The Great Mistake Mysteries 3-Book Bundle. Sylvia McNicoll
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would never …” I expect him to keep denying everything, but instead he crumbles. “I … I … I didn’t put the brick on to crash the Bug into the school on purpose. Just like you said, I saw the Beetle that night all on its own in the parking lot. No one was around. I just wanted to peek to see if the interior had changed. I love Beetles.”
“You learned to drive in one,” I add.
“Not very well,” he says. “Whoever drove that car there left the keys in the ignition. I’m not a criminal or anything. I just wanted to give it a spin for old times’ sake.”
“You drove the Beetle?” Mr. Mason asks.
“Yeah, perfectly! But then, when I went to park it, I accidentally gave ’er gas and it slammed it into the school.”
“You crashed it? You’re lucky you weren’t hurt,” Mrs. Watier says.
“Then you put your Mom’s birthday present on the accelerator to make it look like vandalism?” I ask.
Mr. Ron rolls his head from side to side as though he wants to deny it. But finally, he can’t. “I didn’t want everyone to know what a bad driver I am. So I turned the ignition again and put the brick on the pedal. I never meant to get any one else in trouble. I hoped the school would get a new gym. That it would all work out.”
“You said you weren’t a criminal. Yet you dognapped Pong and asked for a ransom. Where are you keeping him?” Renée asks.
Mr. Ron furrows his brow. He looks genuinely confused. “Is that one of the dogs you were walking the other day?” he asks.
“Yes. What did you do with him?” I ask with as firm a voice as I can muster.
“Nothing, I swear.”
I dig my fists into my hips and try to stare him down. One of my fists must have grazed the screen of my phone. We hear the telltale blip, blip, blip of a dialing cellphone. It doesn’t hit me what I’ve done, my standard mistake, pocket calling the last person I dialed. Number seven for today. But it’s the best mistake I’ve ever made because suddenly, we hear the faint ringing coming from Mrs. Watier’s office.
day three, mistake eight
Mrs. Watier doesn’t look alarmed, nor does she rush to answer it.
“Whose phone is that?” I ask.
“What? What phone?” She tilts her head.
“The one ringing from your office,” Renée tells her. “Stephen has been getting threatening phone calls from it.”
With everyone quiet, Mrs. Watier hears the ring this time. “Serge? Is that you in there? Why don’t you come out and join everyone?”
“Is Serge your son?” Renée asks.
“Yes, he is. The staff invited him to the assembly as well.”
“I accidentally redialed the last number that contacted me. The person on the other end dognapped my client and is holding him hostage.”
“What client?”
“A greyhound I walk. His name is Pong.”
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