Trouble Takes the Cake

by Carolyn Keene

  “I know.” Sally groaned. “That’s why I came back down here.”

  “You put the mummy in Sally’s locker?” George asked Maria. “How come?”

  “I thought Sally needed some cheering up,” Maria said. She leaned on her broom. “Especially after yesterday’s chocolate sundae disaster.”

  Nancy tapped the mummy. It sounded hollow. “This thing is fake, isn’t it?”

  Sally nodded. “It’s made of papiermâché. But it sure fooled you, huh?”

  “Nah,” George said. “Not me.”

  Bess turned to Maria. “If you wanted to cheer Sally up, why didn’t you just give her flowers or chocolate?”

  “Are you kidding?” Maria asked. She straightened her pointed hat. “Sally is allergic to chocolate.”

  “Really?” Nancy asked Sally.

  Sally shuddered. “I wish I could eat chocolate-chip cookies, brownies, or chocolate ice cream, but when I do, I itch all over.”

  Then Sally folded her arms across her chest. “What were you girls doing in my locker anyway?” she asked.

  Nancy took a deep breath. “We’re trying to find out who baked the creepy cake that Harriet served yesterday,” she explained.

  Maria waved her black cape. “Don’t look at me. I just mix brews.”

  “And I don’t even touch chocolate,” Sally said. Then she blushed. “Unless I drop a tray.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have baked the cake?” Nancy asked.

  Sally shook her black-and-silver wig. “Not a clue. But good luck.”

  “Yeah, and when you find him, let me know,” Maria said. She waved her broom. “I’ll turn him into a toad. Cackle! Cackle!”

  Nancy, Bess, and George giggled.

  “Do you really think Sally is innocent, Nancy?” George asked as they climbed the stairs.

  “Yes,” Nancy said. “Why would anyone allergic to chocolate bake a chocolate cake?”

  George grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Now can we check out Count Snackula, pleeeease?”

  “Okay, okay,” Nancy said. She crossed Sally’s name out of her notebook. Then they headed for Count Snackula’s Castle.

  When they got there, they saw a note pinned to the heavy black curtain. It read: Keep Out. This Means You!

  “It’s another joke,” Nancy said.

  The girls peeked through the heavy velvet curtain. The small room was empty.

  “It looks even creepier when nobody’s in there,” George whispered.

  Nancy saw cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. A coffin stood against one wall. Over the coffin was a fake owl on a perch. Its eyes glowed red.

  “The sign says to keep out,” Bess said in a tiny voice. “Are we sure we want to go inside?”

  “Yes, we’re sure,” George hissed.

  Nancy slipped through the heavy curtain. Bess and George followed.

  “Let’s look around for anything creepy,” Nancy suggested.

  “This whole place is creepy,” Bess complained.

  But then Nancy saw something that made her eyes open wide. On the lid of the coffin was a dab of white cream.

  “Look at that,” Nancy said. She pointed to the cream.

  “Didn’t the cake have whipped-cream squiggles on the top?” George asked.

  Nancy nodded. “But how do we know that’s whipped cream on the coffin? It could be shaving cream.”

  “And vampires must shave,” Bess said. “They’re not fuzzy like werewolves.”

  “There’s only one way to find out what it is,” George said. “Someone has to taste it.”

  “Eeew,” Bess said. “I’m not tasting that stuff.”

  “Neither am I,” Nancy said.

  Just then a rubber bat bounced down from the ceiling. Bess screamed and fell against the wall.

  “Bess, watch out,” Nancy said. “You’re leaning against some kind of switch!”

  “What switch?” Bess asked.

  But it was too late. The room began to fill up with thick, white fog.

  “Great!” Nancy groaned as the fog drifted up past her knees. “Just great!”

  7

  Handle with Scare

  Let’s get out of here!” Nancy called through the fog.

  “How?” Bess cried. “I can’t see a thing!”

  Nancy, Bess, and George fumbled through the thick mist for the way out.

  “I think I found the curtain,” Nancy said. She tugged at the heavy fabric.

  “Good afternoon,” came a voice.

  Nancy jumped back. The fabric she’d grabbed wasn’t the curtain. It was someone’s cape.

  Nancy, Bess, and George clutched one another as the fog began to thin.

  When the room was finally clear, they were looking up into the angry face of Count Snackula.

  “Didn’t you girls read the sign?” Count Snackula asked.

  Bess shrugged. “We thought that was just for . . . um . . . um . . .”

  “Vampire slayers,” George said quickly.

  Nancy marched up to Count Snackula.

  “We came in here for a reason,” Nancy said bravely. “To look for clues.”

  “Nancy, don’t,” Bess whispered.

  “Clues?” Count Snackula asked.

  “Yesterday someone switched Harriet’s chocolate cake with a creepy one,” Nancy said.

  Count Snackula raised his skinny eyebrows. “And you think it was me?” he asked.

  “We overheard you saying something about a cake,” Nancy said.

  “And getting even with Harriet,” George added.

  Count Snackula threw back his head and laughed.

  “He even laughs like a bat,” George whispered to Nancy.

  “You’re right,” Count Snackula said. “I did want revenge against Harriet.”

  He walked to the coffin. Then he pointed a long, skinny finger at the lid.

  “And the revenge is inside there,” Count Snackula said slowly.

  Nancy could hear herself gulp.

  “Don’t you want to see what it is?” Count Snackula asked.

  “No!” Bess said.

  “Yes!” Nancy and George said.

  “Then come,” Count Snackula said.

  Nancy, Bess, and George walked very slowly over to Count Snackula.

  Count Snackula grabbed the lid and lifted it. It made a soft creaking sound.

  “I’ve been dying to show this to someone,” Count Snackula said.

  Nancy held her breath as she peeked inside. “Ohmygosh!” she cried.

  Inside the coffin was a cake. It was decorated with candy bats and whipped cream. Written on top in blue squiggles were the words: I QUIT!

  “Does this take the cake, or what?” Count Snackula cried.

  “This is your revenge?” Nancy asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the count said. “Now Harriet will have to find another Count Snackula.”

  Nancy watched as Count Snackula yanked his fangs from his mouth.

  “No more candy bats for me!” he cried. “I’m opening up a flower shop!”

  Count Snackula waved his cape in the air. Then he turned around and walked out.

  Nancy, Bess, and George stared at the black curtain.

  “He forgot his cake,” Bess said.

  “So that was the cake he was talking about,” Nancy said.

  “I guess that rules out Count Snackula,” George said.

  Bess turned to Nancy. “Then who?”

  Suddenly the fake owl began to twist its head. Its red eyes flashed.

  “Hoo!” it screeched.

  The girls ran for the curtain. But as they spilled out of the room, they crashed right into Scott.

  “Careful!” Scott cried as his baking tools tumbled out of his pocket.

  “We’re sorry,” Nancy said. They kneeled down to help Scott pick them up.

  But when Nancy grabbed a mixing spoon, she noticed something strange. There was green slime on the handle.

  Scott snatched the spoon from Nancy. “I’ll take that,” he said
quickly.

  When all the tools were back in Scott’s pocket, he stood up.

  “Are you going back to the kitchen?” Nancy asked.

  “No,” Scott said. He walked away quickly. “I’m going to the basement for a bag of sugar.”

  Nancy watched Scott hurry away.

  “Slime,” Nancy said slowly.

  “No, he’s not,” George said. “Scott’s nice.”

  “I meant that there was green slime on one of his mixing spoons,” Nancy explained.

  Nancy opened her notebook and added the slimy spoon to her list of clues.

  “Do you think Scott might have baked the creepy cake?” George asked.

  Nancy thought for a moment.

  “Scott can bake,” she said. “He’s also in the kitchen all the time.”

  “And he seemed really nervous when he burned those muffins,” Bess said.

  George snapped her fingers. “Maybe there are some clues in Scott’s cabinet.”

  Nancy nodded. “Let’s check it out.”

  “But he’ll see us!” Bess cried.

  “Scott just went down to the basement,” Nancy said. “And I saw Harriet talking to some diners. If we hurry, we can get into the kitchen while it’s still empty.”

  The three friends rushed through the dining area to the dessert kitchen. Nancy was right. It was empty.

  “Open Scott’s cabinet, Nancy,” Bess said.

  Nancy grabbed the handle on the cabinet door. Then she pulled it open and looked in.

  The cabinet was stocked with jars and bottles of baking ingredients. Nancy read the labels out loud: “Corn syrup, oil, vanilla extract ...”

  George reached in. She moved some jars aside. “What’s that bottle in the back? The one without a label?”

  Nancy carefully took the brown bottle from the cabinet.

  “I know,” she said. “This is the same bottle that the mad scientist showed us.”

  “You mean the one with the slime?” Bess said.

  “Are you sure?” George asked. She grabbed the bottle from Nancy’s hand.

  “Don’t open it, George!” Nancy cried.

  But it was too late. George had already popped the cap off the bottle. Green slime oozed from the top. It bubbled down George’s hand and all over the kitchen floor.

  “Oh, no!” Nancy cried.

  8

  Scene of the Slime

  It’s out of control!” George shouted.

  “Ugh!” Bess shrieked. “It’s all over my new shoes!”

  Nancy didn’t know what to do. She grabbed a bucket and dropped it over the oozing bottle. The green slime seeped out from under it.

  “The mad scientist was right,” George said. “That stuff is alive!”

  Just then the door swung open and Harriet ran in. “What’s all this green slime doing in my kitchen?” she asked.

  Bess and George froze like statues. Nancy took a deep breath. Then she explained everything to Harriet.

  “You think Scott baked that horrible cake?” Harriet asked Nancy.

  “I didn’t!” came an angry voice.

  Nancy spun around. It was Scott.

  “That green stuff you saw on my spoon was . . . from a key lime pie I was baking.”

  Nancy pointed to the floor. “You mean a key slime pie.”

  “Where did you find that?” Scott asked.

  “In your cabinet,” George said. “Right next to the marshmallow topping.”

  Scott looked angry. He stepped carefully over the green gook. Then he reached to close his cabinet.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Scott said. “Why would I keep slime in my—”

  “Look out!” George called.

  A paper bag inside the cabinet tipped over. It spilled fake eyeballs all over Scott.

  “Arrrrgh!” Scott shouted as the eyeballs rolled off his shoulders.

  Harriet folded her arms across her chest. “Green slime? Fake eyeballs? I think you have some explaining to do, Scott Martin,” she said.

  “Okay, okay,” Scott said. He kicked a plastic eyeball away from his foot. “I did bake the creepy cake.”

  Bess grabbed Nancy’s arm excitedly.

  “But it wasn’t for Tory,” he said. “It was for my little cousin, Ryan.”

  “Your cousin?” Bess asked. “Why did you bake him such a gross cake?”

  “Ryan loves anything gross,” Scott explained. “So I collected rubber spiders, green slime, fake eyeballs, and anything else I could find here in the restaurant.”

  “But how did all that stuff land up with Tory?” Nancy asked.

  “I baked the cake in my free time. After I filled it, I placed it next to the others,” Scott said. “I had no idea you would choose it as Tory’s birthday cake.”

  “Why didn’t you just admit it yesterday, Scott?” Harriet asked.

  “I didn’t want you to know that I was goofing around in the kitchen,” Scott said.

  “I am mad that you baked this cake behind my back, Scott,” Harriet said.

  Then Nancy saw Harriet smile.

  “But it seems like a trick I would have played in college,” Harriet said.

  “Nancy’s aunt Eloise told us all about those tricks, Harriet,” George said. “They must have been fun.”

  “Tricks can be fun,” Harriet said. “But they can sometimes backfire.”

  “Like yesterday,” Scott said slowly. “When I ruined your review.”

  Just then Nancy had an idea.

  “I know!” she said. “Let’s go to Tory’s apartment and explain what happened with the cake.”

  “You mean everything?” Scott asked.

  Nancy nodded. “As my dad always says, there’s nothing better than telling the truth.”

  “Good idea, Nancy,” Harriet said. “I’ll call Mrs. Buckingham to ask if you can come over.”

  After a quick lunch at Haunted Harriet’s, Scott took the girls to Tory’s building. It was only a few blocks from the restaurant.

  “Scott?” Nancy asked as they entered the building. “Did you also write that slimy message on the mirror yesterday?”

  “What slimy message?” Scott asked.

  Nancy sighed. “Never mind.”

  As they walked through the lobby, Bess gasped. “This place looks like a castle!”

  A man behind a desk phoned up to Tory’s apartment. Then he smiled.

  “You can take the elevator up to Apartment Twenty S,” he said.

  George snickered. “S as in snooty,”

  “Shhh!” Nancy said.

  They rang the doorbell, and Mrs. Buckingham answered the door. “Tory is in her room,” she said coolly. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  They followed Mrs. Buckingham to a large room filled with toys and games. Tory was sitting on her bed with her arms folded across her chest.

  “I don’t want to listen to them,” Tory said with a pout. “I just want to play with my new birthday presents.”

  “But we came to explain what happened with the gross cake,” Nancy said.

  “Don’t remind me about that stupid cake,” Tory cried. “I had to wash my hair three times!”

  “Tory, dear,” Mrs. Buckingham said. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”

  Then Mrs. Buckingham turned to Scott. “And it had better be good!” she growled.

  Scott explained everything that had happened. When he was finished, Mrs. Buckingham and Tory didn’t say a word.

  Uh-oh, Nancy thought. They’re going to start yelling any minute.

  But suddenly Tory began to laugh. “You mean all that gross stuff was supposed to be for your cousin?” she asked.

  Mrs. Buckingham began to laugh, too. “What a mix-up!” she cried.

  “You’re not mad?” Nancy asked.

  “I was pretty mad yesterday,” Tory said. “But later on the cake reminded me of my favorite TV show, Slime Time.”

  “You mean where kids have to swim though slime to win prizes?” George asked.

  “Th
at’s a great show,” Nancy said.

  Mrs. Buckingham shook Scott’s hand. “Apology accepted, Scott,” she said.

  Tory walked over to Nancy. “I’d like to apologize, too,” she said. “I wrote that mean message on the mirror. I did it when my hands were covered with slime.”

  Nancy smiled. So it was Tory who had written the message. Now the mystery was really solved.

  “That’s okay,” Nancy said. “You must have been pretty angry.”

  Then Tory walked over to her toy shelf and reached for the Statue of Liberty doll.

  “Why don’t you take this?” Tory asked. “I got plenty of new stuff on my birthday.”

  Nancy took the Statue of Liberty doll and held it carefully. “Thanks, Tory.”

  “I’d like to make an offer, too,” Mrs. Buckingham said. “How would you like me to come back to Haunted Harriet’s tomorrow to write a new review for my magazine?”

  “Harriet would love it,” Scott said.

  “Would you girls like to join us there?” Mrs. Buckingham asked.

  Nancy shook her head. “Thank you, but we have to go home to River Heights tomorrow morning,” she said.

  “Well, then,” Mrs. Buckingham said. “How about a horse and carriage ride right now?”

  “A horse and carriage ride?” Bess squealed.

  “Cool!” George cried.

  “We’d love it!” Nancy said.

  “Thanks, but I can’t go,” Scott said. “I have to get back to work.”

  Mrs. Buckingham turned to Nancy.

  “Do you know someone else who would like to join you, Nancy?” she asked.

  “I sure do,” Nancy said. “That is, if she’s finished grading math tests.”

  • • •

  The sun was just going down as a beautiful horse and white carriage made its way down Fifth Avenue.

  “Look at all the stores!” Bess cried.

  “And all the people!” George said.

  Aunt Eloise smiled at Nancy. “So, Nancy. What do you think of your trip to New York City?”

  “It’s awesome,” Nancy said. “But there’s just one thing I have to do.”

  “What?” Tory asked. “See Times Square? The United Nations? Radio City Music Hall?”

  “No, this,” Nancy said. She took out her detective notebook and opened it in her lap. Then she began to write:

  When it comes to cases, this one took the cake—the creepy cake! But I learned a lot. First, that practical jokes sometimes aren’t very funny. So you have to be real careful. Second, I learned something about myself: If I can solve a mystery in a big city like New York, then I guess I can solve one just about anywhere!