Mystery Busters, The Curse of the Monster's Tooth

by R L Wagner

  That remark got my attention and Mom’s, too. I watched Mrs. Krebs walk through the front door and down the front steps. All of this was a lot happening right away. I took a deep breath and kept exploring and there they were.

  Four chairs sat around the dining table. One over-stuffed brown leather chair seemed to be the main seat. On the table were research folders, old London newspaper clippings, a world atlas, and maps of England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland. There were books about amphibians, dinosaurs, and Leonardo da Vinci. A yellow note pad with Uncle Scott’s scribbled handwriting read “Mulligan’s” and “The Harpooner.” Is this evidence about your last case, Uncle Scott? I said to myself, totally stoked! We have inherited the house of a modern-day Sherlock Holmes and his clues. Were there more? I moved on.

  Past the spindled center stairway was the amazing kitchen. It looked like something out of a country monthly magazine. Colorful, handpainted, Spanish dishes hung on all the walls. A big, six-burner stove covered the west wall, and a large, wooden chopping block sat in the center of the room with copper pots and pans hanging over it. The sink was like a small white bathtub. The large window over the sink looked out through the branches of a white magnolia tree and into the garden. A big, glass door

  refrigerator was at one end, and a pantry at the other. Behind the kitchen was an office with a bed, a bathroom, and in the corner, one large locked door.

  Mom came in excited and holding back tears. “There are four, lovely bedrooms upstairs. And look at this kitchen!” That’s when she lost it. “Bill and I used to talk about having a house like this.” Her tears were a big release for both of us. We hugged for a long time.

  “I miss him too, Mom.”

  “Picnic in the garden, come and get it!” Mrs. Krebs shouted out from under the window.

  With reassuring giggles we regained our composure. We wiped our tears, smiled at each other, and headed out to the lovely lunch Mrs. Krebs had prepared.

  “Get the led out, Mom, Sis!” Benny said, racing down the stairs and running past us chanting, “Oh yeah, it’s cool, lunch is served! Oh yeah, it’s cool! Yum Yum Yum!”

  Mom smiled and followed out after him. It seemed like Benny was always hungry these days.

  I started to join them, but stopped. That’s when I first felt it.

  I walked to the back bedroom office and back to the front door. I did it again just to make sure I’d gotten my rough measurement right.

  “Something’s missing,” I said, looking around and talking to myself again. “And I always talk to myself when I’m nervous.”

  I walked upstairs to the furthest wall from the front door and walked back counting my steps to the entry. I took a longer look around.

  “I’m not sure what, but something is strange about your house, Uncle Scott,” I said. “I’m going to be an architect so I should know, but I’m just not sure what it is.”

  However, shockingly I soon would.

  3 Benny’s Nightmare

  We spent that afternoon moving boxes and climbing up and down the stairs. Rammie followed us everywhere, meowing. I couldn’t shake the odd, almost looming feeling about the house. I couldn’t figure it out. It felt just as strange to me upstairs as it did downstairs. I was sure it wasn’t my imagination, but what was it? No one else seemed to notice anything. I even went outside and walked around the house counting my steps, measuring the exterior walls.

  I decided to ignore it for now. It was getting late. We tried to help Mom as much as possible, but our enthusiasm dropped as our hunger grew.

  “Mom, why are you starving me again? Mom?” Benny shouted from the top of the stairs, thinking he was being cute.

  I looked up at him. “Really?” I said. “Just saying.” Benny sho t one of his cutesy looks at me.

  We had dinner at the favorite town haunt, The Nugget Diner, famous for breakfasts, burgers, gold miner’s fries, and pie. Mom and Benny had the burgers. I had a backwards night

  – breakfast for dinner. I’ll always be a city girl. I do love my diners. Dad and I knew every greasy spoon in the city.

  We came home to find the full, orange moon hanging next to the house. All in all, we were pretty happy to get back. It was the end of a really long day. We had a big, family

  goodnight hug in the upstairs hallway and went off smiling to our new bedrooms.

  Benny locked himself in his room with his computer games up and running. Mom took the two bedrooms in the front of the house. She set up the second room as a sewing room for her costume business, but tonight her sewing could wait. Mom was extremely tired. She had almost fallen asleep hugging us. The fatigue of two weeks of packing, the drive, the unpacking, and the emotions of the day caught up with her. A deep, snoring sleep wrapped over her. I tried to put myself in her shoes. We – well, I really– did have to give this place a chance, but tonight we just had to sleep.

  Rammie meowed a long, soft “good night.” Now he was back sleeping in his home, and we were okay with that. Rammie lay down and purred in his choice of spots – the top of the stairs next to hall bookcase.

  I took the back corner room next to Benny’s. My bed faced the window with the huge magnolia tree outside. The sweet, white blooms were the size of soft balls. I turned out the light and watched the white flowers reflect the jumping lights and humming sounds of Benny’s video games. I shut my eyes. Sleep was so close… then BAM!

  “That’s it!” I bolted straight up, shouting, “The house is missing more house! The inside is just too small.” What I meant was that the inside of the house is smaller than the outside of the house by way too much. I know! I’m going to be an architect! I sat there staring wide-eyed even more puzzled.

  And what is that? I closed my eyes thinking I was dreaming. When I opened them, the magnolias flowers were now glowing bright green.

  Benny burst into the room, his eyes wild with fear.

  “Sis! I’m having a horrible nightmare! You gotta see this! Hurry! Get up!” he said, shaking.

  ‘See’ his nightmare? Poor kid, Benny has been tortured with nightmares ever since we lost Dad. I jumped up, but couldn’t find my robe.

  “Forget your robe! Come into the hall!” he said emphatically, pulling me by the hand.

  “Okay, okay, I’m coming!” I yelled back at him. I had never seen Benny like this. I followed him into the hall. There was Rammie rubbing up against the bookcase purring louder than I thought possible. We stopped, frozen, our mouths wide open and staring. The bookcase was glowing green. I broke Benny’s grip and rubbed my eyes. This wasn’t a bad dream. The bookcase was actually glowing green, a lot of green!

  “It’s creepy!” Benny said, whispering.

  A pulsing bright green haze was in the walls and bleeding through every crack. Benny took my hand again and we stood perfectly still. There wasn’t a sound.

  “Is this a dream, Sis?” Benny asked again, whispering.

  “No! We’re both awake,” I quickly whispered back. I was somewhere between being afraid and being curious. It wasn’t a fire. There was no heat.

  “Sis is this . . .?” Benny whispered, all shaky and twitching.

  “I don’t believe in ghosts, Benny. Or little green men either.” I suddenly realized we were both whispering. “And, why are we

  whispering?” I added.

  The fear in Benny’s eyes was starting to disappear. He shrugged heavily, and we had a small laugh as I nudged him with my elbow.

  “Maybe we should get Mom,” Benny said, having a quick full body shudder. Escaping bright light beamed out between the gaps of the bookcase boards landing on our faces as thin green glowing lines. “I think whatever it is, it’s coming from behind the bookcase.” Benny squeezed my hand and pointed.

  “Coming from behind the bookcase . . . YES, I knew it!” I said in a louder voice, and then thought better of it. I lowered my voice thinking I might wake Mom. “I knew there was something making the house seem smaller,” I said triumphantly.

  This was it. Benny w
as spot on. The green light was coming from the other side of the wall. This hidden, whatever it was, was taking up major space, about five feet across the bookshelf wall, ten feet from floor to ceiling, and the length of about two thirds of each floor, both upstairs and downstairs.

  “Maybe it’s a door or something?” Benny said, still shaking. “But to where?”

  Poor kid, Benny sounded like he was trapped, back in another night terror. So I tried to sound like I wasn’t.

  “Yeah, maybe there’s a door knob or something. If this bookcase is a door, where would the door knob be Benny?” I said matter- of-factly.

  Benny moved some books on the right side of the case, and then tried a second shelf below. “There’s nothing over here, try your side,” he said nervously.

  “Ok,” I said, and reached out trying to approximate where the handle or knob would be.

  “There!” Benny pointed. “Move that box at the end of those books.” Benny sounded a little less afraid.

  I reached for the box. “MEOOOW!!!” Rammie screamed and jumped onto the shelf! We both just about had heart attacks. We nearly screamed, or worse. We shushed each other, trying not to yell, or laugh nervously. We can’t wake up Mom, I thought. I took in a big gulp of air and let it out slowly. My heart was pounding.

  “Take the cat Benny, I’ll try the box,” I said quietly, with a nod. I knew I needed to act brave for both of us. I couldn’t lift the box, but it did move toward me sliding on some sort of hinge. “There it is!” I whispered. “And there’s a doorknob behind the box!”

  “Maybe we should get Mom.” Benny shivered again as he said it.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t, not yet at least. Come on!” I said.

  The knob slowly turned in my hand and I pulled. We heard a faint rattling sound. The case moved easily toward me just like a big door. The green glow spilled over us into the hall leaving our giant shadows dancing the jitters on the wall behind us. Rammie yowled loudly. He struggled desperately in Benny’s arms and escaped, dashing down a set of stairs into the deep green haze. I stared trying to see Rammie. I blinked once and abruptly the green light just shut off. The stairs in front of us suddenly went very dark. There we stood silent for a moment, framed in the only moonlight that our bedroom windows allowed into the hallway.

  “Did...did we do that?” Benny stammered, whispering.

  “How should I know? Come on! There’s probably a light switch right about here,” I said. A click replaced the dark. The light of five evenly spaced, small brass lanterns washed over the long path of downward steps. The carpet runner on the stairs had an old flower pattern in gold and browns. The wallpaper was an oldfashioned print in deep burgundy with a gray foil background.

  Benny and I shot each other a clueless look. We took each other’s hands and stepped downward holding tight to the dark wood side banisters. We didn’t talk and I didn’t really think. We just slowly passed each thick spindle descending down two full stories to a dark secret place underneath the house. Old smells rose up from the darkness. It smelled like a library, but sweeter with that faint vanilla scent again. This wasn’t Elsie’s dusting spray, not down here.

  “You okay, Ben?” I asked, squeezing his hand.

  “Yeah,” he said, and kept walking, “but you never call me Ben.” He looked at me and I looked at him. Slowly we crept closer to the darkness ahead.

  “You don’t suppose Uncle Scott is down here?” Benny whispered.

  Hearing Benny’s words, I just about jumped out of my skin. A tremendous cold chill sprinted up my spine and practically lifted me off my feet. I still held Benny’s hand tightly, but my sudden, startled jerk had caused him to fall forward. Desperately clinging to the banister I tugged Benny back hard. He stumbled but somehow landed sitting just one step further down. Our hearts raced. We lost our breaths. My heart felt like heavy stone, and I abruptly plopped down next to Ben.

  “Sorry,” I stammered, “you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just don’t do that again! I almost threw up in my mouth!” Benny

  answered, and that started us giggling. We sat there a long time I think.

  Eventually we stood and made it onto a dark bottom landing. The last three steps seemed like the longest. Benny looked past me. “Hit the switch next to you, Sis,” he said.

  I flipped the switch. The lights clicked on. Our mouths dropped open. Benny’s eyes were the widest I had ever seen them!

  What lay in front of us changed our lives forever.

  4 The Secret and The Treasure

  “Wow Sis! Isn’t this supposed to be a twostory house? Sally?” Benny said nervously, and looking puzzled. His confusion echoed mine.

  “Yeah, a two -story country house, four bedrooms, two baths, a fireplace, and an enormous treasure palace in the secret cellar. Wow is right!” I sat down hard feeling as if I might faint.

  Right here in front of us was a third, secret level underneath the house, arranged like some wonderful toyshop exhibiting Uncle Scott’s most dazzling artifacts and astounding treasures. It looked like someone went back in time and grabbed all the coolest stuff they could find.

  Benny sat next to me. “Wha t is this place, Sis?” he asked

  I put my head down between my legs and shut my eyes. “I think this is where Uncle Scott really lived. And now it’s ours!”

  “It’s ours, really, it’s ours? Awesome!” Benny exclaimed.

  I heard his excitement and wanted to agree. I swallowed hard and opened my eyes, trying to accept it. I let out a huge sigh that melted into a big smile. The entire floor was as big as the stories above, but taller. Enormous ceiling rafters and heavy posts supported the two stories above us. Instead of walls, unique artifacts made clever, remarkable room dividers. This must be the ‘extensive, secretive, termite work’ Mrs. Krebs was talking about. Does she know about this? I didn’t think so, not by the way she was talking.

  I stood up, trying to take it all in. Wow, could this really be ours?

  To our left, two authentic totem poles, stood flanked by floor-to-ceiling, narrow, blue stained glass windows depicting waves. They made a dramatic entry to the grand area of collectables beyond. The place looked cluttered, but in an inviting and homey way. To our right, three black, wide, freestanding walls formed what looked to be an actual entry to a turn-ofthe-century British storefront; one that Dr. Watson himself might have shopped in to purchase a new top hat. Two small black statues, Greek gods maybe, sat atop waist-high stone pedestals placed to the right and left of the center doorway. Visible through the many square panes of the store’s display windows were rows of antique clothing hung on brass racks. It all looked like a smart authentic vintage clothing store. Above the door, a black sign with gold letters read “M. Buster.”

  Benny stood up and trotted ahead to the center exhibit. He stopped and laughed. There an ancient, round, carved wood table stood with 24 gold chairs around it. On the table, an antique metal electric train was glistening, lit by maybe a hundred miniature lampposts. The track’s route formed several big circles around very old architectural models, all arranged to look like a small city and a surrounding countryside. I recognized a tall Eiffel Tower model in the center.

  Benny walked quickly around the train set grinning. He turned back, shot a smile at me, and went skipping through the two totems. I got up and followed.

  “What is this place, Sis?” Benny stopped, staring at the room in front of him. “Is it some kind of museum?”

  “For sure, it’s some kind of treasure museum,” I answered, “but it’s like a living room too.”

  In the center, two dark green, diamondupholstered couches with old, colorful quilts and big, maroon pillows sat facing each other. Their colors begged the likes of Christmas. A large, square coffee table, constructed from the hatch of an old sea ship and thick glass, rested between the sofas. Old, leather books covered the table. A dry teapot with a stained cup and saucer sat next to a chess set frozen in play. Under the copper tile ceiling, a long primitive wood
en canoe and a university-racing scull looked to be floating in air.

  “Sis!” Benny stood by a narrow table behind the couch on the left. It was covered with framed pictures and a stack of leather photo albums. Like upstairs, the frames contained more photos of Uncle Scott, Dad, Mom, Benny, and me. “This kind of makes it our home, too,” he said quietly.

  Across the room, Old Master oil paintings hung on a wall squeezed between two old, oak library shelves packed with ancient artifacts displayed on the left and newer objects on the right. I walked over and stood three rungs up on the sliding library ladder “I bet these are evidence pieces from Uncle Scott’s cases.” I said it aloud, more to myself than to Benny.

  Behind Benny, on the opposite wall, a long, tall row of nine antique, stained glass windows mounted onto large, freestanding wooden frames glowed colorfully. They gave the underground room the illusion of having windows without walls. Opposite the entry sprawled a wide, slate, stone fireplace. Above the mantel, a dozen primitive ritual masks hung. Like upstairs, a tall, wing chair and an oversized rocking chair nestled in front of the hearth on an elegant, woven carpet.

  “Oh my gosh, Sis! Come here!” Benny sounded seriously surprised.

  We walked through the archway to the left of the fireplace into a dimly lit, long, narrow room comprised of deep walk-in cases with continuous glass doors. Dusty wine bottles, rounds of cheese, and jars of food accounted for most of the left side of the room.

  “It’s all climate controlled,” I told Benny, touching the cool glass.

  “Yeah, this looks like the oldest stuff over here,” Benny pointed. Two display cases stored an assortment of containers; clay pots, baskets, beautiful wooden boxes, and even egg-shaped cups with jewels. Three more cases displayed old scrolls of paper, leather books, old maps, handwritten music, and stacks of sorted documents and folios. They seemed to represent every ancient time and culture.

  We walked back into the living room through a second archway to the right of the fireplace. From this vantage point I could take it all in. Uncle Scott’s collection astounded me. A remarkable assortment of furniture sat on beautiful carpets. And everywhere there was something wonderful: clocks, cameras, a twofoot tall hourglass, and a huge old globe sat across from a maroon and gold Victrola featuring a fancy brass horn and cherry wood record case. Old weapons and full suits of Asian, Spanish, and English battle armor occupied one corner. Another area displayed bowls and bottles of fossils and shells and various bones and skulls and microscopes. To the right of the fireplace, a small harpsichord and collection of musical instruments begged to be played. Across the room, next to the stained glass windows, a baby grand piano rested next to a music stand, leather bench, and standing cello. Models of airplanes, sea schooners, a large riverboat, the Titanic, metal toy cars and old trucks, even replicas of da Vinci inventions lay scattered and hanging through this living room of time.