The First Adventure (2 page)

Everyone knew the newcomer all too well. He was the last person anyone had expected to see — or wanted to.

S. Wendell Palomino, better known to Griffin and his friends as Swindle.

The name brought back horrible memories. Swindle had once owned the collectibles shop where Luthor had been a guard dog. The storekeeper had cheated Griffin out of a Babe Ruth baseball card worth nearly a million dollars. In the end, Swindle had left town in disgrace, deserting Luthor at the dog pound. Savannah had adopted him instantly. It had all worked out okay.

Or so everyone had thought.

“What's
he
doing here?” Pitch demanded, voicing the question on all their minds.

Swindle beamed. “Simple, little lady. I'm not here to trouble any of you young people. I just came to pick up my dog.”

The collective gasp nearly sucked all the air out of the house.

Savannah found her voice at last. “
Your
dog? You abandoned him!”

Palomino's smile didn't waver. “We got separated a while back,” he admitted. “I appreciate your looking out for him while I was tracking him down again.”

“I don't
look out
for Luthor!” Savannah almost blew a gasket. “He's a part of me, and I'm a part of him, and we love each other with all our souls! Someone like you wouldn't know anything about that! I'm amazed you bothered to drop him at the pound instead of leaving him to starve! If it hadn't been for me —”

Swindle's smile turned suddenly ugly. “If it hadn't been for you kids, I would still have my business and my home and my good reputation in this community! All I have left is my beloved pet.”

Griffin could always smell a rat, and the rat smell coming off of Swindle had nothing to do with Savannah's menagerie of pets. “Wait a minute!” he said. “You don't care about Luthor! You've been reading about how he almost won the big dog show! You just want him because you think he'll make you some money! That's low, even for you!”

Palomino's huge eyes narrowed. “Don't think I've forgotten
you,
sonny boy. Your little plan ruined my life! Lucky for you, I've got no hard feelings. I'll take my dog and be on my way.”

Griffin stepped in front of the Doberman, his arms folded in front of him. “If you want Luthor, you're going to have to go through me.”

“And me,” Ben added immediately, joining his friend. Ferret Face appeared out of his collar, looking defiant.

One by one, the others formed a phalanx between the Doberman and his former owner.

Luthor let out an angry bark, as if letting them all know that he was quite capable of protecting himself.

Swindle reversed a step. “Funny thing. The dog pound can't find any paperwork from when I supposedly left Luthor there.” He turned to address Savannah. “Which means you never legally adopted him, since he wasn't free to be legally adopted. At least, that's what my lawyer says.”

That was all Savannah needed to hear.
“Mom! Dad!”

Her parents were out of earshot in the backyard, laying down a portable doggie dance floor. Pitch ran to get them, but Swindle held his ground on the doorstep.

“The law's on my side,” he said with sinister glee. “I will get my dog back. And when I do, I'll make sure you never, ever see him again.”

With that, S. Wendell Palomino spun on his heel and left. By the time Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale came running in with Pitch, he was gone.

The party was over.

T
he Inn at Cedarville occupied a beautiful stone structure that had originally been built before the Civil War.

“He has to be a guest here,” Griffin explained to Ben as they entered the lobby. “It's the only hotel in town.”

“Right,” Ben agreed nervously. “He can't be staying with friends. Who'd be friends with a creep like Swindle?”

Griffin picked up a house phone. “Swindle's — I mean, S. Wendell Palomino's room, please,” he told the operator.

When the woman put the call through, Griffin flashed his friend a triumphant grin. But after several rings brought no reply, he hung up, deflated. “He's not there.”

Ben's sigh was one part disappointment and ninety-nine parts relief. “Let's get out of here. My mother told me not to go anywhere near Swindle now that he's back in town.”

Griffin's sharp eyes scanned the lobby, lighting on a pudgy figure alone at a table in the restaurant. “There he is. He's having breakfast.”

The boys entered the small coffee shop and approached their enemy. “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Palomino,” Griffin said.

Swindle fixed them with a phony smile. “Well, what have we here? A delegation from the Breaking and Entering Club. I thought you might show up.”

“We just wanted to say we're sorry we caused you so much trouble last time,” Griffin lied. In reality, he wasn't sorry at all. On the contrary, he had never been quite so thrilled with the way one of his plans had worked out. “We didn't mean to close down your store and get you run out of town.”

Palomino leaned back from his breakfast. “Well, sonny boy, sorry doesn't butter the biscuit. So you can tell your friend Savannah that I'm still taking back my dog, no matter how sorry everybody is.”

Griffin hung his head. “We're okay with that. Even Savannah understands. We won the last round, and you won this one.”

“We've got no hard feelings,” Ben added, holding Ferret Face inside his shirt to prevent him from making a dive for Swindle's side order of sausage.

Palomino beamed all over his nasty face. “Really? No kidding.”

Griffin nodded. “But just between us, you
did
give up that dog, didn't you? It's just bad luck that the Cedarville pound lost the proof.”

Swindle yawned elaborately, stretching his arms over his head. Then, in a lightning move, he reached across the table and ripped open the front of Griffin's shirt, sending buttons flying. There, taped to the chest of The Man With The Plan, was a small recorder, operating light flashing.

“What am I supposed to say, that I lied about not giving up the dog? Fine — I'm wrong; you're right. And good luck playing this for anybody.” He ripped the small machine off Griffin's skin, and plopped it into his orange juice. “Oops.”

Griffin stared in dismay. He'd only bought the recorder yesterday for this particular mission. “Aw, come on, Mr. Palomino! Can't we let bygones be bygones?”

“They're not bygones to me!” Swindle snapped. “You kids wrecked my life and there's payback for that! I'm taking the dog. He's worth a fortune on the show circuit, and with the breeders after that. And when he's no good for that anymore, I'll sell him to the highest bidder, and I don't care if he ends up guarding a junkyard in Death Valley, where the rattlesnakes will show him who's boss.”

Ben was so horrified that he let go of Ferret Face, who devoured half a sausage patty before he could be recaptured. “You can't mean that!”

“I'm not finished,” Palomino said with diabolical satisfaction. “Once I've squeezed every cent I can get out of that mangy mutt, I'm coming back to Cedarville, where I'm going to make a career out of
you
.”

“Us?” the boys chorused.

“I intend to devote my time and considerable fortune to making your lives miserable.”

Griffin reddened. “You can't get away with harassing people who haven't done anything wrong.”

Swindle fished the dripping recorder out of his juice. “Neither of you lunkheads has the brains to rig something like this, so I'm guessing this is the work of your electronically gifted friend Melissa. Well, the next time she hacks into some secure website where she's not supposed to be, I'll be there to tell the police exactly who to talk to. When there are footprints on someone's roof, I'll point out the Benson girl. Hacker, climber, actor, animal trainer. And you and your little flunky — one step out of line and you're done. I'll have you all up on charges, and I won't back down until I've blackened your lives the way you blackened mine. Thinking of going to college, getting a decent job? Not with your records. You'll rue the day you ever heard the name S. Wendell Palomino. Now get out. You've already ruined my orange juice!”

Griffin and Ben were too shocked to reply. It had been Griffin's idea to try to trick a recorded confession out of Swindle, but the ploy had more than backfired. Neither could have imagined the terrible anger of this man, who technically had nothing to be angry about.
He
was the thief who had cheated
them
. They had merely taken back what was rightfully theirs.

At that moment, Palomino's intentions became clear in all their elaborate malice. No planner could fail to recognize someone else's plan. Luthor was only the beginning. This went far beyond money or a show dog.

It was Swindle's revenge.

E
XCERPT FROM COURT TRANSCRIPT 5037221,
S
TATE OF
N
EW
Y
ORK,
C
OUNTY OF
N
ASSAU

T
HE
H
ONORABLE
J
UDGE
F
RANKLIN
B
ITTNER PRESIDING . . .

. . . Since there is no evidence that Mr. Palomino ever relinquished ownership of the dog, Luthor, it is the decision of this court that Ms. Drysdale's adoption was never legal and binding. Therefore, the court finds in favor of the plaintiff, S. Wendell Palomino, and further orders Ms. Drysdale to turn Luthor over to his rightful owner on or before August 9, 12 p.m., Eastern Daylight Saving Time . . .

G
riffin and Ben had expected floods of tears from poor Savannah when the court's decision came down. But her cold fury was infinitely more terrible to behold. She paced around Griffin's room like a caged tiger, her normally fair features red and approaching magenta.

“What kind of stupid judge makes a decision like that without even asking Luthor what he prefers? How can he give that sweet, innocent, sensitive animal to
Swindle
, of all people? Anyone who bothers to look can see that Luthor hates him!”

“Maybe that's the answer right there,” Ben put in. “We don't have to do anything to stop Swindle. Luthor's all the firepower we need. The first minute Swindle turns his back, Luthor'll have his lungs out and be hanging them off the chandelier!”

“That's even worse!” Savannah exclaimed in horror. “Do you know what happens to a dog who attacks a human? He gets put down because he's vicious! Luthor's not vicious; he wouldn't hurt a fly!”

“Face it, Savannah,” said Ben quietly. “He would hurt a fly. I mean, I like him, too. But he would hurt a whole swarm of flies.”

Griffin was finding Savannah's anger contagious. “Swindle!” he spat. “I never thought that guy would have the nerve to show his face in Cedarville again! You think he cares whether Luthor likes him or not? Forget it! To him, a famous dog is no different than a Babe Ruth card — money in the bank!”

“Can't your parents appeal the judge's decision?” Ben asked Savannah. “On TV, that kind of case stretches on for years.”

“We thought of that, too,” she replied miserably. “Our lawyer says we'd still have to give up Luthor while the appeal is pending. I can't hand him over to that awful man, not even for five minutes!”

Griffin shook his head. “That's no good. By the time the appeal goes through, Swindle will already be rich off Luthor, and heading back east to use his money to ruin our lives.”

Savannah was disgusted. “Luthor's in danger, but let's never forget that this is really all about
you
.”

“It's about every single one of us!” Ben insisted. “He's out to get you, too. He said so! I heard it with my own ears.”

“I don't care about myself; I care about Luthor! We need a
plan
!”

“Swindle has a court order,” Griffin tried to explain. “If you don't obey it, you're breaking the law.”