The story so far...Roscoe, the family pet, returns after several days missing carrying a denture in his mouth. Mom and Dad want to find the owner, knowing the denture is vital and expensive. They divide up and visit the neighbors. Belle angers the Swensons when she asks if they're missing their teeth. None of them find the owner.





Monday after school, I rode with Dad to our local newspaper headquarters. Mr. Cordova invited us into his office. There was a mess of newspapers all over a long table, as well as piles of photos. He was sitting behind his desk with glasses low on his nose. Two computer monitors with different screens stared at him. Leaning back with his hands behind his head, he smiled at us. Dad knew him from bowling league. "What brings you here on a Monday afternoon?"

Dad told him the story about Roscoe's teeth, and Mr. Cordova laughed. "What a crazy thing! You have some strange dog. I wonder how he got into someone's house to take the teeth?"

"And even more, how he got the teeth. I mean, you'd think if the person wasn't wearing them, they'd be in a bowl of water on a sink, not just laying around for some curious dog." They were both silent, trying to imagine the scene.

"Anyway," Dad continued, "we want to put an ad in the classified section. I'm assuming it's someone local and probably elderly. Seems like the newspaper is our best shot to find the owner. They still read the real thing and not a computer screen."

"We can certainly help you out there and have the ad in Wednesday's paper." Mr. Cordova leaned forward and looked closely at Dad. "But you might also investigate who in town makes false teeth. Do you think there's any identification on the plate?"

Dad laughed. "I doubt it. No one would expect his denture to get lost or stolen. I mean, he keeps his teeth in his mouth. Besides, let's face it. No one else would want them."

"Except Roscoe," I piped in.

"Except Roscoe," Dad repeated, "and we're lucky he didn't chew the plate to pieces like his toys." He stroked his chin. "But your suggestion gives me an idea. I should contact the dentists in town. Maybe they can call all their patients who have been fitted for dentures to see if anyone is missing their teeth. Someone somewhere is probably pretty upset."

Mr. Cordova opened his desk drawer and got out a form. "Ok, let's put together the facts for your ad."

When we got home, Grandma was sitting in the kitchen talking to Mom. Steam floated over a cup of tea on the table in front of her. They were chatting and laughing. In the middle of the table was the bowl with the denture in it. "So you see," Mom said, "We have ourselves quite a problem with Roscoe's treasure."

Mom looked up at Dad and raised her eyebrows. "Well, did you get the ad in the paper?"

"Yep." Dad took off his jacket and hung it in the hall on a hook. "It'll be in Wednesday's paper. I put the ad in for a week. We can always extend it if need be. But I figure anyone who is missing teeth would be frantically checking everywhere, including the paper." Dad took out a handful of vegetables and a bag of rice to start making supper.

"Well, I can tell you I'd be miserable if I lost my denture," Grandma replied, shaking her head.

I whipped around and stared at her mouth. "I didn't even know you had false teeth!" I'd never really thought about teeth, real or fake, until Roscoe came home with his mystery teeth. I wondered who else wore false teeth, maybe Mrs. Tornberg, my math teacher. She was the oldest teacher in our school and supposedly retiring at the end of the year. Maybe Coach Moritz, who took our basketball team to the championship last year, had fake teeth. He was Hannah's grandpa.

"Can you take them out, Grandma? I want to see if they look like the thing Roscoe brought home."

"I should say not! I don't look right without my plate." She smiled at me. Her teeth were white and even. "Besides, it's just a partial," she said defensively. "I still have some of my own teeth on top."

Still staring at her mouth, I asked, "How do you keep them in?

"They attach to my real teeth on each side and snap in place."

"Do they wiggle?" I asked. Grandma laughed out loud.

"That's enough, Belle!" Mom said sternly.

"Oh, it's okay. She's just curious." Grandma looked at me. "I use some stuff like glue that I put on the plate every day so the plate stays in place."

"What plate?" asked Jordan, who'd just walked into the kitchen bouncing a basketball. His cheeks were rosy red from the cold weather. "Are we getting ready for dinner? Where are the plates? I'm starving."

We all laughed, and Mom stood up. "Well, it's time to change the subject anyway. Now that you mention plates, Jordan, please set the table."

"It's not my turn," he complained, trying to quickly head out of the kitchen and avoid the task.

"Don't argue. Do as I say." He began taking down the plates while still holding his basketball.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Mom said impatiently. "Go put your basketball away first, or you'll break something."

Still, it was two days since Roscoe had brought home the denture, and we were no further ahead. I wondered if we'd ever find the poor person who was missing his teeth...