Mystery Busters, The Curse of the Monster's Tooth

by R L Wagner

  My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Please, please, Uncle Scott, we didn’t come this far to lose you now.

  “Hang on,” I pleaded. I felt Benny grip harder onto Uncle Scott. We rode this speeding express travel to our next THERE. It was shockingly fast, not at all like before. One frantic blink later we landed, sitting, on the pier next to the picnic fixings. For a stunned second Uncle Scott, Benny and I remained very still, locked in a tight grip. The light was a little dimmer now; the sun had yet to melt through the clouded sky.

  I lowered the camera and exhaled a big sigh of relief. We all did.

  Uncle Scott’s head wasn’t bleeding, and my hand and back didn’t show any signs of injury. The tripod camera stood next to us, undamaged, as if nothing had ever happened – because it hadn’t.

  A loud indignant honk startled us. Mama Duck waddled over clearly annoyed. She wanted more brunch treats, and she did not like being ignored. Benny and I burst out laughing and released our grip. It worked! It had wonderfully worked!

  “What did you do?” Uncle Scott asked sounding oddly refreshed.

  “I grabbed your traveling camera and took a picture. I think it’s about fifteen minutes ago. I set the red key this time and used this sandwich I made as an artifact. We followed it to its origin,” I explained, laughing.

  Benny stood up looking in every

  direction. “None of the bad stuff happened,” he said, grinning with all his teeth. “So now we can fix this!”

  Mama Duck didn’t care. With two more insistent honks, she reprimanded us for not feeding her yet. Benny grabbed a handful of crackers and flung them across the pier.

  “We have to do better this time,” I said, standing and helping Uncle Scott to his feet.

  “This is great kids, but hear me, we don’t travel to change the events of time,” Uncle Scott said.

  I was sure he was not getting it.

  “I wasn’t going to lose you, Uncle Scott. And I don’t think anything extreme is going to happen, like they won’t build the Golden Gate Bridge now, because we changed a few horrible minutes,” I said.

  “Wow Uncle Scott, if we did nothing you’d be gone!” Benny added. “McCurdy and the monster would probably be gone too, and Sally and I would out here alone stranded with this curse still hanging around. No thank you, that would be a real nightmare. That wasn’t our deal,” Benny said decisively, holding his ground.

  “Yes, okay kids, but hear me; we just can’t go around changing the events of time. Promise me that.” Uncle Scott stood and said it again. I thought he still wasn’t getting it.

  “Really? Uncle Scott, I’ve been thinking. You change events every time you travel. You’ve traveled, met Molly and showed her how to use a camera, a camera you made! You have talks with H. G. Wells, Conan Doyle, Jules Verne, and you plant your charm and wonderful ideas in the heads of everyone you meet; maybe not deliberately, not specifically but you change events every time you travel. Just saying.” I expected an argument to follow, but it didn’t show up. Uncle just listened.

  “And you said it yourself,” I continued, “‘traveling might be something very natural. Maybe this is all part of how it happens,” I said, not fully convinced, but I felt my idea had merit.

  “And excuse me, this stupid kill-me-withthe-monster mess wasn’t part of our deal. Do you remember our deal Uncle Scott? We shook on it!” Benny said, and I believed he was right to say it.

  “Our deal, yes, let me see, you become Busters to keep me out of trouble, so to speak, safety in numbers, and you two ‘keep my secret… secret’!” Uncle Scott said putting his hands on his hips. He turned away looking over the lagoon and muttering to himself.

  “And we’ll all stick around, because it would be good for you and good for us to be together! That’s my favorite part,” Benny said. “And a good thing Sally did it, Uncle Scott, or else maybe you and he wouldn’t be here,” Benny said, pointing to Mr. McCurdy and Lavern as they trotted in our direction.

  “But now it’s still scary. Now it could just repeat, redoing everything that happened before,” I said, feeling really nervous. Uncle Scott turned around. “What I did might have only bought us fifteen minutes.”

  “No way!” Benny said emphatically. “That’s Nessie out there; she’s a mother monster with her otter-faced baby. Look, I’ve got a great idea trust me. I’ve got this. I really know how to change this!” Benny said, as if he was about to win a video game.

  Uncle Scott started to say something, but I interrupted him by pointing two fingers at him.

  “And remember, this is rescue number two brought to you by the Mystery Busters, just in case you lost count, sir. We made that deal too!” I said, as I tossed back my thick, now dry, hair.

  Lavern pulled Mr. McCurdy, the wagon, and the chum next to the pier.

  “Ok,” Uncle Scott whispered, “to be clear, these events don’t have to repeat themselves because in this time they’ve never happened. This all starts differently from right now based on what we do differently.”

  “Okay, so we need to do things

  differently!” I agreed, accepting Uncle Scott’s experienced opinion.

  “Got it!” Benny added.

  Mr. McCurdy pulled up the wagon and stopped.

  “We need to unload the buckets, Scott. The kids will cast the chum from the dinghy, and I will lower the net from the north pier.”

  The Harpooner gave us his instructions again, pretty much saying what he said before, even the part about ‘good hunting to us all.’ It gave me the creeps.

  “Sure, Mr. McCurdy,” I said.

  “Let’s get busy, kids,” Uncle Scott said.

  This time Uncle Scott, Benny and I unloaded the grizzly chum buckets off the wagon. “All is based on what we do

  differently!” I told myself. Together we watched Mr. McCurdy drive to the north pier. This time I saw in the back of his wagon the harpoons and rifle sticking out from under the canvas tarp.

  “I didn’t offer Mr. McCurdy lunch,” I whispered.

  “Good, let’s change some more. Now all three of us will load the chum buckets into the boat. But Uncle Scott you still have to tie the rope back on the boat ring,” Benny said.

  “I’ll pull you in faster. The very instant the chum goes over the side, I’ll pull like the dickens!” Uncle Scott assured us, smiling.

  We turned the boat over, empting the storm water that remained from the night before. This time we reversed the boat so the front was facing the pier, and we all loaded the awful chum. Benny ran back for the satchel next to the picnic basket.

  “So, Sally, say it to me again; ‘I change everything, in my charming way, not

  deliberately or specifically, but wonderfully each time I travel!’ ” Uncle Scott said, looking at me with his serious, detective face.

  I glared back at him.

  “Joking, joking!” Uncle Scott grinned, while holding both his hands up like he was surrendering.

  He was such a ham. I couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh with a hint of eye rolling.

  “We have less than ten minutes to make all this very different. Benny says he has a plan that can give this a new outcome. If there’s anything I’ve learned from this traveling stuff it’s to trust my brother Ben. And you need to trust us too, Uncle Scott,” I said.

  “And Sally, trust that past actions won’t be repeated. This ‘now’ is right now with its own set of new events,” Uncle Scott said, with an experienced smile.

  “You have done this before, haven’t you?” I said, surprised. “ You have done this before!” Benny ran up with the picnic basket before I got Uncle Scott’s answer.

  “Okay, this is different. This time, I left the traveling camera and the satchel stuff with the picnic stuff and snagged this basket.” Benny said.

  “Very good! And this time, toss the chum, buckets and all, into the water!” Uncle Scott said with gusto.

  “And you’ll pull us back really fast this time facing the right direction. We’
re going to be okay for sure!” Benny said, grinning with confidence. “And Uncle Scott, I’m making this my first sucker’s bet, you’ll see!”

  Uncle Scott and I smiled at each other. We watched Benny get into the boat. We couldn’t help but be proud of him stepping up. It was like he was fighting his own nightmare, being a little older, and a little wiser I suppose.

  “They’re probably out there right now,” I said.

  “ I’m definitely counting on it,” Benny said, stowing the picnic basket safely in the boat.

  Benny and I grabbed the oars and helped Uncle Scott launch us off the shore. We floated for a moment and from the top of the pier, Uncle Scott called his answer to me.

  “Yes Sally, I have done this before.”

  “ A lot?” I asked.

  “Just enough,” he called back.

  I knew then that Uncle Scott would always surprise me. I love that about him. We rowed to the spot faster this time.

  “What’s in the basket, Benny?” I asked.

  Benny opened the lid.

  “The flip camera is for me, the tooth, wiped with vanilla, is for you, and Kitty’s mustard is for the baby’s chum,” Benny said knowingly.

  “That’s cheating!” I said, shaking my head.

  “Hey, it worked on me!” Benny said, pouring Kitty’s hair-on-your-chest mustard over the four buckets of ‘gag me’.

  “Those poor fish won’t know what hit them,” I joked.

  “The net’s fouled! The net’s already been lowered!” Mr. McCurdy shouted.

  We didn’t even look at McCurdy. We just dumped everything over the side – buckets, chum, mustard and all, and in record time.

  “I’m starting to like Kitty’s mustard, Sis,” Benny said, with a wide, cheesy smile.

  “You’re such an idiot,” I said, as I kicked his shin.

  “Pull, Uncle Scott!” we called, watching the slick of chum concoction ooze.

  “Out of the water! Get out of the water NOW!” the Harpooner screamed.

  Powered by Uncle Scott’s tugging, the dinghy sped forward and plowed into the shore. Benny and I scrambled up the bank and reached the pier. Thirty feet in front of us, mother and baby monster surfaced in the middle of the chum spill. Baby chewed Kitty’s mustard seasoned chum, produced enormously wide eyes, snorted hard, and made a rapid dive downward. We had to fight not to laugh. Mother sniffed the chum, rose her head high above the water, and looked directly at us.

  The lagoon became silent. At that moment the clouds opened and caught the creature in a ray of the late morning sun. Nessie looked magnificent. Her top towered maybe fifteen feet above the black surface. Water spilled, dripping from her head and neck, revealing a dark shine of wet leather. A lighter pink and gray covered the creature’s front and underside and though dark, from this distance she appeared to have a faint pattern of lighter gray green stripes. Her dark eyes didn’t look like a reptile’s. Her gaze appeared curious, alert, watching us

  thoughtfully, like a whale might. Benny had it right; Nessie looked to have the strength and determination of a protective mother. She wasn’t a dinosaur. Nessie rightfully was very alive, existing now.

  “You getting this, Uncle Scott?” Benny whispered, shooting with his flip video camera.

  “I’m getting it, Ben!” Uncle Scott whispered, moving slowly and putting the next photo plate into his camera.

  A shot fired from the Harpooner’s pier.

  “That’s one shot, but what’s McCurdy shooting for?” I asked aloud.

  “ He’s trying to get the monster to go to him!” Benny shoved the flip camera into my hands and ran fast for McCurdy’s pier.

  “Benny! What are you doing?” I called after him.

  “Keep the camera running!” Benny yelled back, sounding upset and determined. “I’ve got this!”

  A second shot rang out. Now Benny ran full out. The mother turned, rapidly searching left and right over the murky waters. She turned, fixed her eyes on the Harpooner, kept her height, and crossed the lagoon slowly. Benny sprinted, trying desperately to reach McCurdy before she did. Uncle Scott and I ran after Benny.

  McCurdy bent over furiously shuffling his bags reaching for a harpoon. His eyes locked on the return gaze of the approaching monster.

  “Mr. McCurdy! She’s a mammal!” Benny screamed. “Mr. McCurdy, she’s a mother! She’s just protecting her baby!” Benny yelled, running hard.

  The monster stopped and faced the Harpooner twenty feet from the pier’s edge. The Harpooner deliberately gripped his weapon and slowly recoiled for his throw. Benny reached the pier and froze, looking at McCurdy. Uncle Scott and I stopped our chase close behind Benny.

  “She’s your nightmare, Mr. McCurdy. That’s the curse, and maybe its hers too. She’s been your family’s nightmare for who knows how long, maybe forever,” Benny shouted, fighting back his tears. His breathing was very heavy. He lowered his voice.

  “Tell her, Mr. McCurdy… just what you told me. Remember: ‘When the next night terror grips you, shake it off steady, and tell the dream firmly to go away.’ You said it really works, Mr. McCurdy! Tell her steady. Hurry! End the curse!” Ben implored.

  Benny stopped and gasped for breath. Uncle and I moved beside Benny. Mr. McCurdy and the monster stared at each other for a fast second with strange familiarity. McCurdy lowered his harpoon and turned hurriedly to Benny, seeing him nodding back.

  “When you were my age, it served you, remember?” Benny said.

  McCurdy turned back quickly to the monster. The Harpooner swallowed a deep breath and exhaled the fateful list of his family’s many sorrows.

  “Be gone nightmare,” McCurdy said steadily. “You will not harm me, or my family, further.”

  Softly, Benny echoed Mr. McCurdy’s words, “… nightmare you will not harm me further.”

  The monster met the Harpooner’s gritty gaze, blinked, and sank to a foot above the water. A smaller whiskered face joined her. They took a long fresh breath, sank, and they both remained gone.

  Three families reunited on that day.

  20 The Ride Home

  Lavern’s quick -stepping, ready-to-eat march returned us to a very crowded Inverness Tavern. Publisher Duggan and our hosts James, Sidney, and Kitty McDoole met us with nervous anticipation. It had been a strange day – an enormous, astonishing, monster-mother of a day. Fatigue and excitement duked it out inside me. For sure we were all grateful for the wonderful, hot meal that Kitty put in front of us, but the dinner conversation certainly was unpleasant. The four of us barely got in a word during supper. We were hardly given a chance. Cynical hand waving, finger pointing, and repeated skeptical opinions pounded us until Uncle Scott loudly answered one of their many questions suddenly.

  “Yes!” he shouted. Uncle Scott carefully placed his spoon back into his empty stew bowl, leaned forward, and shot Benny and me a wink.

  “Yes!” Uncle Scott stood, turned to the on-looking crowd and answered them directly. The crowd hushed.

  “Yes, I have taken the decisive, the clearly authenticating, and the most excellent

  photograph of your Loch Ness monster!” he shouted, with a fist raised high.

  The tavern erupted into a thunderous cheer. Wow, now it was a raucous all-out party. Benny and I burst into screaming cheers, too. It was true! It was absolutely unforgettable and exciting. Everyone in the tavern joined in the celebration, by lifting glasses high and toasting to their beloved Nessie. A piano player pounded out a tune, and Kitty jumped on top of the bar, singing a soulful sea shanty dedicated to the now ‘Merry Harpooner’. Mr. Newspaper Publisher’s insistent pleading to get Uncle Scott to sign over exclusive publishing rights to the photograph was unsuccessful.

  Later we learned that Mr. McCurdy’s sister, nephews, uncle and aunt would all join him to live at the cove. Of course the real story had been trimmed a lot at the request of Mr. McCurdy, so we all swore a solemn pact to keep the story that way! Surrounded by the

  commotion and music, I couldn�
��t help but wonder if secretively Mama and Baby were out there in the Fairy Queen Caves, safely singing their song lovingly to themselves.

  Mr. McCurdy had us at the Inverness train station for the late evening 11:30 departure to London. Of course that was a ruse. Uncle Scott wanted to travel to 1883 to check on something in his London apartment, and we had to be back in Clayton about 120 years forward to meet Mom sometime in the early evening and somehow try to explain Uncle Scott’s mind- boggling return.

  A tearful Mr. McCurdy showered us with lengthy, grateful hugs. I almost lost it when he gripped Benny’s hand tightly and didn’t let go until he said his final farewell. “Sweet dreams my good boy, Ben!” McCurdy said, with a long overdue smile.

  “And to you as well, sir!” Ben replie d, and returned the firm shake.

  Our first case was solved, actually our first two! On the empty station platform, Uncle Scott shook our hands very professionally.

  “Well done, Busters! Remarkably well done!” he declared, wearing one of his big grins.

  Benny and I met his handshake with fatigue and pride.

  For me, that moment remains eternal. For a good while, on that quiet, cold, Scottish night, we savored it. We laughed proudly, even danced happily, and hugged, thankful to have Uncle Scott back.

  “Time to travel Busters; get close

  together,” he said. Uncle Scott hurriedly pulled the traveling camera and his key ring out of the satchel. We all looked around. We were still alone on the platform. Uncle Scott joined Benny and me, and we gripped each other’s waists tightly. He held up an old-fashioned key on the ring, and covered the rest of the keys with his handkerchief. He pointed the traveling camera, and took the picture.

  However, it wasn’t long after we had traveled from the Inverness train station to Uncle Scott’s London apartment that disturbing news unfolded. Uncle Scott knew instantly even before the apartment’s gaslights came up.

  “Someone has been here,” he said flatly.

  Benny pulled me over to the bay window where the harbor lights spilled through . “Signore Alchimista,” Benny whispered.

  Uncle Scott looked back at us puzzled. ` “That’s the name we gave the man in black,” I said. The apartment lights quickly came up.