Free Brownie and the Dame by C. L. Bevill Page B

very large oak tree that took up a significant portion of the yard. Clearly, Lissa had been playing with all the toys she could drag out in a Red Flyer wagon, which was left nearby. Once the crime had been committed, Lissa had likely been too upset to clean up.
    And most importantly, there was a conspicuously empty spot in the middle of all the toys where Mortimer the p-p-penguin had reigned supreme.
    “I c-c-couldn’t sleep very well last night because I dint have M-m-mortimer,” Lissa wailed.
    Brownie had to admire the time and effort that went into Lissa’s wailing.
    “Where were the goats that were all riled up?” Janie asked.
    Lissa pointed to the nearby field. The grasses were tall there, and the goats were systematically working at getting the grass to a manageable level. “Daddy just moved that herd into the field.”
    “You went and looked and then went to find your daddy,” Janie ascertained.
    Brownie sighed. He wasn’t on top of his game. Janie was getting to ask all the important detective-like questions. “Whereupon the flim-flammer took the toy, jumped in a flivver, and faded fast,” he drawled.
    Janie and Lissa stared at him.
    “Mortimer got stolen,” Brownie explained flatly, “and the guy took off.”
    Lissa nodded. Tears welled ominously in her large blue eyes.
    Brownie stared at the field. “The punk snuck in through the field, waited for Lissa to make like a tree and leave, and then bunked the plush penguin. We should take a glom at the field.”
    Lissa said, “You really are going to find Mortimer?”
    “We’re going to try,” Janie vowed. “Protect and serve, that’s our motto.”
    It is?
    Lissa watched them as they investigated the field. The goats were curious, too. Janie couldn’t resist saying, “Shoo!” to one. It made a sad noise, stiffened up, and fell over. It resembled a brown and white board. Janie said, “That’s just wrongity-wrong.”
    “Ifin one came straight from the woods to where the picnic table is, then this is the quickest way,” Brownie said, ignoring the goat. The goats acted as if they had been stunned, but there wasn’t a stun gun about. That’s no fun.
    There was a trail of sorts that led into the woods.
    “Is this trail from the goats?” Brownie asked Lissa, who dawdled behind them.
    “No, they ain’t been in this field for a spell. Maybe it’s a game trail.” She sighed. “But then there’s all kinds of kids who come to see the goats and the Christ tree, so it could be from them, too.”
    Brownie followed the trail into the woods while Janie stayed with Lissa. He found a patch where there were animal prints and then something had been dragged over the animal prints. He took a digital photo. M-m-mortimer came through here after the animals made the print. But he looked further and found one section where the animal track stepped on top of the drag mark. Hmm.
    He came out to a road that he recognized as the D-named road that Lloyd Goshorn had mentioned. To his left was the entrance to the Boomer farm. To his right was one way back toward town. It was also the way that Brownie and Janie would take to go back to the Snoddy Estate.
    An old green Chevy truck pulled up to Brownie with a disturbing clunking sound and a blast of grayish smoke. Brownie said to the man who leaned out of the window, “Hey, Bubba.” He looked behind Bubba for the police and saw that his cousin was unencumbered by a legal presence.
    Then he registered that Bubba had a black eye. It was a fresh black eye. In fact, it was so fresh that it wasn’t yet black. It was swollen and red and quite the doozy if Brownie was any type of judge. (And Brownie was; he’d had nine black eyes and the photos to prove it.) Bubba reached down and brought up a package of frozen Brussels sprouts, with which he applied to his blossoming black eye, although the Brussels sprouts were quickly becoming unfrozen.
    “Ma sent me to find the pair of you,” Bubba said. Precious crawled over