The Case of the Terrible T. Rex (4 page)

Pollution no picnic.

Authorities say cleaning the river
is their number one priority.

Received two tickets to the Mossy
Lake Aquarium.

Professor Fossey says “Bravo!”

—Naturalist Nell

D
rake put on his headset.

He flipped the switch …
beep.

He pressed the button …
boop.

He whirled this knob …
bing
… and dialed that knob …
boing
.

“Earth to outer space,” Drake said into the microphone. “Earth to outer space. Anyone read me? Hello, Martians?”
Beep. Beep.
“Plutonians?”
Boop. Boop.
“Proxima Centaurians?”
Bing. Bing. Boing. Boing.
“Drake Doyle here … come in, come in.”

Suddenly Drake heard a scratch. Then a muffled
woof
.

“Great Scott! I hear you, I hear you! Can you bark a little louder?”

WOOF!

“Louder, please!”

WOOF! WOOF!

“Goodness!” cried Drake, quite excited. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sitting right next to me!”

Just then he felt a bit of slobber slide across his knee. He gave a little shriek (a most unscientific shriek) before realizing his error. “Oh, it’s you. Hello, Dr. Livingston.”

After patting Dr. Livingston’s head and telling him he was a good boy, Drake turned his radio off. (Communicating with space aliens would have to wait for another day. Nell sent Dr. Livingston only when there was an important matter at hand.)

“What do you have for me today?” Drake reached into the dog’s pouch and pulled out a piece of paper that began:

Now, to the untrained eye, it might look like a chicken had tripped across the paper. But Drake knew better. He put his superior decoding skills to work. Finally the note looked less like chicken scratch and more like a secret message. It read:

Did you forget? Contest today for best fossil. Papper Stonewright the sure winner. Meet me at Paleo Pals Club ASAP.
—Scientist Nell

“Egads! How could I have forgotten? Nell’s covering the contest for our weekly newsletter,
Amazing Science for Geniuses and the Merely Curious
. Come, Dr. Livingston!” Drake fetched his detective kit and hurried down the attic stairs. “To the Paleo Pals Club we go!”

Woof! Woof!

The Paleo Pals Club was the perfect sort of club if you loved fossils or simply liked to dig in the dirt. Every year, the Paleo Pals Club held a contest, offering a prize for the best fossil. What was the prize? An all-expenses-paid trip to the Buzzard Badlands, where folks have been known to trip over fossilized dinosaur bones. Plus a feature article in
Junior Paleo Pals Geographic
. All very exciting, really.

Drake parked his bike and hurried inside with Dr. Livingston. (Normally, Drake wouldn’t dare take Dr. Livingston anywhere near a pile of bones, but in this case the bones were hard as rocks and not very tasty.)

“Ah, there you are.” Nell had a camera around her neck and a pencil behind her ear. She looked quite reporter-like. “I was beginning to worry.”

“My apologies, Scientist Nell. Communications with Martians, you know.”

“Understood. Let me show you around.”

Nell took Drake on a little tour. There were posters and colorful streamers and plenty of punch and cookies for everyone. Of course, there were all kinds of fossils, too—teeth, turtles, trilobites, and the like. A judge moved among the display tables as he scribbled on his clipboard.

Pepper Stonewright, the president of the Paleo Pals Club, waved them over to her table. “It’s a trilobite,” she explained, as Drake examined her fossil with his magnifying glass. “Trilobites were sea creatures that lived 250 to 520 million years ago.”

“Lovely,” he said. “Rather looks like a giant bug.”

Woof!
said Dr. Livingston, giving the trilobite a sniff.

Pepper sighed happily. “It’s the largest, most complete fossil I’ve ever found. As you probably know, we’re required to have found the fossil ourselves. Not only that, but we must disclose the location of our dig. You know—tell everyone where we found it.”

“Fascinating,” said Nell.

“Plus we have to make a site map.”

“Let me guess,” said Drake. “A site map details where every fossil was found.”

“Right,” said Pepper. “It’s pretty easy if it’s a trilobite. Not so easy if, let’s say, it’s a dinosaur with lots of bones scattered about.”

Nell jotted in her notebook. “You sound quite experienced, Ms. Stonewright. Tell me, how long have you been fossil hunting?”

“Ever since I could crawl. I’m going to be a paleontologist when I grow up.”

“A worthy career,” said Drake.

“Winning this prize would mean the world to me. I’ve dreamed of going to the Buzzard Badlands for as long as I can remember. And—” Pepper lowered her voice to a whisper. “Judging by the other fossils, I think I’ll snag that prize.”

“Anything you’d like our readers to know?” Nell said, scribbling in her notebook.

“Fossils rock!” said Pepper. Then she smiled and posed for the camera.
Flash!

“Good luck, Ms. Stonewright,” said Nell, shaking her hand. “And thank you for the excellent information. Our readers will be delighted.”

“My pleasure.”

Just then, there was a commotion over in the corner. A crowd had gathered.

“What’s going on over there?” Drake asked.

“Don’t know,” said Pepper. “That’s James Frisco’s table. He’s late again—”

“
Frisco!
” Drake and Nell gasped, exchanging horrified glances.

Woof! Woof!
cried Dr. Livingston.

“He’s our newest member,” Pepper was saying. “He’s got a lot to learn, though. Don’t think he knows a fossil from a rock.”

“Whatever he’s up to,” Drake said to Nell, “it can’t be good.”

“Agreed,” said Nell. “Let’s go investigate.”

So, along with Pepper and Dr. Livingston, they hurried over to join the crowd.

Sure enough, it was Frisco. A curtain was behind him. A table was in front of him. On the table was a cloth. And under the cloth was something lumpy …

“Without further ado,” Frisco was saying, “I shall unveil my amazing fossil. Stand back, everyone, because it doesn’t get any better than this!” So saying, Frisco whipped the cloth away.

There, for all the Paleo Pals Club members to see, was an animal track (a fossilized
cast
, in paleo terms). But not just any animal track. No, indeed.

“This,” declared Frisco, “is the fossilized footprint of a T. rex!”

“Oooh! Aaah!” cried the crowd.

It was really quite stunning.

“Did I just say that it doesn’t get any better?” asked Frisco. “Well, ha ha! I lied! Because where there’s a footprint, there’s the creature that made the footprint! Behold … the one and only … the best, the most fabulous and horrifying … ha ha! … BEAST!” And he whipped the curtain open.

“Oh my gosh!” cried Nell, her jaw dropping.

“Great Scott!” cried Drake, his knees turning to jelly.

Woof! Woof!
cried Dr. Livingston, who hid behind Nell.

“Eek!” cried the crowd.

“I can’t believe it!” cried Pepper. “
It’s a T. rex!
”

I
t was awesome. It was fearsome.

It made the fossilized animal track look like mouse doo-doo. (Never before in the history of Mossy Lake had anyone found so much as a dinosaur bone, much less an entire T. rex skeleton.)

Once the crowd realized that they were in no real danger of being gobbled up, they went wild. They circled around, pointing and exclaiming. Cell phones went
beep
and
boop
.

The judge proclaimed, “Well, I think we all know who the winner will be … but according to the contest rules, I can’t declare Frisco—uh, I mean, the winner—until three o’clock.”

“Not to worry,” said Frisco, waving to the flashing cameras. “Everyone knows I’m the sure winner. Nothing to it, really. Just cleverness and brilliance, as usual.”

“No doubt congratulations will be in order,” said Pepper, shaking Frisco’s hand. “Anyone who finds a T. rex fossil deserves to win.”

“Gee, thanks, President Pepper,” said Frisco, with a smirk. “I’ll remember your kind words while I’m digging up dinosaur bones in the Badlands and having my photo taken for the cover of the magazine. Better luck next year.”

Meanwhile, Drake, Nell, and Dr. Livingston were studying the T. rex. Drake was drawing a sketch in his notebook. Nell was taking photos. Dr. Livingston was sniffing around.

“Do you see what I see?” asked Drake.

“Indeed I do, Detective Doyle,” said Nell.

Flash! Flash!

“Something foul is afoot,” said Drake.

“Something foul indeed,” said Nell.

Sniff, sniff, grr,
said Dr. Livingston.

Just then, Frisco walked up. “What are you two geek brains looking at? Show’s over, so you can get lost now. And your little dog, too.”

“Actually,” said Nell, smiling brightly, “getting lost sounds like a great idea right about now.”

Frisco looked startled. “It does? I mean, yeah, it does. So, what are you waiting for?” He turned to face the crowd. “Ah—my adoring fans …”

“I’m assuming you have a brilliant plan?” Drake asked Nell. (You see, Nell didn’t normally get lost, so if she
wanted
to get lost, she had to have a plan.) Nell lowered her voice. “Remember what Pepper told us? That everybody has to submit the location of their dig, plus a site map?”

Drake nodded.

“Frisco’s site maps are on his table. What do you say we grab one and pay a visit to the site?”

“Good thinking,” said Drake. “We’ll see what we can dig up.”

Nell glanced over at Pepper, who stood off to the side looking quite forlorn. “It’s the least we can do for Pepper.”

Drake checked his watch. “The judging is in two hours. There’s no time to lose!”

First, Drake and Nell stopped by the lab to fetch supplies. Then they were off on their bicycles, while Dr. Livingston ran alongside.

When they arrived at the dig site, the air was hot and dusty. Overhead, an eagle screeched. And under the shadow of a rock, a lizard slithered. A sign read: