Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 12-2
“But nobody in this neighborhood owns a hound,” Aunt Alice said. “At least, I've never heard of one. Do you children know of anyone who has a hunting dog?” “No,” Andi said weakly. Bruce thought desperately. “Maybe it's in a car parked someplace,” he said. “I could go look.” He was out of his seat and halfway across the room before his mother could stop him. “Don't be silly!” she exclaimed. “Come back here and finish your lunch. If someone has left a dog in a car, it's none of our business. If that noise keeps up long enough the police will investigate.” “The police!” Bruce exclaimed in horror. “Disturbing the peace,” Aunt Alice said. “They have fines for that.” “I'm through eating.” Andi laid her napkin on the table beside her plate. Without ever having met the elderly couple in the yellow house, she could picture them clearly, standing by their telephone, looking up the number of the police station. If Preston's howls were this loud here at Aunt Alice's, what must they be like one house closer! “Please,” she said, “may I be excused?” The beagle's voice rose, wavered, fell, and rose, wavered, and fell again. Then, suddenly, the sound stopped.
“Well,” Mrs. Walker said, “someone must have investigated and let the poor thing out.” “Please,” Andi repeated frantically, “may I be excused? Please, Mom, Aunt Alice — I'm really finished.” “I am, too,” Bruce said. “I couldn't eat another bite.” “Oh, all right,” their mother said with a little laugh. “After all, it's Thanksgiving vacation. Run along and play, and tomorrow you can stuff yourselves on turkey and —” They did not stay to hear the end of the sentence. Her first words had hardly been uttered before both children were out of the house and running wildly down the street toward the hotel.
They had almost reached the ramp when they saw the figure of the boy standing near it. He had his head cocked to one side and was listening intently. Bruce stopped short, and Andi, who was right behind him, nearly ran into him.
“Not him again!” she breathed. “Not here! Not now!” Jerry Gordon turned to face them. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“We're — we're —” Bruce began haltingly. Then he stopped himself. Why should he make excuses? This wasn't Jerry's property, either. “We've got as much right to be here as you do,” he said. “I heard a dog howling,” Jerry said. “It sounded like Red. Somebody in this neighborhood's stolen my dog, and I'm going to find out who it is.” “Well, you certainly can't think we took him,” Andi said. “Where would we keep him? You know Aunt Alice is allergic to animals.” “I do know that,” Jerry said. “If it wasn't for that, I would think it was you. Things have been going funny ever since you two moved into this neighborhood.” “What do you mean by ‘funny'?” Bruce asked uncomfortably. From where he stood he could see the ramp leaning up to the window. It was half hidden by bushes, and the shadows of the trees fell across it, but it was still there, perfectly evident to anyone who knew where to look for it. Jerry's back was toward it now, but if he should turn around — “All kinds of things are funny,” Jerry said. “First Red disappears. Then Tim quits the gang. Then I see you guys walking across the street carrying lumber, the same boards Tim was going to contribute toward a clubhouse. Then your dorky sister comes by with five purebred Bulldales, and where are they now? She said she was giving them away. I can't see that anybody in the neighborhood has one. And then the rest of the gang quits —” “The rest of the gang?” Bruce repeated. “Don't pretend you don't know about that. After Tim quit the gang, the rest of the guys, one by one, started falling out, too. What have you and Tim been bribing them with? Neither of you has anywhere near the cool stuff I have.” “Bruce doesn't bribe people!” Andi leapt to her brother's defense. “He doesn't need to. People like Bruce just because he's Bruce. Did you ever think that maybe your gang just got sick of the way you treat people?” “That dog howling —” Jerry began. “You think it's Red Rover?” Now that she had started, Andi could no more have stopped talking than she could have turned off a waterfall. All the anger she ever had felt at Jerry Gordon came pouring out. “Well, I think so, too. It is Red Rover. It's his poor beaten-up ghost howling for revenge, that's what it is. If I were you, I'd run home and hide in a closet and lock all the doors and windows, because the very worst ghosts in the whole wide world are dogs.” Jerry's face grew ashen. “That's a lie,” he said shakily. “Dogs don't have ghosts. I wish you'd never come to Elmwood, you Walkers! Everything was great until you crashed in here. Why didn't you stay out West where you belonged?” “We belong in Elmwood,” Bruce said. “We like it here.” To his amazement, he realized that what he was saying was true. He turned to Andi, and he could see by her face that it was true for her, too.
“Bruce is right,” she said. “We have friends here. It's home. Even if you're not born in a place, it starts being home as soon as you have friends.” “You're going to need every friend you've got,” Jerry said. “I got rid of one kid in this neighborhood that I didn't like. I can get rid of two more just as easily. You wait and see.” Turning on his heel, he stalked away.
Bruce and Andi stood anchored in place until he had disappeared from view. Then, with one accord, they rushed for the ramp. A moment later, they were inside the hotel, hurrying down the hall toward the stairway.
Tim was sitting on the steps with MacTavish on one side of him and Preston on the other.
“Hi,” he said. “I see you finally got here.” “So, you're the reason that idiot beagle stopped howling.” Bruce drew a long breath of relief. “We ran into Jerry out behind the hotel and got hung up talking to him. I was scared that dog would let out another blast right then.” “And the people in the yellow house are back,” Andi added. “I was afraid they might have come over here and found Preston.” “You mean the Smiths?” Tim grinned. “Don't worry about them. They're a nice old couple, but they're both deaf as posts. They wouldn't know if Preston was howling right in their bedroom.” Then his face sobered. “Other people would know, though. I could hear him all the way over at my house. Beagles don't like being cooped up. We can't risk this happening again. One of us is going to have to stay here all the time until we get him back to his owner.” “At night, too?” Andi exclaimed. “How can we do that?” “Bruce and I can trade off,” Tim said. “One night I'll tell my parents that I'm sleeping over at Bruce's house, and the next night he can tell yours that he's spending the night with me. During the daytime you girls can take turns dog-sitting.” “I don't like to lie to my parents,” Bruce said worriedly. “Still, with Jerry snooping around like this —” “I have an idea,” Andi said. The boys turned to look at her.
“What kind of idea?” Bruce asked warily.
“An idea that will keep him from bothering us forever. An idea that will keep him from ever hurting any helpless animal again.” Andi's face was aglow with delight. “It's the best idea I've ever had in my life! Bruce, that picture you took of Red the day we arrived in Elmwood — did you get it made into a slide?” “Sure,” Bruce said. “I do that with all my best digitals. I like to look at them blown up big with a projector. What does that have to do with anything?” “It has everything to do with it,” Andi said. “Tim said the Smiths wouldn't know it if a dog howled right in their bedroom. But Jerry would know it. There's nothing deaf about Jerry.” Her voice was squeaking with excitement. “The ghost of Red Rover is going to get his revenge!”
