The Apple Bandit

  Contents

  Chapter 1: Apple Fun

  Chapter 2: The Applesauce-Eating Contest

  Chapter 3: Pony Paradise

  Chapter 4: Another Mystery

  Chapter 5: The Missing Apples

  Chapter 6: Climbing for Clues

  Chapter 7: A Hopeless Case?

  Chapter 8: An Unexpected Answer

  1

  Apple Fun

  Apples, apples, apples! I love apples!” Bess Marvin chanted.

  “Would you stop saying that?” George Fayne grumbled. “By the time we get there, I’m not going to want to hear anything else about apples, ever!”

  Eight-year-old Nancy Drew grinned at her two best friends, who were also cousins. The three of them were sitting in the backseat of Mrs. Fayne’s car as it drove down a country road.

  “Uh-oh, George,” Nancy teased. “That’s bad news, since we’re going to the River Heights Kids Apple Festival!”

  George’s mom smiled at the three girls in the rearview mirror. “That’s right,” she said. “And we’re almost there. Nancy, you’d better make sure Chip is on her leash before we get out of the car, okay?”

  “Okay.” Nancy leaned down and patted her puppy, Chocolate Chip. She was lying on the car floor on top of Nancy’s feet.

  “Did you hear that, Chip?” Bess said. “You have to stay on your leash. There will probably be lots of other dogs at the Apple Festival. Some of them might not be as friendly as you are.”

  When she heard Bess say her name, Chip let out a bark. She jumped onto Nancy’s lap, then bounced over to George’s.

  “Quit it.” George giggled, pushing the wriggling puppy onto Bess. “Chip, your claws tickle!”

  Nancy reached over and clipped Chip’s leash to her collar. “There,” she said. “Now we’re ready to go.”

  “Good,” Mrs. Fayne said. “Because we’re here!”

  It was a bright, sunny Friday afternoon in autumn. Mrs. Fayne stopped the car in the parking lot of a pick-your-own fruit farm. In the summer people came from miles around to pick their own fresh berries, peaches, cherries, and other produce. In the autumn they came for the juicy apples and pears.

  “Now, don’t go crazy, Bess,” Mrs. Fayne joked. “Make sure you leave enough apples for everybody else in town.”

  “Fat chance!” George said with a laugh. “When Bess is around, nobody else in the family ever gets to eat an apple.”

  “Or apple pie,” Mrs. Fayne added.

  “Or applesauce,” Nancy joined in with a grin.

  Bess giggled. “Or apple cider, or apple turnovers, or apple brown betty . . .”

  Still laughing, they walked over to the ticket booth.

  “I’ll buy you girls each a weekend pass,” Mrs. Fayne said as she handed some money to the ticket taker. “You still want to come back tomorrow, right?”

  “Definitely!” Bess answered.

  Nancy nodded. They knew they would only have a short time today before it got dark, but tomorrow they could have the whole day here.

  “We definitely need to come back tomorrow,” she said. “Otherwise we’ll never have enough time to see everything.”

  “Or taste everything,” Bess added.

  “Okay, then.” Mrs. Fayne handed each girl a ticket. “Hold on to these. Ready to go inside?”

  “Ready!” the girls all cried.

  Nancy kept a tight hold on Chip’s leash as she entered the festival grounds. There were lots of dogs everywhere inside—and lots of people, too.

  The festival entrance was in a big, open area in front of an old farmhouse. To one side were rows and rows of fruit trees. Sprinklers were spraying water along several of the rows. Nancy guessed that the orchard workers had to water the trees when the weather was dry and sunny, as it had been for the past couple of weeks.

  On the other side of the central area there was a grassy hillside. It led up toward steep, wooded bluffs at the back of the property. Nearby stood a large red barn and several other outbuildings. For the festival several tents and food stands were set up here and there.

  “Look, there’s an information board.” George pointed to a large bulletin board covered with a map and lots of other signs and notices. The heading INFORMATION was written across the top in big red letters.

  Nancy followed her friends over to the information board. She had to keep trying to pull Chip away from other dogs walking by.

  “Quit it, Chip.” Nancy pointed to a big, handwritten notice on the sign. “All dogs have to stay on leash. See? It says so right there.”

  Chip barked. Then she sat down on Nancy’s feet and wagged her tail.

  “My dad told me that the owner of this farm has a bunch of big dogs that run around loose all the time,” Bess said. “He said the farm dogs are nice to people, but they chase away other animals. They’re supposed to guard the fruit from raccoons and groundhogs and stuff.”

  “I guess that’s probably one reason other dogs aren’t allowed to be off their leashes,” Nancy said, looking down at Chip.

  Just then Mrs. Fayne smiled and waved to someone in the crowd. “There’s Mrs. Karoli over there,” she told the girls. “I’m going to go over and say hello. Will you three be all right on your own for a while?”

  “Sure, Mom,” George replied. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Stay together at all times,” Mrs. Fayne told them. “We’ll meet right back here at four forty-five. And please keep a tight hold on Chip, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, we will,” Nancy promised. “See you at four forty-five.”

  After Mrs. Fayne left, the girls looked at the information board again. Now that she was closer, Nancy saw a printed schedule of events, several notices advertising different games and food booths, and even a poster about pony rides.

  “I don’t know what we should do first,” George said. “Should we get a snack, or play some games first?”

  “Snack first,” Bess suggested, licking her lips eagerly.

  “I wouldn’t mind checking out the pony rides,” Nancy added. She and her friends loved ponies and sometimes took riding lessons at a local stable.

  “Ooh! Look! It says there are hayrides, too,” Bess said. “Oh, now I really can’t decide what we should do!”

  “Sounds like we have a real mystery on our hands,” Nancy joked. “Maybe I should get out my notebook.”

  She patted her pocket. That was where she had tucked her mystery notebook.

  Nancy loved to solve mysteries. She was good at it too. She always wrote down the clues and suspects for each new case in her special notebook. Nancy wasn’t really expecting to find a mystery at the Apple Festival. But she knew that mysteries could pop up where she least expected, so she liked to carry her notebook with her all the time—just in case.

  “Ha-ha, very funny,” Bess said with a smile. “I think we can figure this one out without your notebook. Maybe we should stop at the food stand for a quick snack of cider and donuts, and then—”

  “No!” George interrupted loudly. She stabbed one finger at the board, looking anxious. “We have to hurry!”

  2

  The Applesauce-Eating Contest

  What?” Nancy nervously asked George. “What’s wrong?”

  “Look!” George pointed again.

  Nancy read the sign her friend pointed to:

  APPLESAUCE-EATING CONTEST

  COME ONE, COME ALL!

  EVERY DAY ON THE FARMHOUSE PORCH.

  SHOW OFF YOUR EATING ABILITY AND

  WIN PRIZES.

  WINNERS FROM EACH DAY’S CONTEST

  WILL COMPETE AGAINST ONE ANOTHER IN

  THE BIG FINALE.

  The sign continued:

  GRAND PRIZE:

  A BUSHEL OF THE VERY NEW, VERY RA
RE,

  VERY DELICIOUS RIVER HEIGHTS RED:

  A BRAND-NEW VARIETY OF APPLE GROWN

  RIGHT HERE AT OUR ORCHARD!

  BE THE FIRST ONE IN TOWN TO TASTE THIS

  OUTSTANDING NEW APPLE!

  At the bottom of the notice was a list of times for different age groups on different days. Nancy gasped. “Bess, you should enter this! You’d win for sure.”

  “No duh,” George said. “But look, her age group is starting in less than five minutes!”

  Bess was already rushing off into the crowd. “Come on!” she cried over her shoulder. “We have to hurry!”

  The three girls raced toward the farmhouse. Chip loped along at Nancy’s heels, panting happily.

  They arrived just in time to sign up Bess for the contest. “Whew!” George said as a festival worker handed Bess a contestant’s badge. “That was close!”

  The festival worker smiled. “You’d better get up there and find a seat,” she told Bess. “The contest will be starting any minute now. Good luck!”

  “She won’t need luck,” George told the worker confidently. “Bess is an apple-eating machine!”

  Bess giggled. She thanked the festival worker and hurried up the porch steps. There was a long table set up on the porch, and Nancy counted ten other kids already seated behind it.

  Nancy and George found a spot to sit on the grass in front of the porch. There were lots of other people watching too.

  “Good luck, Bess!” Nancy shouted to her friend, shifting Chip’s leash to her other hand.

  Bess waved and smiled as she sat down. “Thanks, Nancy!” she called back.

  Meanwhile George was checking out Bess’s competition. “Look, there’s Phoebe Archer,” she whispered, nudging Nancy. “And Kyle Leddington, too.”

  Nancy nodded. “Isn’t that Laura Anderson from the other third-grade class sitting at the end?” she asked.

  “Probably,” George replied. “The sign said second and third graders are in this group.”

  “I don’t recognize most of the other kids,” Nancy said. “They must go to other schools.”

  “Yeah,” George agreed. “Luckily, most of them don’t look like big eaters. Especially that kid.” She pointed to a short, skinny boy with red hair who was seated on Bess’s left.

  Nancy felt her arm jerk to the side as Chip jumped up and barked. When she turned to see what the puppy was barking at, Nancy saw George’s mother walking toward them.

  “Hi, girls,” Mrs. Fayne said. “Having fun so far?”

  “Look, Mom,” George said, pointing to the porch. “Bess just entered the applesauce-eating contest!”

  “Oh, my.” Mrs. Fayne laughed. “I hope those other kids know what they’re up against!”

  Just then a tall, ruddy-faced man wearing overalls stepped up onto the porch. He was smiling and holding a microphone.

  “Hello, everyone!” he said. “I’m John Helmer, the owner of this orchard. Welcome to the second-and-third-grade heat of our applesauce-eating contest!”

  The crowd cheered. The contestants on the porch clapped and smiled.

  “Go, Bess!” George shouted.

  “Whooo!” Nancy cheered as loudly as she could.

  Even Chip joined in by barking.

  Finally Mr. Helmer held up his hands, and the crowd quieted down again. “Okay, before we get started, I thought our contestants should know what they’re playing for,” he said with a wink. “May I present the River Heights Red!”

  He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out a large, shiny red apple. Setting it on the end of the long table, he opened a pocketknife and quickly sliced it into a dozen pieces.

  “The winner of each heat will get the chance to compete for a whole bushel of these beauties,” he said. “Now, I’m going to give the contestants a little taste.”

  He handed out the apple slices to the kids on the porch. Nancy watched as Bess popped her slice into her mouth.

  “Wow!” Bess shouted loudly as soon as she’d chewed and swallowed. “That apple tastes great!”

  The watching crowd laughed. “Bess sure does love apples,” Mrs. Fayne commented.

  Mr. Helmer smiled at Bess. “I’m glad you like it,” he said.

  “Like it? I love it!” Bess declared. “Now I know I’m going to win this contest—I’d do anything for a whole bushel of those apples!”

  “No way!” Kyle Leddington called out. “I’m going to win those apples!”

  “No, me!” several others added.

  Mr. Helmer chuckled as the crowd laughed again. “Sounds like it’s a good thing I have that prize bushel of River Heights Reds hidden away out of sight!” he teased. “Especially with this young lady around!” He pointed at Bess.

  Nancy smiled, but she was distracted by a loud bark nearby. She glanced over, just in case a dog was coming toward Chip.

  She saw a large dalmatian, sitting quietly at its owner’s feet. Then she saw another woman standing near the dalmatian.

  The woman looked a little older than Nancy’s dad. She was wearing a brown jacket with pictures of fruit all over it and leaning on a carved wooden walking stick. She was staring up at the porch, just like the rest of the crowd. But instead of smiling or cheering like everyone else, she was scowling angrily.

  That’s strange, Nancy thought. She doesn’t look like she’s having much fun. . . .

  Just then Mr. Helmer announced that the contest was about to start. Returning her attention to the porch, Nancy saw several festival workers holding huge trays stacked with big bowls of applesauce. They set a bowl in front of each contestant.

  “Ready . . . set . . . go!” Mr. Helmer cried.

  Up on the porch the contestants eagerly began slurping the applesauce. Bess kept her face close to the bowl, scooping up spoonful after spoonful without pausing for breath.

  “Go, Bess!” Nancy screamed at the top of her lungs.

  All around her the rest of the crowd was yelling too. Excited by the noise, Chip ran around Nancy until her leash was all tangled. But Nancy hardly noticed. She kept her gaze trained on Bess, even as she stepped out of the leash loop.

  “She’s winning! She’s winning!” George shrieked.

  “Go, Bess! Eat, girl!” Mrs. Fayne yelled.

  “And we have a winner!” Mr. Helmer stepped forward, clapping his hands and moving along behind the contestants.

  Nancy gasped. “What?” she cried. “Did Bess finish?”

  But instead of stopping behind Bess, Mr. Helmer stepped over to the skinny, red-haired boy. He patted him on the head.

  “Excellent eating, young man,” Mr. Helmer said. “You have the best time so far today!”

  The boy lifted both skinny arms over his head. His face was covered in goopy applesauce.

  The crowd cheered. Nancy clapped politely, even though she was disappointed that Bess hadn’t won.

  “Oh, well,” she said. “It looks like Bess probably came in second, at least.”

  “Yes, she did very well,” Mrs. Fayne agreed.

  George scowled. “Rats,” she said. “I wanted her to win. Now she won’t get a prize—she ate all that applesauce for nothing!”

  Her mother chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “For Bess, the applesauce was probably its own reward.”

  Up on the porch Mr. Helmer told the winner to come back the next day for the finals. Then he pulled a sheaf of papers out of his pocket.

  “As for the rest of you, very good job,” he said. “As a consolation prize, I have festival coupons for all of you. You can use them for the hayride, or the pony rides, or the other games and activities this weekend. Thanks for playing!”

  3

  Pony Paradise

  Well, that was fun,” Mrs. Fayne said. “I’ll see you girls again at four forty-five as we planned, all right?”

  “Right,” George said.

  “Nancy, do you want me to take Chip for a while?” Mrs. Fayne added. “If you girls want to use Bess’s coupon o
n the pony rides, it’s probably better if Chip doesn’t come along.”

  Nancy glanced down at her puppy. Chip’s leash was tangled around her ankles again. “Oh, that’s true,” she said. “That would be great—if you don’t mind taking her.”

  “Not at all.” Mrs. Fayne smiled and helped Nancy untangle herself. Then she took Chip’s leash, waved, and headed off into the crowd.

  Nancy and George walked toward the porch to meet Bess. It felt a little strange not to have to watch out for Chip. But Nancy soon forgot about that when she saw Bess’s disappointed, applesauce-covered face.

  “You did great,” Nancy told her. “Um, I would give you a hug. But . . . you know.” She giggled and pointed to the applesauce dripping from Bess’s chin and down her front.

  Bess looked down and smiled. “Oops,” she said. “Oh well. I can’t believe I didn’t win!”

  “Me neither,” George agreed. “But at least you got that coupon. Where do you want to use it?”

  “Pony rides,” Bess said immediately. “Seeing some cute ponies will help me forget that I won’t be getting those River Heights Reds.” She licked her lips. “That’s one delicious apple! I wish I knew where Mr. Helmer was hiding them so I could sneak one!”

  Nancy grinned. She knew her friend was joking—Bess would never actually steal anything, even an apple. But it was obvious that she’d really enjoyed her bite of the River Heights Red.

  “Maybe you can talk your parents into buying you some,” she said. “I think they’re going on sale right after the festival.”

  One of the festival workers handed a paper towel to Bess. She wiped her face. Then the girls went back to the information board to find out where the pony rides were.

  “There they are on the map.” George pointed. “It looks like they’re way up at the top of the hill.”

  Nancy turned and looked up the steep hill that rose along one side of the farmhouse. “They probably put the rides way up there so the noise of the festival doesn’t bother the ponies,” she guessed.

  George giggled. “And so the smell of the ponies doesn’t bother the festival,” she added. “Come on, let’s go check it out!”