Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

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 surely Forest or Todson would have called Molly and Micky back home if they knew what had happened to the others. Then a horrid thought occurred to Petula. Perhaps Todson or the new cook were the guilty hypnotists.

Down in the sitting room, Forest was so still he looked like he’d rooted to the floor like a human tree. Even the children’s pet blackbirds, sitting on his shoulders, had been hypnotized. Petula was scared. As quietly as she could, she tip-pawed to the kitchen. She found Todson and the Thai cook sitting in armchairs with their eyes closed.

Petula’s head swam as the nightmarish reality of her situation sank in. Moving as quietly and as quickly as she could, she crept to her special low chair. This was a chair that she could hide under where no one would find her. Finally under its velvet-fringed bottom, she caught her breath and tried to think straight.

She thought of the strange, glamorous woman who had smelled of red lipstick and rose perfume. Before, Petula had detected a scent of thorn in the perfume. Now she realized that the perfume had been the rose smell and that it covered the woman’s true scent, that of sharp thorn. Petula remembered how the woman had whisked Molly and Micky away, and a horrid mixture of anger and worry rose in her guts.

Emboldened by this detective work, Petula made her way to the drawing room, where she knew Lucy Logan had hidden Molly’s collection of time-travel and time-stopping crystals. She nudged the inlaid mother-of-pearl box from its low shelf near the fireplace until it fell on the floor and burst open. Nothing fell out of it. Nothing was in it. Someone had stolen the crystals.

Now Petula saw things clearly. This woman stealing Molly’s crystals meant she knew about Molly’s talents. The woman was obviously a talented hypnotist, for she’d switched every person in the house into neutral. But what about Molly and Micky? Perhaps, just perhaps, they weren’t in real danger yet.

Petula shivered. She felt small and hopeless and all alone. But there was nothing for it. Molly and Micky must be helped. If Petula didn’t go to their rescue, who would?

Petula made her way down to the kitchen, to the back door. With a deep breath, she nudged the wooden dog flap with her forehead and stepped out into the cool, damp air. Raising her black nose to the wind and cocking her head to sense Molly and Micky’s whereabouts, she set off up the long drive.

Five

Miss Hunroe stood alone beside a high, round table in a large, grand room with a very tall triangular ceiling above. Her and her acquaintances’ lavish apartments were all situated in the uppermost parts of the four towers that punctuated the top of the natural history museum. Miss Hunroe’s rooms were in the Art Deco style. The black lacquer chairs had curved solid wooden backs and smart cushions with a leafy garland pattern on them. There were etched mirrored-glass tables, and at the far end of the room was a concertinaed, free-standing pale wood screen with a long-legged leaping dancer inlaid in darker wood on it. Behind this was an oval-shaped double bed. The walls were green and decorated with gold brocade. A high maple cabinet displayed a collection of ancient gold plates and goblets, and on the floor, in front of the thirty-six–paned window, a giant, rare solid-gold vase, taken from the Egyptian department in the British Museum, stood proud, filled with magnificent sunflowers. A gorgeous gilt harp stood to the side of the vase, while above, a massive golden chandelier hung from the apex of the room like a giant honeycomb.

The walls were hung with paintings. One echoed the sunflowers on the floor and was by a world-famous painter, Van Gogh. Miss Hunroe had “borrowed” this from its museum home in Amsterdam. Languidly, she sat down at the harp. The sound of the strings as her fingers plucked them was like the sound of a heavenly waterfall. Then Miss Hunroe pinched one of the strings tightly and slid her pinch from the top of the string downward. This made a screeching, unearthly noise. Smiling, Miss Hunroe abandoned the harp and swiveled around on her stool. Crossing her legs, she pulled a clear crystal out of her pocket and held it up to the light.

“If she’s mastered time travel and time stopping,” she said, “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in.”

Miss Speal and Miss Suzette entered, each looking modestly proud, as though they were about to receive gold stars from the head teacher.

“They’ve gone!” Miss Speal squealed suddenly, unable to control her excitement. She rubbed her hands together. “I just saw them off in a taxi.”