The Blue Herring Mystery (4 page)

“No,” said Professor Kloop, “that’s a sturgeon. They used to be more plentiful in the North River than they are now. They used to be called ‘Albany beef.’ We’re going to label him as the fish who caught himself.”

“How?” exclaimed both boys at once.

“Well, he wasn’t caught by a fisherman with a hook or a net,” said young Professor Kloop, smiling. “Some people were crossing the river, right near here, in a big rowboat — there weren’t any steam ferries or motorboats in those days, of course — and when they were almost across, suddenly, whoosh! — up jumped this big sturgeon out of the water, clear into the air, and fell plop into the bows of the big rowboat! He flopped around in the bottom of the boat, almost up-setting it, but luckily his tail got wedged under the wooden seat at the front of the boat, so he couldn’t flop around any more. So, you see, he caught himself. After that, I suppose, they hit him on the nose with an oar, and stunned him. When they got ashore, they measured and weighed him. He is eight and a half feet long and weighed one hundred and fifty pounds. There must have been enough Albany beef that day to feed the whole village! By the way, this sturgeon wasn’t one of Captain Beekman’s trophies — he was off on a whaling voyage when it caught itself. We borrowed it from the family who owns it, for an exhibit. We plan to see if other families here haven’t other interesting things to lend. But it all takes time!”

He led them around the big room, pointing out one thing and another. There was a stuffed fox, and a stuffed squirrel, and a black-and-white striped skunk — stuffed, of course — and even a fat woodchuck, sitting on its hind legs. There were several wild ducks, with beautiful feathers, a Canada goose, big as a turkey, with black head and black neck, and a gray body; and a great white owl, with staring yellow eyes, made of glass, that Professor Kloop said was called a snowy owl, and had also flown down from Canada.

Another white bird, not nearly as big as the owl, with a rather small body but very long legs, stood in a glass case. The glass case rested on a square pedestal of black wood. Djuna bent down to read a card that was fastened to the case.

“That’s a snowy egret,” said Professor Kloop.

“Gee, I’ve seen those down in Forida!” exclaimed Bobby. “They nest in the Everglades swamps, I guess, but sometimes you see them flying around.”

“That’s right,” said Professor Kloop. He added, speaking to Djuna, “I’ve written its scientific name, its Latin name, on the card.”

“‘Snowy Egret,’” Djuna read aloud. “‘
Ardea cancandi-candidissima
!’” He straightened up. “Gee,
that’s
funny! Candidissima — that’s Aunt Candy’s name!” he said. “Miss Annie told me so this morning.”

Professor Kloop stared at him through his dark spectacles.

“Yep, that’s right,” Mr. Boots put in, nodding. “But there ain’t nobody c’n pernounce thet long word. Ever’body calls her Aunt Candy.”

“I don’t believe I have the pleasure of knowing the lady,” Professor Kloop said. “Does she live in Brookville?”

“Why, you must have heard of her, even if you hain’t been here long,” said Mr. Boots. “Ever-body knows her! She lives over t’ Edenboro, where we do. An’, come to think of it, she’s a gr’t-grand-dotter of Cap’n Jonas Beekman! Missus Barnes, her name be.”

“Oh, now I remember,” said Professor Kloop. “Yes, I’ve heard of her, but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her. You say she’s a descendant of Captain Beekman?”

“Jeepers!” Djuna exclaimed. “She has all of Captain Beekman’s harpoons and whaling lances, and everything, like his logbooks and things. They should be here in the museum and I’m sure she’d lend them to you!”

“Well,” said Professor Kloop. “I must certainly call on her. Just let me make a note of her name.”

He stepped over to an old pine table, heaped with papers, and scribbled Aunt Candy’s name on a pad of paper. Djuna, standing beside him, noticed that the pencil he used was red on one end and blue on the other. He smiled to himself, thinking — of all things — of herring. Some herring were red and some were blue. But he hadn’t heard of any that were blue on one end and red on the other!

“Well, boys,” said Mr. Boots, “we’d better be gettin’ along. Thank Professor Kloop and we’ll be on our way. Thank ye very much, Professor, it’s been mighty interestin’.”

The boys thanked the young man and, as he started to escort them to the door, Djuna turned back for one more look at the long-legged bird in the glass case. He said admiringly, “Gee, that certainly is a funny-looking bird! I want to tell Aunt Candy they both have the same name. Maybe she’ll remember something about it.”

“I doubt if she ever saw it,” said Professor Kloop. “We — Doc Perry and I — found it behind a pile of things up in the attic. And we had a terrific time getting it down the narrow stairs. We didn’t want to take the case apart, because we were afraid we wouldn’t be able to put it together again. It was a job!”

“Well, thanks a lot!” said the two boys in chorus. “It was swell!”

As they drove off in the truck Mr. Boots peered at the gauge on his dashboard. “Better stop a minute in Brookville and git me some more gas,” he said. “And how would you boys like a mite o’ ice cream, or suth’in, at Doc Perry’s? We could tell him we seen his museum, hey?”

The boys thought this was a very good idea, and said so. Then Djuna nudged Bobby and whispered, “Look at the gauge! He doesn’t need any gas, he just wants to give us a treat, and he’s too nice to say so.”

Mr. Boots parked his truck at the filling station, and they walked across the street to Doc Perry’s drugstore. They found the drugstore empty except for the druggist himself. On one side of a central aisle was an open showcase on which was displayed an array of patent medicines, candy, and stationery. Above it, on the wall, hung a framed diploma, certifying that C
LARENCE
W. P
ERRY
(in large letters) was duly authorized to engage in the practice of Pharmacy under the laws of the State. On the opposite side was a lunch counter, at which was a row of high stools. The druggist was standing behind it, staring gloomily at the framed diploma.

“Hi, Doc,” said Mr. Boots. “How’s business?”

“Ain’t none,” snapped the druggist.

“Well, cheer up,” said Mr. Boots. “People might be gettin’ sick any time.” He snickered at his own joke and then added, “I brought ye some customers.”

The druggist produced a faint smile and stirred himself.

“What will you have, gentlemen?” he asked.

“A chocolate nut sundae, please,” said Djuna.

“Same here, please,” said Bobby.

Mr. Boots took a cigar and bit off the end.

“We’ve just been takin’ a look in at your place,” he remarked. “That young friend o’ yours, Kloop, let us in. Showed us what he’s gettin’ ready for the museum. That’s a good idee o’ his, that mu-seum. Ought to be a success.”

Doc Perry paused with a dipper full of ice cream poised in his hand. “
His
idea!” he said scornfully. “Did he tell you it was his idea? Well, it ain’t! That museum is
my
idea! I was plannin’ it long before he ever showed up around here with his tail between his legs! Hah! Kloop!”

“Seems like a nice young feller to me,” said Mr. Boots mildly.

“Oh, he’s all right,” said Doc Perry as he went on making the chocolate nut sundaes. “But he’s gettin’ too big for his britches. He looked like a tramp when he first come around here a month ago. He wants some kind of a job and will work for just his room and board! I was tenderhearted, told him my idea for the museum, and now he has took it over as though it was his. He’s a mighty smooth talker, too. I was goin’ to let him go and he talked me into keepin’ him on. And now he’s braggin’ that it’s
his
museum! Somehow I don’t trust him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he slid out, some night, just like he come, and took everything with him.”

“Oh, come, come, Doc,” said Mr. Boots. “’Taint that bad, be it?”

The druggist was silent while he measured out a scanty measure of chocolate sirup and nuts for the two sundaes. He pushed them toward the boys and wiped his hands on a cloth under the counter, and returned to the subject of Professor Kloop.

“Well, maybe he ain’t as bad as all that,” he conceded. “But he ain’t got any imagination.
I
want to make that museum into a big thing, into a real three-ring circus, instead of a side show. If he wants to chase pennies, let him. But when the sky opens up and starts to rainin’ dollars, I hope I got me enough sense to have a couple of buckets ready.”

The boys looked startled, then lowered their eyes to their sundaes. They didn’t dare look at each other, for fear they would giggle.

“Well, sounds t’ me like th’ sensible thing to do,” said Mr. Boots. “When you reckon th’ rain is a-goin’ t’ start?”

Mr. Perry glared at him. “How should
I
know?” he demanded. “I just know that when it comes I’ll be ready.”

“Sure enough,” Mr. Boots agreed. “But you started t’ say suthin’ more about Professor Kloop. Anything the matter with him? As I sez, he seems like a nice young feller to me.”

The druggist looked disgusted again. “I don’t know what he’s up to,” he complained. “He spends all of his time actin’ as though he was huntin’ for somethin’, there in the house. Always peekin’ into dark corners in the cellar, always tappin’ walls. I’m almost afraid to leave him there alone, for fear I’ll get home an’ find all the floor boards tore up. And doggone it, he’s always got some good excuse for everything he does. He’s a smooth talker, all right. You can’t
stay
mad at him, though. Me, I’m a good-natured cuss, like I said. All I hope is, he won’t do something some day that’ll make me sorry I ever listened to him.”

“Well, boys,” said Mr. Boots, “finished your work? Let’s be goin’ if you’re ready.”

“Oh, sure,” said both boys. They slid down from the high stools, thanked Mr. Boots for the sundaes, and said good-by to Doc Perry. As the door closed behind them Djuna silently motioned to Bobby to wait until Mr. Boots was far enough ahead so that he couldn’t hear, and then whispered to Bobby, “Don’t let’s talk about Professor Kloop in front of Mr. Boots or Miss Annie. There’s something I want to talk to you about, first.”

Bobby nodded, and they hurried after Mr. Boots, who was just climbing into his truck at the filling station.

“Aren’t you going to get any gas, Mr. Boots?” asked Djuna innocently, nudging Bobby. Mr. Boots had forgotten. He leaned over and looked at his gas gauge.

“Nope, don’t seem to need none,” he answered. “Come on, climb in, or Miss Annie will be wonderin’ what’s happened to us.”

The two boys chattered away happily as the old truck rattled homeward, with Djuna asking eager questions about Tommy Williams and his other friends in Florida. It seemed no time at all before they pulled up at Miss Annie Ellery’s door. She had come to the door as soon as she heard the truck coming up the road, and was waiting for them. And so was Champ, who was so excited that when they took him off his leash he ran around and around in circles, barking like mad.

After they had talked to Miss Annie for a while downstairs, Djuna took Bobby to see their bedroom, and helped him unpack the suitcase he had brought with him. “Look,” he said, “you’d better put on a pair of my old pants right away.”

“Why?” asked Bobby.

“Because you don’t want to get your clean clothes all dirty,” said Djuna.

“What are we going to do?”

“Well, I was just thinking,” said Djuna, “prob’ly we’ll want to go somewhere this afternoon or tomorrow and I don’t think we ought to ask Mr. Boots to keep taking us places. I’ve got a bicycle, and I’ve been keeping Tommy Williams’s bike for him until he sends for it. They’re both out in the shed — haven’t been used since last summer. We ought to clean them up and grease them and get ’em ready. Okay?”

“Sure!” said Bobby. So they put on some old pants and shirts and scurried out to the shed. It took them considerably longer than they had expected and they had just finished the job when Miss Annie called them and told them to get cleaned up for supper.

“It does my heart good to see you two eat,” Miss Annie said a half hour later. Her eyes had been twinkling as she saw them put away three helpings of roast chicken each. With each they had ample portions of sweet and mashed potatoes, gravy, with the giblets swimming around in it, green peas, jelly, pickled peaches, two pieces of apple pie apiece and two glasses of milk. They hardly ate a thing!

“Oh, boy, was that good!” Bobby said at last. His face flushed and he added, “Jeepers, Miss Annie, I hope you won’t think I’m just a pig. That was the best pie I
ever
tasted!”

“I’ll make another tomorrow,” Miss Annie promised. “Now I want you boys to get to bed. You can read for a while, or talk if you want to, but at nine o’clock the light goes out and you go to sleep, do you hear? I know you must be tired, Bobby, after that long train trip.”

But they insisted on helping her with the dishes before they put on their pajamas.

“Now then,” said Bobby, when they were in their bedroom and were getting into their night clothes, “why didn’t you want to talk about Professor Kloop in front of Miss Annie or Mr. Boots?” He slid into his bed and a moment later Djuna turned off the light and jumped into his.

“Oh, nothing, I guess,” Djuna yawned. “I was thinking then about the things Doc Perry had said about Mr. Kloop. But now that I’ve thought it over, I think Doc Perry is a little nuts.”

“I thought you were going to say something about the way Mr. Kloop told us he had just come up from the cellar, when he opened the door,” said Bobby sleepily. “Anyone could tell that he had come
down
the stairs, from the sound of his footsteps.”

“Oh, let’s forget about it and have fun,” Djuna said. “But I did think he acted kind of funny, didn’t you?”

There was no answer. Bobby was alseep.

Djuna was asleep in a few moments, too, but before he dozed off he remembered the angry, stricken expression on Aunt Candy Barnes’s face when he mentioned the page that was missing in Captain Jonas’s log, and he wondered about the things Doc Perry had said about Kloop. But he resolved that he would not get mixed up in anything that might spoil Bobby’s vacation and visit.