Hour of the Doomed Dog (5 page)

Gran squeezed Joe’s arm. “Exciting, isn’t it!”

As they followed the guests outside, Joe glanced back towards Mrs Stanway’s office… Would the thieves strike now – while everyone was in the garden?

CHAPTER EIGHT

“We are here together to share Megan and Scott’s special day,” said the registrar who was conducting the service.

Joe couldn’t concentrate on the wedding. He kept looking around the garden, wondering where Frankie was and what was happening with the thieves. He couldn’t exactly sneak off to see. He was in the middle of a row of guests with Gran on one side and Dad on the other.

“That’ll be you one day, Joe!” giggled Gran.

When the ceremony was all over, Joe finally thought he could go and find Frankie. But just as he was about to escape, the photographer started to speak.

“Can I have the bride’s family over here, please?” he called.

“That’s us!” said Mum, grabbing Toby’s arm. “Come on, Joe, you, too.”

They were herded together into a corner of the garden where Megan and Scott had been having their pictures taken with Scarlet and Sarah and the best man.

“Smile, Joe!” said Mum, straightening his tie. “You look miserable!”

“That’s lovely,” said the photographer as they lined up on either side of Megan and Scott. “If the children could just move a little bit further forward, so I can see them… And bridesmaids, hold your flowers up a little bit higher… Perfect. Smile, everyone!”

And that’s when Frankie arrived. He came hurtling across the grass, barking and yelping, “JOE! JOE!”

Joe turned and looked.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

“Lovely,” said the photographer. “Oh no! Wait a minute,” he added, peering at his screen. “That boy there…” He pointed at Joe. “He wasn’t looking at the camera.”

Everyone stared at Joe.

“Loser!” hissed Damian.

“I’m afraid we’ll need to take it again,” said the photographer. “That’s it – back in position. Smile, everyone!”

But now Frankie had reached Joe and was headbutting his ankles wildly. “They’re over there!” he yelped. “The robbers! Look!”

Joe looked.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

“Young man!” said the photographer. “Will you
please
look at the camera?”

“Joe!” Sarah glared at him.

“Concentrate!” whispered Mum.

This time Joe stared at the camera – his face fixed in a mad grin while Frankie barked and yelped, demanding his attention.

“You looked like a total idiot!” muttered Sarah, as everyone moved away.

“There they are!” barked Frankie. “Look!”

Joe looked. But all he could see were a few waiters handing out drinks and snacks.

“Where?”

“The waiters, Joe. It’s them!”

Two tall, thin men. One with black hair. One with brown.

“Are you sure?” Joe whispered.

“Definitely!”

It was the perfect disguise for thieves. Dressed as waiters they could go anywhere in the hotel and no one would notice.

“They must have been here for their interviews on the day I died,” said Frankie. “I remember Sylvia talking about needing extra staff for the wedding.”

“Sneaky!” murmured Joe.

“We’ve got to stake out the office!” said Frankie. “Come on, Joe.”

For the next hour, Joe and Frankie lurked behind the potted plant in the lobby, watching Mrs Stanway’s office. But no one came near it.

A couple of times they caught sight of the waiters carrying things into the dining room for the wedding meal, but they didn’t look interested in Mrs Stanway’s office.

“When are the robbers going to make their move?” whined Frankie, as the waiters carried more trays of glasses into the dining room.

Joe shrugged.

Just then, Dad appeared.

“Joe?”

“Hi, Dad,” Joe peered round the side of the plant.

“Why are you hiding out here?”

“Er…”

“Look, I know you’re not that interested in talking to the relatives, but you can’t avoid them all day. Come and have a drink – we’re just about to go in for dinner.”

“No!” wailed Frankie.

But Dad was already steering Joe back towards the lounge. “You can keep Damian company – he looks really fed up!”

“Great!” muttered Joe.

“More for me, please!” said Uncle Len, holding his glass up for a waitress to refill.

They were halfway through dinner and Joe
was supposed to be keeping a lookout in case the two waiters tried to sneak off while everyone was eating. Meanwhile, Frankie was guarding the lobby. But there wasn’t any time for the waiters to sneak off. They were too busy.

Joe glanced round their table. As usual, he and Damian had been put next to each other.

“Can I have a go?” Joe asked Damian, who was playing on his games console.

“No!”

Joe sighed. He tried listening to the grown-ups talking instead. Uncle Len was dominating the conversation…

“Of course, I’ve always loved collecting antiques. Take that clock on the mantelpiece over there – it’s very rare, incredibly valuable…”

Joe tuned out. Then he looked up and noticed that the two waiters had disappeared. He felt his heart beat faster. Somehow he had to get away and see what they were up to.

CHAPTER NINE

“I’m just going to the toilet,” Joe muttered, getting up from the table.

He dashed back into the hallway and found Frankie barking wildly…

“One of the robbers is in Sylvia’s office!”

“What? Now? Why didn’t you come and find me!”

“I was just about to! You’ve got to stop him! Quick, Joe!”

“I’ll get Dad…”

“No!” wailed Frankie. “He might escape!”

Joe looked at the door. He had to find a way to trap the thief inside! He searched around for something to block the doorway.

“Maybe we could move that big vase,” Joe began. But then he spotted something even better. “Look, Frankie! There’s a key in the lock!”

Joe dashed round the back of the reception desk and turned the key in the lock.

“We’ve done it!” Joe beamed. “We’ve caught the thief!”

The door handle rattled and there was an angry shout. The man began to bang on the door and yell, “LET ME OUT!”

“What’s going on?” Mrs Stanway appeared next to them. “Who’s in my office?”

Frankie gave a whimper of joy. “Tell her what we’ve done, Joe. How we’ve saved her cash!”

“Where’s Dale?” Mrs Stanway asked.

“Dale?” Joe frowned.

“Yes, he’s a waiter. I sent him to fetch my
spare pair of glasses from the office. I seem to have mislaid my others.”

Mrs Stanway looked at Joe, and then at the key in his hand. “You haven’t locked him inside my office, have you?”

“Er…”

“Tell her!” barked Frankie. “Tell her the man’s a thief!”

“Well, you see, Mrs Stanway,” said Joe. “That waiter is actually a robber. He’s only working here so he can steal your money!”

“What?” Mrs Stanway sighed. “Give me the key, please, Joe.”

“But Mrs Stanway, he really is a thief!”

She took the key from Joe’s hand and unlocked the door. The waiter stumbled out, confused and cross, with a pair of purple glasses in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Just a misunderstanding, Dale,” said Mrs Stanway. “Thank you for fetching my glasses.”

The waiter glared at Joe, then stalked off.

“No!” howled Frankie. “He’s getting away! Tell her to check the safe, Joe. He’s probably got the cash already!”

“Mrs Stanway, please could you check everything’s OK in there?”

“I appreciate your concern, Joe, but really there’s nothing to worry about. Dale’s a waiter, not a thief. Look, I’ll show you.”

She swept inside her office. “See! Nothing’s out of place. And the dial on the safe hasn’t
moved since I last touched it. Now, I think perhaps you’d better get back to the dining room.”

“What do we do now?” asked Joe.

Joe and Frankie were in the toilets, where no one could hear Joe’s voice.

“You spy on them in the dining room,” said Frankie, “while I keep watch in the hall.”

Joe frowned. “What if they’ve changed their minds? Maybe they’ve decided not to rob the place after all.”

Frankie looked at Joe as if he was stupid. “Then I wouldn’t still be here, would I! If my problem was solved, I’d have passed over.”

Frankie was right. But Joe was pretty sure the robbers would be extra careful next time, to make sure no one saw them sneaking back into the office.

“There you are, Joe.” Gran was waiting in the corridor when Joe came out of the toilets. “They’re starting the disco! Would you like to dance?”

“No!” yelped Frankie. “You’ve got to watch the waiters!”

“Er, I don’t really like dancing…”

“Don’t be shy, Joe!” Gran linked arms with him and led him through the double doors into the ballroom.

“I like this song!” Gran said, as she dragged Joe on to the dancefloor. Unfortunately they were the only ones dancing – apart from a group of toddlers.

“Love your moves!” hissed Damian in Joe’s ear.

Joe spun round and blinked, as Damian snapped a photo of him. “Ha! Great picture!”

Joe gave him a death stare. Then he spotted Auntie Marion waving to them from a table nearby. “Look, Gran! It’s Auntie Marion. I think she wants you to go over to the table. I’ll be back in a second.”

Joe raced away before Gran could stop him. He dived out of the disco and ran straight into Sarah. The glass she was carrying went flying…

SMASH!

A puddle of pineapple juice began to spread round her satin shoes.

“JOE! You did that on purpose!”

“I’m sorry … it was an accident!”

Everyone was staring. But Joe didn’t care. He’d just seen one of the waiters heading out of the room, glancing furtively over his shoulder.

“Got to go!” said Joe.

“Wait! What about this mess?”