The Case of the Terrible T. Rex (6 page)

But instead of talking, instead of transforming into a terrifying robot, the oven was silent. In fact, it looked and sounded very much like an oven should look and sound. Very ovenlike.

“Are you certain you heard it talk, Ms. Alvarez?” asked Nell, peering into the oven.

“
Sí
.”

“Uh—did you know one of your elements is broken?” said Drake. Indeed, the bottom element now glowed orange-hot, while the upper element remained cold and dark.

Rosa frowned. “But it worked fine yesterday.”

“Likely that is why your cakes did not bake correctly,” said Nell, scribbling in her lab notebook.

“Agreed,” said Drake. He stood, adjusting his goggles with his oven mitt. “Well, I guess you must have been hearing things, Ms. Alvarez. Likely the heat. Hot day, hot oven, you know—”

Just then, like a sleeping giant that suddenly awakens, the oven spoke. “Oh boy, ha ha ha! You said that right!
Ha ha ha ha ha!
”

“E
gads!” cried Drake, stumbling into the cupboards.

“Oh my gosh!” cried Nell, dropping her pencil into the cake batter.

“
¡Ay, caramba!
” cried Rosa, waving her spatula in front of her.

“Ha ha ha!” laughed the oven. “Yup, this heat could melt a turnip! Hotter ’n blue blazes! Ha ha ha—”

“Quick!” cried Drake, his lab coat caught on a cupboard knob. “Slam the oven door shut before it transforms!”

“Check!” cried Nell.

“This is KA7—”
SLAM!

Once again, the oven was silent.

“You see?” whispered Rosa. “My oven, it is
loco.
”

“
Loco
indeed,” said Drake while Nell helped to untangle his lab coat from the cupboard knob.

Untangled at last, Drake thanked Nell and straightened his lab coat. “Did you hear what it said, Scientist Nell?”

“Affirmative. KA7 must be its code name. I would jot the code name into my lab notebook, except—” Nell peered at the cake batter. “I seem to have dropped my pencil.”

After asking Rosa to list the ingredients in a
tres leche
cake, Drake and Nell stepped outside to look for additional clues. Drake jotted his observations in his lab notebook:

Fruit tree in front yard.

Ice cream truck—music in the air.

Giant antenna down the street.

“Hmm,” said Drake. “I don’t remember seeing that antenna last week at the fiesta.”

“
Sí—
that’s because our neighbor just put it up a couple of days ago.”

“A new antenna …” mused Drake. He cocked his eyebrow and glanced at Nell. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Scientist Nell?”

“Quite possibly, Detective Doyle. But there’s only one way to find out.”

“Back to the lab!” cried Drake. “For analysis!”

“Expect our report ASAP, Ms. Alvarez,” said Nell as she climbed on her bike.

“Meanwhile,” said Drake, climbing on his bike as well, “stay out of the kitchen.”

Rosa waved good-bye with her spatula. “Hurry! The guests arrive in two hours! We must have cake!”

Back at the lab, Drake and Nell wasted no time. They pulled a book off the shelf and turned to the correct section: “Loco Oven Analysis: What to Do When Your Oven Has a Code Name, Laughs Like the Dickens, and Your Fiesta Becomes a Fiasco.”

After Nell read the section aloud, Drake formulated a hypothesis. He said, “I believe what’s happening to Rosa’s oven is …”

Nell listened and nodded. “Agreed. Let’s test our hypothesis. Meanwhile, maybe we could ask for your mother’s help.”

So, with Mrs. Doyle on board (she’d said, “
No problemo
” when asked for her help), Drake and Nell tested their hypothesis. They plugged this into that. They dialed this knob. They twirled that dial.

Then they headed back to Rosa’s neighborhood and conducted a quick stakeout. It took only 2.5 minutes of standing outside the neighbor’s window before they had their answer. And not just any answer. The right answer.

Analysis complete, Drake and Nell hurried back to Rosa’s. “We’ve solved the mystery, Ms. Alvarez,” said Drake, as they entered the kitchen.

“But what about my cake?” Rosa asked. “Everyone will be coming soon for the surprise. There’s not enough time now to bake a cake.”

“First things first,” said Drake. “Scientist Nell?”

“Thank you, Detective Doyle.” Nell began to pace. “Are you aware, Ms. Alvarez, that there are radio waves everywhere? For instance, there are radio waves bouncing off this cake batter, off my arm, through the air, and even through outer space.”

Rosa looked puzzled. “If that is true, then why can’t we hear them?”

“Excellent question,” said Nell. “In order to hear speech or music across radio waves, two things must occur. Detective Doyle?”

“Ah, yes, two things.” Drake pushed his glasses up with his finger. “First, someone must
transmit
the speech or music. Second, someone must be able to
receive
the transmission. There is speech and music being transmitted all the time through radio waves. But you can’t hear anything unless you
receive
it. Case in point—” Drake walked over to a radio sitting on the counter and flipped it on.

“. . .
para bailar la bamba …
”

“Ah, one of my favorites.” Drake tapped his foot. “You see, Ms. Alvarez, your radio is a receiver, enabling us to hear the transmission.”

“Now, all of this brings up an important question.” Nell stopped pacing, her hands clasped behind her back. “Why don’t we hear all the radio stations at once? With all the voices and all the music in one big jumble?”

“Excellent question, Scientist Nell,” Drake answered. “Because radio operators transmit on a certain
frequency.
When you turn the knob on a radio, you are dialing in different frequencies.” Drake twirled the dial of the radio, and as he did, the radio stations changed.

“There are thousands of frequencies,” said Nell, “all with different-size wavelengths.”

“But,” said Rosa, glancing at her watch, “my mother … the cake … the fiesta … and what does any of this have to do with my oven?”

“Ah,” said Drake. “Now we come to the heart of the matter. You see, in order for something to receive a particular radio transmission, it must first be
resonant on that frequency.
Let’s say there are A to Z frequencies. If someone transmits on H frequency, we must tune into H frequency in order to hear him or her. Now, we noted that your oven had one element that was broken—”

“And one that was not,” said Nell. “Very simply, the two elements canceled each other out. In doing so, they created resonance on a particular radio frequency.”

“Plus,” added Drake, “the oven acted as a nice speaker box. Quite handy, really.”

“So we were hearing a radio?” asked Rosa.

“Not just any radio,” replied Nell, “but a ham radio. Your neighbor’s ham radio, to be precise. His signal was very strong because he was transmitting from just down the street.”

“You see, Ms. Alvarez,” said Drake, “ham radio operators are amateur radio buffs. They transmit and receive radio signals from all over the world. We suspected there was a ham radio operator because of the size of the antenna. To confirm our suspicions, we listened outside your neighbor’s window.”

“Sure enough,” said Nell. “His was the same voice we heard coming through the oven—”

“Same laugh,” added Drake.

“With the same call sign beginning with KA7,” said Nell. “A simple case, really.”

“A piece of cake, as they say,” said Drake.

“But,” said Rosa, “what about when the oven said, ‘You’re next, little lady’?”

“Just his granddaughter, taking her turn at the radio,” answered Nell.

“Our recommendation?” said Drake. “Fix the oven element. Should take care of the problem.”

“Well,
gracias.
” Rosa sighed, her smile still, sadly, a little droopy. “I just wish I’d had time to bake a
tres leche
cake. Now it is too late, and everyone is due in ten minutes.”

Drake cocked an eyebrow. “Ten minutes, you say? Then there’s no time to lose.” He whipped out a walkie-talkie from his lab-coat pocket. “Calling FF, calling FF, this is Muffin Man, over.”

“You see, Ms. Alvarez,” explained Nell, “a walkie-talkie is a two-way radio. It can transmit as well as receive.”

The walkie-talkie crackled to life. It was Kate Doyle’s voice. “Fab Foods here. Is it time?”

“Affirmative,” replied Drake. “Over and out.”

Five seconds later, the doorbell rang.

It was Mrs. Doyle. “Yoo-hoo!
¡Hola!
Fab Foods calling with a
tres leche
cake and decorations for a fine fiesta!”

At that very instant, a scientific miracle occurred. Rosa Alvarez’s smile turned right side up. “You have saved the day!” she cried, suddenly looking quite cheery.

And as Mrs. Doyle bustled into the kitchen, Rosa turned to Drake and Nell.
“¡Gracias, mis amigos!
How can I ever repay you?”

“A piece of cake, perhaps?” said Drake.

Nell nodded. “A piece of cake, indeed.”

That night, Drake wrote in his lab notebook:

Case of the loco oven solved.

Broken oven + ham radio

transmissions = talking oven.

Fiesta a smashing success.

Danced the salsa and ate
tres leche

cake until I achieved maximum capacity.

Paid in full.