Free Backyard Bandit Mystery by Beverly Lewis

ONE
    Stacy Henry couldn’t sleep.
    Whew! Too hot.
    She was supposed to be sleeping in the teeny-weeny attic. With a teeny-tiny window that didn’t open.
    Stacy didn’t mind, because her grandparents were visiting. They were staying in her bedroom.
    But such heat! The attic bedroom was way too hot.
    She fanned herself with a pillow.
    She tried counting sheep. But thinking of sheep wool made her hotter.
    Some fresh air would be nice. Some cool air.
    Stacy sat up and lifted her hair off her neck.
    Her puppy opened his eyes.
    â€œI need a ponytail,” she told him. “My head’s too sweaty.”
    Sunday Funnies seemed to understand. He stood up and shook himself.
    Stacy got out of bed and went to the hallway.
    Fuzzy little Sunday Funnies followed.
    They stood at the top of the steps and listened.
    The house was quiet.
    â€œEveryone’s asleep,” she whispered to the pup.
    Then . . .
    Tippity-pat-pat. She crept downstairs.
    Jingle-pat-pat. Sunday Funnies came along.
    Suddenly, Stacy stopped. So did her pup.

    They heard a low rumble.
    Grandpa’s snoring. He said he got his best sleep that way.
    â€œLet’s be quiet,” Stacy said to Sunday Funnies.
    She tiptoed down the hall.
    Flap-flop. Stacy’s slippers slapped against her feet. They were big enough for an elephant. She tossed them off and went barefoot.
    Inside her own room, Stacy sneaked past the round, snoring bodies. She hurried to the dresser.
    Silently, she pulled open the top drawer. There, she found her hairbrush and a rubber band.
    Then she went outside.
    The top step was cooler than the wooden porch.
    Stacy sat there and looked at the streetlight.
    She wished for a breeze.
    But the night was still. Breathless.
    She brushed her hair back and made a ponytail.
    AHH! Much better.
    Sunday Funnies sat at her bare feet.
    Stacy glanced down at him. “Some night we should sleep outside,” she said. “It would be lots cooler.”
    She leaned back and stared at the sky.
    â€œThe Cul-de-sac Kids oughta have a sleep-out this summer,” she said.
    Sunday Funnies went and rolled in the cool grass.
    â€œSmart boy,” Stacy said.
    She looked up and down Blossom Hill Lane.
    The houses were dark. Middle-of-the-night dark.
    No lights were shining from the windows. No sounds were springing from the doorways.
    The whole cul-de-sac seemed gloomy.
    Her best friend, Abby Hunter, wascamping this weekend. Abby’s house next door looked lonely.
    Stacy missed her friend.
    She wondered if Abby was asleep yet. Or was she too hot? Or maybe homesick?
    Stacy stared at the other houses.
    Jason Birchall’s was across the street.
    Mr. Tressler’s house was at the far end of the cul-de-sac.
    Eric Hagel’s house was between Mr. Tressler’s and Jason’s houses.
    Dee Dee Winters’ and Dunkum Mitchell’s houses were at the other end of the cul-de-sac.
    Besides being dark, the houses looked dull. Boring!
    Stacy was thinking about Flag Day. Next Friday.
    The houses on Blossom Hill Lane needed some American flags.
    But Stacy was broke. She couldn’t afford even one flag.
    â€œPsst,” she whispered to Sunday Funnies.“I know what we need. A yard sale! For all the Cul-de-sac Kids. Then we’ll have enough money to buy flags!”
    Her puppy jumped up and ran to her. He licked her face.
    â€œGood idea, huh?” she said.
    Then she glanced at Abby’s house next door.
    â€œRats, it won’t work,” she said. “Abby’s gone. The president of the Cul-de-sac Kids has to call the meeting. And we all have to vote.”
    Sunday Funnies squirmed in her arms.
    â€œIt was such a great idea,” she said sadly. “Too bad.”

TWO
    It was early Saturday morning.
    The sun peeked through the teeny-weeny attic window.
    Yikes! Stacy felt warm licks on her face.
    Sunday Funnies was wide awake.
    â€œOK,” she laughed. “I get the message.”
    As soon as Stacy