Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

two today.”

Molly looked at their tutor and then at the stylish woman out on the ice. No wonder she had never enjoyed school before! Miss Teriyaki was now skating very fast to the rink’s exit. Too fast. For in the next second, a large man stepped nervously onto the ice. She crashed into him and fell, her leg twisting horribly beneath her.

“Ow. That looks nasty.” Molly winced. She and Micky stopped to watch the woman being helped up. She was obviously in pain. “Miss Hunroe,” Molly called after her. “Your friend…”

Miss Hunroe walked briskly on, oblivious to the accident. She was already a hundred yards ahead, climbing the broad stone steps to the museum’s main entrance. So Molly and Micky followed. They admired the building’s brickwork. They pointed at the animals and the imaginary creatures and monster-face gargoyles that were carved in stone under the tall windows.

“Spooky,” Molly commented, and she and Micky stepped in through giant brass-ornamented doors into the building’s entrance vestibule. They walked up the steps through interior doors that led them into the museum proper.

Inside, the ceilings were enormously high, high as the vaulted roof above. The walls were built with orange and white bricks, which made the hugeness of the interior seem pretty and almost cozy. Then at the end of this tall exhibition room was a very wide set of stairs that rose and parted like two branches of a tree, going left and right up to balconies. And in the center, before the stairs, jarring all sense of coziness, was the massive black skeleton of a diplodocus dinosaur.

Molly and Micky paused to absorb the atmosphere and to look at the lonely, ghostly remains of the dinosaur, but already Miss Hunroe was steaming up the stairs, her cream patent-leather boots clipping on the marble steps. Molly and Micky followed. They had both suddenly become slightly irritated by Miss Hunroe’s speed. Both had now been reminded that with a teacher, even a glamorous teacher, students do what they are told.

“I’m not used to being led about like a kindergarten kid,” Molly grumbled to Micky. “You know, the last time I went to school was over a year ago.”

“Well, I’ve been bossed about much more recently than that,” said Micky. “It stinks. Hope she doesn’t turn into a dictator.”

“A what?”

“A dictator.” They took the left branch of steps that went upstairs. “A dictator is a leader of a country who just does what he wants, who tells everyone how things are going to be without asking them, without anyone voting for anything.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope she doesn’t turn into a dictator,” Molly agreed. “You know, I don’t think Miss Hunroe is quite as unteachery as we thought she might be. I think she’s got a great big thumb and wants to keep us under it.”

They walked up to the museum’s upper gallery level. Here they passed display cases full of stuffed apes. Some were glaring with snarling mouths, others stared with doleful eyes.

“Incredible to think we’re descended from them,” Molly said. “I suppose they’re just like us, though—some are mean and selfish and some are kind and thoughtful.”

They walked past glass boxes full of examples of insects. A model of a termite the size of Petula raised its ugly pincers at them.

“Urrgh, look at that ant!” Molly said.

“It’s a termite,” Micky corrected her. “I like termites, they’re cool. They make huge mud-castle constructions that they live in.”

At the end of the balcony corridor were half a dozen steps veering to the center of the building. Here the roof was very low. Its underside was paneled and painted with examples of plant species.

“Atropa belladonna. Deadly nightshade,” Miss Hunroe declared, sweeping her hand toward the paintings. Beside the letters was a picture of an herb with oval leaves and dull purple flowers and black berries.

“That’s a nasty one, isn’t it?” said Molly.

“Yup,” Micky answered. “If a person eats that, they get poisoned and they can’t walk properly. And that one, too.” He pointed to a picture of a plant with white flowers. “Conium maculatum. Hemlock. That paralyzes you if you eat it. Amazing! It looks so pretty, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t judge your flower by its prettiness,” Molly agreed.

“Hurry up,” tutted Miss Hunroe, only visible for a second as she poked her head back through the door in an oak partition in front of them. It was the entrance to a section of the building called the botanical library.

“I suppose this is one of the surprises,” said Micky. He pointed to a sign that read BY INVITATION ONLY. PLEASE OBTAIN PASS.

He and Molly looked at each other and began to trot as they tried to catch up with Miss Hunroe. They followed her into a long room with desks laden with books and papers along each side of it. Miss Hunroe hurried past the desks toward two large, wooden-framed glass doors. These swung back behind her as she blasted her way through them, one catching Molly’s shoulder.

“Ow! Slow down, lady,” Molly muttered, rubbing her arm.

Now they were in an arched, high-windowed space that housed columns and columns of fitted oak filing cabinets. These rose from the ground to the ceiling everywhere. A block of tall wooden cabinets punctuated even the center of the room.

“The archives,” stated Miss Hunroe, without a backward glance.

Molly saw that in front of each window was an alcove with a desk and a chair. And here museum workers busied themselves on computers, all of them too buried in work to bat an eye at the visitors.

“First a diplomat’s parking permit, then access to all this. Miss Hunroe seems to know people,” said Micky. “What’s she doing now?”