Free Spy Cat by Peg Kehret Page A

last summer.
    I should have gone to Mrs. Sunburg’s house instead of coming home, Benjie thought. Mom told me I was supposed to go there today. She told me she wouldn’t be home.
    Benjie tried to hear what the burglars were saying or doing, but all he heard was a pair of crows cawing in the trees behind his house.
    The damp dirt had a rich earthy smell. I’m wrecking my school clothes, Benjie thought. Mom’s going to be mad when she sees mud on my good shirt.
    Still the bad guys did not come out. Were they putting everything from the Kendrills’ kitchen into boxes so they could steal it all?
    Benjie hoped they didn’t take the rooster cookie jar or Mom’s china dishes. The set of dishes had belonged to Benjie’s grandmother, and when she died, Benjie’s mom had brought the dishes home and displayed them in a special cupboard that had glass doors. The pattern was called Buttercup and Mom always used them on Thanksgiving and Mother’s Day.
    If the bad guys took Mom’s Buttercup dishes, Mom would be sad, and if they took the rooster cookie jar, Benjie would be sad.
    Maybe I should run to Mrs. Sunburg’s house now, Benjie thought, before the van leaves. If I call the police while the bad guys are still here, the police might catch them ontheir way out of Valley View Estates, and we’d get all of our things back.
    He wished he had left his shoes on. He could run faster in them than he could in his socks.
    Benjie slithered like a snake behind the bushes, keeping his head down and pulling himself forward with his arms until he reached the corner of the house that was closest to Mrs. Sunburg’s house. The laurel branches scratched the back of his neck and snagged his shirt as he crept along. Small rocks and twigs dug into his forearms.
    At the corner, he looked toward the trees and shrubs that divided the two homes. An area of grass stretched between Benjie’s house and the trees. If he ran out there in the open, the bad guys might see him. Even if they stayed inside, they might look out the window.
    What if they had guns?
    Benjie shuddered. He would be an easy target, out in the grass.
    Mom would be sad if she lost her Buttercup china, but Benjie knew she’d rather lose the dishes than lose him. People and animals are more important than things. He needed to save himself, and Lizzy, and Pete. He hoped Pete was in the house, hiding on top of the piano or under the table.
    Instead of running to Mrs. Sunburg’s house now, he decided to wait until the bad guys left. He would spy onthem from the bushes and make sure they didn’t steal Lizzy. He would memorize what they looked like so he could give a clear description of them to the police.
    He wished he had his spy backpack with him, but even without it, he knew what to do. His best spy book told how to be a good witness, and Benjie had read it so many times, he knew it by heart.
    He would stay hidden and look carefully at the men so that he could describe them accurately. Good spies notice details, and that’s what Benjie intended to do. Good spies use their ears as well as their eyes. They even pay attention to smells. Benjie inhaled several times. He didn’t smell anything except dirt.
    Satisfied that he had made the right decision, Benjie crawled along the edge of the house toward the front door and waited for the men to come out.
    He didn’t have to wait long.

10
    B enjie heard the bad guys come out of the house. Lying on his stomach, he peered cautiously between the laurel branches, trying to get a good look at the burglars without being seen himself.
    Two men crossed the narrow porch toward the steps. The taller of the two wore a red-and-black plaid shirt. He closed the door of the house; Benjie heard it click. The other man’s T-shirt protruded out over the top of his pants, which rode low on his hips. He had what Benjie’s dad would call “a serious case of beer belly.”
    Details, Benjie told himself. Remember the details. They both wore faded jeans. The