A Mischief of Mermaids (2 page)

By this time, Mr. Malone was pale with envy, but he mustered enough spirit to say, “By the way, where are your assistants, Oliver? When I didn't see any young graduate students hanging about, I assumed that you had suffered another one of those sad accidents that seem to happen to you so often.”

“What do you mean by that?” For the first time, Oliver sounded testy.

“Well, you don't have much luck with your assistants, do you?” said Mr. Malone, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “I mean, there was the young man who was decapitated by a vampire in Moldavia, and then the girl with the orange-and-purple hair, what was her name—”

“Naomi,” supplied Mrs. Malone. “Such a dear little thing.”

“Mm, yes,” said Mr. Malone. “A dear little thing who ended up in the hospital after being bitten by an enormous dog—”

“Werewolf,” Oliver said automatically. “And she's actually quite proud of that scar.”

“And then there was that boy who hunted ghosts for you—”

“Sam,” Will said. “I liked him. He told really cool stories. Like that one about the guy that had his head cut off in some old castle and kept haunting it and throwing his head down the halls like a bowling ball—”

“Yes, he was quite enthusiastic. I remember how excited he was about spending the night in that former insane asylum with his infrared camera.” Mr. Malone shook his head sadly. “Has anyone ever found any trace of him? Or of his infrared camera?”

“Not yet,” Oliver said with a tight smile. “The network set up a scholarship in his name, of course. And since no body was ever found, I still hold out hope. . . .”

Poppy chose this moment to stand up and wander away.

She flopped on her stomach near the edge of the deck and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of sun on her back. The sound of Oliver Asquith's voice, as well as that of Mr. and Mrs. Malones', became a distant murmur. As long as she didn't have to listen to his nonsense, she was able to relax and think her own, far more interesting thoughts.

Every once in a while, though, a word or phrase would seem to get caught by the breeze and float over to her—she distinctly heard “prehistoric creature,” “thirty feet long,” and “unexplained disappearance”—and she would feel herself getting annoyed again.

It was ridiculous to think that monsters could live in a lake like this without being discovered. Maybe a hundred years ago, but not now, not in the twenty-first century.

If any of the sightings were real, surely a marine biologist would have done a search by now, using sonar or something. And if scientists weren't interested in tracking down a monster, a TV reporter would be. There was just no way that a mysterious creature could remain a mystery for very long in this day and age. . . .

These thoughts were so pleasant, and the sound of the waves splashing gently against the hull was so soothing, and the sun was so warm, that Poppy felt herself drifting off to sleep.

Lake monsters, she thought drowsily. What a silly idea . . .

And then, just as she was about to fall asleep, she heard a giggle.

Poppy sighed. Franny had recently developed an annoying habit of giggling when she was around a boy she liked. The most recent incident, which had been very embarrassing, had occurred at an ice-cream shop downtown where a teen boy was making sundaes by dramatically flipping scoops of ice cream in the air and then catching them in a dish held behind his back. Franny had been so taken with this performance that Will had finally poured a cup of ice water down the back of her shirt to stop her from going into full-fledged hysterics.

Poppy opened one eye a tiny slit and turned her head toward the other side of the houseboat, where Oliver Asquith was holding court. If Franny had started giggling at Oliver Asquith, Poppy thought, she might have to push her overboard.

But Franny was sitting in a deck chair near the bow, lost in contemplation of her newly painted toenails (bright pink on the toes of her left foot and bright green on the right).

Poppy shrugged and closed her eyes.

Then she heard the giggle again, followed by the sound of a splash.

She didn't open her eyes, but a small frown appeared on her forehead.

Then drops of water landed on her face.

Poppy sat up, glaring around the deck. If Will thought it was funny to wake her up by throwing water on her—

But Will was leaning against the railing on the other side of the houseboat, drinking a soda.

That's when Poppy realized what had bothered her about that giggle.

It sounded like it came from under the boat. It sounded, in fact, like it came from the bottom of the lake.

P
oppy leaned over the side of the boat and stared into the water. All she saw were some bits of lake weed waving to and fro, a fish flashing by, and an empty soda can bobbing on the surface.

She wrinkled her nose.

Well, sounds travel in strange ways over water, she thought. Everyone knew that. She had probably heard someone laughing on a nearby boat.

And yet . . .

Poppy frowned. There had been something odd about that giggle. It wasn't the giggle of someone who was laughing at a joke. It had sounded almost . . . musical, like chimes ringing underwater—

At that moment, Oliver Asquith's cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Poppy knew it was his because the ring tone was the theme song from
The X-Files
and because it had been ringing constantly ever since they had come on board.

Every time the phone rang, he would make an apologetic face at the Malones and say, “I'm sorry, but I really have to take this. I'll just be a moment.” Then he would sit in a deck chair positioned so that he could watch Mr. Malone's face as he loudly talked to film and TV producers, book publishers, and even celebrities (a very famous movie star was interested in playing Oliver in a movie about his paranormal adventures).

Poppy squeezed her eyes shut so she couldn't see Oliver Asquith's smug face. She wished she could put her fingers in her ears so she didn't have to listen to him, either, but she knew that would be rude.

“What?” she heard Oliver say. “But that's incredible! It's been years since the last eyewitness sighting of the Loch Ness Monster!”

She turned her head in order to see him. Professor Asquith was pacing back and forth on the deck. One hand held his cell phone to his ear, while the other ran through his thick, TV-ready hair.

As he listened, he glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Malone, his face alive with excitement. “It's my assistant, the graduate student I sent to Scotland,” he whispered, pointing to the phone. “She's spotted Nessie!”

“Oh, how wonderful for you!” Mrs. Malone seemed genuinely pleased about Oliver's good fortune. “It's such a thrilling moment when one finally sees a creature one has been hunting for so long, isn't it, Emerson!”

“Oliver hasn't seen it,” said Mr. Malone. “His assistant has.”

“Yes, and she's taken a photo, too!” Oliver Asquith turned his phone around so that they could see its screen. Franny and Will crowded next to Oliver to peer at the screen. Even Poppy couldn't resist the urge to get up and walk over to get a closer look.

“It looks like a brown blob,” she said critically.

“Yes, that's Nessie's head,” Oliver said.

Poppy squinted. “Or a close-up of a mushroom,” she said.

Oliver Asquith closed his cell phone with a snap. “This photo is going to make history!” he said. “And when the actual video airs—well, it could earn the highest ratings of all my specials. Maybe even the highest TV ratings of all time!”

He gazed around at the Malones and sighed deeply. “Unfortunately, that means that I must leave you,” he said. He was trying to sound sorrowful, but he couldn't seem to stop grinning.

“But you just got here!” Franny said in dismay. “And you said you were going to stay for a whole month!”

“Unfortunately, even the best-laid plans must be put aside when history is being made,” said Oliver Asquith with a heavy sigh. “I must fly to Scotland immediately to oversee the investigation and make sure that the documentary evidence is preserved.”

“Oh no, how disappointing,” said Mrs. Malone. “We've barely had any time to visit!”

“Still, I'm sure we'll manage to bear up,” said Mr. Malone, who was looking a great deal more cheerful. “Well, you must have a lot to do to get ready for your trip, Oliver, so we'll just head on home, with many thanks for your hospitality and wishing you the best of luck on your travels—”

“Wait.” Oliver held up a hand as if he had just been struck by a happy thought. “The network has paid for the houseboat through the end of the month. It seems like a waste to let it sit in the dock, empty. Why don't all of you use it—as my guests, of course?”

“Really?” Will sat up a little straighter. “You mean we can sleep here and use the Jet Skis and everything?”

Oliver Asquith laughed. “You're a few years too young for a Jet Ski,” he said. “But you could take out the kayaks if you like, not to mention making full use of the hot tub and the TV—including, of course, the satellite cable—”

“Oh no, Oliver, that's much too generous,” Mrs. Malone said, even as her eyes sparkled with delight. “We couldn't
possibly
. . . .”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Oliver Asquith, beaming at her. “It is my pleasure. After all, I'm sure you could use the vacation, Emerson. I know it's been stressful for you and Lucille, having such a hard time finding a new case to investigate. . . .”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Malone snapped. “It just so happens that there was a newspaper report last week about a UFO that was spotted near Austin. Lucille and I have already started digging into the story. In fact, it's going to take up so much of our time that I'm afraid we'll have to turn down your offer.”

“What?” Will said in dismay. “Give up the chance to live on a houseboat for a week?”

“That's so unfair!” Franny said.

“We can research UFOs anytime,” Poppy added. “When's the next time we'll be able to spend a week on a lake?”

“I want to stay on the boat,” Rolly said. “I want to see the monster.”

“For the last time,” said Mr. Malone through gritted teeth. “There is no monster!”

“It might be nice to spend some time on the water,” said Mrs. Malone wistfully. “The sound of waves is so soothing, isn't it? And so conducive to thinking—”

“I can't believe I'm hearing this!” said Mr. Malone, staring at her. “You've always become violently sick whenever we've had to go to sea. Remember that summer we searched for Atlantis?”

“Only too well,” Mrs. Malone said, turning a little green at the memory. “But I only get seasick when I'm actually
at sea
, dear. Lakes are an entirely different matter!”

“Please, Emerson,” said Oliver Asquith. “I'd hate to think of all that money that the network spent renting this boat going to waste. It would cheer me up a great deal to think of all of you enjoying yourselves in the sun while I'm trying to stay warm on a cold Scottish lake.”

Mr. Malone glared at him. “Thank you,” he said stiffly, “but Lucille and I have lots of work to do. Far too much work to spend a whole week sunning ourselves on your boat.”

There was a brief, dismayed silence.

Then Mrs. Malone said, in a musing voice, “That's true, dear, we do have work to do. However . . .”

Poppy, Will, and Franny turned to her. When Mrs. Malone used that particular voice, they knew that she had had An Idea. And not just any random, ordinary, run-of-the-mill idea, but An Idea that she herself would have modestly called a “brain wave.”

“I've been trying to remember the details of the latest UFO sighting,” she went on. “I think . . . I'm almost sure . . . yes, it's coming back to me now! I do believe that the UFO was spotted very near here.” She held a hand up to shade her eyes, then pointed toward a road that ran along the lake's edge. “I just read the case file yesterday . . . yes, I think that road over there is the very spot where the witness's car mysteriously stalled!”

She let her voice trail off in a suggestive way.

Poppy, Will, and Franny held their breaths.

“Well,” said Mr. Malone meditatively. “It's true that being in the middle of the lake would give us an unobstructed view of the sky.”

“And there aren't any streetlights out here,” said Will quickly. “No light pollution. Easier to see the aliens.”

“It must get really, really,
really
dark at night,” Franny chimed in.

“Plus, a lot of UFOs are spotted near water,” said Poppy, crossing her fingers. She didn't actually have any evidence of this, but it seemed like a reasonable hypothesis. After all, she thought, seventy percent of the Earth's surface is covered by water, so the odds were in her favor. . . .

Mrs. Malone smiled gently at them. “It's wonderful to see such enthusiasm from all of you when it comes to one of our investigations,” she said.

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Malone. “And rather peculiar, I might add.”

He looked suspiciously at Poppy, Will, and Franny. They did their best to look back with expressions of great sincerity and earnestness.

It must have worked. After a brief pause, Mr. Malone said more briskly, “Still, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Given the importance of the work Lucille and I are doing, I think we would be foolish not to accept your offer. Thank you, Oliver. We'll be sure to acknowledge you when our paper is published.”

He glanced around at his family's beaming faces. “But remember, we're not staying on this boat to play,” he warned them. “We're here to conduct an investigation, and you'll all have to help out.”

“We will,” said Will.