Free Brownie and the Dame by C. L. Bevill

“Bingo.”
    Brownie tilted his head to see better. “It doesn’t say bingo. It says Boomer. Oh, hey.”
    They went down a narrow rutted road and found a gate. The gate didn’t say no trespassing, but it did have a sign on it that said, “Please close the g**d**n gate.” It even had the asterisks in place.
    The gate nor the sign did not deter Brownie or his capable cohort, Janie. They rode down the road. (After they closed the gate, of course.) They discovered several herds of goats. They were about two feet high and brown and white in color. When Brownie screeched to a stop beside a trio, they all bleated and fell over.
    Brownie stared. “Are they supposed to do that?’
    Janie paused. Her mouth was open in shock. “I think you killed them.”
    “Maybe we should drag them off into the woods,” Brownie suggested, eager to hide the evidence, although he wasn’t certain what he had done wrong.
    “Naw, ain’t dead,” said another voice. They looked over and saw a girl standing nearby. She was about a year or two younger than Janie. Her blonde hair was in pigtails. Her blue eyes were large in her face and dark half-moons under her eyes made her look tired. She was wearing a blue t-shirt and blue cut-off shorts, she also had Twinkle Toes on her feet.
    “I got a pair just like that,” Janie said.
    The girl glanced down at her shoes. “The batteries are running out in the right one but that’s okay. Daddy said he’ll buy me some more at my birthday. That’s in a month.”
    Brownie looked back at the goats. “Sure they ain’t dead?”
    “Fainting goats,” the girl said. “They got some kind of weird DNA that makes them freeze up when they get startled. Watch.” She jumped toward another goat standing nearby and yelled, “FALL OVER!” The goat bleated piteously and fell over. It was truly a pathetic sight. Even Brownie felt sorry for the goats.
    “They’ll get up in a few minutes right as rain,” the girl said. “You dint come out to see the goats? Maybe you wanted to see the Christ tree?”
    “The Christ tree?” Janie repeated.
    “It’s where that whacko tried to hang Sheriff John,” the girl said. “Also, it’s real old.”
    “That’s where Bubba came to the rescue,” Brownie said, unable to take his eyes off the goats, which were still motionless.
    “We came out to talk to someone about something missing,” Janie said. “We’re investigators.”
    The girl looked Brownie over. “Oh, is that what you are?”
    Brownie looked up and adjusted his fedora. “Sweetheart, we’re the best,” he drawled arrogantly.
    Then the girl started to cry, and Brownie wanted to get back on the bike and pedal the heck out of there. He couldn’t stand crying girls. Their nose started to run with green boogers and then their nose turned red and they couldn’t really speak properly. Eventually crying girls wanted a boy to hold them so they could wipe their icky faces all over the boy’s shirt. Gahhh! Brownie resisted the urge to shudder.
    “Then can you find Mortimer?” the girl cried out, with red nose, and a stream of mucus flowing down from her nose. “He’s m-m-missing!”

 
    Chapter 6
    Brownie and the Sticky Situation
     
    Tuesday, April 3rd
    The girl’s name was Lissa Boomer, and she was the youngest of the Boomer’s children. She was also the victim of the crime. An item had been wretchedly stolen from her. Accordingly to Lissa, it was an especially valuable item.
    “P-p-precious!” Lissa wailed forlornly. “P-p-priceless! Ain’t ‘tother one like it in the whole wide w-w-world!”
    “A diamond?” Brownie demanded.
    “A book?” Janie asked.
    “An antique?” Brownie said.
    “A weapon belonging to your granny?” Janie pushed. “Old gun maybe?”
    “A p-p-penguin!” Lissa blubbered. A full frontal boo-hoo followed in close procession.
    There was a clear what-shall-we-do-moment where Brownie looked awkwardly at Janie. Janie stared back and sighed heavily. She put her bike down