A Fish Named Yum Read online

  A Fish Named Yum

  Mary Elise Monsell

  Contents

  The Great Chicago Flood

  A Fish Named Yum

  The Great Chicago Flood

  1

  Monday was quiet in Smiling Sally’s Diner. But not for long. Mr. Pin had just polished off a stack of caramel fudge pancakes, leaving out the fudge. Mr. Pin had gained some weight since his arrival in Chicago. He had decided to cut back until he could see his feet—webbed feet, that is.

  Mr. Pin was a rockhopper penguin, mostly black and white with long yellow plumes on both sides of his head. Some time ago, he had left the South Pole to be a detective in Chicago. After gangsters tried to blow up Smiling Sally’s Diner, Mr. Pin moved into the room next to the kitchen. It would be soon enough when crime came by the diner again.

  But back to Monday.

  Sally was in the kitchen experimenting with chocolate chip cookies. Meanwhile, hiding from the smell of chocolate, Mr. Pin was in the basement conducting his own experiments. He was measuring the growth of his prized collection of philodendron plants.

  Above his underground plant laboratory huge grow lights dangled from pipes and heating ducts. All around were sacks of potting soil, shovels, and organic spider mite spray. Next to the plant supplies lay sacks of flour and instant chocolate pudding mix piled chest high. Sally wanted Mr. Pin to help her get rid of it. She had bought it from Pete, the chicken man, and the pudding tasted awful. But Mr. Pin couldn’t quite bring himself to throw out chocolate, even bad chocolate. Besides, every now and then truckers borrowed some of it to fill potholes in the alley.

  Mr. Pin inserted a water sensor into the soil of a clay pot.

  Hisssss-spurt! Strange sound, thought Mr. Pin. Was it a gas leak? Detecting no telltale smell, Mr. Pin looked for other clues. Then his feet started to get wet. Looking at the floor he realized the horrible truth. Smiling Sally’s Diner had sprung a leak!

  Ever alert, Mr. Pin studied the situation. This was no ordinary leak. Water spouted like Buckingham Fountain through a crack in the floor. The crack widened and a small fish popped out. Thinking fast, Mr. Pin picked up the fish by its flopping tail and dropped it into a mason jar. He filled the jar with clean plant water.

  Meanwhile, the leak was beginning to grow. It grew larger and larger, swelling into a small river zigzagging through the flour sacks. Mr. Pin moved some of the sacks on top of the crack, hoping to stop the flow. For now, things were under control.… Until all of a sudden, things got worse. Much worse. The grow lights went out! His plants were in total darkness!

  2

  Without light his plants were in grave danger. But an even greater danger lurked beneath the concrete floor.

  Mr. Pin tucked the mason jar—with the fish swimming in tight circles—under his wing and went up to the diner. He put the fish on the counter and picked up the phone. His first call was to Herb’s Bionic Garden. His second call was to Shedd Aquarium. The third call was to a plumber. After that, the phone went dead.

  “What’s going on?” asked Maggie. She was Sally’s niece who lived upstairs and often helped Mr. Pin with his cases. “The phone’s dead and my CB radio is out to lunch. Who’s the fish?”

  “Doesn’t have a name yet,” said Mr. Pin.

  Sally came out of the kitchen looking worried. “My cookies are half-baked,” she said.

  “Hardly,” said Mr. Pin.

  “So where’d you find the fish?” asked Maggie.

  “In the basement.”

  “What bait did you use?” asked Maggie, believing almost anything was possible with Mr. Pin—even fishing in the basement.

  “I don’t know. Probably chocolate pudding. Actually,” said Mr. Pin, “it popped through the floor when the leak started.”

  “What leak?” asked Sally.

  “It’s more like a flood.”

  “Flood?”

  “In the basement,” said Mr. Pin.

  “Is that why we don’t have electricity?” asked Sally. “Nothing works in my kitchen,” she said looking directly at Mr. Pin. “And if the freezers don’t work, the ice cream might melt.”

  “Terrible,” said Mr. Pin raising his plumes.

  “We have another problem too,” said Maggie.

  “What’s that?” asked Mr. Pin.

  “That fish is getting dizzy.”

  Just then a very tall white-haired man with spectacles walked into the diner carrying a wheel from his bicycle. Sally looked at the man then said, “I’m going to look for a bigger home for that fish.”

  “You must be Herb,” Mr. Pin said to the man with the wheel.

  “No, not Herb. Phil. Phil O. Dendrum,” said the white-haired man.

  “A plant expert,” said Mr. Pin hopefully.

  “Afraid not,” said Phil.

  “Then you’re here about the fish,” said Mr. Pin.

  “No, I’m here about the flood.”

  “A plumber?” asked Mr. Pin.

  “Not quite,” said Phil. “Actually, I’ve heard all about you, Mr. Pin and I need your help.”

  “Really!” said Maggie.

  Mr. Pin hopped up onto a diner stool and met Phil’s concerned gaze.

  “Chicago is flooding,” said Phil. “Someone was drilling wood pilings into the Chicago River bed. An old freight tunnel that runs under the river and throughout the city was punctured. It’s letting in the whole river. Now everyone’s basement is flooding. Desks, chairs, books, papers, clothes, and fish are floating in several feet of water.”

  “Terrible!” said Maggie, her eyes growing wider.

  “The electricity has been turned off so no one can be electrocuted,” Phil went on. “Everyone downtown in the Loop has been sent home. Trains are overloaded. There’s mass confusion.”

  “Sounds like a disaster,” said Maggie.

  “The worst,” said Phil. “Probably since the Chicago fire.”

  “What can we do to help?” asked Mr. Pin.

  “At the moment, I just want to find out how to plug the hole. I want to help the city. That’s my job … helping the city, that is,” said Phil. “In any case, that used to be my job.”

  “What do you mean used to be your job?” asked Mr. Pin.

  Phil took off his round glasses, rubbed a crease between his eyes, then said: “I’ve been fired.”

  “Fired!” shouted Maggie angrily.

  “I don’t know why,” said Phil. “I’m not even in charge of tunnels. But someone thought I was. My job is taking care of bridges, including the one above the leak. The terrible thing is I can’t get near the place to help,” said Phil.

  “Now,” said Mr. Pin quietly. “It appears there are two cases to solve. We have to stop the flood. Then, of course, we have to get Phil’s job back.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard,” said Maggie, looking at Mr. Pin hopefully.

  Sally came out of the kitchen carrying a large glass cookie jar with the word YUM painted in bold green letters across the front.

  “Only a few more hours before the ice cream will melt,” she said, pouring the water and the fish into the larger jar.

  “But at least,” said Mr. Pin, “we have saved a fish.”

  3

  Maggie wasn’t sure a fish could look worried. But what fish would want to be in a glass cookie jar with the word YUM on the outside? Not only that, people were starting to call him Yum.

  Sally looked worried too as Phil left with his bicycle wheel.

  Maggie helped her make salami sandwiches while Mr. Pin paced back and forth, thinking.

  “I hate to see all of this food go to waste,” said Sally.

  “Could you sell it?” asked Maggie.

  “Maybe. But the ice cream will be ruined anyway.”

&n
bsp; “Ruined,” said Mr. Pin. He thought for a moment then said, “What about a freezer truck?”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” said Maggie. “But where will you find a freezer truck on a day like this?”

  “How’s your CB working?” asked Mr. Pin.

  “Could be better. It needs electricity. Why?”

  “There’s another one in the basement.”

  “Right, but it needs batteries … batteries! Of course. I bet I could get it to work. Then what?”

  “Put the word out to the truckers that you need a freezer truck fast. Tell them it’s an emergency. Something to do with ice cream, especially chocolate. They’ll understand if they know it’s for Smiling Sally’s.”

  But there wasn’t much time to talk. Saving ice cream and fixing radios would have to wait until after lunch.

  Smiling Sally’s filled quickly when people discovered it was still open. Dozens of hungry flood workers carried helmets under their arms as they stomped into the diner with their heavy rubber boots. There were even some workers outfitted in diving equipment. It was beginning to look like the set for the “Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau.” One of the divers left a small pump for Sally which would keep the diner, for a little while, above sea level.

  After clearing away a mountain of dishes that couldn’t be washed, Maggie went upstairs to see if she could get a portable CB radio to work. Sally gave away the leftover food to a homeless shelter then decided to walk to a camping store to find a Coleman stove. That left Mr. Pin with the job of saving his plants from total darkness and the city from too much water.

  4

  In the eerie reaches of Smiling Sally’s basement, Mr. Pin was well-equipped. A large flashlight was tucked under his wing along with rope, rubber waders, and a pump. He looked like he was ready for fly-fishing in a swollen stream.

  The flies would have to wait. In the flashlight’s beam, Mr. Pin saw that the floor was wet, but the water wasn’t too deep. Not yet anyway. Mr. Pin left the rubber waders on the stairs then took the long hose of the water pump and directed it to where most of the water appeared to be coming in.

  Then Mr. Pin surveyed the rest of the basement. The flour sacks he’d placed on the crack were just about ruined, but the rest of the diner’s supplies would be all right for a little while, since they were stacked on shelves.

  His plants were another story. How long, he wondered, could they survive in the dark under these swamplike conditions? Pump or no pump, the water might rush in and flood the whole basement. The risk was great.

  The plants had to go. One by one, Mr. Pin ferried the heavy pots across the rising water and hauled them upstairs into the diner. By late afternoon, Smiling Sally’s looked like Herb’s Bionic Garden.

  Mr. Pin was just taking his last plant up the basement stairs when he heard a voice booming through the back door.

  “Where would you like the truck?”

  “Not in here,” said Mr. Pin completely hidden behind the plant.

  Hank, the trucker, jumped about three feet in the air. Then he parted the vines. He looked at the plant more closely.

  “Mr. Pin!” he said seeing the rockhopper. “Uh, sorry, I thought it was a talking plant.”

  “Afraid not,” said Mr. Pin. “I only talk to my plants.”

  Getting over the shock, Hank said: “I heard you need a freezer truck.”

  “Absolutely!” said Mr. Pin as he put the plant on the counter. “Chocolate ice cream is in danger.”

  “Danger?”

  “Right. You never know when you’re going to need a few gallons of chocolate ice cream.”

  “Of course,” said Hank.

  With renewed energy, Hank and Mr. Pin hauled Sally’s softening ice cream outside to the alley where a freezer truck was parked. Hank offered to bring another truck if it would help keep the diner business going.

  The diner was quiet when Hank finally left. Surrounded by plants, Mr. Pin took a moment to rest his feet. He sat back in a booth and pretty soon his beak fell onto his chest. He wasn’t asleep long before he heard an unusual announcement:

  “Mr. Pin! Fish are swimming under City Hall.”

  “Krill are swimming in the Arctic,” Mr. Pin answered in his sleep. Then he rubbed his eyes with his wings and looked at the towering figure of Phil O. Dendrum, his white hair rising just above Mr. Pin’s indoor garden.

  “Are you sure you’re not a plant expert?” the sleepy penguin asked before recognizing the man who needed his help.

  “Not this kind of plant,” said Phil. “But we have a real problem. The newspapers say that workers have thrown mattresses and concrete blocks on the hole in the riverbed. I wish I could do something. No one seems to be able to plug it for good. Not only that, it’s beginning to rain.”

  “There has to be something that will work,” said Mr. Pin.

  “There have been many suggestions,” said Phil. “Some of them are a little unusual.”

  “Such as?”

  “Landfill garbage,” said Phil.

  “Not a bad idea. There is a lot of it. But some of it would float, and it might get smelly.”

  “How about peanut butter?”

  “Excellent to eat but not to plug holes,” said Mr. Pin. “There’s always chewing gum. It would be disastrous, of course, if I ever tried to chew any.”

  “I understand,” said Phil. “How about newspapers?”

  “Or government memos,” said Mr. Pin.

  “Old shoes.”

  “Jell-O.”

  “Too soft.”

  “Gerbil shavings. Maggie has plenty of them.”

  “How about an old-fashioned beaver dam?” suggested Phil.

  They were beginning to sound desperate.

  “Good idea,” said Mr. Pin. But where would they find a crew of willing beavers at this late hour, not to mention all the trees they’d need.

  Sitting in the back room of Smiling Sally’s Diner, Mr. Pin and Phil worked late into the night. Sally brought them a thermos of hot chocolate and Maggie came in every now and then to offer a few more suggestions. They talked until almost midnight. Then Mr. Pin heard sounds he would not want to hear again:

  Crack! Hisssssss! Whoooosh!

  It sounded like the diner was blowing apart.

  5

  Fearing the worst, Mr. Pin and Phil hurried to the basement stairs. This time Mr. Pin started to put on the rubber waders, then thought better of the idea when he tried to get them over his webbed feet. He left them hanging on the basement door.

  One step at a time, he went down the dark, creaking stairs while Phil stayed at the top. Mr. Pin was all alone with whatever it was, deep in the dark basement. Before reaching the bottom of the stairs, he felt the water already climbing up his feet. Easily hopping into the water, he swam through the basement to the site of the leak. It was gushing water now! The terrifying noise must have been caused by the water widening the crack in the concrete floor.

  Mr. Pin thought fast. He thought about all of the things he and Phil suggested to stop the city’s flood. He thought about Jell-O. Then he thought about something else. There it was, just out of reach, the answer to all of his problems.

  Mr. Pin swam through the rising water. Maggie, who had come down from her apartment when she heard the explosion of water, stood next to Phil at the top of the stairs. She directed a flashlight at Mr. Pin.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Maggie.

  “I don’t know,” said Phil. “I can’t see.”

  Snargle. Glurgle. Sput!

  Maggie looked at Phil. “Something strange is going on down there,” she said, handing the flashlight to Phil.

  “All I can see is something that looks like a slowly moving glacier,” said Phil.

  Splurgle. Glug. Rrrrrrosh!

  “What’s that?” asked Maggie.

  Then they heard Mr. Pin ponderously make his way back up the basement stairs.

  Exhausted, the penguin padded into the diner, his feathers matted together. He held
his side with a wet wing and lowered himself into a booth.

  “Too bad about the waders,” he said. “Might have come in handy.” He looked annoyed.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Phil who was concerned.

  “The leak was fixed. But the price was … high.” Mr. Pin couldn’t bring himself to say any more.

  6

  Phil wasn’t sure what really happened in Sally’s basement. He was hoping he’d find out. But he knew he’d have to wait. When he dropped by the diner the next morning, Mr. Pin had a plan.

  “You’re going to have a chance to help the city,” said Mr. Pin.

  “We’re going to plug the river?” asked Phil.

  “Exactly. But first, you’re going to need a disguise,” he told Phil.

  “Of course,” said Phil. “I could always be a plant expert.”

  “And I’m going to need a long rope, fishing buckets, and several trucks.”

  “How many trucks?” asked Maggie.

  “As many as you can get,” replied Mr. Pin.

  “No problem,” said Maggie, thinking of Hank.

  Phil looked surprised, but then again everything that happened in the diner was surprising. After a moment, he offered to bring the fishing buckets.

  “Good. I’ll take care of everything else,” said Mr. Pin. “We go to work at midnight.”

  Maggie was thinking that midnight was a good time to solve mysteries. But what did Mr. Pin mean by “everything else”? Knowing Mr. Pin, it could be almost anything. Maggie knew she would find out soon enough. There was plenty of work to do. Answers would come later.

  Mr. Pin said he was going to Pete’s Chocolate Emporium. Maggie went upstairs to talk on her CB. That left Phil to find fishing buckets and get into a disguise.

  Later that night, Phil found Mr. Pin asleep again, this time on the counter—wings on his chest and feet straight up in the air. He was surrounded by waterproof lights, rope, and an assortment of fishing supplies. Phil left him alone and curled up in a booth. There was time to rest before midnight and whatever Mr. Pin had planned. When Sally saw them both asleep some time later, she brought pillows and blankets, then blew out the candles they used for light.