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inform the police immediately,’ Mr Winkleberry said, snatching the note back from me. ‘And the less we handle it the better, they might want to check it for fingerprints.’
    Gran was reluctant to get the police involved, not wanting to put Fluffy’s life in danger, but she eventually agreed to call them first thing in the morning. She put the note in the top drawer of the dresser in the private lounge, where she kept all her important papers.
    I wanted another look at the note before the police took it away. Gran usually got up at 7.00 am to cook breakfast, so I set the alarm on my phone for 6.30 am the next morning, and crept downstairs. As I went through the kitchen, I was surprised to find the back door slightly open. Gran always made sure that all the doors were locked before she went to bed at night. Then, I heard someone talking quietly. I peered out of the crack in the door and saw Mrs McFarlane talking on her cellphone.
    ‘With Fluffy out of the picture, Maisy-May is bound to win the show, John, then all your worries will be over,’ she said.
    Maisy-May. Wasn’t that Mr Mudlark’s dog? Was Mrs McFarlane speaking to Mr Mudlark? I strained my ears, but Mrs McFarlane had walked further down the garden and I couldn’t hear anymore. A few minutes later, she ended the call and started to head back towards the house. I hurried into the private lounge and closed the door, trying to digest this new information:
    Mrs McFarlane knew Mr Mudlark.
    She had got out of bed early so she could phone Mr Mudlark without anyone – even her husband – knowing. She had said that now Fluffy was out of the way, Maisy-May would win.
    Were Mrs McFarlane and Mr Mudlark in this together, so that Maisy-May would win the show? But why would that solve all Mr Mudlark’s worries? I thought the winners just got a cup or rosette. Did they get money too?
    I opened the dresser drawer, took out the note and read it again. It could be important evidence that I might need to refer to later. I took a photo of it with my cellphone, made a new folder called ‘Fluffy File’ and saved it to that, then put it back in the drawer. I was on my way upstairs when the front door opened and Emily walked in. She looked very surprised to see me.
    ‘You’re up early, Amy,’ she said. ‘Is there any news on Fluffy.’
    ‘Gran had a ransom note last night.’ I said casually. ‘It looks like someone might have kidnapped Fluffy for the money.’
    Emily frowned. ‘Or maybe someone’s pretending they’ve got her so that they can get some money from your Gran.’
    ‘Yep, we’ve thought of that too,’ I nodded. ‘What do you think has happened to Fluffy?’ I asked. ‘Do you think she’s been dognapped?’
    ‘I don’t know, Amy, but Fluffy is a lovely dog and I’m sure if someone has taken her, they won’t harm her,’ Emily replied. ‘Now, I need to jump in the shower. I got talking to a friend last night and ended up sleeping on her sofa.’
    ‘Okay, see you later,’ I told her.
    Emily was halfway up the stairs when she turned to me. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself for Fluffy disappearing, Amy. It wasn’t your fault.’
    ‘Thanks,’ I replied. But I did blame myself – and so did everyone else, except Emily – and I was determined to do everything in my power to put things right by getting Fluffy back.
    I went to my room, took out my notepad, turned to a clean page and wrote:
    Ransom Note: Who could have sent it?
    I turned back to my list of suspects and frowned. I hadn’t managed to rule out any of them yet. Except maybe Mrs Brewson. She was hardly likely to be keeping Fluffy a prisoner with that crazy pit bull around, was she?
    What about Mr Winkleberry? He’d been quick to get Gran out of the house tonight after the phone call. Maybe he was working with an accomplice? But he liked Gran. Surely he wouldn’t try and take £2,000 from her. I shook my head. No, he wouldn’t do that. He’d made it clear that he thought the ransom