The Boney Hand

by Karen Kane

  “Okay,” signed Frog. “Search for the Boney Hand.”

  Frog signed “search,” the sign that Charlie’s name sign was based on, by forming the letter C, and making circles in front of her face in the direction her palm pointed.

  She pulled open a desk drawer. Using a ruler, Frog carefully poked around inside without disturbing the contents. She wasn’t going to take any chances with accidentally touching the Boney Hand.

  Charlie did not want to reach into a drawer, ruler or no ruler. It felt wrong—a violation of Mrs. Castle’s trust.

  He would use only his eyes.

  He kept telling himself that he had to do this to clear Mrs. Castle’s name. To prove to Frog that her mother was innocent.

  Frog banged on the desk. Charlie turned around.

  “What are you doing?” signed Frog.

  “I’m looking!” signed Charlie.

  “What about your hands? You have to use your hands!”

  Charlie shook his head.

  “Use a ruler! Then you won’t touch it!”

  Charlie shook his head again.

  “Fine! Just use your eyes! And your ears! Let me know if you hear someone coming.”

  That Charlie could do.

  While Frog rifled through her mother’s things with the determination of a detective, Charlie inspected the bookshelves. Books were everywhere in the castle. And there wasn’t space on these shelves to hide a bony hand because they were so tightly packed with books.

  Frog said you could learn a lot about a person by the type of books she read. Mrs. Castle was like Ruthella—she read everything. There were cookbooks and science books, mystery books and history books. There were books with big words that Chief Paley would love, and books with easy words that would be perfect for Millie.

  Between the bookshelves and the tall windows was a space. Charlie peered in. No hand.

  Just then, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

  Someone was coming.

  • • •

  Charlie stomped on the wooden floor.

  Frog spun around.

  He pointed to his ear and then to the door. Frog dove behind the purple couch. Charlie followed, tumbling to the floor.

  Behind the couch, a large painting leaned up against the wall. The entire canvas was covered in shades of red.

  Blood red.

  And in the blood-red center hovered a hideous bony hand.

  The study door opened.

  Charlie could hear the soft sounds of sign language. It sounded like two people. Charlie held up two fingers. Frog nodded as he listened.

  The rubbing of wood as a desk drawer opened.

  The crackle of shuffling papers.

  The smacking of hands as they formed a sign.

  “Please don’t let it be Mrs. Castle,” Charlie silently chanted. “Please don’t let it be Mrs. Castle.”

  Another drawer was opened.

  And then…silence.

  Charlie held his breath.

  Footsteps approached.

  A face loomed over them.

  Oliver. It was only Oliver.

  Charlie breathed.

  But he stopped breathing again when Mrs. Castle also appeared.

  “Stand up!” signed Mrs. Castle. “Right now!”

  Shamefaced, Charlie stepped around the couch, as did Frog.

  Oliver did not need to interpret Mrs. Castle’s question.

  “What are you two doing in my study?”

  What were they doing? They were looking for evidence that Mrs. Castle stole the Boney Hand. But Charlie couldn’t say that.

  “Nothing,” signed Charlie, making the letter O with both of his hands and shaking them sideways slightly. Frog had her arms crossed, looking like Dorrie McCann on the front cover of her first mystery.

  “Frog?” Mrs. Castle gave her daughter her own steely-eyed look. Frog took a deep breath.

  “Did you take the Boney Hand,” signed Frog, “so the Flying Hands Café would get more customers?”

  Charlie could not believe Frog had just accused her own mother of stealing.

  Neither could Oliver. “Whoa,” said Oliver.

  And neither could Mrs. Castle.

  “What?” she signed. “You think I stole the Boney Hand?” Mrs. Castle’s finger stabbed her chest. “Me?”

  Frog marched behind the couch and pulled out the painting of the Boney Hand.

  Frog’s hands flew. Oliver saw Charlie struggling to understand, so he interpreted.

  “You had a motive,” signed Frog as Oliver spoke. “You said business is now booming at the café. And we saw you in the village with that man the night Miss Tweedy saw the Boney Hand. Who is he? Why were you with him?”

  When her mother didn’t answer, Frog stamped her foot. Her pearl necklace quivered.

  “I’m a detective!” signed Frog. “Even if you are my mother and I love you this much”—Frog stretched her arms as wide as she could—“I have to uncover the truth!”

  Frog dropped her hands to her sides, as if they were tired from what they had just signed. Mrs. Castle stared at the painting and then at Frog.

  Charlie and Oliver each took a step backward, preparing for the explosion. But it never came.

  Instead, Mrs. Castle regarded Frog with a gleam of—was it respect? Respect for Frog as a detective and doing what she had to do? The look lasted just for a second, and then Mrs. Castle was back.

  “You don’t go into people’s private spaces,” she signed, “without asking permission first!”

  “A detective can’t ask permission,” Frog pointed out. “A detective has to detect!”

  Mrs. Castle pressed her lips together. “I don’t have time to discuss this right now,” she signed. “We’ll talk about it tonight.”

  “Charlie and I have tickets for the movie tonight,” signed Frog.

  Charlie was sure Mrs. Castle would say they couldn’t go, but instead she just nodded.

  “Tomorrow morning, then,” signed Mrs. Castle. “Now please leave.”

  Frog started to protest but then thought better of it. Charlie and Frog left Mrs. Castle’s study and walked down the narrow winding staircase. Once they arrived at the great hall with the Alice and Francine statue, Frog wrote: Did you see what happened? Mom didn’t deny stealing the hand!

  That was awful, wrote Charlie. I can’t believe you accused your mom!

  You were there searching with me! wrote Frog. Why did she have that weird painting of the Boney Hand?

  Charlie was about to write, I will never believe your mom stole it, when he heard a scream.

  It was Millie.

  • • •

  They dashed up the wide stone staircase and found Millie huddled outside the Castle family apartment.

  “Millie! What happened?” signed Frog.

  Then Mrs. Castle and Oliver were there.

  Mrs. Castle scooped up Millie, who clung to her mother and buried her head in the crook of her neck.

  Finally, Millie lifted her head and signed, with Oliver interpreting for Charlie.

  “I was just about to go inside our house,” signed Millie, “and then I saw something there.” Millie pointed down the hall, past the wide staircase. “It was the Boney Hand,” she sobbed, “pointing a finger at me!” Millie buried her head again.

  Mrs. Castle tapped her on her back. Millie lifted her head. “Where is Bear?” asked her mother.

  “With Boris!” signed Millie. “Bear went with him because Bear loves him! What if Bear loves him more than me?” This brought fresh tears to Millie’s eyes.

  Frog hurried to the end of the hall. Charlie and Oliver followed. The three of them paused and braced themselves before turning the corner.

  Nothing was there.

  Late that afternoon, Charlie watched Cornelius van Dyke peacefully read a thick history book at the Castle-on-the-Hudson Museum (and Historical Society).

  Charlie, on the other hand, felt anything but peaceful. He sat cross-legged on his chair and gazed at
the floor, wondering where the Boney Hand would next appear.

  Frog did nothing to calm Charlie’s fear. Instead, she confirmed it.

  You should be afraid, wrote Frog. The Boney Hand has been seen OUTSIDE the castle and OUTSIDE in the village. Today it was seen INSIDE the castle. The next place we might see it is somewhere INSIDE in the village.

  Charlie did not like Frog’s reasoning. He didn’t like it at all. He gazed around the floor one more time.

  If the Boney Hand really is alive, wrote Frog, all we can do is try to keep safe and catch it if we can. But we don’t know FOR SURE if it’s alive—which means we also have to assume SOMEONE stole the Boney Hand. Someone scared Miss Tweedy with it. And now that someone scared Millie.

  Frog paused for a moment and then signed, “At least we know it’s not my mom. No way would Mom scare Millie like that. But who would? And why?”

  They tried to focus on their homework, but it wasn’t easy. Charlie thought back to what had happened with Millie. Rupert and some other kids had also come to the top of the stairs and saw Millie crying about the Boney Hand—and Charlie and Frog had been right there.

  “See what I mean?” signed Rupert.

  Charlie knew Rupert’s hands would soon be spinning a story about what happened, ensnaring the other kids in his web.

  If someone did steal it, I just wish they’d return it, wrote Charlie. Mr. Willoughby said he wouldn’t ask any more questions. Then everything can be back to normal.

  I don’t trust Willoughby, wrote Frog. He has an ulterior motive.

  What does “ulterior” mean? asked Charlie.

  It means, wrote Frog, there’s a nefarious reason why Willoughby said the thief has until Friday to return the Boney Hand, no questions asked. I just don’t know what it is yet. And Rupert is telling everyone we’re pretending to search for the hand when really we are the ones who took it. I hate Rupert.

  “You shouldn’t hate anyone,” signed Charlie.

  Frog ignored him. Are you one hundred percent sure, she wrote, that you heard Rupert laughing outside the graveyard the night the hand was stolen?

  “I’m sure,” signed Charlie. And he was. Pretty sure.

  After another half hour of pretending to do homework, Frog pointed to the clock and signed, “Time to grab dinner and then head to the movie!”

  She began putting her schoolbooks into her backpack.

  “Do we have to go?” signed Charlie.

  It’s tradition! wrote Frog. Everyone goes, except for the little kids of course. And maybe when we’re watching, we’ll know what to do next. You never know where our next clue could come from!

  Frog waved to Cornelius, who barely looked up from his book to grunt good-bye.

  Charlie walked outside behind Frog.

  He really didn’t want to go.

  Not to this movie.

  Not now. Not ever.

  • • •

  The village of Castle-on-the-Hudson had one movie theater. During the year, it showed all sorts of films, but for one week it played one movie only: The Boney Hand.

  The movie theater was sold out, because visitors who came to the village for its coffee shops, quaint stores, and the fall beauty of the Hudson Valley were also riveted by the idea that a bony hand might be wandering around.

  Charlie and Frog stood in line for popcorn and lemonade, even though they just had bagel sandwiches at Finkelstein’s. Charlie practiced the sign for “popcorn” by facing his two fists toward his body. He raised one fist and flicked his index finger up. Then he lowered that fist and index finger and raised the other fist and popped that index finger up. Doing this several times made the sign for “popcorn,” which to Charlie looked like popcorn popping.

  When they found their seats, Frog handed him her popcorn.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” she signed. “Do you have to go?”

  Charlie shook his head and took a sip of his lemonade.

  “You should go anyway before the movie starts,” signed Frog as she left.

  Oliver was here with his friends in the back of the theater. Ruthella sat near the front, reading. Wendell was next to her, eagerly waiting for the movie about his hero, Boney Jack, to begin. Rupert and Jasper sat two rows in front of Charlie. Rupert was signing to Jasper. Jasper looked hurt and shook his head no. Rupert nodded yes and laughed.

  Charlie hated that laugh.

  Hating a laugh was different from hating a person, he told himself.

  Boris, who was not interpreting tonight, was in the theater with his own bucket of popcorn. He leaned over and tapped Charlie on the shoulder.

  “How you doing, Charlie?” asked Boris.

  “Not great,” said Charlie. “How about you?”

  “I love it here,” said Boris as he munched his popcorn. “Wait.” Boris stopped eating. “Why aren’t you great?”

  “Because,” said Charlie, “everyone thinks Frog and I had something to do with the missing Boney Hand. Or maybe worse, the Boney Hand crawled away on its own.”

  “Bummer,” said Boris. But he didn’t seem too bummed as he ate another handful of popcorn. And he didn’t deny anything Charlie said. “You and Frog are a good team,” Boris remarked.

  “What do you mean?” asked Charlie.

  “Frog is the lead detective, right? And you’re her right-hand man.”

  Charlie nodded. “I like helping Frog. I don’t want to be a detective, though. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.” For some reason it bothered Charlie that he didn’t know yet. After all, Frog knew. Oliver knew. Boris knew.

  “The important thing is you have each other’s backs,” Boris continued. “You take care of each other. If anyone is going to figure out what’s going on, it’s you two.” Boris dug into his popcorn again.

  “I hope so,” said Charlie.

  Frog slid back into her seat as two ushers came to the front of the theater. The lights flashed on and off to get everyone’s attention. One usher signed, and the other usher spoke.

  “Welcome!” the ushers greeted the audience. “The movie you’re about to watch was made thirty years ago by a film class at Castle School for the Deaf. The Boney Hand, as you all know, is currently missing. But don’t be afraid—we did a careful sweep of the theater. We are ALMOST positive there’s no bony hand crawling around in here!”

  The audience laughed and shifted nervously in their seats.

  “No need to turn off your cell phones as they don’t work here anyway,” the ushers continued. “The movie is captioned for the signing-impaired. And now we present the classic film—The Boney Hand !”

  The house lights dimmed.

  The movie opened with two children playing on the bank of the Hudson River. A ship sailed around the bend—a pirate ship! Charlie was impressed with the students’ movie-making skills. The ship looked real, and they had actually filmed it on the river.

  “Pirates!” the children signed, and ran into a house.

  A woman was making bread. When the children told her pirates were coming, she clutched her chest, her eyes full of fear. Outside, the pirate ship sailed closer and closer. The pirates heaved themselves into a small wooden boat, rowed to the shore, and swarmed into the house.

  “Where’s your silver and gold?” the pirates signed as they entered the house.

  “Give us that puppy!” one pirate demanded.

  “Give us your cow!” another pirate ordered.

  But one pirate stood to the side and never stole. When the plundering and pillaging was over, Boney Jack waited for the pirates to fall asleep. Boney Jack picked up the puppy and returned it in the dark of night. He led the cow home in the wee hours of the morning. He collected as much stolen silver and gold as he dared and brought it back to the grateful villagers.

  Charlie recognized a much younger Grandpa Sol as one of the farmers. And he recognized many of the hearing villagers who were extras in the film. A very young Miss Tweedy, who had pointy glasses even back then, had trouble not looking
at the camera.

  Then Boney Jack was accused of thievery. No one defended him. No one spoke up. A trial ensued. And Boney Jack was found guilty.

  Boney Jack signed his last words as the villagers watched.

  “I tried to do good,” said Boney Jack. And he said no more. A pirate tied his hands.

  Boney Jack walked the plank and sank under the waves.

  It was then Charlie realized he had finished his lemonade and desperately had to go to the bathroom. Why hadn’t he listened to Frog? He would go fast so he wouldn’t miss much.

  “Bathroom,” he signed to Frog and stood up.

  “Told you!” signed Frog, satisfied she was right. She moved her legs sideways so Charlie could get out.

  The woman selling popcorn was gone. The lobby was empty and quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Boney Hand quiet.

  Charlie would have gone right back into the theater if he didn’t have to go so badly. It would be fine, he told himself. He looked around for the bathroom. He saw a sign pointing down the stairs.

  “It’s fine. Everything is fine,” Charlie chanted out loud.

  He dodged several large cobwebs as he walked downstairs into a musty-smelling hallway. He found the small bathroom at the end of the long hall. Charlie quickly went in and locked the door.

  He made it.

  The bathroom was brightly lit and decorated with old movie posters.

  Boris had told Charlie the movies they showed in the village theater were all excellent, and Charlie should watch as many—

  Tap-tap, pound.

  Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

  Tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap.

  Well, they would just have to wait until Charlie was—

  Pound-pound, tap.

  —finished.

  His chest tightened. Charlie knew that knocking.

  Tap-tap, pound…tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap…pound-pound, tap.

  It was the same pattern of knocking Charlie had heard in the hallway of the castle.

  Tap-tap, pound…tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap…pound-pound, tap.

  Who…or what…was doing it?