Ally's Mad Mystery Page 9

  “Yes, but Mr. Weiden didn’t come up in the search,” Jane reminded her.

  Ally tapped her forehead. “Maybe we don’t need that watchmaker. Maybe we just need a watchmaker.”

  “Any watchmaker?” Jane asked.

  Ally grew excited as the realization hit her. “Yes! Exactly! We need to fix the pocket watch. If breaking it let the White Rabbit out…”

  Jane caught on immediately and finished Ally’s thought as smoothly as if they were identical cousins. “Then fixing it would send him back home.”

  Ally smiled. “Naturally.”

  Clotted cream balls! We needed to get to that watchmaker, and quickly!

  The two girls found their way back into the main square of the town, which was now bustling with people and activity. Apparently, the mayors’ unbirthday party was over. They scanned the names of the shops again, this time searching for one that said watchmaker.

  “I don’t see any watch shops,” Jane said with disappointment.

  “Let’s ask someone,” Ally suggested. “There has to be a watchmaker in town.” She surveyed her surroundings before her gaze finally settled on a sign that read HATTER’S SOCK SHOP.

  Ally led the way and Jane followed as they entered the shop to find an older gentleman sitting behind the counter. He had wispy snow-white hair sprouting in every direction from his head.

  “Customers!” the man said, standing up quickly. But the sudden movement caused his wild hair to fall into his eyes. He grunted with frustration, wet his fingertips, and attempted to slick back the unruly locks. The hair flopped right back into his face.

  Ally glanced around the shop. It was filled with shelves upon shelves of every kind of sock imaginable: argyle, striped, polka-dotted, woolen, cotton. Even tiny socks for dogs and cats.

  How odd that someone named Hatter would sell socks.

  “What can I do for you, lovely ladies?” the man said, and Ally’s attention was brought back to the counter.

  She smiled her most polite smile and said, “We’re looking for a watchmaker. Is there one in town?”

  The man shook his head, his hair drooping into his eyes again. “Afraid not. Old Mr. Thumpkins retired a few years back. He was the only watchmaker in town, but his store got turned into a croquet shop.”

  Ally felt her chest squeeze. “Oh, no. That’s not good. Not good at all. You see, we have this pocket watch and it needs to be fixed.”

  The man’s entire face lit up as he once again tried and failed to tame his disobedient hair. “I fix watches!”

  “You do?” Ally asked, pleased with her instinct to come into this particular shop.

  “Absolutely!” the man said. “Is it a mad watch?”

  Jane and Ally exchanged befuddled looks.

  “A mad watch?” Ally repeated.

  “Yes,” Mr. Hatter confirmed. “Has it gone mad? Insane? Kooky? Wacky? Deranged?”

  “Uh, no,” Ally replied cautiously. “I mean, I don’t think it’s mad. I think it’s just broken. Its heart stopped.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the man said, with sorrow in his eyes. “How very sad.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Ally asked. It was a relief to finally feel understood by someone.

  “Very sad, indeed,” Mr. Hatter said as his eyes started to water. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose so loudly that both girls had to cover their ears to block the horrendous sound. When he was finished, his hair was even more disheveled than before. He wet his fingertips again and tried to smooth it down, but the strands just sprung right back into place. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you, miss,” he offered. “I only fix mad watches.”

  Ally sighed, feeling her hopes vanish again. “Is there anyone in town who fixes broken watches?”

  “Broken watches?” The man jumped to attention. “Well, of course. Old man Thumpkins fixes broken watches. He’s the watchmaker.”

  Ally bit her lip, trying not to get discouraged. “Yes, but I thought you just said he’s retired.”

  “Oh, he is,” Mr. Hatter replied. “Closed up his place a few years ago. Now it’s a croquet shop.”

  “Yes, you said already,” Ally reminded him, growing frustrated. They were wasting precious time going round and round in circles.

  “He’ll fix your watch right up!” Mr. Hatter said, seemingly not hearing her.

  “But how can he do that if he’s retired?” Jane asked.

  “He’s retired,” the man said, “not dead. He still fixes watches out of his home.”

  And just like that, Ally’s hopes took flight again. “Well, where does he live?”

  “Right outside of town,” the man replied. “Just follow the path.” His hair fell back into his face and he groaned and pressed down hard on his head, like he was trying to squash the hair into submission. But as soon as he lifted his hands, his hair was a mess again.

  “Thank you!” Ally exclaimed.

  “Yes, thank you!” Jane echoed.

  The girls started for the door, but suddenly, Ally had a thought and turned back to the man behind the counter. “You know,” she said delicately, “a hat would probably really help your, um, hair situation.”

  Mr. Hatter stopped futzing with his hair for a moment, looking pensive. “A hat?” he repeated, curious. “You don’t say! What a splendid idea!” Then he cupped his hands and called toward the back of the shop, “Mrs. Hatter! From now on, we shall be selling only hats!”

  Jane and Ally glanced at each other before breaking into uncontrollable giggles and running from the shop.

  Old Mr. Thumpkins’s house was shaped like a giant alarm clock, which was perfectly fitting for the wacky watchmaker.

  When the girls knocked on the door, Ally expected to see a tubby old man with a monocle appear. But the reality of the situation was much different.

  Mr. Thumpkins was tall and lean and muscular. If he was old, it only showed in the slight wrinkles around his eyes, the gray tint of his hair, and the gentle sag of the skin on his neck. The rest of his body was trim, fit, and toned.

  And within a moment of his answering the door, Ally and Jane understood why.

  “Today’s the day!” he said, darting out the door and doing a quick leg stretch. He pressed the button on a stopwatch in his hand and then he was off. He ran to the end of the short walkway that led from the main road up to his house, opened the mailbox, pulled out a stack of envelopes, closed the mailbox, and sprinted back. The whole thing happened so fast, Ally struggled to comprehend what was going on. When he returned, he punched the stopwatch again and looked eagerly at the time. He threw up his hands and celebrated. “Wahoo! Beat it!”

  “Beat what?” Ally asked, intrigued.

  He turned the stopwatch around to show the girls. The number 00:00:05.88 was on the screen. “Yesterday, I got the mail in five point nine two seconds. Do you know what that means?”

  Jane leaned forward and studied the watch. “Today you were faster?” she guessed.

  He threw his hands up in the air again. “Today I was faster! Wahoo!” He beckoned the girls inside. “Come, come in. I’ll make us some tea.”

  Mr. Thumpkins punched the stopwatch again and ushered the girls into the house. He seemed to be herding them like sheep. When he finally shut the door behind them, he stopped the watch. His face fell into a frown. “Hmmm. One point three five seconds slower than the last guests I had. You girls need to learn to pick up the pace!”

  Jane and Ally exchanged another curious glance. They’d been doing that a lot since they came to Tweedleton. The town and the people in it were certainly peculiar.

  Ally peered around inside the house. Every single surface was covered with clocks. The walls, the shelves, the bookcases. There were even clocks glued to the ceiling. The noise was a bit distracting.

  The watchmaker led them through the living room into the kitchen.

  “So you like to time things?” Ally asked, taking it all in.

  “Wait!” Mr. Thumpkins said, resetting
his stopwatch. He pressed start and then he was off again, filling a teapot with water, lighting the stove, dropping loose tea leaves into cups, and arranging spoons on a tray. When he was done, he stopped the watch and looked at it. “A world record!”

  “A world record?” Ally repeated. “That’s impressive.”

  The man waved her compliment away. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just me filling a teapot faster than any person in recorded history.”

  “They have a recorded history of that?” Jane sounded skeptical.

  “Of course they do!” Mr. Thumpkins replied.

  “Yes, of course they do,” Ally repeated, shooting Jane a look. She turned back to the watchmaker. “You’ll have to excuse her. She’s much too logical for her own good.”

  The man laughed like this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Oh, we don’t have much use for logic around here.”

  Ally grinned. “Then this is my kind of place!”

  Jane just rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway,” Ally went on, “we were hoping you could help us.”

  The watchmaker leaned forward, suddenly looking extremely interested. “Help you? I love helping people. What can I do for you? Does it require timing something?”

  “It could.” Ally pulled out the broken pocket watch. She half expected Mr. Thumpkins to react the same way the identical cousins had reacted—shrieking and running off to hide somewhere—but instead he just smiled.

  “We were hoping you could fix this,” Ally went on. “You see, I broke it—well, actually my cat broke it, but he won’t admit to that.”

  “Not surprising,” the man said with a nod. “Cats are dreadful at accepting blame.”

  “Exactly,” Ally continued. “So I tried to find Mr. Weiden to have him fix it but—”

  “Mr. who?” the man interrupted.

  “Weiden. The watch’s original maker.”

  The man cocked his head to the side, like he was thinking hard about something. “Hmmm. That name doesn’t ring a bell. I could have sworn I knew all the watchmakers in Auradon.”

  Ally shrugged. “No matter. I couldn’t find him anyway. So we were hoping you could fix it.”

  “Of course I can fix it!”

  “You can?”

  The man brushed invisible crumbs from his shirt. “Well, I am the watchmaker. Fixing watches is what I…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to get lost in thought again. “Well, I guess technically making watches is what I do. But I do fix them, as well. Maybe I should change my title to ‘watchfixer.’ But that just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?”

  Just then, the water in the kettle started to boil, filling the small kitchen with a sharp whistle.

  “Ring!” the watchmaker called out, punching his stopwatch again. “And go!” He grabbed the kettle and speedily filled the teacups. When he was finished he stopped the watch, frowning. “Hmmm. Better luck next time.” He offered cups to the girls and blew on his own before taking a sip. “Mmmm. Delicious tea.”

  “So,” Ally said, trying to bring his attention back to the problem at hand. “The broken pocket watch.”

  “Ah, yes!” the man cried out, as though he’d completely forgotten about it already. “I can fix it in record time!”

  Ally beamed at Jane. “That would be great!”

  “Let me just finish my tea,” the watchmaker said, starting his stopwatch and then downing the tea in one giant gulp. But it must have been too hot, because he choked and clawed at his throat, dropping his stopwatch in the process.

  “Are you all right?” Ally asked, concerned.

  The man’s eyes went wide and red and he looked like he was trying to say something. But all that came out was raspy garbles. “Chulluchararachura!”

  “What?” Ally asked. “What is it?” She turned to Jane. “What’s he saying?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t know but it looks like he’s pointing at something.”

  The girls peered at the man, who was indeed pointing desperately at something.

  “Water?” Ally guessed. “Do you need some cold water?”

  He shook his head and pointed at the floor, still trying and failing to speak. “Gluhhhmuhhhrahhhblahh!” he cried.

  “What’s he pointing at?” Jane asked.

  Ally followed the direction of his finger until her eyes fell on the stopwatch on the floor. She picked it up. “Is this what you want?”

  Mr. Thumpkins nodded emphatically, still clutching his throat. “Stahhhihhh!”

  Ally squinted. “What?”

  He let out a horrific ragged cough and tried again. “Staaaahhh pihhh!”

  Ally looked to Jane. “Do you know what he’s saying?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t speak Crazy Watchmaker.”

  “Stahhhp ihhht,” he said again, this time with somewhat more clarity.

  Ally glanced down at the stopwatch in her hand. The timer was still going from when he’d tried to time himself drinking the tea. “Oh!” she said. “You want me to stop the timer?”

  He nodded and smiled.

  Ally punched down on the button and the timer came to a halt. She turned it around to show him. “Twenty seven point eight two seconds.”

  He pumped the air with his fist and cleared his throat, finally finding his voice again. “Yes! That’s two seconds faster than last time!”

  Ally was beyond confused. But before she could question him, he grabbed the broken pocket watch from the counter and beckoned for the girls to follow him. “To the workshop!”

  I needed Mr. Thumpkins to hurry. I had to get back to Auradon before the White Rabbit did any more damage!

  Mr. Thumpkins was right. He did fix the watch in record time. Not that Ally had anything to measure it against. She had never seen a watchmaker fix a watch before, but he certainly seemed to be moving fast. Before Ally could even blink, he had the glass face off and was tinkering around inside with a bunch of tiny tools Ally had never seen before. Then he zoomed to the other side of his workshop and turned on a loud machine that quickly cut a new piece of glass from a larger sheet.

  Once the glass was cut, he secured it to the front of the watch with a click and handed the fixed device over to Ally. “There you are! Good as new!”

  Ally immediately pressed the watch to her ear and listened. A moment later, she heard it: tick, tick, tick. She breathed a sigh of relief. “You did it! You brought it back to life!”

  The watchmaker beamed. “Nice strong heartbeat it’s got there, too. A mighty fine watch. I’d love to know who made it.”

  Ally chuckled. “I told you. Mr. Weiden!”

  The watchmaker looked confused for a moment. “Huh. Okay. Well, if you figure out who made the watch, you let me know, okay?”

  Ally just shook her head. She was starting to understand how the other students at Auradon felt about her. This man definitely lived on a planet of his own. In fact, all the people in this town did.

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” Mr. Thumpkins said, taking the pocket watch back from Ally. He glanced up at one of the hundreds of clocks on his wall and began to wind her pocket watch forward to the correct time. Then he handed it back. “There you go. All synced up.”

  Ally peered at the hands of her mum’s beautiful golden pocket watch. The hour hand was pointed at the five and the minute hand was pointed at…

  “Crumbs!” Ally swore, looking up at Jane with panic in her eyes. “It’s almost five thirty! The concert starts in an hour and a half! We have to go!”

  The girls thanked Mr. Thumpkins profusely before running out the door and through the town, hopping back on their bike, and starting the long journey back to Auradon Prep.

  Maybe it was because they were in a hurry. Or maybe it was because they’d had more than two hours of practice on the way to Tweedleton, but the ride back to Auradon Prep was much easier. Ally took the front seat and steered. She didn’t utter a single complaint about Jane’s lack of effort in the back. And Jane pedaled fast and furiously, without
once mentioning Ally’s steering abilities.

  Ally noticed how much more enjoyable a ride it was when the two of them weren’t bickering. In fact, she even went so far as to think the whole field trip had been fun. Peculiar, but fun. And she was glad Jane had accidentally turned that cucumber into a tandem bike instead of a regular bike. She was glad that Jane had come along. The adventure would have been quite lonely without her friend.

  When they got back to the school, Ally steered them toward the tea shop, passing right by the tourney field, but she brought the bike to a screeching stop when she saw the catastrophe that lay in front of them.

  Frosted tea cakes!

  Ally immediately jumped off the bike and ran to the edge of the tourney field to survey the damage. As she scanned the ground, she saw the entire field was covered in holes. It was as if someone had gone out there with a shovel and dug a thousand little craters in the grass. Each hole was no wider than Ally’s foot, but the sum of all the holes was pretty disastrous.

  Ally spotted Mal standing in the center of the field, surveying the damage with her hands on her hips. Ally carefully made her way over, walking on her tiptoes to avoid twisting an ankle in one of the shallow holes.

  “What happened?” Ally asked breathlessly.

  “I don’t know!” Mal screamed, sounding extremely agitated and stressed. “Everything was set and ready. The band was about to arrive. I went inside to have dinner and I came back out and I found this!” She spread her arms wide. “I don’t understand who would even do this! And how am I supposed to fix it? I can’t fill all of these holes in time. There’s no way we can have the concert here!”

  “It’s fine,” Ally said, trying to comfort her. “We can still sit here. We’ll just be a little lopsided.” She had tried for a joke, but Mal didn’t laugh. In fact, she barely even glanced at Ally.

  “Yeah,” Mal replied bitterly. “We can sit on this, but Talking Dragons can’t play on that.”

  Mal pointed toward the opposite end of the tourney field and Ally followed the direction of her finger with dread in her stomach. The stage Mal had spent days setting up for that night’s show was now slanted at an awkward angle. It appeared so many holes had been dug around it that the ground beneath the stage had given way. The stage was literally sinking into the field.