The next morning when Mrs. Stevens and Mike went into the barn to feed the dogs, they were happily surprised to find Emma and Yeti asleep together on the hay. Mike gave Emma a big hug that, after a moment, they both found a little embarrassing.
As Emma explained her adventure, Mrs. Stevens and Mike were both awed and angered. “Dogfights?” Mrs. Stevens exclaimed. “Norman Doyle selling dogs to dogfights?!” Mrs. Stevens immediately called Coach Cullimore for advice. He came out to the farm and had a long talk with Emma. While Emma admitted that she had stretched the truth a bit in the past, she insisted that this time her story was true.
Coach Cullimore believed her. It was a talent he had: looking into the eyes of kids and knowing if they were telling the truth or not. He told Mrs. Stevens that they should report the dogfights and Norman’s involvement to the mayor. Mrs. Stevens was skeptical.
“You just haven’t lived here long enough to understand how it works,” Cathy told the coach. “They’re brothers.”
“Look, did we come through on feeding the dogs or not?”
Cathy had to admit that they had.
“Come on, let’s do it!”
The coach’s enthusiasm was convincing, and Cathy had no choice but to agree. Coach gave Cathy a big kiss on the forehead, making her laugh.
They took Emma into town and into the mayor’s office. It was big and paneled in wood and very brown with importance. Nobel Doyle sat at his desk behind a large brass nameplate that announced that he was the mayor of Doverville, which, of course, everyone already knew. But he loved that nameplate and had it polished every day.
“And you did all that to save a dog?” Mayor Doyle said with disbelief after Emma had explained about the dogfights.
“She was Mikey’s dog. And I had promised him.”
“Tell the mayor about the other man you saw,” the coach said to Emma, “and about the money.”
“Hello, folks!” Norman Doyle entered the room all smiles tinged with venom, holding old Scratch. “Sorry I’m late.”
Late? Cathy and the coach and Emma had not even known he was invited.
“Norman!” Nobel happily greeted his brother, and then turned to Emma. “Well, who was this other man you say you saw, young lady?”
Emma felt something at the back of her neck, something cold and crawling. She turned and looked up at Norman, who was standing behind her. It had been his eyes, staring out of his malevolent face, which had bored into the back of her neck. And now they said silently: Don’t talk; don’t you dare talk.
“Well, who was it you saw, young lady?” the mayor asked again, impatient with this little girl.
Emma remembered her bravery of the night before, but also the danger. “It was pretty dark.”
“Too dark to see their faces?”
“It was night,” Emma said in a near mumble. She felt as if Norman had not just his eyes but his cold, clammy hands on the back of her neck.
“So,” the mayor suggested with a hint of triumph, “you really couldn’t see the men at all?”
Concerned, the coach put an encouraging hand on Emma’s left shoulder; Mrs. Stevens put her hand on
Emma’s right and gave it a tender squeeze. There was warmth there, warmth enough to drive away the cold and clammy. Emma looked back up at Norman. His face was no longer malevolent, just dumb and mean. “The lanterns made it pretty bright; I could see their faces just fine.” Norman’s face now was not just dumb but dumbstruck. “Mr. Doyle, the dogcatcher, was the man who took the money.”
There, done, Emma thought, relieved, this should be the end of it. But instead of the mayor immediately ordering the arrest of Norman, he sat there in disbelief.
“You say it was Norman?” Not my baby brother, the mayor thought. She must be mistaken.
But Emma confirmed it. “Yes, sir.”
Mayor Doyle placed two hands on his desk and rose up from his chair to look down at the accuser of his beloved little brother. “I can assure you, young lady, that none of the scalawags you say you saw were civil servants of this town, and it certainly wasn’t my brother.”
“She is telling the truth, your honor.” The coach came to Emma’s defense.
“Well, let us be honest with one another now. We are at great odds over the issue of dogs. Why, you might even say that Mrs. Stevens and I are commanders of opposing forces. Any tactic you may use, including this farfetched accusation of my brother, is understandable. But really, Mrs. Stevens, getting a child to lie for you!”
Mrs. Stevens tried to protest, but the mayor was in a speech-making mood.
“It will surprise you, my dear Mrs. Stevens, but I am not personally against dogs. I am only for the law. I ran on a dogless platform, and dogless Doverville shall be! Unless and until the Town Council changes the law, I am duty-bound. And so is my brother, Norman.”
Cathy, the coach, and Emma left the mayor’s office more troubled than when they had arrived.