back, opened his mouth wide into a giant O, and belted out, “He’s my Loorrrrdd, He’s my Guiiide, He’s my Ladderrr to the Skiies!”
    I split before verse two, no disrespect intended to the Big Ladder.
    The old lady in the tiny house with the sign “Beware of Killer Cats” insisted on giving me a dollar, even though I kept telling her I wasn’t selling anything. I put the dollar back in her mailbox when she closed her door.
    The only worthwhile piece of information I’d discovered was that those who actually knew Mr. McDougall hadn’t seen him for months. “Curiouser and curiouser,” I mumbled. Of course, he was an old dog, so maybe he hadn’t gone out much in the last year. Or maybe my hunch was right, and he hadn’t been around in a long time.
    Twee hurried down the sidewalk toward me, pulling a young kid by the arm of his shirt. He wasprobably eight or nine and looked like he’d made the acquaintance of way too many pizzas. Twee stood next to him, beaming, like she was showing a prize heifer at the county fair.
    â€œGo on. Tell her what you told me,” she said, bumping him with her elbow.
    He looked at me over a juice Popsicle while sticky rivers of red ran down his pudgy arm. “Pay up,” he said to me. He pointed his chin toward Twee. “She said you would.”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œOh, yeah. You have to pay him, Macy. It was the only way he’d come down here. I already gave him a buck. Give him another, and he’ll sing.”
    â€œSing?” My best friend had apparently turned into a gangster since I’d last seen her. “And why am I paying for information that you already have?” I asked her.
    â€œBecause I promised you would. And because some of it’s about Switch. I thought you should hear it from the kid yourself.”
    I dug deep into my jeans and pulled out a wad of rumpled cash. My piggy bank had suffered a serious hit this morning. I had taken out my trip money for Los Robles, plus some extra for investigation expenses. I pulled a George Washington away fromthe pack and held it out to him. He reached for it, but I held it away.
    â€œNope. First you talk. Then if I think what I hear is worth it, I’ll pay.”
    The kid had his mouth planted on the end of the Popsicle, making gross sucking sounds. Like Jack used to do when he was nursing. I took the Popsicle out of his mouth and handed it over to Twee.
    â€œHey! Give it back!” he cried, all little boy now.
    â€œI will just as soon as we finish our deal. It’s not polite to eat, and really not polite to slurp while you’re doing business. Now, do you want the money or not?”
    He wiped his mouth on the soft inside of his arm. He sighed. “Okay, s’like I already told her,” he said, pointing his chin at Twee. “Mr. McDougall isn’t lost. I keep trying to tell Ginger that, but she won’t listen. Every time I try, she gives me a cookie and tells me to run on home.”
    â€œWhat do you mean he’s not missing? Are you saying she’s making this up?” I asked. I shot a look over at Twee and then back to the kid.
    â€œOh, he’s missing all right. He’s just not lost.” He pulled his T-shirt down over his sizable boy boobs, which, for the record, were bigger than Twee’s and mine combined. He leaned in toward me andwhispered, “He was kidnapped !” He paused while Twee and I shot wild looks at each other. “And right before my eyes,” he added.
    â€œKidnapped!” I repeated, incredulous.
    â€œYep, kid-napped.” He rolled back on his heels, letting it sink in but dying to tell more. “Round ’bout last February, on a weekday. I was home, sick from school, lying on my couch, just looking out the window. I live right there, the one with the Christmas lights.” He pointed.