Free Girl's Best Friend by Leslie Margolis Page B

in silence—six long blocks. Ivy’s boots clicked against the sidewalk, fast and annoyed.
    One thing about Ivy: she wasn’t going to pretend to like me just because I was doing her this favor—waking up extra early on a Sunday and lending her most of my dog-walking money—when she wasn’t even my friend anymore.
    If anything, she acted like she resented me more than ever. Which annoyed me and made me wonder why I’d agreed to help in the first place.
    But I tried to look for the positives: like, maybe I should be refreshed by her honesty?
    It wasn’t easy.
    “So you know what you’re supposed to do?” I asked once we were across the street from the park.
    “Tape the cash to the park bench and walk away,” said Ivy. “Meanwhile, you’ll be watching from your hiding place. And when you yell ‘Kermit,’ I turn around and we corner the dognapper and scream for help.”
    I nodded. “Yup. That’s it.”
    “But what if it doesn’t work?”
    “How can it not work?”
    Ivy frowned. “It’s just so simple.”
    “Simple plans are the best,” I assured her.
    She narrowed her eyes at me, suspicious. “Says who?”
    “Says me. Don’t worry so much.” I checked my watch. “It’s almost time. We shouldn’t be talking. They might be watching now.”
    Ivy looked around. “You think?” She sounded a little panicked, which made me feel better. At least she was taking this seriously.
    “I don’t know. I hope not. You go in first and I’ll hang back.”
    “Okay.” Ivy waited for the light to change and crossed the street, walking stiffly between the panther statues.
    I followed a couple of minutes later.
    Once I got to the park, I stopped and pretended to admire some birdlife, but unfortunately all I could see at the moment were some pigeons picking at a stale-looking hot-dog bun.
    Still, I squinted at them through my binoculars, pulled out my notepad, and pretended to write down my observations.
    Then I moved on, heading toward the designated park bench, but not directly.
    Once I got within fifty feet or so, I ducked behind a tree, crouched down, and stared at the bench through my binoculars.
    The envelope was there and Ivy had just walked away, looking about as awkward as I felt.
    Ivy was right. It did seem dorky coming to the park with gigantic binoculars.
    I hoped I didn’t run into anyone I knew. And right as I was having that thought—as if I’d conjured up my biggest fear—I heard a familiar voice speaking from behind me.
    “You again?”
    I spun around and found myself face-to-face with the dark-haired dog walker. This time she had only one client with her—a chubby basset hound with droopy, bloodshot eyes.
    “Spying on the competition?” she asked.
    So much for being inconspicuous. Then I realized something: if it looked like I was in conversation with the crazy dog-walker lady, Kermit’s dognapper wouldn’t know I was watching him or her.
    “Hi, I’m Maggie.” I held out my hand and tried to be as friendly as possible. “I never did catch your name.”
    “It’s Jane,” she said with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”
    “Well, not that it’s any of your business,” I said as I held up my binoculars, “but I happen to be an avid bird-watcher.”
    “You have time for hobbies? It must be nice. I’m too busy working and worrying about my business. I lost another client yesterday.”
    “Lost?” I gulped, thinking about the chocolate Lab’s close brush with death.
    “Yeah, it seems that Daphne’s parents found a cheaper dog walker.”
    “Daphne?” I glanced back at the envelope, wanting to keep the conversation short but knowing I couldn’t let Jane see what I was up to.
    I edged away and sat down on the nearest bench. Unfortunately, she joined me. “Are you sure you don’t know her?”
    “I don’t. Seriously—I don’t have any new dogs. I’m not even looking for any new dogs. I’m busy enough. What with my bird-watching hobby.” I held up my binoculars to