Mystery Busters, The Curse of the Monster's Tooth

by R L Wagner

  “Seven seconds,” I heard Benny say like the first time, again a loud clapping sound, but suddenly an unexpected tremendous explosion slammed into our ears. We were ‘THERE’.

  “What was that?” Benny screamed. “It’s freezing wet and way too loud!” We were outside in a ferocious, wet, and windy Scottish storm. The gale’s swirling black clouds

  blanketed the sky. They cast an eerie, bitter, darkness over, what I guessed, was the late afternoon.

  “Sally, over here!” Benny grabbed my hand.

  We ran back and huddled under a porch roof, but still struggled to keep dry with the rain that blew nearly horizontal. A sign faced us now, ‘The Inverness Inn Tavern.’ The signboard, caught in the violent wind, squealed loudly, erratically swaying back and forth on its short chains.

  “I didn’t expect this,” I shouted.

  “Neither did I,” Benny yelled back. “It’s so noisy!”

  Along the street, the cottage storefronts were dark and empty. Their stone and stucco walls rattled like machine guns firing. The sound echoed the rapid, pounding strikes of the stinging ice hail. Windows shook. Rain-gutters overflowed and spilled torrents of loud gushing water onto the cobblestone streets creating icy rivers of rain that splashed and flowed, trapped between sidewalks. Benny yelled over the storm noises and pointed, “Look! Across the street! The watch repair shop's clock sign says it’s 5:04!”

  I stared at the clock, shivering. We backed up against the wall of the inn, but we were still getting really wet. A sudden crack of blinding, white light burst out and covered everything around us. We ducked down, completely startled. The brilliant reflection of burning lightning exploded across the clock's wet, glass face. A deafening thunderclap slammed over us only a second behind the flash. Ben and I screamed and covered our ringing ears. It felt like a cannon explosion went off right where we were standing. I swear it grabbed and shook us. A sudden wind shifted. It brought harsher cold slaps of freezing rain. I grabbed Benny.

  “Yeah, this is definitely not what I expected!” I shouted in a panic. Trying to stabilize ourselves in this weather was a lost cause. “Let’s just go inside!” We found the tavern's front door and pushed in. It was dark and empty inside, not at all bustling and friendly like Molly’s pub. A blast of wind grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Wind whistled in behind us.

  “No one even knows we’re here,” Benny whispered.

  “Are you okay, Benny?" I whispered back, “Because if you’re not, we could just travel now and…”

  “No, I'm okay. We've got to find Uncle Scott," he whispered back.

  We moved past a lot of empty tables and chairs. Another lightning bolt lit the place up through a row of red, blue, and green stained glass windows. The following thunderclap was just as earsplitting as before, but now slightly delayed behind the bolt.

  “This pub could feed at least eighty people,” Benny said.

  “Yeah, about the same size as Molly’s place. The storm must be keeping them away,” I answered. We moved in further and heard men’s voices coming from the back of the room. We could see the gold silhouette of the bar up ahead, lit from the light of a fireplace burning just around the corner. As we got closer, the men’s eerie, tall shadows flickered against the amber, flame-lit walls. Through the shadows a small group of seated men could be seen. They sounded like they were in a serious disagreement and their conversation was getting louder. A sudden burst of laughter barreled in. It sounded mean and taunting. The old Scottish accents made it difficult for me to understand most of what they were saying.

  “They’re arguing,” Benny said nervously.

  “I'm keeping the camera ready, just in case, so stay close,” I told Benny, opening the satchel’s leather flap. He squeezed my hand tighter. With another ten steps, we could make out what they were saying. An angry, mocking voice barked out the words, “The Monster.”

  That’s when they saw us.

  “Children!” A man in a blue cap and long beard yelled out. They all turned and stared at us. There were definitely four men, although my fear left me unable to count. Everyone wore beards and heavy frowns. Their stern, startled looks were terribly disapproving. “Children, coomh ‘ere!” The man in the blue cap had a gravelly voice that didn’t sound so friendly.

  Benny froze and whispered through a clenched mouth, “Camera, Sis. Camera now, Sis!”

  “Children, coomh ‘ere!” he repeated louder.

  No one moved but me. I quickly slid my hand into the satchel, pulled out the camera, and extended my arm with it in my hand. I struggled to get my finger on the button. My nerves and wet gloves had made my hand even more awkward than when I normally try to take a picture with a camera facing myself. I shook and my finger slipped off the picture button. I fumbled as Benny’s fingers dug into my elbow. The thundering clap I believed to be our ticket out of that situation was merely a roll of thunder from outside. I opened my squinted eyes. There were no stars. My heart climbed to my throat and my face was hot with anxiety. I tried again to steady the camera. A crack of the mighty fire illuminated a man’s shadow in the hallway behind the men. The man walked in. He was laughing and looking down at the tray of food he was carrying. It couldn’t be…

  “Uncle Scott?” we both said in disbelief in a frightened yet hopeful harmony. The man froze. He looked to us, squinting.

  “Sally, Ben?” Uncle Scott stepped toward us and squinted again. “Ben, Sally is that you?” He dropped the tray on the table. We rushed to him. Benny and I couldn’t help it. Our tears flowed and flowed. The three of us held each other tightly for a wonderfully long time. I think Uncle Scott spilled a tear, too. “It is you!” he whispered, “It is you!”

  Unbelievably, remarkably, we did it! Our wish came true!

  15 Our Deal

  “Uncle Scott! Uncle Scott! Uncle Scott!” I don’t know how many times Benny and I said his name. We nearly knocked him off his chair. We clung tight to him like cheese on a pizza, and he held on to us as if we would fall off a cliff if he let go. Here in Scotland of 1883, we found our uncle. At home, none of us really wanted to be in Clayton, not without Uncle Scott there. Now, he was here with us and everything was right again.

  After a long needed cry, we pulled apart and peeled away the hundred or so years that came between us, looking at each other eye to eye to eye.

  “Well,” Uncle Scott smiled, shaking out his handkerchief. He quickly wiped his face, trying to hide his tears and sniffles. “You’re just in time! Would you like some dessert?” His words stopped us right there. Uncle Scott had a way of using humor to make a situation better. Here we were, drowning in buckets of our reunion tears, and his silly question got us instantly laughing. He pulled two napkins from his food tray and handed them to us.

  “Here my lovelies mop up your wet faces.”

  Truth be told, we were pretty wet and really snotty. Uncle Scott surprised us with the most tremendous honking blow into his handkerchief. Benny and I froze. He really startled us. We looked at each other, trying hard not to laugh. It got them too, the stern men who had all along been staring at us with their long, appalled, bearded faces. They suddenly burst into some knee-slapping, Scottish hilarity, and like our own roll of thunder, everyone ignited into a chorus of uncontrollable laughter with some hearty, belly laughs. The formerly scary fire now glowed with kindness and warmed us. In the light of the flames, all of our shadows danced across the walls of the tavern, celebrating our new excitement.

  Uncle Scott held our hands tight. “It’s really you,” he said quietly. “It. Is. Really. You!” The moment slowed and the men looked greatly relieved when Uncle Scott announced, “And now if you will excuse us gentlemen, my grand-niece and nephew and I will find a dessert and rejoin you shortly. Oh, and your trout almandine over corn barley is on the tray.” Benny and I looked at each other with a big ick look. Trout and corn? No, thank you.

  We followed Uncle Scott back through the kitchen door where we first saw him enter. The tavern’s kitchen wa
s darker than the dining room. Its fire glowed orange and crackled from an open door on the enormous, cast-iron stove. To the left of the ovens, black pots and pans hung from a hefty iron ring bracketed to the wooden ceiling rafters. Shelves of stacked dishes towered over the worn, cutting-board table. Baskets packed with potatoes and onions lay underneath a woodblock that cradled long, sharp knives.

  The storm hadn’t let up. Lightening flashed. Another white current shot across the window lighting up the twisted pipes and faucets that snaked across the wall and emptied into deep tubs. The plumbing and its distorted, flickering shadows looked like a contraption out of Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory.

  Benny and I found a small well-used kitchen table and sat down. Uncle Scott wiped his face with a fresh kitchen towel and sat with us.

  “So, you really are here!” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  It was one of those times when it was better not to talk. Benny gave me a glance that told me he recognized it too. I studied Uncle Scott. He looked good, maybe a bit older. We hadn’t seen him for almost two and a half years. His hair was a bit longer, and most of the gray had turned to white, yet he remained remarkably the same – round, funny, and wearing his white shirt and his ready-to-go, rolled up sleeves. His wide suspenders buttoned down to light brown tweed pants. Although the current situation somewhat hid it, Uncle Scott Louis Drake still looked confident with a glint in his eye, eager to figure out the next tough puzzle or mystery. He remained the one acclaimed champ: The Mystery Buster.

  Uncle Scott opened his eyes and smiled. He spoke in a grateful, humble tone, “And I’m not dreaming! Sally, Ben, thank you for coming for me,” he sighed a long sigh of relief. He looked at us, grinning. “It seems I left without my house keys.”

  Benny and I chuckled and smiled and it ached. I hadn’t laughed, cried and smiled so much ever. My cheeks were already hurting from all the earlier laughter and tears.

  “You both look wonderful. And taller. Are you hungry? Would you care for some tea?” Uncle Scott said as he crossed over to the stove to put a kettle on.

  “Hot tea would really hit the spot, Uncle Scott, thanks,” I said, shivering.

  “We’re kind of full though, we just ate about 120 years ago,” Benny joked.

  Uncle Scott’s smile grew, and he threw Benny a wink. He put two more logs into the stove and returned to the table with a tray with fresh napkins, mugs, spoons, biscuits, honey, and milk. Benny and I took off our cold wet coats and hats. The lightning flashed its longest bolts yet. The following thunder rattled the pots and pans. The rumble faded gradually. A steady clatter of the heavy pelting rain filled the room. We all sat on the wooden chairs with our elbows on the dark blue tablecloth. Leaning forward, our heads nearly touched. For a moment we all quietly listened to the rain, happy to be together.

  I finally broke the silence. “We thought we lost you Uncle Scott, over these last two years. Mom still doesn’t know,” I whispered.

  “But Jean, she’s okay? And the shop’s still up and running?” Uncle Scott sounded nervous for the first time.

  “Yeah we’re all fine,” Benny said, trying to be reassuring. “Mom landed a big costume job from a theater company she’d worked with before. She’s really excited about that, and the shop is doing pretty good.”

  “And you all have the house and the cat in Clayton?” Uncle Scott asked, still sounding concerned.

  “Yes, we have the house, but it wasn’t the same knowing that you weren’t going to be there. And actually, Rammie sort of showed us around and led us to the secret downstairs. Clearly he’s always telling us he misses you,” I added.

  “We just got to Clayton. Its summer vacation now and we moved in for the summer. We’re all fine, but,” Benny almost cried but didn’t, “but we’re really better with you back, Uncle Scott.” Uncle Scott grabbed Benny’s shoulder and gave him a loving squeeze.

  “We could take a picture right now.” I picked up the satchel, took out the camera, and handed it to Uncle Scott. He held the camera and studied it for a long time.

  “I haven’t been able to reproduce this, not yet. Funny,” he said, “after all these years, I’m not entirely sure how the darn thing even works.”

  “Molly said you opened up the portrait studio almost twenty months ago and you make all your own cameras,” I said.

  “Wait a minute, you met Molly?” Uncle Scott choked on his tea with surprise. He didn’t expect that one.

  “Yeah. Molly took us to your apartment. That’s where we found the clues that led us here,” Benny explained.

  “The Inverness Inn stationary was the artifact we used, to be exact,” I said proudly.

  “And we met Dr. O’Malley. We returned one tooth and he let us keep the 10-year-old one. I gave him a candy bar but kept the wrapper,” Benny said. He grinned, nodded his head, and then threw a wink back to Uncle Scott.

  “And that man dressed in black, he’s soooo creepy! We think he’s Italian. For sure he’s after us. And who knows if he’s an alchemist and connected to da Vinci? We think he was trying to use us as an artifact,” I added.

  Uncle Scott sat up straight in his chair. “Wait. Let’s be clear. There’s a man after you? Did he hurt you? Do you know where he is now?” His questions were deliberate and calm.

  I made a list with my fingers. “He followed us from the museum, he took our picture, and then he came after us in your apartment. He rattled the knob and opened the door. I think that’s right. We’re not entirely sure, but there was green light. I mean, so we didn’t exactly see him, but it’s the only thing that makes sense, right? That’s when we had to travel real fast to get away from him. We think he may have Benny’s shoe, and who knows where he might show up with that.”

  “I’ve never met another traveler, interesting. Of course the existence of the camera is proof of the inventor,” Uncle Scott muttered to himself. “But you weren’t hurt?”

  “No, we’re still smiling,” Benny said, rubbing his cheeks.

  “Even so, it still sounds very frightening,” Uncle Scott said, never taking his eyes off us. It was nice to have him listen.

  “What do we do Uncle Scott? It’s bad, huh?” Benny said flatly.

  “ It’s fixable, in many ways Ben. I’ll fix it kids,” he said confidently.

  “ You know a way?” Benny asked. Uncle Scott produced a big smile.

  “ Ben there’s always a way, always a possibility, always an alternative.”

  That made me feel better, and I saw that it made Benny feel better too.

  “ Well so then we took a picture and ended up in San Francisco, in my bedroom.” I shook my head. I was talking a mile a minute. “We haven’t really got the artifact thing down yet, but we’re doing okay.”

  “Hold up. Wait a minute.” Uncle Scott put both of his hands on his cheeks and pulled his hands down his face. “And how long have you been looking for me?”

  “Oh, I thought I said,” Benny answered. “We moved in yesterday.” The kettle bleated out a low, steadily growing whistle.

  Uncle Scott looked surprised, “So in 48 hours, you made how many…?”

  “Travels?” I finished his sentence and saw Benny counting on his fingers. Benny showed me his total and I nodded. “Four. Going home will be five.”

  “Going home will be five!” Uncle Scott pushed away from the table to silence the screaming kettle and make tea.

  “Maybe we’re sort of Mystery Busters too, huh, Uncle Scott?” Benny said, grinning. He stopped suddenly rubbing his sore cheeks. His face muscles were tired too.

  “You finding me here… maybe you are Mystery Busters,” Uncle Scott said over his shoulder while standing at the stove opening a tin of tea.

  His comment gave me an idea.

  Benny leaned to me and whispered, “So ask him!”

  “You ask him!” I whispered back.

  “Ask him!” Benny whispered, and poked my shoulder.

  “Fine! Wait, what exactly am I asking?” I just rem
embered I couldn’t read minds.

  “If he’s coming back with us to the present! Duh!” Benny rolled his eyes up into his head. So annoying.

  “You ask him if you want to know so badly!”

  “No, Sis. You’re older! You ask him!” Benny sat back acting innocent with that stupid face he does. He grabbed a spoon and started poking my arm. I lifted my fist to give him a good punch, but I was interrupted. Uncle Scott turned around from the stove. Benny and I scrambled to look angelic. Benny put his spoon in his mug and stirred the air as I gave my lifted arm a good scratch. We were professionals at these kinds of things.

  Uncle Scott returned to the table with the steaming kettle.

  “‘Traveling’, is that right?” My voice squeaked from the small rush of adrenaline. “It’s the term you wrote in your camera journal.” Benny shot me a peeved, big-eye look as I asked.

  “Yes,” Uncle Scott replied after he cleared his throat. “‘Traveling’ is accurate and simple so I use it. There’s less of a science fiction implication in the term. Traveling sounds right for something so…”

  “Adventurous?” I interrupted.

  “For something so wonderful!” Uncle Scott chuckled. “And I’m considering that traveling may be more natural than one might think.”

  “You sounded surprised when we said we’d traveled almost five times in 48 hours. Is that unusual? I mean we aren’t using up too much energy are we? It’s not harmful is it?” I was really getting to it, but Benny shot me an even wider-eyed, losing-patience look.

  Uncle Scott poured us each a cup of tea and passed the honey and milk. “No, I’ve never found it harmful, unless I forget the camera!” He lifted his mug, “Cheers!”

  We all toasted and took a sip of tea. It was hot but surprisingly tasty.

  “As a matter of fact, traveling seems to knock out a common cold. I discovered that quite by accident. I have traveled for that benefit more than once.” Uncle Scott smiled to himself. “I was surprised that you’ve traveled nearly five times in 48 hours. I didn’t travel that much in my first six months.”