The Case of the Disappearing Corpse by June Whyte

trouble, you are.” His scowl deepened as he peered over my shoulder. “And what’s that?”
    “Our guard dog.”
    I nodded at Leroy who sat squarely on his rear end, no more than an arm’s length away. You couldn’t miss him. He was the one panting, drooling and making sucking-up faces because he wanted me to pick him up and carry him.
    “But that’s just a fat bulldog.”
    When Sarah muttered, “Takes one to know one,” I thought it time to get on with business. “What have you done with Tayla?”
    “She’s in the office.” He indicated a room at the back of the warehouse. “She’s fine and as soon as you pass over what I want, you can have her.”
    Sam moved a step closer and pushed his sweaty face into mine. He looked pig mean. His face as hard and unmoving as the rough side of a mountain.
    “I’m not playing games any more, kid. Give me the microfilm…now.”
    “Not until you let Tayla go.”
    He snarled, his lip curling back like a dog ready to attack. “Don’t think you’ve got much say in the matter.”
    Where was a policeman when you needed one? I gazed hopefully around the wharf, but no strong, broad-shouldered rescuer stepped out from behind a wool bale. Not even a skinny one.
    All I could see was a white van parked in front of the warehouse with ALLPAINTS CO displayed on the side.
    Painters? My mind did a quick check through my memory-files and pulled up short. Heart skittering in alarm, I glanced down at the number plate. MARS 45. So the old guy wasn’t completely off his face after all. I stared into Sam’s cold hard eyes.
    Oh! Uh!
    Seemed like I’d found Frank’s killer.
    Which meant Sarah, Tayla and I were in more trouble than three fish in a frying-pan.

Eighteen
    Sam was one of the painter guys seen hanging around outside the church hall. But why follow Frank to Patsy’s house? Why kill him? Being mates, wouldn’t they be in this crooked deal together?
    And then there was the mystery of the pink handkerchief. Sam’s name didn’t start with a K. And he sure didn’t look the type to blow his nose on anything the size and color of a Barbie evening gown. So who dropped the handkerchief? Surely Sam didn’t bring his girlfriend along when he killed Frank.
    No matter how hard I tried, two and two weren’t adding up to four. Instead they were adding up to a whole heap of trouble…for Sarah, Tayla and me.
    There was no way Sam would let us walk away. Once he had what he wanted, we’d be dead. I needed time to work out a plan. It was my fault we were in this mess, so it was up to me to get us out of it.
    But how?
    Matching Sam eyeball for eyeball I went for the big bluff.
    “What if I didn’t bring the microfilm with me? What if I left it with my parents for safekeeping?”
    Wrong plan.
    For a big guy with a seriously fat stomach Sam certainly knew the right moves. With a dive that would do a goal-keeper proud he had his arm around Sarah’s throat before Leroy could haul himself up off the ground and show his ugly sharp teeth in a slobbering grin.
    “You!” Sam barked at me. “Give me the microfilm or I break your sister’s neck.”
    Sarah began to struggle but Sam grabbed one of her arms and roughly hooked it behind her back. She shot a glance at me, her mouth twisted in pain. Fear, surprise and panic showed in her eyes, making the whites around the pupils flare in the gathering darkness.
    Anger shot through me like a raging fire. I wanted to run at him with a baseball bat and use his head to hit a home run. Smiling Sammy from the Weapons Research Station had tricked us completely. He’d kidnapped Tayla, got me right where he wanted me and now he had Sarah in a death-grip.
    Just play it cool. Don’t do anything to upset him until he lets Sarah go.
    “Okay. Okay,” I said, holding my hands out, palms up. “I brought the microfilm with me. Now, let Sarah go.” While talking I moved closer to the side of the wharf and glanced down at the moving river below. “If not,” I