Hide! The Tiger's Mouth is Open Wide!

by Adam Frost

  ‘You mean like a set of fake teeth?’ Tom said. ‘Like those vampire fangs you can buy at Halloween.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Sophie said. ‘Then we could ask the keepers at the zoo if they recognise the teeth in the model. If they do, we’ll know which animal broke in.’

  They were both silent for another few seconds, thinking.

  ‘Violet . . .’ whispered Tom.

  ‘What do you mean, Violet?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Last time I went to the dentist,’ Tom said, ‘Dr Sharp had this model of a human being’s teeth. Made out of shiny white plastic or something. While he was telling me about my teeth, he was pointing to the teeth in the model.’

  ‘Yeah, he did that with me too. So?’ Sophie said.

  ‘He said that Violet had made the whole thing,’ said Tom, ‘and that she’d modelled it on her own teeth!’

  ‘Wow! Really?’ Sophie said.

  ‘I bet she could show us how to do it,’ Tom said.

  Sophie pulled out her mobile phone and rang the dentist’s surgery. She apologised for disturbing Dr Sharp and Violet, but said this was an emergency.

  Ten minutes later, Violet was crouching down next to Tom and Sophie, studying the teeth marks in the fence closely. She had her blue dentist’s case with her.

  ‘Luckily I finish early on Fridays,’ said Violet, ‘so we can take our time.’

  She looked at the fence again.

  ‘So we’re going to make a dental cast, are we?’ Violet said. ‘Brilliant. First of all we need to find a nice clean set of bite marks. Both the upper and lower teeth. Here we are.’

  She pointed to the underside of the fence.

  ‘Usually what I’d do is get the patient to bite down on a lump of wax-like material and then make the cast out of the impression they leave behind. But in this case I’ll make the cast directly from the marks in the wood.’

  She poured some white powder into the teeth marks on one side of the fence. Tom and Sophie watched as she added water and other chemicals and, within a few minutes, there was a lump of wet clay-like material sitting on the wood.

  ‘While that’s drying, I’ll do the bottom set.’

  She repeated the process.

  ‘Easy, eh?’ Violet said.

  The cast for the top set of teeth was almost dry. She held it up.

  ‘Wow,’ said Tom, ‘look how sharp those canines are.’

  ‘I have to admit,’ said Violet, ‘I’m not entirely sure who these belong to.’

  ‘I thought they looked like a cat’s teeth, but now I think they look like Felicity’s,’ said Tom.

  Violet looked blank, so he added, ‘Felicity is our ferret.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Violet, ‘so we’re thinking – a relation of the ferret. What time is it?’

  Sophie glanced down at her phone. ‘Four thirty.’

  ‘Great,’ said Violet, ‘the zoo’s still open for another hour. Let’s nip inside and do some more research.’

  ‘Cool!’ exclaimed Tom and Sophie.

  As they trotted away from the allotment, Grandad called out, ‘Have you solved the case yet?’

  ‘Almost!’ Tom called back, ‘Just heading for the zoo. We’ve got a new lead!’

  When they reached the zoo, Violet asked Tom and Sophie to think about any animals that might have the same body type or the same diet as a ferret.

  ‘The meerkats!’ exclaimed Tom.

  ‘The mongooses!’ suggested Sophie.

  ‘The otters!’ declared Tom.

  So they looked at the meerkats and the mongooses in Animal Adventure and the otters next to the Rainforest Lookout. Finally they examined all the rodents in the Nightzone. None of them matched.

  ‘All the animals have similar teeth,’ said Violet, holding up the dental cast, ‘but none of them are exactly the same.’

  ‘Well, they’ve got to belong to something,’ said Tom, looking puzzled.

  As they went to leave, Terry the Nightzone Keeper was coming in.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ he said. ‘Come to see how the rats are doing?’

  ‘Hi, Terry,’ said Tom and Sophie. ‘This is Violet.’

  Sophie explained what they were doing.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ he said, taking the dental cast and peering closely at it.

  ‘It’s not a cat or a ferret or a mongoose,’ Tom said.

  Terry shook his head, ‘No, it isn’t.’

  ‘We thought it looked like a mini-tiger,’ said Sophie, ‘with canines like that.’

  ‘You’re not far off,’ said Terry.

  ‘You mean, you know what it is?’ Violet said.

  ‘I think so,’ said Terry. ‘I reckon it’s a polecat.’

  ‘So it is a cat,’ Tom said.

  ‘No, a polecat’s not a cat,’ said Terry. ‘In fact, it’s closely related to your pet ferret. There used to be hardly any left in the wild, but there are more and more these days. I didn’t realise they’d got as far south as London, but it seems they have.’

  ‘But why would a polecat be on Grandad’s allotment?’ asked Tom. ‘They don’t eat vegetables, do they?’

  ‘Definitely not. Look at these teeth again,’ said Terry. ‘A polecat is a pure predator. Its skull is only about four centimetres deep, so these teeth are huge compared to the size of its head. And feel, these canines are like knives.’

  Tom ran his finger over the cast and felt the two top canine teeth.

  ‘Like a tiger, a polecat uses its canines to deliver the killer blow at the base of its victim’s neck,’ said Terry. ‘And like a tiger, the sharpness of these teeth means that it can take on prey that is much bigger than itself. Rabbits, chickens, even geese. One bite and it’s over. And it can use its teeth more cleverly too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘If there’s lots of prey about,’ said Terry, ‘and it can’t possibly eat them all, it just paralyses them.’

  ‘How?’ Tom asked.

  ‘It bites into its victim’s brain, but not enough to kill it. Then it drags the body back to its den to eat later. But because it’s still technically alive, it stays fresh.’

  ‘That is brilliant,’ said Tom, impressed.

  ‘So it attacks everything and anything,’ said Sophie, ‘even when it’s not particularly hungry.’

  Terry nodded and glanced at the dental cast again.

  ‘And this one is young and healthy,’ said Terry. ‘No nicked or broken teeth, very little decay.’

  ‘Then it’s obvious what happened,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Is it?’ Violet and Tom said at the same time.

  ‘Well, there’s no way the polecat would have wanted to eat the vegetables in the allotment,’ said Sophie, ‘not with teeth like that.’

  ‘What then?’ asked Tom.

  ‘There must have been another animal in the allotment,’ said Sophie. ‘Another animal was eating the vegetables. And the polecat wanted to eat that other animal.’

  Tom nodded and said, ‘Yes . . .’

  ‘Wow, aren’t you clever!’ Violet added.

  ‘But how did that other animal get in?’ Tom asked.

  ‘THAT’s what we’ve got to find out,’ said Sophie. ‘Come on, back to the allotment.’

  She sped off, calling out, ‘Thanks, Terry,’ over her shoulder.

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Terry,’ Tom called too, following his sister.

  ‘Let me know when you solve the case!’ Terry exclaimed.

  ‘We will!’ the children replied, their voices echoing in the cold evening air.

  Chapter 7

  Tom and Sophie and Violet were back at the allotment, staring at the hole in the fence. Tom was rubbing his chin. Sophie had her hands on her hips. Violet was scratching her head.

  ‘So if another animal was here before the polecat,’ Tom said, ‘how did it get in? There are no other gaps in the fence.’

  ‘It has to be something that’s good at climbing. Or jumping,’ said Violet.

  A moment later
, a pigeon landed on the top of the fence.

  Sophie and Violet smiled and looked at each other.

  ‘Or flying,’ they said together.

  Tom looked up too.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘the allotment must be full of seeds – Grandad’s always planting new stuff. A pigeon would love that. And look.’

  He pointed at a trail of white streaks that had run down the fence and dried out.

  ‘Bird poo,’ he said. ‘It looks as if they perch up there all the time. They must wait till the allotment is quiet or empty and then fly in and eat the seeds.’

  ‘So the polecat smells the pigeon,’ said Sophie.

  ‘It thinks – I’m going to bite his brain and save him for the weekend,’ said Tom.

  ‘If the pigeon was strutting back and forth on the other side of the fence,’ said Violet, ‘then the smell and the sound would have driven the polecat crazy. That would explain the depth and ferocity of the teeth marks.’

  Just then, Grandad Nightingale appeared.

  ‘Back from the zoo, then?’ he said. ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘It’s a polecat,’ said Tom.

  ‘A polecat!’ said Grandad, raising his eyebrows. ‘Well, I never. I’d never have guessed that. You never used to get them in this part of the country. And aren’t they carnivores?’

  ‘Yes, but we think he was chasing a pigeon!’ Tom announced.

  ‘But what about the bite marks in the cabbage,’ Grandad said, ‘and the dug-up flowers. Why would a polecat do that? As soon as it got through the fence, the pigeon would have flown off, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Violet, ‘we’d better look at the other bite marks. The ones in the cabbages.’

  Grandad led them to the far side of the allotment. Although the evening was drawing in, Tom, Sophie and Violet could still just about make out the dents and hollows that had been left in the vegetables. Sophie ran her finger along the edge of a half-eaten cabbage.

  ‘It’s definitely been gnawed,’ she said, ‘not bitten into.’

  ‘So whatever did this,’ Tom said, ‘was more like a rat. Remember how they only have chewing teeth.’

  Violet nodded. ‘There are no canine teeth marks here. This animal doesn’t have teeth for tearing flesh.’

  ‘A herbivore then,’ Sophie said, getting up. ‘So not a polecat. A completely different animal.’

  ‘But which animal?’ Tom said, getting frustrated. ‘We know there was a pigeon in here. But a bird didn’t do this. They don’t even have teeth.’ Then he realised that he wasn’t completely sure this was true. ‘Do they?’ he asked Violet.

  ‘No, they don’t,’ said Violet with a smile. ‘They just peck, gulp, swallow.’

  ‘So there was a third animal,’ said Sophie, holding her chin and peering into the distance.

  ‘Let’s look for more clues!’ exclaimed Tom.

  He started to rummage around among the chewed-up lettuces and half-eaten radishes.

  Violet and Sophie also got down on their hands and knees.

  ‘Look for footprints, droppings, anything,’ Sophie said, as she began to look around.

  After a few minutes Tom stood up and held out a long stick. ‘Look at this,’ he said. ‘More gnawing.’

  Violet and Sophie got up and looked. It was a small branch from a nearby tree, and they could see that much of the bark had been chewed off. The wood underneath had scrape and scoop marks in it.

  ‘This is great stuff, Tom,’ said Violet. ‘This means we know we’re looking for an animal that needs to gnaw branches to stop its teeth growing too long.’

  ‘Look at the teeth marks, Violet,’ said Sophie. ‘Two long parallel grooves. So this animal had two large front teeth.’

  ‘A rabbit!’ both children said together.

  Violet nodded. ‘Almost certainly.’

  ‘But if there was a rabbit in here, why didn’t the polecat eat it?’ Tom asked, looking confused.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Sophie. ‘Let’s go to Grandad’s shed and look at all of our evidence. We know that a polecat, a pigeon and a rabbit visited the allotment last night. We’ve just got to piece together how it all happened.’

  Tom, Sophie, Violet and Grandad were in the shed looking at three pebbles on an old wooden table.

  ‘OK, Grandad, are you paying attention?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Grandad replied, putting on a large pair of glasses that made his eyes look gigantic.

  ‘So this brown pebble is the pigeon,’ Sophie explained, ‘this black pebble is the polecat, and this speckled one is the rabbit.’

  ‘And this is the fence,’ said Tom, stretching a piece of string across the table.

  ‘I must say, this is all very imaginative,’ said Grandad. ‘It’s almost as if I’m there.’

  ‘You are, Grandad,’ said Sophie. ‘This is meant to be the allotment.’

  ‘Oh yes, oh yes,’ said Grandad, ‘of course. Go on.’

  ‘OK, so a pigeon lands on the fence . . .’ Sophie started.

  Tom moved the pigeon pebble on to the string.

  ‘Polecat spots the pigeon, sprints towards the fence, pigeon flies into the allotment,’ Sophie continued.

  Tom moved the pigeon pebble into the allotment and placed the polecat pebble on the string.

  ‘Polecat starts to tunnel under the fence, biting the wood in several places.’

  Violet placed her dental cast on the table. ‘We made this from the teeth marks,’ she explained.

  Grandad picked up at the cast and stared at it in amazement.

  ‘When the polecat got through the fence, the pigeon spotted it and flew away,’ said Sophie.

  Tom took the pigeon pebble off the table and put it in his pocket.

  ‘There was nothing else in the allotment that the polecat could eat,’ said Sophie, ‘but he could smell Grandad’s sandwiches. So he came into the shed and ate them.’

  Tom put one of Grandad’s half-eaten sandwiches on the table and showed how the teeth from the cast fitted into the bite marks.

  ‘After finishing his meal, the polecat goes home,’ said Sophie, ‘but a rabbit has found the hole that the polecat has made and, smelling the vegetables, he wriggles through.’

  Tom put the polecat pebble into his pocket and moved the rabbit pebble over the string into the allotment.

  ‘The rabbit tucked into some lettuces and cabbages,’ said Sophie, ‘and also sharpened his teeth on this stick.’

  Tom laid the gnawed stick on the table.

  ‘At that moment, Grandad wakes up,’ said Sophie.

  Tom placed an earthworm on the table.

  Sophie giggled. ‘Is that meant to be Grandad?’

  ‘Ran out of stones,’ said Tom with a shrug.

  ‘The moment Grandad gets up out of his chair,’ Sophie continued, ‘the rabbit hears the noise and runs away. So when Grandad comes out into the allotment, all he sees are dug-up vegetables and the hole in the fence.’

  ‘Goodness me, that’s very clever,’ said Grandad, ‘and you worked out all of that just from looking at all the different teeth marks.’

  Tom and Sophie nodded.

  ‘I’m going to be out of a job at this rate,’ said Violet.

  At that moment, Sophie heard a noise and turned her head. She held a finger to her lips and pointed outside to the allotment.

  ‘Out there,’ she whispered.

  It was now evening and the allotment was no more than a few grey outlines and dark shapes. Tom and Sophie moved quietly outside. Violet and Grandad followed them.

  ‘We have to be as quiet as tigers on the prowl,’ said Tom.

  They headed silently towards the noise. When they were a few metres away, they stopped.

  ‘Look,’ whispered Sophie. ‘He’s brought some of his friends this time.’

  There were three rabbits happily gnawing at Grandad’s vegetables, their white tails bobbing and twitching.

  Grandad watched for a few seconds and then stepped forward a
bruptly. ‘OK, you’ve filled your stomachs. Now be off with you!’

  The rabbits scampered away.

  ‘Better mend the hole in that fence,’ he said.

  Tom and Sophie smiled at each other and then at Grandad.

  ‘Case closed,’ said Tom.

  Chapter 8

  The following weekend, Tom and Sophie were sitting in Dr Sharp’s waiting room. Tom had already been in for a check-up; Sophie was waiting for her name to be called.

  ‘I can’t believe I didn’t need a filling,’ Tom said. ‘It’s so unfair.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sophie replied. ‘Surely that’s good?’

  ‘I wanted a filling,’ Tom said, ‘or even better, root canal treatment. Just like Ziggy.’

  ‘But that’d really hurt!’ insisted Sophie.

  ‘It wouldn’t hurt me,’ Tom said. ‘I’m going to come back to Dr Sharp’s next week. And the week after. Until he finds something that he can drill or pull out or fill in.’

  Sophie sighed. ‘Look, I know it’s been fun learning about teeth. But maybe we should find you another hobby.’

  ‘No way,’ said Tom. ‘It’s teeth all the way for me. So I can operate on tigers like Dr Sharp does. Or make casts and solve crimes like Violet.’

  Sophie looked out the window and sighed. Mrs Nightingale had been chatting to the receptionist and was now walking back towards Tom and Sophie.

  ‘Hey, guess what?’ Mrs Nightingale said. ‘Laura the receptionist is going on holiday next week.’

  Tom looked up blankly. ‘Lucky her.’

  ‘She keeps parrots,’ Mrs Nightingale continued. ‘She’s got an African grey parrot, a double yellow-headed Amazon and a green-winged macaw. She’s found someone for the first two while she’s on holiday, but she can’t find anyone to look after the macaw.’

  Tom stared at his mother in disbelief. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ said Mrs Nightingale. ‘If you like the idea, then it will be coming to live on our boat for a couple of weeks.’

  Tom started to hop from one leg to another. ‘This is brilliant, this is brilliant,’ he chanted.

  Sophie was smiling too. She looked at Tom and said, ‘Are you sure you want to look after a parrot?’