Mystery Busters, The Curse of the Monster's Tooth

by R L Wagner

  “I think Sally is trying to ask you something, Uncle Scott,” Benny said, with a glare. “Sally?” he said firmly.

  Thanks for calling me out, Benny, I thought to myself.

  “You’re coming back home with us tonight, aren’t you Uncle Scott?” I asked directly.

  He just stared into his tea, and then took a long sip. His pause made Benny and me uneasy.

  “Yes,” Uncle Scott put his mug down and slapped the table. “I’ll take you both back tonight!”

  Benny and I shot up, grinned big with our sore cheeks, and started gathering our things.

  “But… then I need to come back,” he said, with no remorse.

  Benny and I looked at each other. It sure wasn’t what we wanted to hear, but after Uncle Scott’s pause over his tea, I think Benny and I expected it. We sat back down restlessly and waited for him to explain. I was hoping Uncle Scott’s humor would slip in somewhere. I wanted to say it wasn’t fair, but I didn’t know how to say it without sounding childish and selfish. Of course, Benny had no problem with that dilemma.

  “You know Uncle Scott, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s not fair.” Benny barely paused before Uncle Scott jumped in.

  “I know in my letter I asked you two and Jean for a huge favor – coming here for me, and the possible risk – but I thought Jean would be involved in helping you figure this out. And I didn’t know how old you would be when you finally found the letter. It’s not that simple kids, just returning back to Clayton.”

  I realized that Uncle Scott was trying hard to make us understand, but I don’t think he understood us.

  “I have friends and commitments here, too,” Uncle Scott continued. “This isn’t just a destination. These people are alive, in their time, this now, and I’m part that.”

  “Like Molly, Mr. H.G. Wells, and the Harpooner?” I asked.

  “Wow, pretty clever, missy. Spill it, you know about them too?” Uncle Scott said, leaning his chair back on two legs and crossing his arms.

  “Whoa, hold up. I’m not trying to be rude, but I didn’t get to finish.” Benny stood up and talked with his hands. He does that when he’s really nervous. “First of all, if we had told Mom, we didn’t know if she would agree with us and come for you at all. So this way, we didn’t disobey her. And second, about the risk of being here, this traveling stuff, it’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever done. It’s super awesome, just saying.” Benny took a pause, took a deep breath, and this time we waited. He exhaled and said slowly, “But the most important thing I have to say is, it’s not fair. We don’t want to lose you again, Uncle Scott! That wouldn’t be good. We’re alive too! In our time!”

  The rain and hail sounded heavier if that was possible. The windows shook violently and the machine gun sound returned, but now I was the one making the loudest noise in the kitchen, with my standing ovation for my brother. Benny bowed and let out the rest of his breath through a sheepish smile.

  Uncle Scott adjusted his chair, stared at his mug, and spoke slowly. “Okay, I get it, kids.”

  We could almost see his brain working out this puzzle.

  “So… then…?”

  I jumped in and leaned on the table. “So then we need you to help us work this out. I’ve seen you maybe ten times in my life. And, well, call me weird, but I want to change that. We’re not in diapers anymore. I’m thinking that being around you more would be good for Benny and me and Mom, and maybe good for you too, Uncle Scott. Because if you’re getting yourself into a fix…”

  “Like losing your camera!” Benny threw in.

  “…Right, like losing your camera, then maybe it just might be good for you to let us hang around and take care of you too, and keep your secret… secret.”

  Uncle Scott took a long sip of tea then answered, “To keep me out of trouble, so to speak, safety in numbers, huh? And you two keep my secret… secret?”

  He looked like he was considering it with maybe a hint of a smile. I couldn’t tell.

  “Yes!” Benny and I said at the same time.

  I don’t think Benny or I were ever this direct with anyone. We were pretty nervous. We seemed to be standing there waiting for the longest uncomfortable moment. Uncle Scott looked at us, back and forth, one at a time. Finally he spoke.

  “Sit down kids. I have a question. Sally, Ben, what is it that you want to do when you are older?” he asked.

  Benny answered first, “I want to maybe do what you do, maybe solve mysteries. And figure out a way to win a lotto ticket or

  something so I can help Mom and other people who need it. And for sure, I want to keep traveling, Uncle Scott.”

  At that same moment we all took another sip of tea and put our mugs down at the same time… awkward!

  Then I answered, “I want to be an architect who travels Uncle Scott, because I think I’m good at both.” I took a second, then, asked my question slowly. “I know you have friends and commitments here, but you’re also returning back here because of the case. There’s a mystery isn’t there?”

  Uncle Scott looked at me surprised. “Yes, there’s a mystery,” Uncle Scott said coyly.

  “It’s about the Loch Ness Monster, isn’t it?” Benny hardly could contain himself. “Does Nessie exist?”

  Uncle Scott looked at Benny shocked.

  “We couldn’t find you, Uncle Scott, so we followed you with clues from your mystery,” I explained.

  Uncle Scott looked at me directly and produced a tremendous grin. He turned to Benny, answering with that sparkling glint in his eyes. “Well Ben, some people think there is a monster. After this storm we’re going to go looking.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Benny shouted. “Then we’re staying too!” Benny reached for his bag and pulled out three candy bars. He kept one and handed one each to Uncle Scott and me. Now Benny had that glint in his eye as he handed his flip camera to Uncle Scott. “I’m going to take a video of Nessie!”

  Uncle Scott studied the camera, pressed a button, and out sprang out the shiny USB jack. “Hmm, a video of a monster in 19th century, interesting.”

  I smiled even though it hurt and presented my idea, “Uncle Scott, we want to stay here with you. Mom won’t be back from the city for at least a day and a half, and Aida, Mrs. Krebs, is starting a zoning thing and will be busy down at city hall for at least three days. Besides, we left a text message for both of them saying we were going on a picnic this afternoon. So nobody will be calling or checking in on us for at least 6-8 hours. We just might have enough time to solve this case. Just call it a trial run for The Mystery Busters! …Or just call it keeping your secret… secret,” I said with a devilish grin.

  “How’s that sound, Uncle Scott? Deal?” Benny put out his hand to shake on it.

  I thought it was a nice touch, so I put my hand out too.

  “Sounds remarkably like blackmail, Benjamin! I like it!” Uncle Scott shook both our hands, laughing. “Deal!”

  “Cool, what’s next?” I asked.

  Uncle Scott’s smile faded. His expression became reluctantly serious. “Come on kids, what’s next is… you meet the Harpooner.”

  “ There’s always a way, always a possibility, always an alternative.” Uncle Scott repeats this often. And it has taught me that my determination to stay open to what is possible is an effective weapon against my fears.

  16 The Harpooner

  “You mean one of the men out there is the Harpooner?” I wasn’t sure why that upset me, but I knew the expression on Uncle Scott’s face looked like dread.

  “What’s wrong, Uncle Scott?” Benny picked up on his apprehension too.

  “A mystery sometimes involves following leads and meeting people that are, say,

  unpleasant. Neal McCurdy is not a happy man. He is alone, consumed by his painful past and regret. He relives memories as haunting ghost stories, perhaps living in his imagination more than in reality,” Uncle Scott said over the rattle of the storm’s wind.

&nbs
p; “McCurdy is the Harpooner?” I asked.

  Uncle Scott nodded, “Yes.”

  He was not one of the men laughing, I thought to myself.

  “Well maybe this is a dumb question that I probably should have asked earlier, but what’s a harpooner?” asked Benny.

  “A harpooner is a man who throws a harpoon, a long spear, at whales to capture and kill them,” I answered.

  “What? That’s horrible! Why kill a whale?” Benny asked, disgusted.

  “Whaling is a cruel trade and very much a booming industry in this time. Whalers regarded killing whales as fishing, justifiable hunting to get food and a source of other products, such as oil for lamps and heating, and even bone used in clothing. Many products come from different parts of the whales,” Uncle Scott answered.

  “But, they’re whales, mammals, and in our time, aren’t they an endangered species?” Benny asked.

  “They are absolutely endangered, and very much because of this past industry that ignorantly killed much of the whale population for profit. Even in our time, many cruel hunting and fishing practices endanger sea creatures including several species of sea mammals. Many consider some international fishing practices illegal. More than ever, our modern oceans’ very survival depends on everyone’s serious

  attention, advocacy, and global conservation efforts!”

  The sound of yelling voices poured in from the dining room. The argument sounded like fight. “Uncle Scott…?” I didn’t finish my sentence before he stood up and breathed in and out a very deep sigh.

  “They must have finished dinner. They are like this quite a bit. This is the start of our case, children.” Reluctantly, Benny and I followed him into the dining room with our backpacks and coats.

  “You are wrong, McCurdy. The

  archbishop of AD 565 chased the monster away from the swimming priest reciting Latin verse. That is considered the monster’s first accepted sighting,” the man near the fireplace said.

  “Monster sightings are hopeful mistakes and hoaxes,” the man on the left said.

  “…And great for business!” bellowed the man in the center. That brought about another chorus of mocking laughter.

  “Yet ye all ignore our Gaelic history, which clearly tells o’ the tunnels and water cavern that lie in the three hills, and exist inside the Urquatran Castle mountain a thousand years before the castle existed.”

  “We all know the lore,” one man said, slapping his palm onto the table.

  “But no one believes the lore is historical fact!” another man added loudly.

  “Children,” Uncle Scott interrupted, “this is John Duggan, owner and publisher of the Inverness Chronicle. And this is Kitty, James, and Sidney McDoole, our hostess and propitiators of this fine tavern and inn. Good to have you join us, Kitty,” Uncle Scott said.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, children,” Kitty said, wiping her hand before shaking ours.

  “And it is a grand pleasure to make your acquaintance, children.” Sidney jumped up and continued the introductions. “And lastly, allow me to introduce the man at the center of this gathering Mr. Neal McCurdy, Loch Ness’s resident monster hunter,” he said with a smile, but his tone sounded mocking. The Harpooner looked strong, but unhealthy, red-faced, weathered with age, and unkempt. A deep scar cut across his nose and right cheek and beard. Next to his chair were a battered, blue, felt cap and an old, padded, wooden crutch. I looked at his left foot. It was missing. The whipping fury of the storm pounded overhead.

  “Children, your entrance gave us a start,” James said, shaking our hands at the same time.

  “My niece and nephew came here to bring me home. Their mother is… in the city.” Uncle Scott shot Benny and me a wink as he said it.

  “Scott, have you fed the children supper? I doubt it,” Kitty scolded. “It will be an Inverness stew and milk for you, children. I will see to it myself. Put your wet things on the chair, there by the fire, and I’ll find you blankets.

  “That would be great, Mrs. McDoole. Thank you,” I said.

  “Thank you, Mum.” Benny smiled at me, thinking he sounded like A Christmas Carol character.

  We put the pack and coats to dry by the fire, but I kept the satchel and camera close to me. Two seats were open at the table. I was happy to let Benny sit next to McCurdy. For a moment, no one spoke. We sat listening to the pounding gale.

  “Sooooo, you hunt the Loch Ness monster Mr. McCurdy?” Benny asked nervously.

  I was proud of his bravery.

  “I repeat Drake, I will post and pay handsomely for any picture of the monster you take, but frankly I believe you are wasting your time.”

  Uncle Scott produced big grin. It looked like he was keeping a secret. “Please Neal, tell the children a bit of the well-known Scottish mythology,” he said.

  Benny and I sat, eagerly listening. The Harpooner is the key to this mystery, I told myself. I felt certain of it.

  Mr. McCurdy looked to Uncle Scott for approval. Uncle Scott nodded, urging him to continue. The horrible howling of the wind underscored the Harpooner’s words. “Children, our oldest Gaelic tales tell of the cruel Druid sorcerer who fought beside Picts in their misguided invasion against the Clans. He knew foremost, to be victorious and seize the

  Highlands, he must first strip the land of the powerful sprites and spirits and destroy the Highlander’s magic.” Mr. McCurdy spoke in a deep raspy Scottish accent.

  “Here we go,” James muttered.

  McCurdy ignored the interruption. “The sorcerer conjured demons of dark magic as his first weapons against the oldest brigade, the bold fairy army. Bloody battles saw the sorcerer victorious. The defeated fairy populace fled in retreat.” A second interruption stopped Mr. McCurdy.

  “These are children’s stories, McCurdy. We’ve all heard these countless times, but it is ancient lore, nothing more sir. It provides us with no real history or facts,” Mr. Duggan said.

  “Frankly, sir you appear daft repeating these fairy stories as historically important,” Sidney said chuckling. His beard followed his jumping chin. Ben and I looked at the

  Harpooner, then to Uncle Scott, and back to the Harpooner. Mr. McCurdy looked like he had turned into stone, becoming so hard that no ridicule or jeer could penetrate him.

  “How does the story end, Mr. McCurdy?” I asked firmly.

  “Is there historical importance in the mythology about the monster?” Benny asked, pressing on.

  Wow, that was a mouthful I thought, but it sounded right. Uncle Scott grinned with pride at Benny and me, hearing an investigative tone in our questions. The long row of stained-glass windows rattled violently. Sidney McDoole threw new logs onto the fire. High shooting flames burst into a new wave of crackling orange heat, creating shadows that streaked across the table from our tea mugs.

  “Witch history records the hunted earth fairies scattered and hidden inside the loch’s three mother hills.” Mr. McCurdy raised his hand and presented three fingers. “Three mother hills, children. There they live in the secret tunnels and water chambers,” he whispered.

  “Do they mention the monster, Mr. McCurdy?” Benny asked, like he wanted to learn a secret.

  “To the ‘first mountain’, the court carried their wounded, vanquished queen, thus

  providing her a last rest before her imminent death. At the cavern’s water portal, in her gravest hour, the desperate queen summoned the loch’s primordial, water serpents, demanding they repay their old trusted debt with a payment of honor. At a ‘water portal’, mind you children. The queen knighted the nine monsters the Evermore Guardians, protectors to her remaining battered subjects. She instructed her fragile court to call upon these creatures with ‘terrific thunder and storm’ should they ever find themselves in danger.”

  Lightning flashed and wind whistled though the taverns hidden cracks. Benny and I jumped. My heart pounded. Benny grabbed my knee.

  Mr. McCurdy leaned toward Benny and me and hissed, “The witch’s caution: the h
ighland fairy queen knotted to her last decree this curse – ‘foulest fortune and death will come to those who hear the serpent guardian song’.”

  An even larger lightning clap flashed across the Harpooner’s face and bulging scar. Benny and I jumped again. Benny’s knee hit the table and rattled the mugs of beer.

  “Look at them, Mr. McCurdy. You’re scaring the children,” Kitty said, returning with place settings and blankets.

  “Yeah, yeah, we all know Scottish mythology and the many tales of the witch histories,” James chimed in.

  “I must say, ‘Mr. Shakespeare’ McCurdy, the storm and fire make your witch’s tale even more entertaining!” the men cackled loudly.

  “But there’s no proof in it. No proof that the tunnels and caves exist,” Mr. Duggan said.

  “And no evidence that the weather has anything to do with nonexistent monsters’ appearances,” Sidney said bluntly.

  The Harpooner raised his voice to a near shout. “On three sides, the loch flanks the Urquatran Castle. The castle sits on two summits atop the Queen’s mountain. In those tunnels and caverns, nine monsters reside standing guard. The castle ruins are one of three addresses the monsters protect. Every nine years, the nine monsters answer to the ‘terrific thunder and storm’.” Mr. McCurdy trembled.

  “And now gentlemen, we have more than one monster,” Sidney scoffed.

  “Tell us only proof, McCurdy,” James added.

  The Harpooner aimed his argument to the three men. “Castle Urquatran architect, Mowery, in the 12th century, chose the mount’s site based on a map of the tunnels and caverns below. Mowery believed the tunnels might provide useful strategic escape routes if a marauding siege of the castle proved successful. Our darkest history acknowledges the witch hunters and the legend telling of the witch’s map. In exchange for her life, a traitorous witch presented the tunnel map to her bounty hunters. That map came into the possession of the architect mason,” McCurdy explained.