Sally's Bones (9 page)

Officer Stu sighed. “Well, then, we'll meet here after school lets out tomorrow and decide the matter.”

Sally turned to hug the policeman. “Oh, thank you, Officer—”

“Wait, Sally. I want to make sure you understand.” Stu's eyes were sad, but his tone was stern. “Bones has been accused of a very real crime. I hope he's innocent, but I'll be honest, it isn't looking very good. Prepare your case, and I'll hear both sides tomorrow. As for Bones, he'll have to stay in the pound tonight.”

“What? No!” Sally yelped. The D.C. smiled smugly.

“I'm sorry, but that's how it's got to be,” Officer Stu replied. “But he'd better be well cared for and in one piece when we meet up again,” he added, wiping the smile from the D.C.'s troll-like face. “Sally, say good-bye to Bones and then get back into class.”

“But…” Sally whimpered. Stu held his ground.

Sally knelt down beside Bones. She held him tight. When she felt his tiny body shiver against hers, she could hold back the tears no longer. She wept as she kissed her frightened puppy.

Bones tried to be brave, but when the D.C. pulled him away from Sally, he howled and fought mightily to twist himself free. Sally lurched toward her dog, but Officer Stu held her back. Though it was a warm embrace, Sally struggled against it, knocking against Stu's chest with her shoulders and kicking wildly with her gangly legs. When she finally quieted, Stu loosened his grip and Sally stood frozen in place.

She watched, through blurred vision, as the dog catcher locked Bones in a reinforced cage and loaded him into the back of his van. The best friends stared at each other until the back doors were shut. The D.C. turned the ignition and started to pull away. “Bones!” Sally shouted, and she ran after the van.

She could hear her dog's howling long after the cold, white vehicle had driven out of sight.

“And that was when I realized Mr. President was depressed.” A heavyset woman in an orange floral muumuu dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and then did the same to the little dachshund on her lap.

“Depressed because he was no longer in possession of his marrow-filled bone,” the D.C. clarified, oozing with greasy sympathy. “And did you look for Mr. President's missing bone?”

“Of course I did,” Judy Punch replied. “Not only was it nowhere to be found, but while I was looking, I ran into Mick Barbi with his Australian terrier, G'day, and Mary Scribbler with her Plott hound, Dénouement. They were on bone hunts too!” She leaned toward Officer Stu, who sat, gavel in hand, at a picnic table next to the makeshift witness box—a child-sized chair surrounded by six milk crates, courtesy of the cafeteria. “That was when I knew something didn't smell right. And it wasn't the kitty litter, if you know what I mean.”

The crowd that had assembled on the playground of Merryland Middle School laughed heartily at Miss Punch's joke. Officer Stu banged his gavel and called for order.

“Now, Miss Punch. You believe you know who the culprit is, don't you?” The D.C. glared at Sally as he asked the question.

“I most certainly do,” she righteously replied.

“Can you point him out to us?”

“Yes. It's that demon doggie there!” Judy Punch pointed at the canine skeleton imprisoned in the dome-shaped monkey bars. The audience gasped as Officer Stu banged his gavel again.

“And how do you know that animal is guilty, Miss Punch?” the D.C. asked.

“You mean aside from just looking at him? Well, the very same night I realized Mr. President's bone had been picked, I saw the accused digging in the yard across the street. I'd bet that if you excavate there, you'll find all the missing bones!”

The D.C. sneered at Sally. “Your witness.”

The previous morning, after her dog had been arrested and carted off, Sally had sobbed in the schoolyard for a full, uninterrupted seven and a half minutes. Then she dried her eyes and returned to class. Chati Chattercathy offered her heartfelt sympathies and a shoulder on which to cry some more, but Sally politely declined.

“The time for tears is over,” she had said. “I've got a trial to prepare for.” And prepare she did; all that afternoon, through the evening and well into the night. Standing before her first witness, Sally felt calm. She was going to eat this woman for lunch.

“Hi, Miss Punch,” Sally began.

“Hi, Sally, honey,” the witness replied cheerily.

“I'm very sorry for Mr. President's loss.”

“Thank you, darling.” Miss Punch touched her hand to her heart. “That's very kind of you.”

“No problem.” Sally smiled. “So, um, you say that the evidence you have against my client is that you saw him digging in the yard across the street on the same night as the suspected theft. Is that correct?”

“Well, yes. That and the fact that he's just plain creepy! I mean, honestly, who else could it be?”

The crowd mumbled in agreement.

“Right.” Sally nodded politely. “But, removing that second part of your statement, which is speculation and therefore not factual evidence, the only reason you have to suspect Bones is because you saw him near the crime scene, aka your house, on that fateful night?”

“Well, yes. I suppose so.” Miss Punch shifted in her seat.

“Miss Punch, where do you live?”

“At 1445 Pinecrest Drive.”

“Miss Punch, where do I live?”

The witness snickered. “Well, right across the street from me, Sally, or did you forget?” The crowd chuckled. Sally laughed along.

“No, ma'am, I didn't.” She turned to Bones and winked. “So, if you live across the street from me and, presumably, it was my yard in which you saw Bones digging, wouldn't it stand to reason that he was digging not to hide his loot but because he was simply being a dog, playing on his own property?”

As the assembled onlookers discussed this new scenario, Sally shouted over them. “I'd like to introduce into evidence Defense Exhibit A: a photograph of our backyard that shows not the fresh mounds of dirt one would associate with something newly buried, but hole upon hole of dug-up earth in which it would be impossible to hide one, let alone dozens of bones.” Sally addressed the crowd. “If Bones is guilty of anything, it's destroying my father's garden. Your honor, I am through with this witness.”

Miss Punch left the witness stand, and the D.C. glowered at Sally. “Don't worry, girly. I've got plenty more where that one came from,” he hissed as she walked past.

“Bring 'em on, I'll knock 'em down,” Sally replied in her own low growl.

Much of the afternoon followed in the same manner. The D.C. would provide a witness who was convinced of Bones's guilt, and Sally would show that his or her accusation wasn't based on fact, but on prejudice. After an hour of such back-and-forth, the crowd was clearly getting restless, and Sally was feeling slightly bored.

“The prosecution calls Vivienne Vanderperfect to the stand.”

Mrs. Vanderperfect sauntered over to the milk crates, smiling at Sally as she passed her.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” Officer Stu asked.

“Well, of course!” Vivienne responded brightly. The charmed audience sighed.

“Mrs. Vanderperfect, do you know why you've been called as a witness today?” the D.C. asked.

“I'd imagine it's because I reported that my beautiful daughter's prize-winning poodle was a victim of this horrible bone-stealing crime,” Vivienne answered.

“Not just any victim, ma'am, but the very first victim!” the trollish little man declared. “When did you report the theft?”

“Well, let me see,” Vivienne considered. “I first reported it the night of Viola's birthday party, September twenty-ninth.”

“The first night anyone other than the Simplesmith family caught sight of the accused!” the D.C. shouted triumphantly. Vivienne looked to Sally, perplexed.

“Yes, I suppose that's true, but that was just a coincidence,” she explained. “You see, Princess Poopsy's bones had started to go missing a bit before that, just about a month. I simply hadn't noticed because, well,” she giggled to herself, “Poopsy has so many bones I sometimes lose track.”

The crowd laughed politely at Vivienne's adorable embarrassment of riches while the D.C. prepared his attack.

“Princess Poopsy's bones started to go missing almost a month before your daughter's birthday, you say? Talk about a coincidence!” He turned toward Sally, though he continued to address the witness. “That would put the first theft at right about the same time that demon dog arrived in Merryland! As Officer Stu himself knows, Bones Simplesmith's recorded rebirth date is September first!”

The stunned onlookers could not keep quiet. Officer Stu banged his gavel as Sally took in the crowd. At the front of the audience sat her father, pinching his fingers and adjusting his glasses as he studied the proceedings. Beside him was a small group of Sally's supporters, lead by Chati Chattercathy and Susannah Oh. Across the way was a gathering of PAD protestors, holding pickets signs with slogans like “Death to Death” and “Give a dog a BONES!” And flanking the sides of the gathering was an assortment of frustrated dog owners and their victimized pups. Though the animals were, for the most part, on their best behavior, Sally didn't like the crazed looks in their eyes or the way they drooled whenever they caught a glimpse of Bones.

“One final question, Mrs. Vanderperfect,” the D.C. shouted over the crowd, snapping everyone back to attention. “Would you please reveal to us the identity of the criminal mastermind behind these bone thefts?”

“I'd be happy to,” Vivienne replied, as pleasantly as ever. Sally slumped in her seat, fearing the worst. “But I'm sorry to say I can't.”

Sally bolted upright as the D.C. glared at his witness.

“What was that?” the D.C. asked.

“I'm sure many people will point their fingers at the creature in the monkey-bar jail over there, but I'm sorry, I just can't tell you without a doubt that he is the one who did it. I would if I had seen him with my own two eyes, but I didn't. I took an oath to answer your questions truthfully, and that's all any of us can be expected to do.”

Sally regarded the prosecution's witness in appreciation and amazement.

“Sally, do you have any questions for this witness?” Officer Stu asked.

“No, I don't,” she replied. “I think Mrs. Vanderperfect has said it all.”

Vivienne Vanderperfect stepped down from the witness stand, and Sally smiled at the woman who really had been her mother's friend.

At Officer Stu's request, Sally and the D.C. approached the bench. “Does the prosecution have any other witnesses, preferably ones who can speak directly to the accused's guilt?” Sally stifled a giggle as the D.C. growled.

“One final witness,” he replied. “The prosecution calls Thomas Gunn.”

Sally no longer felt like laughing. Why would the D.C. call Tommy? While she knew they had had their differences, she hadn't expected him to play for the other side. As Tommy took the stand, he kept his eyes trained on the ground. Sally heard a small cheer break out from the crowd. One of the PAD protestors was waving at Tommy. Sally shook her head in disbelief. It was his mom.

“Mr. Gunn, can you tell us about a particular fight you and the accused's owner had during recess a few months back?”

Tommy shrugged. “I wouldn't exactly call it a fight.”

The D.C. clarified, “Disagreement, then. When did it happen, and what was it about?”

Tommy stared at Sally for a long time without saying a word. She glared back at him until he finally looked away.

“It was the first day back at school after Skeletor, I mean, Bones, showed up at Viola Vanderperfect's birthday party,” Tommy explained. “I'd seen Sally arguing with you and Officer Stu earlier that morning and when I asked her about it, she freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” the D.C. asked. “How exactly did she ‘freak out'?”

“She yelled at me for getting her dumb dog's name wrong and then told me to get lost.” Tommy looked to Sally again. “I wasn't trying to make her mad. I just wanted to be nice.” The audience
aww
ed. Sally began to get scared.

“But if you were just being nice, Tommy, wouldn't you say that Miss Simplesmith's reaction had nothing to do with your actions and must have been because she was on edge trying to cover up her companion's crimes? Couldn't it be that she was taking her stress out on you?”

The audience leaned in, waiting for Tommy's accusation. Sally glanced back at Mrs. Gunn, who was hugging her picket sign and nodding to her son encouragingly. Somehow, Tommy Gunn had become an incredibly sympathetic witness for the prosecution.

“Maybe,” he finally replied. “But I wouldn't know for sure, because when I went to find her later at the garbage shed where we sometimes hang out—”

“Wha-what did you say?” the D.C. asked, flummoxed.

“I said I went looking for her at the garbage shed that we all know about and can go to any time we want.” Tommy glanced quickly at Sally, who could have sworn she saw him wink.

“No further questions for this witness,” the D.C. muttered quickly. “He's dismissed.”

Though the gathered crowd had not yet caught on, Sally understood exactly the opening Tommy had just given her.

“Wait, I have a question,” she said before Tommy had moved from his seat. “Tommy, you said that everyone knew about the garbage shed where Bones and I sometimes hung out, correct?”

“Yep,” he replied, coolly.

“So if everyone knew about it, anyone could have gone to it at any time, correct?”

“Yep.”

“Therefore it stands to reason that anyone who knew about it and had access to it could have put the stolen bones there, thus making the D.C.'s assertion that the stolen bones found in the shed could only have belonged to Bones incorrect. Correct?”

Tommy hit his forehead with the heel of his palm. “Gosh, I guess you're right. I suppose anyone who knew about the shed could have been the real bone snatcher. Maybe it wasn't Bones after all.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Sally said, and she meant it. “This witness is dismissed.”

As Tommy left the stand, the crowd heatedly discussed his testimony. Realizing he wouldn't quiet them any time soon, Officer Stu called a ten-minute recess.

“I'd like to wrap this up,” he told counsel as he headed inside the school for a bathroom break. “And I'd prefer not to have any more unreliable testimony about Bones's guilt or reference to the pile of bones found in an obviously public shed. Let's hear some new evidence, or let's go home.”

The D.C. stomped away, muttering words to himself that Sally was sure she was too young to hear. Though she tried to temper her elation, fully aware that the trial had not yet been won, she couldn't resist skipping a little as she headed over to give her client a hug.