The Case of the Mossy Lake Monster (2 page)

“Where’s his food?” asked Nell. When Caitlin pointed to an aluminum pie plate, Nell knelt and examined it with her magnifying glass. It was situated on the carpet about six feet from Zappy and was filled with cat food. “Certainly plenty of food,” remarked Nell, standing up again.

“No reason for a cat to go hungry,” agreed Drake. “This case gets more puzzling by the second.”

“Indeed, Detective Doyle. Indeed.”

Just then, Zappy crawled out of his blanket. His fur stood on end. Drake and Nell watched as Zappy slowly approached the food dish, ears pressed flat to his head. Closer … closer … two feet … one foot … six inches … one inch…

Suddenly, the room exploded in cat fur!

Z
AP! MEEOOOOOOWWWWRRRRR!

Quick as lightning, Zappy zoomed past Drake and Nell and dove into his blanket. He looked rather like a speeding locomotive with claws and fur and huge eyeballs.

“Oh, poor, poor Zappy,” wailed Caitlin. “That’s what always happens. Oh,
booooo-hooooo!
”

“Curious,” said Nell.

“Fascinating,” said Drake, pushing up his glasses. “Never fear, Ms. Rae. All is not lost. Scientist Nell and I will return to the laboratory for further analysis.”

“Oh,
booooo-hooooo!
”

“We’ll need to take Zappy—” said Drake.

“—and the blanket—” said Nell.

“—Plus the food dish, complete with food—” added Drake.

“—for analysis,” finished Nell. “Expect our report within twenty-four hours.”

After listening to a few more
boo-hoos
, they piled into the car, with Zappy bundled up like a baby on Nell’s lap. “To the lab!” she cried. “And make it Zappy—I mean snappy! Life or death, you know.”

“Check,” said Mr. Doyle. Again, tires squealed, and the smell of burning rubber filled the air.

Back at the lab, Nell phoned home. “We’ve got a life or death situation. Could take all day.”

“I understand, dear,” said Ann Fossey. And she did understand, because Nell’s mom was also a no-nonsense woman of science. She taught biology at Mossy Lake University. Wildlife biology, to be precise. “I’ll be here at home if you need me.” “Check.”

Click.

Meanwhile, Drake pulled a book off the shelf and flipped through it until he found the right section. “Starving Cat Analysis: What to Do When Your Cat Won’t Eat, and He’s Snoozing on an Angora Blanket.”

After Drake read the section aloud, they put their heads together. “Let’s go over the facts,” said Drake. And through the morning, they went over the facts and shared their observations. (Good scientists always share their observations.)

Finally, Drake said, “Based on our observations, I have developed a hypothesis.”

After Drake explained, they immediately set about to test the hypothesis, which, as any good scientist will tell you, is nothing but an educated guess. They worked until just around lunchtime, when Drake’s mom stuck her head around the door. “Hungry?” she asked.

“Starved,” they replied.

“How do egg-and-cheese sandwiches sound?”

Nell shoved a pencil behind her ear. “Double the ketchup, hold the mayo.”

“Affirmative. Hot chocolate, anyone?”

“No, thanks,” said Drake.

“Just coffee,” said Nell. “Decaf. Black.” (In case you’re wondering, real scientists don’t drink hot chocolate. Never have and never will. The same goes for detectives.)

“Affirmative times two,” said Kate Doyle, and she was back in a jiffy with coffee, and in two jiffies with lunch. Like Mr. Doyle, she was rather handy to have around. Her coffee was great, and her food superb. In fact, it was so superb that she owned her own catering company. (Plus, she never forgot that Nell was a vegetarian.) So you see, Mrs. Doyle was quite handy indeed.

Later, just as Nell started her third cup of decaf, and just as Drake’s hair was beginning to stand on end, their hypothesis was confirmed. “Just as I thought,” said Drake, shoving a pencil behind his ear. Drake dialed Caitlin’s number. “Drake here. We’ve got your answer. Meet us in the lab. Ten minutes. Tops.”

Caitlin arrived in nine minutes, fifty-eight seconds.

“Right on time,” said Drake.

“And not a moment to spare,” said Nell, checking her watch. “Life or death, you know.”

They sat Caitlin on a lab stool and gave her a box of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Can you save him? Is there any hope?”

Drake nodded. “Indeed there is. Allow Scientist Nell to explain.”

Nell whacked a chalkboard with her wooden pointer. “Observe. Everything in our world is made of tiny particles called atoms. Imagine if you had a copper penny and you divided that penny in half. And in half again. And again. You keep dividing the penny until you are left with the smallest particle of copper possible. That particle is called an atom. Then, if you were to divide the copper atom, it would no longer be copper.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Drake commented.

“Anyway,” continued Nell, “atoms contain tiny particles called protons and electrons. Protons
are positively charged, while electrons
are negatively charged.”

“Most of the time, Ms. Rae,” Drake explained, “objects have an equal number of protons and electrons, and therefore have no charge.”

“But,” said Caitlin, tears brimming, “what does that have to do with poor, poor little Zappy?”

“We’re getting to that,” replied Drake. “Nell?”

“Thank you, Detective Doyle. When Zappy slept in the angora blanket, electrons left the blanket and piled up in Zappy’s fur—”

“You see, Ms. Rae,” added Drake, “Angora rabbit hair loves to lose its electrons—”

“—giving Zappy extra electrons,” said Nell.

Caitlin gasped. “Poor, poor Zappy! No food and too many electrons! Oh, I think I’m going to cry again!”

Nell waited while Caitlin went through a few more tissues. (Since Nell was not as patient as Drake, this was very hard for her.) Nell tapped her foot and crossed her arms. After Caitlin blew her nose with a
honk!
Nell said, “Shall we? As I was saying, Zappy had too many electrons. This wouldn’t be so bad if aluminum pie plates weren’t such great conductors of electricity.”

“They’re quite handy, really,” remarked Drake. “Therefore,” Nell said, “whenever Zappy went to eat, electrons rushed from his nose—”

“—into the pie plate—” said Drake.

“—with something rather like a miniature bolt of lightning,” finished Nell. “It’s called static electricity. Zappy was being zapped.”

“It’s simply shocking,” declared Drake.

Nell whacked the chalkboard again. “Same principle as when we wear socks and then shuffle our feet along a carpet and touch a doorknob. Again, simply shocking.”

“Oh,
boooo-hoooo!
Poor Zappy! No wonder he wouldn’t eat,” sobbed Caitlin. “I was torturing him!” Six tissues later, she said, “What now?”

Drake got up and paced around. “It’s quite simple, really—”

“Yes?” Caitlin said, dabbing her eyes.

“Take the blanket away from Zappy and use a glass or plastic dish instead of aluminum,” Drake concluded. “That will stop the flow of electrons, and Zappy will be just fine.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened. Actually, to be scientifically correct, they sparkled. (Perhaps there was a flow of electrons just then, hard to tell.) “Really?” she exclaimed. “That’s all I have to do?”

“That’s all,” Drake and Nell said together.

Caitlin jumped off her stool and hugged them both. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! I’m so glad I didn’t hire Frisco! You’ve saved Zappy’s life! I’m going to tell everyone how wonderful you are!”

“All in a day’s work,” said Drake, handing her their business card. “Call us. Anytime.”

That evening, Drake wrote in his lab notebook:

Case solved.
Zappy de-zapped.
Received two free tickets
to see the 4-H cat show.
      
Paid in full

T
he solution in the flask bubbled and boiled. It rumbled and roiled. It shuddered and…

KA-BLAM-O!

Waving away the smoke, Drake pushed up his safety glasses and wrote in his lab notebook.

NEVER, NEVER do that.
Experiment a disaster.
Will clean up mess.

Just then, there was a scratch and a
woof!
at the attic door. “Dr. Livingston, I presume,” said Drake, opening the door.

And indeed, it was. Dr. Livingston trotted in and sat in the middle of the lab, wagging his tail and coughing a bit because of the smoke.

“Good boy,” said Drake, withdrawing a blank sheet of paper from Dr. Livingston’s pouch. He flicked off the overhead lights and turned on a purplish ultraviolet light. The paper glowed white. The words, however, didn’t glow at all, making it easy to read.

Detective Doyle,
If you’re reading this, Dr. Livingston has arrived as planned. Take good care of him. Look after Nature Headquarters, too. I will return in one week.
    Signed,
    Naturalist
    Nell
P.S. Don’t blow up the lab.

Drake pushed up his glasses and sighed. It was going to be a long week without Nell. She was vacationing on Penguin Island with her mother. Together they were studying penguins. Nell had taken all her homework and promised a full report to their fifth-grade class at Seaview Elementary upon her return.

“Well, old boy,” said Drake to Dr. Livingston. “Looks like it’s just us.”