The Boney Hand

by Karen Kane

  Chief Paley entered the building. “I did a walk around with Frog,” said the chief as Boris signed, “to see if there was anything suspicious. And we searched the graveyard. Didn’t find anything.”

  “Why was Frog with you?” Mr. Willoughby demanded. “We haven’t questioned her yet!”

  “She was outside. She asked if she could help,” signed the chief. “Is Frog a suspect?”

  “We have no suspects,” signed Grandpa Sol. “Yet.”

  “I found a student who says he has something to add to the investigation,” Chief Paley said as Boris signed. She went to the door and gestured to someone.

  Rupert walked in.

  “Excuse me for interrupting,” Rupert politely signed to the adults. “I’m here because I need to apologize to everyone. Especially to Charlie.”

  Rupert looked at him with earnest, honest eyes. Stealth bully.

  “I did something without thinking at rehearsal,” signed Rupert. “I made a bad joke to Charlie, about touching the Boney Hand. He said he didn’t believe in the curse, so I said, ‘Why don’t you touch it, then?’ But it was a joke! I didn’t think he would really do it! I’m really sorry, Charlie!”

  “I never said I didn’t believe in the curse!” said Charlie as Boris signed.

  “You were very flippant about it,” signed Mr. Willoughby. Charlie saw him fingerspell the word “flippant.”

  “What does ‘flippant’ mean?” Charlie asked.

  “It means you didn’t take it seriously,” said Chief Paley.

  “I did!” signed Charlie.

  “Did you or did you not say,” signed Mr. Willoughby, “that death seemed too harsh a punishment for touching the Boney Hand?” Rupert must have told him Charlie had said that.

  “I guess I did,” said Charlie, “but I didn’t mean to be…to be flipped or whatever that word is!”

  “Flippant,” said Chief Paley. “Synonyms include cheeky, glib, or saucy.”

  “I wasn’t being—”

  “Rupert saw you go into the church alone,” signed Mr. Willoughby, “and promptly reported it to me. I was very clear no one was to enter the church until I came back!”

  “I was worried,” Rupert said anxiously. “I didn’t want Charlie to take what I said seriously!”

  “I didn’t!” said Charlie as Boris signed. “I heard something! That’s why I went into the church. I thought someone was inside!”

  Mr. Willoughby looked like his head was about to explode. “Our Boney Hand—our precious Boney Hand—is missing! What will happen to our legend? What will happen to our yearly theatrical performance?” Mr. Willoughby’s signs grew larger and more dramatic, as if he were on a stage performing. “We have a police officer here!” he continued. “We need to thoroughly search every student and visitor right now!”

  “This is not a criminal matter,” signed Grandpa Sol. “This is a school matter. We will deal with it.”

  Mr. Willoughby threw his hands up in disgust and left the church. With a sly look to Charlie that only Charlie saw, Rupert followed.

  “Charlie.” Mrs. Castle put her hands gently on his shoulders before continuing to sign as Boris interpreted. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure, what with learning a new language and being in the performance. Are you sure, are you absolutely sure, you didn’t think that maybe it would be funny to try to touch the Boney Hand? And you broke the glass by mistake?”

  Charlie couldn’t believe that Mrs. Castle thought he might have done it.

  He felt like he was going to cry.

  “I didn’t do it,” signed Charlie. But his signs had no power within them.

  “It’s all right,” Mrs. Castle told him. But she didn’t look like it was all right.

  They left the church. Grandpa Sol, using Boris as the interpreter for the hearing people in the crowd, announced that the second performance of the Legend of the Boney Hand was canceled. The audience moaned.

  Students gathered around and asked what happened to the Boney Hand. Grandpa Sol told them he would come to their dorm rooms tonight and talk to them after the Fall Extravaganza.

  Frog was nowhere to be found.

  As the students left, Charlie was given many backward glances. Boris interpreted what the kids were saying.

  “Rupert saw him go into the church alone!”

  “Rupert said there was no reason for him to go in—Willoughby told him to stay outside!”

  “Rupert saw the glass dome was smashed! It happened right after Charlie went inside!”

  “Remember Rupert dared him? Rupert said he never thought Charlie would really do it!”

  Everything was “Rupert saw this” or “Rupert said that.”

  Rupert. The stealth bully.

  Many students pointed at Charlie. Then they touched their index finger to the side of their forehead, palm facing down. They pulled their finger off their forehead twice, bending it each time.

  Charlie asked Boris what that sign meant.

  “Suspect,” said Boris. “They suspect you stole the Boney Hand.”

  Charlie waited with Oliver for the gondola. They watched Mr. Simple flash a message with his signal lamp, letting the castle know the gondola was starting its journey across the river. Charlie observed a single leaf falling from a tree, twirling and spinning alone in the air.

  Frog was nowhere to be found.

  Where had she gone?

  What was she doing?

  Did she think Charlie was guilty?

  He watched students stream back to their dorms for the night. Wendell walked alone behind a group of kids. Rupert was saying something to Jasper that made him hang his head.

  Finally, Charlie said what he was sure Oliver was thinking.

  “Everyone thinks I took it,” said Charlie.

  “Nah,” said Oliver.

  Charlie gave Oliver his best Frog look.

  “Okay—maybe,” he said. “What did you see? Did you really see the Boney Hand move?”

  When Charlie had entered the church, the hand was on the edge of the pedestal. Had it pounced? Or had it fallen?

  The Boney Hand was gone. He hadn’t imagined that.

  Charlie had to trust his own eyes.

  “I saw it move,” he said.

  “For almost one hundred and fifty years,” said Oliver, “the legend has been told—that the Boney Hand crawled up the cliff and fingerspelled to the caretaker.” Oliver looked around. “Where do you suppose the hand is? It could be crawling around here right now. How am I going to sleep tonight?”

  Obie was walking toward Charlie with one hand on Darius’s shoulder and Max close at his side.

  “What happened?” signed Obie.

  With Darius signing, Charlie did his best to tell Obie what he saw and heard. He kept one hand resting lightly on Obie’s forearm, letting Obie know he was still there and paying attention. Obie asked many questions. But most of Charlie’s answers were “I don’t know.”

  Because Charlie didn’t know anything. He just knew the Boney Hand was gone.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally signed under Obie’s hands.

  “Why are you sorry?” asked Obie.

  And once again Charlie answered, “I don’t know.”

  As Obie and Darius walked away, Max pushed his body into the side of Obie’s leg, the doggie version of the “I’m-here-if-you-need-me” sign. Charlie was sure Max was trained in many things, but he doubted he had been trained to protect his owner from a bony hand.

  Millie and Bear bounded down the hill with Mrs. Castle and Chief Paley behind them.

  But still no Frog.

  Millie flung herself at Charlie. Bear licked his hand.

  “I am never, ever going anywhere without Bear again,” said Millie.

  “You never do anyway,” said Oliver.

  “I do, too, Oliver!” said Millie. “But I’m not going to anymore because I don’t want the Boney Hand to get me.”

  Mrs. Castle bent over and gave Charlie a hug, making the humming noise i
n her throat. Charlie felt the sound reverberate all the way through him. But Mrs. Castle didn’t say, “I believe you.”

  “Bedtime!” she signed to Millie. Millie took her mother’s hand and followed her back to the castle. Bear trotted along beside them.

  “Mrs. Castle had me call your grandparents and tell them the situation,” the chief told Charlie. Her cell phone rang. “I love that technology works up here! Hello?” said the chief as she walked away.

  Charlie and Oliver watched the gondola cross the Hudson River. It was colder now. The jack-o’-lantern candles had burned out. The bonfire lay smoldering. And a bony hand might be creeping around.

  It had to be just a story.

  And there had to be a logical explanation for what happened tonight. But just in case, Charlie lifted his feet and sat cross-legged on the bench. Oliver knew what he was thinking and did the same.

  “Good idea,” said Oliver, squinting at the ground. “You never know.”

  Just before the gondola reached the top of the bluff, Frog appeared in the castle doorway.

  Something on her head glinted in the moonlight.

  It was a tiara.

  Frog was wearing a statement jewelry piece again. This made Charlie so happy that he almost forgot about the Boney Hand. He watched Frog run toward them. She asked Oliver to interpret for Charlie.

  “What do you say?” asked Oliver.

  “Please?” Frog rubbed a flat hand in a circle on her chest.

  “Sure,” he signed.

  Frog faced Charlie. Her eyes gleamed like her tiara.

  “This is our next case!” Frog told Charlie. “We’re going to investigate and solve this mystery! I’m going to prove to everyone that I am not cute—I’m a detective! Are you in? If you are, then meet me at ten a.m. tomorrow at the Castle-on-the-Hudson Museum.”

  Of course.

  That was it.

  That’s what they had to do. They had to find the Boney Hand themselves and prove that Charlie hadn’t taken it. Frog, with Charlie’s help, would find out what had really happened to the Boney Hand.

  It was then Charlie realized Frog hadn’t signed, “We need to prove you’re innocent!”

  Did that mean Frog also suspected Charlie? He was afraid to ask her that question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

  Besides, Frog was back.

  “I’m in,” signed Charlie.

  That night, Charlie couldn’t sleep.

  He tossed and turned, tangling himself in his sheets and blankets as he dreamed.

  Charlie was inside the church, staring at the Boney Hand under its glass dome. He watched the hand wedge its bony fingers under the glass. It tilted the dome up, up, up, until it toppled over and smashed to smithereens.

  The Boney Hand began to crawl.

  It inched down the pedestal and plopped on the stone floor.

  It reared up on the heel of its palm. The tips of its fingers bent forward and stared at Charlie as if they had eyes. Suddenly, the fingertips dropped to the floor. The hand raced down the aisle toward Charlie, faster and faster until it jumped right on his—

  Charlie bolted upright, breathing hard.

  It’s just a dream, he told himself. Just a dream.

  Then Charlie remembered last night. He wished that had been just a dream. But—Charlie felt a sliver of hope—Frog was determined to solve the case. They were going to find out what really happened. He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs.

  Grandma and Grandpa Tickler were at the breakfast table, eating bowls of cereal. Yvette had not arrived yet. Sunday mornings Yvette went to church.

  Grandma Tickler put down her spoon.

  “We’re ready, Charlie!” said Grandma. “We’re ready to help you with the Boney Hand!”

  “Help me?” Charlie’s mind was fuzzy from lack of sleep. Chief Paley had told his grandparents everything that happened last night on the phone, and then repeated the story after she walked Charlie home. Charlie had chimed in, but he was so worn out after what happened he went straight to bed.

  Except, of course, Charlie couldn’t sleep.

  “What do you mean, help me?” he asked.

  “Help you solve the case!” said Grandma. “Our Vince Vinelli When Crime Is a Fact, Good People Act detective kit hasn’t arrived yet, but we won’t let that stop us!”

  “Ayuh!” agreed Grandpa Tickler.

  “No!” said Charlie without thinking.

  His grandparents’ faces fell.

  Charlie had said “no” because he knew Frog wouldn’t want Grandma and Grandpa involved. Charlie wasn’t sure he wanted them involved. Except…wasn’t this what Charlie had been wanting? For his grandparents to do something else besides watch television?

  “I mean,” said Charlie hastily, “no way when crime is a fact, good people won’t act.”

  His grandparents’ faces brightened.

  “Exactly!” said Grandma. “We want to act! We want to solve a mystery!”

  “Ayuh!”

  Charlie had no idea how to get out of this.

  “Because,” said Charlie slowly as he tried to think of what to say, “you can’t just sit by and do nothing…because good people do good things.”

  “And we,” said Grandma Tickler, “are good people!”

  “But!” Charlie added. “Good people first have to know where to start. That’s why I am going to meet Frog this morning. Frog has a plan.”

  “Perfect,” said Grandma, “we’ll come with you!”

  If Yvette were here, she would be watching Charlie with a look that said, “What are you going to say to that?”

  Charlie suddenly knew what to say.

  “You can’t have too many detectives all together,” said Charlie. “Otherwise criminals might get suspicious.”

  This made sense to Grandpa Tickler. “Ayuh,” he said.

  “If you say so, Charlie,” said Grandma. “But we’ll be waiting for you to let us know how we can help with the next step. You promise we can help, don’t you?”

  “I promise, Grandma,” said Charlie.

  In his mind, Charlie signed “promise” by touching the side of his index finger to his lips. Then he changed it to a flat hand and placed it on top of his fist.

  Charlie would just have to convince Frog that involving his grandparents would help their investigation, not hinder it.

  “I wonder what the next step will be!” said Grandma. “Don’t you, Irving?”

  “Ayuh.”

  “In the meantime, we’ll have to find our own mystery to solve,” decided Grandma.

  “That’s a great idea,” said Charlie, surprised that he was relieved to avoid an outing with this new version of Grandma and Grandpa Tickler.

  Because, for the first time, Charlie missed the E-Z-chair-recliner-TV-watching-Charlie-ignoring grandparents they had been when he first arrived at Castle-on-the-Hudson.

  Although Charlie arrived before ten o’clock, Frog was already there, reading at a corner table.

  The Castle-on–the-Hudson Museum was actually the Castle-on-the-Hudson Museum and Historical Society.

  It was housed in what used to be the Castle-on-the-Hudson General Store. There was an old-fashioned cash register, old coffee makers and coffeepots, and glass jars full of licorice and lollipops that Charlie hoped were not old. Pictures of Castle-on-the-Hudson covered the walls. Miss Tweedy was dusting a framed photograph of a horse-and-carriage race on Main Street.

  “Hi, Miss Tweedy,” said Charlie. “So this is the Museum and Historical Society.”

  Miss Tweedy sniffed. “I prefer calling it just a museum, since I am only responsible for the museum part, which is all the stuff you can see.” Miss Tweedy waved her duster around. “I make sure it remains dust-free. Cornelius van Dyke is in charge of the historical society part. That’s all the stuff you can’t see.” Clearly Miss Tweedy did not think the historical society part was as important as the museum part.

  “Can you believe it, Charlie?” said M
iss Tweedy as she dusted the cash register. “The Boney Hand is loose! Thank goodness it’s loose at the castle and not here. I told Thomas Cole he didn’t have to be afraid, in case he was worried.”

  “Who’s Thomas Cole?” asked Charlie.

  “Thomas Cole is an artist who just moved to our village. A disheveled-looking man, always wearing paint-splattered clothes. Have you seen him around?”

  Charlie remembered the man who entered the Flying Hands Café the morning of the Fall Extravaganza. He wore paint-splattered clothes.

  “I think I saw him yesterday,” said Charlie, “up at the castle.” He remembered because Mrs. Castle had seemed anxious when she noticed him there.

  “That’s unfortunate,” said Miss Tweedy.

  “Why?” asked Charlie.

  “Because,” she said, “now Mr. Cole does have a reason to be afraid, if he plans to keep going up to the castle.”

  “Frog and I are going to find the Boney Hand,” said Charlie.

  “Frog already has a lead,” said Miss Tweedy. She stopped dusting a coffeepot to give Charlie a meaningful look, which Charlie didn’t understand but made him nervous.

  “She does?” he said.

  “Oh, yes,” said Miss Tweedy. “Frog seemed to know exactly where to begin the investigation. She said it was the obvious place to start.” Miss Tweedy stared long and hard at Charlie before saying, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to visit Mr. Murphy.”

  And with that Miss Tweedy went through a door marked Employees Only.

  Charlie knew when Miss Tweedy said “Mrs. Murphy,” she meant “I’m going to the restroom.” He wondered what “Mr. Murphy” meant?

  And why had Miss Tweedy been looking at him that way? In a way that made Charlie feel guilty?

  Miss Tweedy believed the Boney Hand was alive. Did she also believe that Charlie had stolen it?

  And if Frog knew the obvious place to start, that could only mean one thing: Frog thought Charlie was the obvious suspect.

  Charlie slowly made his way over to Frog. As he sat down, Frog held up one finger to ask Charlie to wait until she finished reading the page in her book, Pirates of the Hudson River.

  On Frog’s T-shirt was a diamond daisy brooch, the fancy pin she’d been wearing the first time Charlie had met her in the Flying Hands Café. A few moments ago, Charlie would have been glad to see that brooch on Frog.