Wilma Tenderfoot and the Case of the Frozen Hearts (4 page)

“Yes, Aunt,” said Alan Katzin, nodding and looking out the window. “It's a lovely day. In fact, I might even go for a pothole. I haven't done that in ages.”

“Good idea, Alan,” said Alan Katzin's aunt, smiling. “And I'll go and get those ingredients. I never knew a fellow so overly fond of lemon meringue pie as you!” And with that, she pulled on her overcoat and left the cottage. Alan Katzin stood and watched his aunt go and, for a moment, as he stared after her, he realized that, despite the smell, he was overly fond of her too.

 

If you've ever been out walking with a grown-up through a field or sitting with one in a garden, you will often hear them complaining. Grown-ups complain all the time about a great many things, but there's one thing that's guaranteed to drive them crazy. “Look at that,” the grown-ups will say, pointing and shaking their heads. “Molehills!” Grown-ups think molehills are caused by moles coming up for air, but they're not. They are breathing holes for potholers, and portals to adventure.

Alan Katzin knew this, and as he wandered the lower slopes of Cooper's one small hill, it wasn't long before he found a row of perfect molehills. Knowing that this meant a secret tunnel was somewhere about, Alan stood as tall as he was able, put both his hands above his head, took a deep breath, and dived into one of the holes. There was a deep and endless smell of mud and roots, and as Alan Katzin crawled farther in, his fingers became wet and sticky. The tunnel had become so dark that Alan couldn't see the end of his nose, so, taking a match from his pocket, he reached up to his helmet with the lamp in the middle of the brim and lit the candle inside, sending a dull white beam out in front of him.

It was at this point that Alan Katzin's life became destined to be a short one. In the light of his lamp, something was shining right back at him, and Alan, who had no idea that the gleaming rock was going to be the death of him, reached down, picked it up, and got out his rock hammer.

Holding the parsnip-shaped mass in one hand, Alan tapped the bright seam that ran down its center. With one strike, the rock crumbled into bits, and there, among the dust, was the biggest and most beautiful single jewel that the quiet man from Cooper had ever seen. Alan's eyes widened. This was big. This was VERY big. Alan Katzin gulped. “Crikey!” he whispered and then, unblinking, added a little excited, “Ooooooh.”

There was no doubting it. The discovery of this rock was a life-changing event, and as Alan Katzin scrabbled back out of the molehill and ran down Cooper's one small hill he had time to reflect. Does this mean I'm rich? he thought to himself, skipping over a heather bush. “I could buy a suite at the island's fanciest hotel, Le Poulailler! I could buy the hotel! I could buy the island!” he yelled, hurdling a cluster of daffodils. But as his feet touched the ground, he skidded to a halt. “Hang on,” he said, fingers resting on his lips. “I don't even like the hotel. I just like lemon meringue pies and pickled onions. What am I going to do with a fortune? I'm a simple man. With simple tastes.”

Alan Katzin looked into his hand. The stone was cold and hard. Thrilling things sometimes come with a terrible responsibility, and as the gentle soul stared down he suddenly realized exactly what he should do.

 

“Are you quite sure, Alan?” asked Alan Katzin's aunt after she had sat down with the shock of it.

“I am, Aunt,” said Alan Katzin, who had placed the extraordinary jewel in the middle of the kitchen table. They both sat, staring at it as it emitted a glow so intense that the tops of the freshly baked batch of lemon meringue pies looked as if they were made of solid gold. “I'm not a rich man, but I'm not a poor man either. And what would I do with all the money that selling it would bring? I might be able to live in a mansion or take up a suite at Le Poulailler, but I just like lemon meringue pie and pickled onions and coming to stay with you for my holidays. That's all I need. No, this belongs to everyone. I'm going to give it to the Museum, and knowing that everyone on Cooper will be able to enjoy it is reward enough.”

Alan Katzin's aunt thought her nephew was crazy, of course, but Alan had made his mind up. He was giving the jewel to Cooper.

J
eremy Burling was the Cooper Island Receiver of Burrowed Things. He was a tidy, organized fellow who was very fond of making lists. Every day, as he strolled down the gravel path to his office, he would make a list in his head of the things that needed doing. On that day, Jeremy's list was as follows:

In short, Jeremy Burling didn't have the slightest inkling that he was about to have the most exciting day of his life. On a normal day Jeremy would think about his list, get the office keys out of his pocket, and twirl them on his finger as he approached the door. But on that day he didn't, because there were two people waiting at the end of the path before him. And Jeremy didn't know who they were.

“Excuse me,” said Alan Katzin, who was standing with his aunt at the office entrance, “are you the Receiver of Burrowed Things?”

“I am, yes,” said Jeremy, coming to a stop and standing a little taller.

“I'm Alan Katzin. And I've found something,” said Alan, his eyes brightening.

 

Inside Jeremy's office, Alan put his backpack up on the counter, reached into it, and pulled out a bundle of tea towels. Peeling back the layers slowly, Alan revealed the most wondrous and most enormous gem ever found.

Jeremy Burling had a keen eye for all things precious and wasn't given to expressions of great surprise or alarm. All the same, he found himself saying, “I have never seen anything like it, Alan,” as he pulled out a pair of double-lens microscope glasses so as to have a better look. He peered at the jewel and then, looking up with an expression of not inconsiderable shock, said, “And I have no idea what it is!”

Alan Katzin's aunt squinted her eyes up a little. “It's a very big and very precious stone,” said she. “Even I know that.”

“Yes,” said Jeremy Burling, fixing Alan Katzin's aunt with a small stare. “I'm aware of that. What I mean is, I don't think this is something that's ever been found on Cooper Island before. If I'm right, Alan, you've found a brand-new and very precious stone. Imagine that!” But Alan Katzin couldn't imagine that, so he just stood with his mouth open to pretend that he could.

“But let's not get giddy,” said Jeremy, folding his double-lens microscope glasses back into his waistcoat pocket. “I'm going to run some tests. Put it through the Gem Discoverer. That's a machine that recognizes the carbon compounds of all the precious stones. It'll give me a reading of how high the carbon content of this stone is. That number will correspond to this chart.” Jeremy pulled on a string to his left and a poster rolled down.

Alan Katzin nodded and wished he'd paid better attention during carbon-content classes at school, but he hadn't, so there it was.

The Gem Discoverer was a spherical ball that seemed to be made of nothing more than an intense blue light, set between silver clamps, inside a small glass case. As Jeremy placed Alan Katzin's gemstone between the two needles of the clamp, the blue sphere fizzed and sparked. With the gemstone suspended inside the sphere, Jeremy turned some dials and the unit whirred into activity. The sphere began to rotate, slowly at first, but with each turn it spun faster and faster until the gemstone looked like a liquid blur. “It won't take long,” said Jeremy, tapping the countertop with his fingers, but it did. “Not much longer now,” said Jeremy, tapping more impatiently. “Nearly done,” he assured them, looking confused. Eventually a short, sharp ping sounded. “Aha!” said Jeremy. “The moment of truth!”

A round coin-like disk slid out. Jeremy Burling picked it up and looked at it. “Seventy-three,” he said out loud. “Your gemstone has a carbon content of seventy-three, Alan.”

“Is that good, Mr. Burling?” asked Alan.

“I think it might be better than good, Alan,” said Jeremy, pulling the carbon-content chart back down and looking at it. “I think it might be nothing short of incredible. Look at that. According to the carbon-content chart, there is no known gemstone with a carbon content as high as seventy-three. Do you know what that means, Alan?”

“Yes, Mr. Burling,” said Alan, but he was lying, because he hadn't paid any attention to that subject at school, as has now been well established.

“That's right, Alan!” said Jeremy, eyes beaming. “You have discovered a brand-new extremely precious and extremely massive gemstone!”

Alan Katzin's aunt was so overwhelmed that she wanted to jump up and down, but, given that her unnaturally smelly feet were extra smelly after the long walk from the cottage, she thought better of it and just waved her hands in the air instead.

“I'm going to have to report this to the Minister for Massive Finds, Alan,” said Jeremy, who was very excited. “But before I can do that,” he added, leaning over the counter, “you have to name it.”

Alan Katzin was gripping the bottom of his cardigan as if his life depended on it. “Name it?” he asked. “Like a baby?”

“Sort of,” said Jeremy, smiling. “It's a scientific tradition. Whenever anything new is discovered for the first time, the person who finds it gets to name it.”

“It's the most precious thing in the land, Alan,” said Alan Katzin's aunt, “so choose carefully.”

“Can I call it lemon meringue pie?” asked Alan, because that was the most precious thing he could imagine.

“Not really,” said Jeremy, scratching his neck. “Think it through.”

Alan wondered if he could call the jewel pickled onions but realized that sometimes not saying thoughts out loud is probably for the best. “Can I call it Alan?” asked Alan.

“Hmmm,” said Jeremy, who had also decided not to say out loud what he was thinking right at that moment. “What about your surname? Katzin—that's got the right sort of ring to it.”

“And it's the most precious thing I can think of,” said Alan Katzin's aunt, giving her nephew a little wink.

“All right then!” said Alan, nodding and smiling. “Katzin it is!”

And so it was that the most precious jewel ever found was named the Katzin Stone. And from that moment on, the happy aunt and her nephew were doomed.

T
he day that was to be Alan Katzin and his aunt's last was the day the Katzin Stone was being transported from the underground vault of the Office of the Receiver of Burrowed Things to the Cooper National Museum. The honor of escorting the Katzin Stone fell to Captain Brock and the 2nd Hawks Brigade, a crack team who specialized in watching things very closely.

“The Katzin Stone is here,” said Captain Brock, pointing to a square on a blackboard that had the word VAULT written under it. All the members of the 2nd Hawks Brigade nodded and made notes in their leather-bound Mission Books. A Mission Book is a book that you make important notes in about things you shouldn't forget, especially if you don't want to lose your job.

“And it will be traveling, by rail,” said Captain Brock, tapping his finger along a dotted line on the board, “to here,” he added, pointing at another chalk square that had the word MUSEUM written under it. “Our job is to watch it,” said Captain Brock in a voice that suggested he meant more business than usual, “and ensure that none of the island's Criminal Elements get their hands on it.” Captain Brock stared at the 2nd Hawks Brigade, who all stared back at him. “You might want to write that part down,” said Captain Brock, staring at the 2nd Hawks Brigade a little harder.

As the brigade scribbled away, Captain Brock tapped his hands together behind his back. Anyone who knew Captain Brock knew that this meant he was thinking harder than when he was thinking about unimportant things like crispy bacon or warm sand between his toes. Captain Brock was thinking about the island's Criminal Elements and about what a terrible thing it would be if the Katzin Stone fell into their clammy hands.

 

Meanwhile, back in Hillbottom, Jeremy Burling was making sure that everything was shipshape and aboveboard. The Katzin Stone was safely under lock and key until it was ready to be moved, and the Receiver of Burrowed Things was adamant that nothing would jeopardize its safety. So when Jeremy heard the familiar tinkle of the front-door bell, just after Captain Brock had arrived ahead of his men, he was right to feel suspicious. Given that the closed sign was up, and given that it was a very special and very dangerous day, Jeremy couldn't help but feel a short, sharp stab of anxiety. Likewise, Captain Brock clasped his hands even more tightly behind his back. The island's Criminal Elements could strike at any moment. But they needn't have worried. “Oh thank goodness!” Jeremy said when he saw who it was. “Alan! Hello! Come in!”

“I'd like to see the Katzin Stone, please,” said Alan, who was a little taller than Jeremy Burling remembered.

“Certainly,” replied Jeremy. “Do you have the special pass I gave you?”

“Oh yes,” answered Alan, holding it up for Jeremy to look at.

Jeremy was surprised that Alan didn't seem especially pleased to see him, but it was a tense day for all concerned and short tempers were to be expected. Although Jeremy Burling wasn't supposed to show the Katzin Stone to anyone except Captain Brock, he didn't think twice about taking Alan Katzin down to the vault. After all, it was Alan who had found the stone in the first place and he had been given a special pass. “Very nice,” said Alan, in a slightly deeper voice than Jeremy remembered, as he examined the open box, the stone glittering within it. “Very nice indeed.”