The Case of the Barfy Birthday (4 page)

“But how will we keep more babies from falling off the roof?” asked Willow.

“Excellent question, Ms. Barko,” said Drake.

And after conferring with one another, Drake and Nell and Willow hatched a plan.

With help from the employees and from caring shoppers, they put their plan into action. Working as a team, they carried supplies onto the roof. And under Drake and Nell’s direction, they built a low mesh fence all the way around the roof edge. They worked all afternoon, taking only one little break for iced tea and doughnuts fresh from Barko’s Bakery. Finally, they added concrete blocks here and there to provide a bit of shade for the hot little hatchlings.

“Just right,” said Drake, quite satisfied. “Now the hatchlings can’t fall off the roof, and they have a bit of shade besides.”

By the time they climbed down, a small crowd had gathered, including a reporter from the
Mossy Lake Daily Word
. “Doyle and Fossey, what can you tell us about Barko’s bird invasion? Are the hatchlings really underfoot?”

(Now, you might think that this would be a little unnerving, but remember, good scientists are always prepared. Even when the cameras are on them. And microphones are in their faces. And everyone’s looking at them for answers. And not just any answers. The right answers.)

First Nell cleared her throat. Then she told the reporters about the terns, and how rare they were. She told them about how the hatchlings couldn’t fall off the roof any longer because of the fence. (Dr. Livingston made a few comments as well.)

Then Drake told them how he’d added a spot of shade here and there. “Furthermore, the terns normally nest at Sand Island. But not anymore.”

“And why is that?” asked the reporter.

“Habitat destruction,” answered Nell.
(Arf!)

“Come again?”

“You see,” Nell continued, “Sand Island is a very delicate habitat. But people have invaded it, throwing parties, having weenie roasts, letting their dogs run on it, and who knows what else. Very simply, the birds had to move out. Habitat destruction is the leading cause of wildlife extinction.”
(Woof!)

“Oh,” said the reporter. “That’s terrible. What can be done to help the terns of Sand Island?”

Nell and Drake looked straight at the camera. This was their moment.

“The first order of business,” said Drake most seriously, “is to clean up our act.”

“Namely,” added Nell, “clean up Sand Island and make it a place where the terns will come back to. We can lure them back with decoys and recorded tern calls. It’s worked elsewhere; it can work here, too. I’ll get my mom, Professor Fossey, to help us.”
(Ruff!)

“And after this,” finished Drake, “leave Sand Island for the birds.”

“One more thing,” said Nell, turning toward Willow. “Special thanks to Willow Barko for bringing this most terrible tragedy to our attention.”
(Arf! Arf!)

“And thanks to Doyle and Fossey for such a happy ending,” said Willow into the microphone. Then she waved at the camera, smiled sweetly, and added, “Barko’s. The place to shop till you drop. Where the doughnuts are fresh and the people are friendly.”

All in all, it was a happy turn of events.

At home, Drake wrote in his lab notebook:

Mystery of the Orphaned
Hatchlings solved.
Had us worried there for a
while. Habitat destruction a
nasty habit. Will work to clean
up our act.
Received a baker’s dozen of
Barko’s donuts.

Paid in full.

E
arly one Saturday morning, just as Nell was collecting data on hamster naps and gerbil snoozes, the phone rang.

Always the professional, she answered after the first ring. “Doyle and Fossey.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m, like,
so
glad you’re there. We’ve just had a totally
awful
night.”

“Awful?” asked Nell, putting aside her notebook. “Who is this? And who is
we?
”

“It’s, like, Valerie Applegate, who else?”

“Oh, hi, Valerie.” Valerie was in Nell and Drake’s class. Valerie was the sort of girl who was always fashionably late. Valerie never scraped her knees. Or burped. Or broke a fingernail. Or accidentally wore mismatched socks. In other words, Valerie was cool. Now, being cool was all right with Nell, but Valerie was also a snob. She had her own group of snobs, too. Usually snobs like Valerie didn’t call scientists like Nell, so Nell knew this had to be important.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Applegate?” asked Nell.

Valerie paused and then spoke with a rush.

“Last night, you know, I, like, had some friends over to spend the night in my tree house? And we were, like, totally
haunted
.”

Nell frowned. “Haunted? What do you mean?”

“Like,
hello
, haven’t you ever heard of a ghost?”

Nell’s heart tumbled in her chest. A ghost! She’d had a ghost case before, and it was no laughing matter. “We’ll be right over,” Nell said firmly. “You can count on us.”

As soon as she hung up, Nell phoned Drake. “Ghost haunting at Valerie Applegate’s tree house. Meet me there ASAP. No laughing matter.”

“Check.”

Click.

Like most tree houses, Valerie’s tree house was, well . . . in a tree. Nell and Drake stood looking up, notebooks open and pencils ready.

“Take it from the top, Ms. Applegate.”

Valerie stood beside them chewing a big wad of Snob Gob Gum. “Anyway, like I said, me and my friends? We were having this totally rockin’ slumber party. And, like, well . . .”

Nell was astonished when Valerie’s voice began to shake. “. . . We were, like, sitting there talking, when a blast of cold air hit me on the back of my neck. I mean, I’m not just talking about cold air, I’m talking about
totally
frigid air.” Valerie shivered. “My grandpa said, that’s, like, how ghosts feel when they’re close to you. You know, the frozen dead. Corpses from the grave and stuff like that.”

Drake scribbled furiously for a moment. “Frozen corpses, you say? Tell me, Ms. Applegate, where was the cold air coming from?”

“That’s the thing. I mean, it was, like, coming from all around us. One minute from here, one minute from there. Like, you know, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. It was so spooky we had to go inside.”

“Mind if we take a look around?” asked Nell.

“Like, for sure.” Valerie blew a Snob Gob bubble.
Pop!
“And hurry up, will you? I haven’t got all day, you know.” With that, she went back into her house and pulled the blinds closed.

Sticking their pencils behind their ears and putting their notebooks in their backpacks, Drake and Nell climbed the wooden boards hammered into the tree trunk.

“Just an ordinary tree house,” said Nell, looking around.

“Agreed.” Drake rapped the walls. “A little old. Gaps in the walls. Roof probably leaks when it rains. No secret passageways, no hidden doorways—nothing out of the ordinary.” He drew a sketch and a graph, just in case. (Scientists never know what might come in handy later.)

Meanwhile, Nell leaned out the tree house window. Aside from lots of branches and leaves, there wasn’t much to see. Was it possible that the ghost had been real? But then, out of the corner of her eye . . . “Detective Doyle, wait, I think I see something!”

Quick as a wink, Drake popped his head out of the other window.

“There!” Nell pointed. “Looks like some kind of pipe is caught in a branch.”

Drake pushed up his glasses. “It’s PVC pipe.”

“And there’s something bright orange on the end of it,” said Nell.

“Why would PVC pipe be in a tree?” asked Drake. “It’s used for plumbing.”

“Excellent question, Detective Doyle. Let’s knock it out of the tree and see if it holds any clues.”

As they were roping off the backyard with yellow tape, they noticed a long, thin board propped against Valerie’s house. And even though there was a nail head poking out the top end of the board, it came in quite handy. Drake used the board to knock the PVC pipe out of the tree and onto the ground.

Immediately they fetched some surgical gloves from their backpacks and put them on. (Amateur scientist detective geniuses can never be too careful while handling clues.)

Snap!

Snap!

Nell picked up the pipe. “Curious. Someone has cut the neck off of a balloon to make a round piece of rubber and then stretched it over the end of the PVC pipe—”

“Securing it with a rubber band,” added Drake.

“Other than that,” said Nell, “the pipe is empty.”

They took a few moments to jot their discovery into their lab notebooks.

Then, just as they were about to continue their investigation, Drake tripped and fell
splat!
on his face. “Oh dear,” he said. But unlike most other times Drake had fallen, this time it was a stroke of luck. You see, Drake’s face just happened to fall right on another clue. Another balloon, to be precise.

“Good work, Detective Doyle.” Nell helped him up and brushed him off. She examined the clue. “Hmm. The balloon appears to be cut in the same way. Except there’s a small hole in the center of this one.” Nell looked at Drake. “Do you suppose it was wrapped around the other end of the PVC pipe?”

Drake wiped off his glasses and slipped them on. “It is the most logical explanation. But
why
is the question.”

Nell scratched her head, stumped. “Why indeed, Detective Doyle. We need more clues.”

Searching the area on their hands and knees, they found a brown paper bag with the words
MOSSY LAKE ICE & FUEL
stamped on the outside.

Just then, Nell had a feeling. (It’s a feeling all scientists get when they think they’re on the right track, but don’t precisely know why. Commonly known as a hunch.) Without another word, she walked up to Valerie’s house and rapped on the door.

Valerie opened the door a crack. “Did you, like, find the ghost already? Is the case solved? Can you, like, totally get off my property now?”

“Tell me, Ms. Applegate,” said Nell. “Who was at your slumber party last night?”

“I mean, there was . . .” and she listed about five names. “And, I
was,
like, gonna invite Sloane Westcott, but she said my perm totally looked like poodle fuzz, so I said, like, forget
her
.”

Nell cocked her eyebrow. “Interesting. You don’t happen to have a photograph of Sloane, do you?”

Valerie rolled her eyes, chomped her gum, and sighed. “I suppose. Wait here a sec.”

While Valerie left to fetch a photo of Sloane, Nell said, “Something smells fishy.”

Drake nodded. “Things having to do with Sloane usually smell fishy.”

You see, they’d had cases involving Sloane before. In fact, one case had involved, of all things, a ghost. Of course, it hadn’t really been a ghost at all, just a scheme between Sloane and Frisco to make some money. And Doyle and Fossey had busted their scheme.

After a moment Valerie reappeared with a photo. She handed it to Nell. “We took it at our last party.”

It was a photo of the Snob Club. Nell put it in her lab-coat pocket. “We’ll return it when we’re finished, Ms. Applegate. We’ll call as soon as we know anything.”

Back at the bikes, Nell placed the PVC pipe, the balloons, and the paper bag in her bicycle basket. “So, Detective Doyle. Now that we think we know whodunit, the question is,
how
did she do it?”

“There’s only one way to find out, Scientist Nell,” said Drake, climbing onto his bike.

“Indeed. To Mossy Lake Ice & Fuel.”