A Complicated Summation for the Crazy Case of the Missing Cash

Almost the entire household was in the living room. Duckworth standing by the door, Mrs. Beakly with Webby on an armchair, Huey, Dewey and Louie on a chesterfield.

Sharona was sitting beside Monk, who was comfortably counting the panels on the wall. Disher was sitting in a chair nearby, contemplating a gold fish. The only one who wasn't there was . . . .

Mr. McDuck ran into the living room, lucky dime and case in his hands. It still gave off the faint aroma of chocolate.

Launchpad followed him into the room. He had been officially rehired.

"There's me dime," said Mr. McDuck. "Now why did you want me to show it to you, again?"

"This isn't your lucky dime," Monk told him.

"What!" put in McDuck.

"Pick it up."

Scrooge McDuck angrily took off the glass case, picked up the dime, and started.

"Awk!" he said, collapsing.

The nephews caught him.

"IT's chocolate," said Dewey.

"A replica made out of chocolate," sighed McDuck. "Then it must have been Magica Despell."

"The . . . illusionist . . . in conjunction with Flintheart Glomgold and the Beagle Boys," Monk explained.

"Witch," McDuck put in. "But how'd she do it?"

"Just listen, Mr. McDuck," boasted Sharona. "Adrian'll tell you the facts, in black and white."

"Why black and white," Webby asked. "Why not color?"

"Not on my payroll," Scrooge added. "Black and white is good enough.

"It's an expression," Sharona explained, rolling her eyes.

Monk began.

In Black and White

"Magica Despell wanted your number one time for years. She believes it would give her certain magical powers which would allow her to rule the world.

The problem was, that every time she tries to get her dime, you win it back. No doubt she was mulling over the problem, with that raven she believes to be her brother. She had to get the dime without you knowing. With you blaming someone else for the crime.

She disguised herself as Ma Beagle. She's a master of disguise, having once made the Beagle Boys resemble your nephews . . . .

"Through magic," put in Huey.

"She won them over to her. She could have merely hired them, but when she "Sent in the Clones," she swore to never hire the goons again. She was a proud magician, and could not hire them on a regular basis. And she had practical reasons for getting Ma Beagle out of the way.

Then the Beagles and Despell visited Flintheart Glomgold. Those digging machines. They won the use of them, and had them imported into Duckburg. Glomgold owns the Capetown paper that featured the story on the digging machines. It was raining when they took the pictures, that news story clearly was months old. It doesn't rain in Kimberley this time of year.

Magica Despell could easily use her powers of illusion to obscure the dirt produced by the machine, both inside and outside of the money bin. It's not much more of a feat than David Copperfield allegedly making the Statue of Liberty disappear.

To close the deal, she made sure that a duplicate of the dime was available. Why chocolate, I can't say. Maybe Burger gave her the idea . . . .

"Or she turned Burger's chocolate bar into a replica of the dime," put in Dewey.

Monk frowned.

"All suspicion had to go to the Beagles or Glomgold. And you couldn't possibly catch them red handed. More conveniently, if you looked up Ma Beagle, she'd be available as a convenient decoy to distract you from the real case. Right now, Magica Despell and the Beagle Boys are comfortably in Mount Vesuvius with your cash and your lucky dime. Anytime she chooses, she'll reveal her true identity, and do whatever ceremonies she thinks necessary to melt your dime into a so-called magic amulet."

In Living Color

"By all the heather in Scotland!" McDuck exclaimed. "We must go to Mount Vesuvius at once! Launchpad!"

"On it, boss."

Monk felt sick.

At Mount Vesuvius

Magica had a large room in the middle of an extinct crater. Temporarily, her headquarters were partially buried under piles of McDuck's money. Her things, her spells and potions, were huddled temporarily into a small quarter of the room. She had told them she had left the mountain for good, leaving Ma Beagle in charge of a perfect hideout.

Poe had spent most of his time hiding in a recess behind the wall.

"So Ma," asked Big Time. "How long do we have to hang out in that old witches' dive?"

"Until I tell you to leave," said Ma Beagle a.k.a. Magica Despell.

"Hey, big momma," put in Bugle. "Whens you gonna make some of your cakes. This lizard stew is the pits."

"Yeah," said Baby Face.

"It's not so bad," commented Burger.

"ENOUGH," said Magica, in her true voice and Russian accent.

In a puff of smoke she revealed her true identity.

"Uh, duh, it's Magica Despell," Baggy quavered.

In a short time, the Beagles were locked in an adjoining cell, and Magica and Poe were again predominant in her reign.

"We've gotta get out of here," yelled Bank Job.

"You aren't going anywhere," said Magica, surrounded by her cauldron, spells, and three cubic acres of cash piled up against the walls. "You bungling idiots couldn't even kidnap that nurse and the stupid pilot, after Glomgold nearly led that meddlesome detective right to me. But it doesn't matter now. You fools played right into my game, long enough. In a few hours, I shall melt Scrooge's lucky dime into my amulet and rule the world."

"Awk! And change me back into your brother," put in the raven.

"And all the power and wealth on earth shall be mine!" she gloated. "And Scrooge will be none the wiser, until he finds himself selling flowers from street corners. Adrian Monk or no Adrian Monk."

She gave a villainous laugh, and with dragon's breath, bat's wings, and eye of newt, began mixing the brew which would melt down the dime of Scrooge McDuck.