Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

“Now we’re in one of the museum’s towers!” Miss Hunroe announced excitedly, closing the door, locking it, and quickly pocketing the key. “Do you see—the roof is pointed! Lovely and light, isn’t it, with its big windows? It’s a sort of very smart library.” She pointed up some stairs to a balcony above, where bookshelves hugged the walls. “Exquisite, isn’t it?”

The library was indeed splendid and luxurious. Its furniture, shelves, and balconies were made of polished walnut decorated in Art Deco style, with ebony inlaid motifs of leaves and flowers and hummingbirds. On the level where the twins stood was a fireplace with a large framed picture of a feather-shaped tree above it, and in front of this, a big, low coffee table laden with books. On the other three sides of this table were three sofas. Molly noticed that the window’s panes had stained-glass patterns and back-to-front writing etched there, too. Writing that was designed to be read from outside, she supposed. Yet how anyone might read it when the tower was so high, she didn’t know.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Miss Hunroe invited. Then she reached into her suit-jacket pocket and took out the gold coin. She flipped it, guessing, “Heads!” and then looked at the result in her palm. “Heads you win. Would you like hot chocolate?”

“Yes, that would be great.” Micky shrugged.

“Unless.” Molly faltered. “Unless you have concentrated orange squash?”

“Concentrated orange squash! Certainly not! Wait here on this ottoman, and I’ll be back in a trice.” She disappeared through a door in the corner of the room, and Molly heard her clapping her hands.

Micky picked up a glass paperweight with a black narcissus flower inside it. Then he wandered over to the bookshelf by the fireplace, where he began to look at book titles.

Molly walked across the room to look out the window. It was a blustery day. A sheep-shaped cloud above the leafless trees in front of the museum was changing its form and beginning to look like a wolf.

“We’re very high up,” she said to Micky.

“We are in fact ’ere.” An elderly voice with a French accent suddenly piped up behind Molly, making her nearly jump out of her skin. The end of a silver walking stick tapped the glass of an old drawing of the museum that hung on the wall. “We’re almost in the top of zis tower.”

Molly turned to see the smile of a brown-faced old lady with a blue rinse hairdo. A string of pearls, white as fresh snowballs, hung around her neck. The wrinkly woman was dressed in an ankle-length gray-blue suit that was embellished with waves of frills from top to bottom. She smelled very strongly of lavender. She peered inquiringly through silver spectacles.

“I didn’t give you a ’eart attack, did I?”

“Of course you did, Miss Suzette,” said Miss Hunroe, returning. It was then that Molly and Micky saw the others. Like cats entering a room, two other women had also quietly come in. They had settled on a long sofa under the balcony. “Now, Molly and Micky, sit here,” Miss Hunroe continued, gesturing to the sofa in front of her, “and let me introduce you to everyone.”

Molly and Micky observed the women. Taking up most of the room on the long sofa was a large, muscular woman in a wide, tentlike, seaweed green dress and white gloves. She had a mop of blond hair that was scraped into little buns on either side of her head, so that she looked as though she had strange second ears above her own. Her face was ruddy and scrubbed looking. Squeezed next to her was a small, heron-thin lady with thin, black, shoulder-length straight hair parted down the center of her head. She was still in her coat—a charcoal woolen one. Her hands were soapy white; the veins on the back of them were blue and pronounced.

There was a knock at the door. The Japanese skater, who was still in her red tutu, but with moon boots on instead of skates, hobbled in, helped by a maid in a blue apron. She was assisted toward the sofa, where she too sat.

“So sorry. I slipped. Had a bad fall. Twisted my ankle,” she said. She took off her right boot, and the maid lifted it up onto a stool. Another maid came in with a bag of ice and a towel and gave it to the Japanese woman, who packed it around her swollen ankle. Molly noticed that she had a long, straight scar up her right forearm and wondered what accident had caused that. The two maids left, and the Japanese woman leaned back.

The large woman in green pulled a small harp out of her bag and passed it to Miss Hunroe. “I collected it from the menders,” she said in a deep voice. “Before I forget, here it is.”

“Oh, thank you,” Miss Hunroe said, taking the harp. “Do we have to do bandages now?” she asked the Japanese woman, frowning at her.

Molly nodded politely at the gathering, but not feeling at all comfortable now, moved back toward the fireplace, near Micky. “Weird,” she said under her breath to him.

When she turned back, she found that the lady with the blue rinsed hair was now perched on the arm of the long sofa with the others and Miss Hunroe had moved to stand proprietarily beside it. Each of the women smiled warmly toward the twins. Suddenly a nervous giggle rose in Molly’s throat. The situation was so odd. And the peculiar women looked so funny, as though they were birds roosting on the branch of a tree. But they weren’t trying to be funny, she knew, and this made Molly want to laugh even more. She didn’t dare look at Micky, because if she did, they both might start to giggle, and they mustn’t laugh—they were supposed to be on best behavior today.

“So,” began Miss Hunroe, rather more grimly than Molly expected. “Prepare yourselves. We have some surprises for you.”

Micky glanced at Molly, and he put down the glass paperweight. It clunked loudly onto the tabletop, nearly cracking it.

“Um…okay.” Molly nodded. She and Micky eyed the well-heeled ladies suspiciously. Then, to their amazement, a wide white screen began dropping from the balcony behind their heads. As it did, to pass the time, Miss Hunroe gave her small harp a few strokes. Lovely music filled the air. Then Miss Hunroe spoke, all the while plucking and strumming her miniature harp.

“How to start? It’s difficult. But I’ll be as quick and as to the point as possible. This is Miss Oakkton….” She pointed to the big muscley woman.

“Nice to meet you,” Miss Oakkton said in a German accent.

“And this is Miss Speal.” The thin woman in the gray coat smiled weakly. “You met Miss Teriyaki on the ice, and Miss Suzette, who just gave you a fright.”

“How do you do?” Molly and Micky said uncertainly.

“Hello. How do you do?” the cluster of women replied.

Molly felt like laughing again. “This is mad,” she whispered to Micky.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“These ladies already know about you,” Miss Hunroe continued. “In fact, rather more than you might think. They know, for instance, that you, Molly, are a hypnotist, a time stopper, and a time traveler. And we are here today to talk about what you can do.”

“This is where I say, ‘Oh, my giddy aunt,’” Micky said under his breath to Molly.

And Molly, though shocked by Miss Hunroe’s revelation replied, “A load of giddy aunts, I think.” She didn’t care whether the gaggle of women heard her or not. Suddenly she was very suspicious. A cynical frown creased her forehead. And suddenly Molly didn’t like the music or the women’s smiles or the elegant room or the idea of the hot chocolate that was coming her way. “Do you mind,” she said to Miss Hunroe, “putting down your harp? It’s just a bit weird.”

Miss Hunroe stopped immediately and put down the instrument on the desk.

Just then a fair-haired maid dressed in a blue uniform with a white apron entered. She was carrying a tray with two mugs on it and had the obedient look of a well-trained dog. In fact, Molly thought, she looked hypnotized.

Miss Hunroe smiled at the maid. “Thank you, Sally.” Then she tossed her gold coin and let it land in her left hand. As though its landing musical note side up had directed her, she declared, “Now, Molly and Micky, maybe you have guessed, or maybe you haven’t guessed. My good friends here and I are all hypnotists.”

Four