The Case of Dunc's Doll Read Free

with the initial
W
welded in steel rods into the iron.
    The gate was held locked by a large steel bar that came in from the side and appeared to be controlled by an electrical motor.
    â€œFriendly, isn’t he?” Amos said.
    â€œOh, maybe he just likes his privacy,” Dunc said. “I mean, lots of people have closed gates.”
    He paused as a shadow appeared at the side of the gate. It moved into the open, and they could see that it was a dog.
    A Rottweiler.
    He stopped and stared at the boys across the road.
    â€œHe’s looking at me like I was made of meat,” Amos said. “Raw meat.”
    â€œWell, that does it,” Dunc said.
    â€œDoes what?”
    â€œI’ve got a feeling—this is it. Why would he keep a locked gate and a huge Rottweiler if he didn’t want to hide something?”

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    Amos was staring at him.
    â€œAre you out of your mind?”
    â€œWell—it’s logical, isn’t it?”
    The dog still stared at them. It was silent, not even growling. Just staring.
    â€œLook at him,” Amos said. “You’re about to mess with somebody who keeps a dog that thinks I’m made out of meat.”
    Dunc nodded. “We’ll have to handle it right. This time we can’t just sneak in. He probably keeps the dog loose all night. We wouldn’t get fifty feet.”
    â€œWell, I’m glad we agree on something. So, we’ll just drop it all, right? I thought I’d like to live long enough to maybe go to high school.”
    But Dunc was already riding back the way they had come, lost in thought.
    They were in Dunc’s room.
    Amos looked around the walls. “You’ve got all new posters in here.”
    Dunc was looking at a map, and he shook his head. “Not new—they’re old. I brought them in here approximately 130 days ago.”
    Amos stared at him. “You recycled your old posters?”
    Dunc nodded. “Visual boredom can stifle the thinking processes. I keep a record on the computer and store the posters in the basement. There’s a regular cycle, and I bring in new ones as they come along.”
    â€œWhy didn’t I know this?”
    Dunc shrugged. “I don’t know—there’s lots of things about you that I don’t know. It’s just one of those things.”
    â€œWhat?” Amos asked.
    â€œWhat, what?”
    â€œWhat don’t you know about me?”
    Dunc stood up from his desk and turned to his friend. “Amos, if I knew what I didn’t know about you then I would know about it, wouldn’t I?”
    â€œYou’re just trying to confuse the issue.”
    â€œIt’s already confused.” Dunc turned back to the map. “Now, look on this plat map.”
    â€œWhat’s a plat map?”
    â€œIt’s a city map of the area we’re investigating. See here, there’s Wylendale’s place.”
    â€œWhere do you get these things? These maps and things?”
    â€œI borrowed this one from my father. He needs these maps to sell real estate. He’s got one for every area in the city, even out into the country. Now look, quit messing around.”
    Amos leaned over the map.
    â€œSee, here’s his property. I think it’s about six acres—a really big place. Butlook, look at this road going out the back and winding down along the railroad here. There’s a narrow road that runs all along the tracks—it must be for two or three miles—and comes out on the highway.”
    â€œSo? What’s the matter with having a back road?”
    â€œIt’s where he could ship all the stuff out.”
    â€œWhat stuff?”
    â€œStolen things. Dolls.”
    â€œOh man, you’re stretching now—that’s crazy. We see a padlock on the gate and a Rottweiler that thinks I’m meat, and you’ve got him stealing dolls.”
    Dunc sighed. “I know. We just don’t have enough