Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

Micky—I’m really not comfortable about this anymore. If your parents wouldn’t approve, then I don’t feel we should go against their wishes.”

Molly considered the assembled assortment of women. She could see why they were worried. The idea of a maniac learning how to morph into another person was scary.

“How do you know he’s not a morpher already?” Molly quizzed.

“We don’t.” Miss Hunroe flipped her coin as though the coin’s action of turning like a tossed pancake in the air was a comfort to her. “We know the book came into his possession a month ago. Since he’s only had it for a short time, the chances are he can’t morph ye—”

“How—” Micky asked.

Miss Hunroe cut him short. “An anonymous person called us.”

Molly studied the ladies in front of her. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, “how come you lot know each other? How come you are involved in all of this?”

“Well,” Miss Hunroe explained, her lips pausing for a second to blossom into a brief rose shape before moving to talk again, “as I said, there is a society of ordinary hypnotists. We met there. We were invited to join a group of elite hypnotists—though it has to be said we are all merely hypnotists, not time travelers or time stoppers. We vowed to use our powers to help people in the world. We try to sort out any foul play.”

“We want to catch the dodgers before they dart,” whined Miss Speal.

“Grab ze codgers before zay grunt,” finished Miss Oakkton.

“We are like Wonder Woman, I suppose,” explained Miss Teriyaki, smiling. “We root out crooks like Mr. Black. It is such a pity you haven’t your time-stopping crystals. What’s more, there is not time to get them.” She turned to Miss Hunroe as though the situation had moved on and Molly was now irrelevant. “I will go in, Miss Hunroe.”

“But surely Molly can still go in wisout her time-stopping skills,” Miss Suzette commented.

Miss Teriyaki gasped. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Listen,” Molly interrupted. “Micky and I really don’t need time crystals for this. It’s a cinch. This job can easily be done without them.” Next to her, she could sense Micky’s eyes widening. But her appetite had been whetted. Just the day before, she had been yearning for a bit of adventure again. This little trip into Black’s Casino to retrieve the book looked like it might at least give her a taste of what she’d been craving.

“Besides, I’m very interested to get a look at that book. We could take it down to Briersville Park and keep it in the library there. After all, that’s where it belongs.”

Micky shrugged. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Zat’s de spirit!” Miss Suzette exclaimed, twiddling her silver cane enthusiastically. “Just ze idea I’d had for ze book myself!”

“Vunderful!” Miss Oakkton echoed, thwacking the coffee table with her white gloves.

Miss Hunroe clapped her hands.

“Absolutely not!” she decided vehemently. “I’m sorry, Molly and Micky, but I’ve acted like a fool, and completely improperly. You’ve said your parents wouldn’t want you to get involved with this risky business, and we cannot ignore that.”

“But Miss Hunroe,” Miss Teriyaki interrupted, “Molly herself thinks that she and her brother can retrieve the book easily. Maybe this is our only chance.”

“Miss Hunroe, it is madness not to accept ze children’s help.”

“No, Miss Oakkton, I’ve been influenced by you enough. These children cannot be involved without their parents’ consent.”

“Listen,” Molly interrupted. “We want to help. And our parents have only just become our parents. Micky only met them recently. I haven’t known them that much longer. We’ve lived our lives for a long time without them. So we aren’t like normal kids. Maybe Micky hasn’t made his mind up about it yet,” she added, smiling, “but I have.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Miss Hunroe said, her decision hovering. She pulled out her gold coin again and turned it over and over in her fingers.

“I think zay must help,” Miss Suzette advised. “Zese children, Miss Hunroe, are not ordinary children. Molly has special abilities, and Micky ez probably gifted, too. After all, zay are twins. With Molly’s gift come special responsibilities. Zis is a critical problem that needs specific solutions. No one can help as Molly can. What is more, if we don’t get Molly’s help, the whole world may suffer the consequences.”

Miss Hunroe’s coin flipped through the air and landed in the palm of her hand. She smacked it onto the back of her left hand.

“Heads you win,” she said.

A hundred and eighty miles away, Petula woke up from a midday sleep. She’d had a nightmare of Molly leaving her all alone in Briersville Park, which was silly, she knew, because apart from Molly and Micky, everyone else—Rocky, Ojas, and the adults—were all there. She shook her head, and her ears and her lips flapped and the sparkling nametag on her collar rattled. But it was odd, she thought, that her sleep had been so undisturbed.

Petula had been out the night before, down on the neighboring farm where her friends the sheepdogs lived. She’d stayed with them until well past midnight. Then she’d trotted home under a starlit sky, barked at the local fox, who she could smell was in the llama field, and she’d gotten back in late. Now she would go and visit everyone and see how they were. It was peculiar, as normally at this time of day she’d hear the butler, Todson, laying tables for lunch. But all was quiet.

So off she trotted from her basket in the pantry, along the corridor to her basket in the hall. There she picked up a small pebble in her mouth and, chewing and sucking it, made her way up the wide hall stairs to the first landing that led to the house’s master bedrooms. Portraits of Molly and Micky’s ancestors looked curiously down, their eyes seemingly fixed on her.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” Petula barked at them.

On the second floor, the hundreds of clocks that lined the second floor passage ticked like clockwork crickets. Petula nudged open Primo Cell and Lucy Logan’s bedroom door.

The room was dark, as the curtains were closed. Both Lucy and Primo were sitting in bed. They were leaning back on cushions, staring upward. For a moment Petula thought that perhaps they had bought a very modern new television screen that was set in the ceiling. But as she trotted into the room, she could see that there was nothing on the ceiling. What was more, neither said hello to Petula. She dropped her stone and barked. Primo and Lucy were still. Petula put her front paws up on the side of the bed. She whined at Lucy and pawed at the silk bedspread beside her, but neither of the humans uttered a word. Then Lucy took a sip of water. She didn’t even glance at Petula.

Something was wrong, very wrong. Petula barked again, and then some more, but it was useless. Petula suddenly felt very scared. She’d seen humans in this state before. It was as obvious as an unburied bone, Lucy and Primo were hypnotized. But by who? Petula looked about her to see whether her barking had summoned anyone to the room. Then, turning on her heels, Petula fled.

Panic rushing through her, she bowled along the passage of clocks until she came to the small flight of stairs that led to the children’s quarters. She must let Rocky and Ojas know what had happened and get their help! Her claws slid and scrabbled up the polished wooden steps. Skidding to stop herself, she reached their bedroom. The room was empty. Petula turned and began to run along the corridor to the attic stairs. Her heart lifted as she approached the children’s den. The sound of jingles on the TV escaped through the crack of the closed door. Everything was normal, she thought. Rocky and Ojas were watching TV. But when she pushed the door open, her hopes were dashed. For there in the dark with the curtains shut, reclining in armchairs with glazed expressions on their faces as they gawped at the TV, were Ojas and Rocky.

Petula leaped into Rocky’s lap and barked right into his eyes, but he was like someone half dead. The light from the television screen danced across his brown face. Petula pounced at the TV. An ad was on. Three pots of mustard, each with a smiling face, jigged about in front of a barbecued sausage. This should have seemed funny, but today, as though in some nasty dream, the pots of mustard looked sinister. Petula growled and tried to hit the off switch. Having no success, she attacked the television plug and eventually pulled it out of its socket. Now the room was pitch black except for the light from the passage. Frightened and confused, Petula left that room, too.

Forest the hippie or Todson or the new cook must be all right, Petula thought as she sped along the carpet to the main stairs. Inside she felt desperate. A howl of fear was building up in her. For