Read Online The Case of the Mossy Lake Monster by Michele Torrey - Free Book Online Page 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.”



“Where’s his food?” asked Nell. When Caitlin pointed to an aluminum pie plate, Nell knelt and examined it with her magnifying glass. It was situated on the carpet about six feet from Zappy and was filled with cat food. “Certainly plenty of food,” remarked Nell, standing up again.
    “No reason for a cat to go hungry,” agreed Drake. “This case gets more puzzling by the second.”
    “Indeed, Detective Doyle. Indeed.”
    Just then, Zappy crawled out of his blanket. His fur stood on end. Drake and Nell watched as Zappy slowly approached the food dish, ears pressed flat to his head. Closer … closer … two feet … one foot … six inches … one inch…
    Suddenly, the room exploded in cat fur!

Z AP! MEEOOOOOOWWWWRRRRR!
    Quick as lightning, Zappy zoomed past Drake and Nell and dove into his blanket. He looked rather like a speeding locomotive with claws and fur and huge eyeballs.
    “Oh, poor, poor Zappy,” wailed Caitlin. “That’s what always happens. Oh, booooo-hooooo! ”
    “Curious,” said