The Case of the Mossy Lake Monster (4 page)

“Just take it slow, Max. I’ve got all day.”

“Roger that. You see, Ms. Fossey, this week-end’s the Catch-a-Whopper-Tell-No-Lies Fish-ing Contest. Each day for three days, whoever catches the biggest fish is the daily winner, with the grand-prize winner being declared on Sunday afternoon. Every year I’ve won the five-hundred-dollar grand prize. No one else even comes close. I mean, no one. After all, I’m the best outdoorsman in Mossy Lake. Over.”

“So, what’s the problem? And what’s the code for?”

“Like usual, today I caught a whopper. But a—a—well, a—” Max’s voice dropped to a whisper “—a monster ate it. Over.”

“What?” When Nell heard this, she sat up straight in her hammock. (Never sit up straight in a hammock. At least put your foot down first. And put your lemonade down, too, while you’re at it.) As Nell lay on the grass staring up at her hammock, she asked, “A monster, you say?”

“Precisely. Code 47. The monster code. Over.”

“Say no more. We’ll take the case. Meet you at the lake in ten minutes.”

“Copy that. Over and out.”

Click.

Nell squeezed a fistful of lemonade from her shirt and immediately called Drake. “Mossy Lake. Ten minutes. Max met a monster. Code 47.”

“Check.”

Click.

While Nell rode her bike to Mossy Lake, her mind raced. Maybe it’s a new species, she thought. Living in the murky depths of Mossy Lake for centuries. Undiscovered until now. She thought of all the tests she would have to conduct, and all the journal articles she’d have to write. Of course there would be interviews and public awareness meetings.

Max was already there when Nell arrived. Drake arrived shortly after, promptly tripping over a tree root. “Anything?” he asked, his voice muffled because his face was in the dirt.

“Nothing yet,” replied Nell. She helped Drake up and brushed him off. Then she opened her notebook and removed her pencil from her handy-dandy-helmet-pencil-holder. “Take it from the top, Max.”

“Don’t spare the gory details,” said Drake as he adjusted his glasses and opened his notebook, too.

At that very moment, a ripple of wind rushed across the water, and a sudden, horrifying thought occurred to Max. What if the monster thought
he
was a fish? What if the monster suddenly appeared and gobbled him up and there was nothing left except for his boots? Then there would be no winning the contest tomorrow, because if your boots catch a fish, that doesn’t count.

Acting quickly, Max picked a few more twigs and branches and added them to the bush on his head, glad he’d worn camouflage today. He felt bad about Drake and Nell, though. “I was fishing with my buddies when I caught a fish. She was this long. No, wait, she was
this
long. A beauty. Anyway, I reeled her to shore and showed all my buddies. They knew they were looking at the winner.”

“And then what happened?” asked Nell.

“Just as I was holding up my fish, a monster appeared out of the water.”

“What did it look like?” asked Nell.

“Slimy. Horrible. Ghastly. All of the above.”

“Hmm,” said Nell.

“Hmm,” said Drake.

“Can you be more specific?” asked Nell. “What color was it? Did it have scales? Tentacles? Arms and legs? Did it have teeth? Bad breath, maybe?” “Um, er—” Max scuffed the ground with his boot. “I don’t know. You see, I sort of—um—sort of, well, dropped everything and ran like crazy. Everyone did.”

“I see,” responded Nell, quite surprised. She’d always figured Max to be a tough guy.

“And when I came back, my prize fish was gone.”

“I see,” Nell said again, glancing at Drake.

“Indeed,” added Drake.

“Tell you what we’ll do,” said Nell. “We’ll just talk to a few people and take a look around. Hopefully we’ll spot your monster.”

“In any event,” said Drake, “expect our report within twenty-four hours.”

“Make it quick,” said Max, adding a few more sticks and twigs to the bush on his head. His eyes peeped out from between the branches. “Since I lost today’s contest, I’ve got to win tomorrow. I’ve just
got
to, or else I won’t win the grand prize on Sunday. After all, I’m up against a monster.” And with that, Max scampered behind a bush and vanished.

First Drake and Nell questioned a few folks.

“It was slimy.”

“It was horrible.”

“It was ghastly.”

“Did you actually see it eating any fish?” Drake asked.

“Um—er, no …”

Drake and Nell took notes, frowning because the answers were all the same. No one had seen what happened to Max’s whopper of a fish. Like Max, they were too busy, well … running.

By the time Drake and Nell finished questioning witnesses and scouting around, it was past suppertime. They hadn’t found much, just an old tire and a few empty pop cans. All in all, their investigation was going nowhere. “Nothing,” said Nell, disappointed, putting the pop cans in her bike basket for recycling.

“Maybe tomorrow my dad can bring our boat,” Drake suggested.

“Good idea. If the monster’s out there, we’ll find it. Five-thirty
A.M.
Rain or shine.”

“Check.”

Then, just as Nell was about to ride off into the sunset, she saw something. “Detective Doyle! Wait! I think I’ve found a clue.” Four small plastic hoses snaked out of the water. “Follow those hoses!” Nell took out her magnifying glass. The hoses traveled away from the water and disappeared into some bushes. Nell pushed the branches aside and scrambled through.

“The hoses end here,” she said, puzzled.

“And not only that,” added Drake, tripping through the bushes behind her, “but the end of each hose is plugged with a cork.”

“Hmm,” said Nell, thinking. “I have a hunch these hoses might hold our answer. But how?” She picked up one of the hoses and pulled the cork. First she stuck the end of the hose in her ear and listened. “Nothing.” She scratched it, tapped it, peered into it, bent it, stretched it, and finally blew into it. Gently, at first, then harder. And harder. It was rather like blowing up a balloon.

Drake grabbed the hose closest to him and followed Nell’s example. They blew and blew.

Suddenly, in the middle of the lake, a monster appeared!

I
t was slimy. Horrible. Ghastly. All of the above.

“Aaaaahhhh!” they screamed, dropping their hoses. They took cover, as good detectives do in an emergency.

Meanwhile, air whooshed out of the hoses, and the monster slowly sank from sight.

“Curious,” whispered Nell.

“Fascinating,” whispered Drake. And he scribbled in his lab notebook, drawing a chart and a bar graph for good measure.

While Drake took notes, Nell blew into the hose again.

After a bit, Drake joined her.

For the second time the monster reared out of the water. And, strangely enough, when they released the hoses, the monster sank. Up. Down. Up. Down. Definitely a pattern.

“My suspicions are confirmed,” said Nell, letting go of the hose.

“Ditto,” said Drake, feeling woozy. He reeled about a bit. “We must return to the lab.”

“For final analysis,” said Nell.

And so to the lab they rode as fast as their legs could pedal. (Even so, it took a while longer than usual because occasionally Drake would ride in a dizzy circle.)

At the lab, Drake pulled a book off the shelf. He turned to the page titled “Code 47: What to Do When a Slimy, Horrible, Ghastly Monster Snatches Your Prize-winning Fish.”

Meanwhile, Nell called her mother and got permission to stay extra late. Then they chatted for a bit as mothers and daughters often do. Nell hung up the phone. “Guess what?” she asked Drake. “My mom said Frisco won today’s fishing contest.”

Drake frowned. “That’s weird. Everybody knows Frisco can’t catch a minnow, much less a—” Suddenly, he stared at her. “Great Scott! Frisco’s behind all this!”

“We’ve no time to lose,” said Nell, her mouth in a firm line. “He’s up to his old tricks again.”

Together they pored over the book. And after a quick supper of macaroni and cheese, with fudge tarts and sliced pears for dessert, they began to work on their plan….

A monstrous plan, you might say.

At five-thirty in the morning, while the little town of Mossy Lake still slept, Drake and Nell stood at the water’s edge. Mist hung over the lake, and everything looked just a tad creepy. (Drake’s dad was sitting on a log, keeping an eye on things, and looking just a tad sleepy.)

“Ready, Scientist Nell?” asked Drake.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Nell snapped on her life preserver, grabbed an oar, and climbed into the boat. They pulled away from shore, rowing and rowing, until they reached the center of the lake, a little to the left of where they’d seen Frisco’s monster.

And there they lowered their secret weapon. Code 61.

“Done,” whispered Drake.

“Roger that,” whispered Nell.

Back on shore, they helped Mr. Doyle tie the boat on top of the car and unload their bikes. Then they waved good-bye and took positions.

“Position number one, ready,” whispered Nell.

“Position number two, ready,” whispered Drake.

And then they waited. But not for long.

At precisely 6:27, the fisherfolk started to arrive. Now, in case you’re wondering, fisherfolk come in all sizes. Tall, short, skinny, fat, and everything in between. They tend to wear fishhooks in their hats and carry coolers. Soon the lake was filled with fishing lines and fisherfolk drinking sodas. At precisely 9:12, Nell got an itch.

At precisely 11:17, they ate some cheese-and-cucumber sandwiches and drank their emergency-ration lemonade.

At precisely 1:59, Drake fell asleep, snoring just a wee bit.

At precisely 4:02, Max Brewster yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, “Whoo-ee! I’ve got a whopper here! I’m reeling him in!”

At precisely 4:02½, the monster reared out of Mossy Lake.

“Aaaaahhhh!” screamed the fisherfolk, scrambling to get away.

“Drake!” screeched Nell. “Code 61! Code 61!” “Huh?”

Once Drake finally woke up, he and Nell blew into their hoses as planned.

Then
another
monster rose out of Mossy Lake! Even slimy-er. Horrible-er. Ghastly-er. (Code 61. Monster Meets Monster.)

Suddenly, out of the bushes burst Frisco and his friends, running away as fast as their legs could carry them. “Aaaaaahhhhh! A real monster! Aaaaaahhhh!” Away from the lake they scampered, disappearing into the distant hills.

Later that evening, Nell and Drake explained everything to Max and his buddies. “You see,” said Nell, “the monster was operated by Frisco and his friends.”

“Simply put,” said Drake, pushing up his glasses, “Frisco wanted your fish—”

“—so he could win the contest,” added Nell.

“But he’s a lousy fisherman,” said Drake.

“Hence the monster,” explained Nell. “Made it himself. It scared you silly, of course. When you ran away, Frisco snatched your fish.”

“But,” asked Max, “how did the monster float up and down like that?”

“Good question,” replied Nell. “I was getting to that. You see, most of the time the monster was filled with water. That made him heavy.”

“Quite heavy indeed,” agreed Drake. “The monster remained on the bottom of the lake because he was too heavy to float.”