The Case of the Gasping Garbage (2 page)

D
rake and Nell slogged through mud puddles, lugging the garbage can between them. For a monster, it wasn’t very heavy. Even so, Drake slipped and almost fell because his glasses had fogged. Nell helped him up and brushed him off. She was a great partner. (And besides, she was his best friend.)

Finally, they pushed the garbage can through Drake’s back door, dragged it up two flights of stairs, and into the attic lab. They set the garbage can in a corner next to a heater. “We must simulate the same environment,” said Drake.

“Eighty-seven degrees, to be precise,” said Nell.

Drake cleaned his glasses and put on his white lab coat. Nell did, too, except she didn’t have any glasses to clean. They stuck sharpened pencils behind their ears, sat on stools, and opened their lab notebooks. Drake pulled a book off the shelf and shuffled through it until he found the right page. It read: “Monster Analysis: What to Do When Your Garbage Is Gasping.”

Just then, Drake’s mom poked her head in the lab. Kate Doyle was a fine cook and ran her own catering company from home. Blueberry muffins were her specialty. Now Mrs. Doyle asked if they wanted any hot chocolate with their muffins, seeing that it was such a damp, drizzly day.

“No thanks,” Drake said politely. “Just muffins.”

“Coffee. Decaf. Black,” said Nell. And she shoved a pencil behind her ear. (Nell forgot she already had a pencil behind her other ear.)

“Affirmative,” Drake’s mom said, and closed the door.

(Real scientists don’t drink hot chocolate. Ditto for real detectives. And Drake and Nell were both.)

“Let’s go over the facts again,” said Nell.

Drake nodded. “Just the facts, ma’am.”

Together they pored over their observations.

After a while, Drake’s dad stuck his head in the lab. Sam Doyle owned a science equipment and supply company. He regularly brought home used equipment for the lab: computers, microscopes, telescopes, glassware, Bunsen burners—even an old sink that he had plumbed with hot and cold water. If either Drake or Nell needed equipment, Mr. Doyle was the man.

Now Mr. Doyle glanced at the rumbling garbage can and told them to be careful.

“We will,” said Drake and Nell.

Mr. Doyle rolled his eyes and closed the door.

“What’s he think we’re going to do?” asked Drake. “Blow up the lab?”

“You did last time,” reminded Nell.

“That’s beside the point. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Based on our observations, Scientist Nell, I have formulated a hypothesis …”

All through the evening they worked. Later Mrs. Doyle brought them tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches with a pickle on the side. (Mrs. Doyle always cooked from her vegetarian menu whenever Nell was around, because Nell was a vegetarian.) Drake and Nell washed their hands and sat at Drake’s desk, knowing they should never eat or drink while conducting They were top-notch scientists.

After supper, Nell called her mother and asked if she could stay extra late, given that there was no school tomorrow and that they were swamped with experiments and under a deadline. Ann Fossey was a biology professor at Mossy Lake University. Her specialty was wildlife biology. “Goodness gracious sakes alive,” exclaimed Professor Fossey. “Sounds like you’re a busy scientist. Now, don’t you worry about a thing, my dear. I’ll be sure to feed your rats and lizards.”

“And don’t forget my snakes and bugs.”

“Of course, dear,” said Professor Fossey. “I’ll leave the light on for you.”

Finally, after midnight, just when Nell was on her fourth cup of decaf, they had their answer.

In the morning, Nell hurried back to Drake’s house. They called Gabby first thing. “Meet us in the lab,” said Nell. “We’ve discovered the identity of the monster.”

After Gabby arrived, Drake paced the floor while Nell sat on a stool. “You see, Ms. Talberg,” Drake was saying, “it’s really quite simple. Nell?”

“Thank you, Detective Drake. First of all,” said Nell, “the garbage can sounded hollow when we tapped on it. Second, the garbage can wasn’t too heavy.”

“You see, Ms. Talberg,” said Drake, “most monsters are quite heavy.”

“In addition,” added Nell, “the garbage can was stored in a very warm environment. We that environment in our lab by setting the can next to the heater and checking its temperature. But most important, the garbage can smelled like bread.”

“Remember, your dad is a baker,” said Drake. “The best baker around, to be exact. Therefore, based on the clues and our observations, I developed an educated guess—what we scientists call a hypothesis. I believed that the monster lurking inside your garbage can was not really a monster at all, but …”

“Yes?” asked Gabby, her eyes wide.

“Yeast,” said Drake. “Pure and simple yeast.”

“Yeast?”

“Yes, yeast. Allow Scientist Nell to explain.”

Nell pointed to a chalkboard with her long, wooden pointer. “As I said, the smell of fresh-baked bread was our biggest clue. You see, yeast is used in making bread. Yeasts are tiny plants that eat starches and sugars. They then turn the starches and sugars into alcohol and carbon dioxide gas.”

“The tiny bubbles in bread,” said Drake, “are the result of carbon dioxide gas.”

Nell tapped the chalkboard with her pointer. “You see, Gabby, your dad must have thrown away a combination of yeast and flour. Ingredients used in baking bread. Easily purchased at any grocery store.”

Drake pushed up his glasses. “With the right amount of moisture—”

“And a warm environment—” added Nell.

“The yeast was able to grow and multiply by feeding on the flour inside the can,” finished Drake. “Quite harmless, really. But the yeast produced so much carbon dioxide gas that the garbage can simply had to ‘burp’ to release some of the gas.”

“We tested our hypothesis,” said Nell, “with a thorough set of experiments. We examined the yeast under the microscope and grew it in several different mediums. We’ve positively identified yeast as your culprit. You can be certain there is no monster inside your garbage can.”

Naturally, Gabby was a little disappointed. After all, yeast was not as exciting as a bloodsucking monster. She shook their hands anyway for a job well done. “I knew you could do it,” she said. “I can’t wait to tell all my friends.”

Nell handed Gabby their business card. “Call us. Anytime.”

Later that day, Drake wrote in his lab notebook:

I
t was Friday after school when Drake Doyle was once again busy with an important experiment. Test tubes bubbled and beakers boiled.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured. “My hypothesis is confirmed.” He wiped the fog off his glasses and scribbled in his lab notebook.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Drake.

Mrs. Doyle popped her head around the door. “You have a visitor,” she said. “A wet one.” And in trotted Dr. Livingston. Mrs. Doyle closed the door.

Drake put down his notebook. This must be important, he thought. Very important. Nell never sent Dr. Livingston unless it was highly important. “Good boy,” said Drake. He scratched Dr. Livingston behind his ears. Then he reached inside the pouch that hung from Dr. Livingston’s neck.

Drake withdrew a blank sheet of paper. He flicked on a lamp and held the paper over the bulb. Gradually, words appeared.

Drake quickly pulled on his raincoat and boots. He grabbed his umbrella on his way out the back door. “Bye, Mom! I’ll be at Frog Hollow with Nell!”

“Affirmative,” said Mrs. Doyle. “Be back by suppertime.”

Drake closed the door behind him and pushed up his glasses with his finger. He whipped open his umbrella and said, “Follow me” to Dr. Livingston. Drake stepped off the porch into the rain, promptly slipped, and fell with a splat.

Dr. Livingston licked Drake’s face.

Drake struggled to his feet, and off they went. Over hill and over dale. Finally they reached Frog Hollow. And there was Nell in her yellow raincoat and naturalist cap. She was examining something with her magnifying glass.

“What is it, Naturalist Nell?” Drake asked, bending down beside her.

Besides being a superb scientist, Nell was also a naturalist. If it crawled, Nell took notes. If it hopped, Nell followed. If it grew, Nell drew graphs. Nell loved nature. Nature was her specialty.

But today Nell was troubled. Something was wrong—very wrong. “Look here,” she said. “This is a leopard frog. In fact, this whole meadow is full of them. But you already knew that.”

“Correct,” agreed Drake. “That’s why it’s called Frog Hollow.”

“Every spring,” Nell continued, “female leopard frogs must find a pond in which to lay their eggs.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Drake.

“Follow this frog, and you’ll find your answer,” replied Nell.

The frog began to hop. Nell and Drake followed, with Dr. Livingston close behind. The frog hopped over a log. It hopped around a rock. It hopped through the tall grass. It hopped and hopped and hopped.

And then something terrible happened.

The frog hopped onto a road, and …
ZOOM!
…
squish!

“Eeww,” said Drake.

“Ugly,” said Nell.

“Woof,” said Dr. Livingston.

“Now what do we do?” asked Drake.

“Follow me,” said Nell. After looking in both directions, Nell led the way across the road and down the other side. And there, sitting all alone with not a frog in sight, was a pond.

“I think I see the problem,” said Drake.

“Indeed,” answered Nell. “This road was built just a few months ago. In order for the female frogs to lay their eggs—”

“—they have to cross the road,” finished Drake.

“Exactly. And you can see the results for yourself.” Nell sighed. “The whole leopard frog population is in danger. If they can’t get to the pond, there won’t be any new frogs.”

“So what can we do?” asked Drake.

Nell set her mouth in a firm line. Drake could tell she was serious. Dead serious. “Come to my house,” she said. “My mom’s still at work, but I’m sure she won’t mind if we make some road signs. We must save the frogs.”

“Check,” said Drake.

Nell’s bedroom was like a jungle. Nature Headquarters, they called it. Terrariums, aquariums, fly traps, and ant farms lined the walls. Paper vines hung from huge papier-mâché trees. A moist, hamster-ish smell of sawdust, fish food, and breath clung to the air. It was even a little steamy. Drake’s glasses fogged.

All afternoon they worked. They outlined and colored and glittered and painted. They glued and stapled and taped and hammered. Finally, they were finished.

SLOW DOWN! the signs said. FROG CROSSING! NATURE IN PROGRESS!

“There.” Nell nodded with satisfaction. “That should do it.”