The Case of the Mossy Lake Monster

My deepest thanks and appreciation to my editor,
Meredith Mundy Wasinger, for her vision and enthusiasm

STERLING and the distinctive Sterling logo are registered trademarks of Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Torrey, Michele.
Case of the Mossy Lake monster and other super-scientific cases
    The case of the Mossy Lake monster / Michele Torrey; illustrated by Barbara Johansen Newman.
           p. cm.–(Doyle and Fossey science detectives)
    First published under the title: The case of the Mossy Lake monster and other super-scientific cases.
    Summary: Fourth-graders Drake Doyle and Nell Fossey combine their detective and scientific investigation skills to solve a variety of cases, involving a hungry cat, endangered penguins, a fish-stealing monster, and a dirty election. Includes a section of scientific experiments and activities.
    ISBN 978-1-4027-4962-9 (alk. paper)
    [1. Science–Methodology–Fiction. 2. Mystery and detective stories.]
I. Newman, Barbara Johansen, ill. II. Title.
    PZ7.T645725Cat 2009
    [Fic]–dc22 2008047440

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1
06/09

This book originally published in hardcover by Dutton Children’s Books in 2002

Published in 2009 by Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.
387 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016
Text copyright © 2002, 2009 by Michele Torrey
Illustrations copyright © 2002, 2009 Barbara Johansen Newman

All rights reserved

Sterling ISBN 978-1-4027-4962-9
Sterling eBook ISBN: 978-1-4549-0396-3

For information about custom editions, special sales, premium and corporate purchases, please contact Sterling Special Sales Department at 800-805-5489 or specialsales@sterlingpublishing.

One • A Matter of Life or Death

Two • Simply Shocking

Three • A Major Disaster

Four • An Urgent Plea

Five • The Monster of Mossy Lake

Six • Code 61

Seven • An Evil Plot

Eight • A Secret Formula

Activities and Experiments for Super-Scientists

I
t was a crisp, clear Saturday morning in the small town of Mossy Lake.

Just down the street, a little to the left, and high in an attic, Drake Doyle worked in his homemade laboratory. His hair looked as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. Rather messy, really, and the color of cinnamon toast. On the end of his nose perched a pair of round glasses.

Drake looked up from his microscope, his eyes a little squinty from staring so long. “Just as I thought,” he murmured as he scribbled in his lab notebook.

Just as I thought.
Hypothesis correct.
THEY’RE ALIVE.

As Drake slapped his notebook shut, the phone rang. (Serious scientists always slap their notebooks shut.)

“Doyle and Fossey,” he answered, shoving a pencil behind his ear.

You see, Drake Doyle was his name. Science was his game. And Nell Fossey was his partner. (Besides being his best friend.) They were in business together. Serious business. Their business cards read:

Already they had solved many cases, using their fantastic scientific and detective skills. No case was too difficult for Doyle and Fossey, the best science detectives in the fifth grade.

“Drake?” said the voice on the phone. “Drake Doyle?”

“Speaking. Who is this?”

“It’s Caitlin Rae.” Caitlin was in Drake’s class at school. And just as Drake was the science sort, Caitlin was the cat sort. She loved cats, and everybody knew she had a bunch of them at home. Every day she came to school covered in cat fuzz, and once even coughed up a hair ball.

Caitlin said, “I—I have a terrible problem.”

“No problem is too terrible for Doyle and Fossey,” Drake said in his most professional voice. But instead of saying something like, “How wonderful!” or “Sign me up!” Caitlin burst into tears. She cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and
cried
and
cried
and CRIED!

Using the latest scientific techniques for hysteria control, Drake said, “Now, now,” and “There, there.” Ten minutes later, just as the phone receiver was getting a little soggy, Drake finally got the story from her.

“It’s my cat Zappy.” Caitlin sniffed. “He’s not eating.”

“Have you called the vet?”

“(
Sniff, sniff.
) My dad says no more vets. I have eighteen cats, and Dad says if I can’t take care of them myself, then it’s off to the pound with them all. He’s sick of them. I didn’t know who else to call (
sniff, sniff
) except, maybe, Frisco.”

Great Scott! thought Drake, almost falling off his stool. If he didn’t take the case, Caitlin was desperate enough to hire his competitor, James Frisco! Frisco would likely tell Caitlin something horrible. Something like, “Forget it, kid. Zappy’s a goner.” And then charge her five bucks anyway.

Like Doyle and Fossey, Frisco was a scientist. But he was a bad scientist. More like a mad scientist. If an experiment said, “Don’t do this or that,” he did it anyway. If an experiment said, “Clean up your mess,” Frisco left the mess for his mother. If an experiment said, “Don’t use your little sister as your test subject” … well … some things are better left unsaid.

Frisco’s business cards read:

Drake could not let Frisco take this important case. “Never fear, Caitlin Rae. Drake Doyle and Nell Fossey to the rescue!”

Immediately he phoned Nell. “It’s a matter of life or death. Not a moment to lose. Caitlin Rae’s house. I’ll pick you up in two minutes flat.”

“Check.”

Click.

Actually, it was more like two minutes, six seconds. As soon as Drake and his dad drove up, Nell flew out of her house and into the car lickety-split. She was never one to waste time. She was, after all, the fastest runner in the fifth grade. Not only that, Nell was a no-nonsense woman of science. Her coffee-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her scientist cap was shoved on her head in a most no-nonsense way. “Morning, Drake,” said Nell, sliding into the backseat beside him.

“Morning, Nell,” said Drake.

“Morning, Mr. Doyle,” said Nell.

“Morning, Nell,” said Drake’s father.

Sam Doyle was pretty handy to have around. Especially if one happened to be a scientist. Besides driving Drake and Nell all over town, Mr. Doyle owned a science equipment and supply company. Whatever Drake needed for his lab, Mr. Doyle could get. Computers, sinks, microscopes, telescopes, beakers, test tubes—even lab coats with their names on them. It was all the same to him. “Just clean up your mess and don’t blow up the lab” was what he always said. (So far, they’d only blown up the lab twice.)

Drake filled Nell in on the tragic details. “It’s life or death,” he said. “Zappy the Cat is not eating.”

Nell nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Detective Doyle. There’s not a moment to lose. To Caitlin’s house and make it snappy, Mr. Doyle!”

Tires squealed. In three minutes, seventeen seconds, they arrived at Caitlin’s house. “Don’t be long,” said Mr. Doyle.

“Check,” said Drake.

“Roger that,” said Nell.

Drake tripped over the curb as they got out of the car. (Tripping came quite naturally to Drake.) Nell helped him up and brushed him off. She was a great partner. Together they hurried to Caitlin’s house and rang the doorbell.

Caitlin answered immediately. She looked quite sad indeed, with a red, runny nose and watery eyes. Scads of fat cats wound around her legs, mewing, and several dashed outside.

“Came as fast as we could, Ms. Rae,” said Drake.

“Oh! (
sob!
) I thought you’d never get here!” Caitlin pulled them into the living room and pointed to a corner. “Poor Zappy’s wrapped in that blanket.”

“Stand back, Ms. Rae,” said Drake. “We’ll take it from here.”

Drake and Nell peeled away the blanket. There lay Zappy the Cat. He looked like a little bunch of furry bones.

“Hmm,” murmured Drake. “When was the last time he ate?”

“About a week now. I’ve even tried feeding him his favorite Munch-a-Bunch-of-Mice-Bits, but it doesn’t seem to matter what I put into his bowl. Nothing works.”

“Why does he lie in the blanket?” asked Nell.

“Comfortable, I guess,” replied Caitlin. “The blanket arrived last Saturday. A birthday present from my grandma. As soon as I unwrapped it, Zappy snuggled into it and refused to leave. And now that he’s not eating—oh! (
sob!
)—I just don’t have the heart to take it away.”

“At least he has a comfortable place to sleep,” observed Nell.

Drake nodded. Comfort was highly important for a starving cat. He rubbed the blanket between his fingers. “It’s quite soft.”

“Grandma knitted it from Angora rabbit hair.” Caitlin sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Grandma sends nothing but the best.”