by Karen Kane
Tap-tap, pound…tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap…pound-pound, tap.
Charlie was all alone down here.
Tap-tap, pound…tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap…pound-pound, tap.
He finished going to the bathroom, his heart thudding hard and heavy.
Tap-tap, pound…tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap…pound-pound, tap.
With trembling hands, Charlie turned on the faucet.
He couldn’t open the door yet because he had to wash his hands.
He had to wash his hands really well.
After all, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention did say that washing hands was the most important thing you could do to avoid spreading germs.
Tap-tap, pound…tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap…pound-pound, tap.
Charlie kept washing his hands.
Tap-tap, pound…
And washing.
Tap-pound-pound, tap-pound, tap-tap-tap…
And washing.
Pound-pound, tap.
Finally he turned off the water. He had to open the door. He had no choice. He had to leave.
Charlie wished he had taken martial arts, like Frog had, instead of joining track. Running fast didn’t help you if you were trapped. What should he do?
What. Should. He. Do?
Whatshouldhedo? Whatshouldhedo? Whatshouldhedo?
Charlie pulled back the latch and flung open the door.
The hallway was empty.
• • •
Charlie fell into his seat just as the caretaker keeled over on the big screen. When the teacher found him on the floor, the caretaker told her what the Boney Hand had fingerspelled:
NO…ONE…SAW…
The caretaker gave one final gasp and died.
Other people arrived at the church. The teacher took off her coat and carefully picked up the Boney Hand. She placed the hand, with the coat still around it, inside a wooden box.
The caretaker was buried in the graveyard.
The last frame of the movie was a group of students standing on a bluff, looking out over the Hudson as the sun set, the river ablaze with orange and red.
Words scrolled on the screen.
The Boney Hand was eventually placed inside a glass dome, where it resides today at Castle School for the Deaf. Once a year the hand is on display for everyone to see.
The Boney Hand has not moved again—yet.
The credits ended and the house lights came up.
Charlie fumbled with his pen and notebook in his rush to tell Frog.
I heard knocking on the bathroom door! wrote Charlie. It was the same pattern of knocking I heard in the castle!
What pattern? wrote Frog.
I heard this knocking pattern the other day, when I was walking to Grandpa Sol’s study, Charlie explained. Someone or something just knocked that same way again!
Why didn’t you tell me this before? demanded Frog.
Before Charlie could answer, she grabbed his arm.
“Did you see that?” she signed.
“See what?” asked Charlie.
“Rupert,” Frog whisper-signed. She pointed to the exit door. She would tell Charlie outside.
But outside the theater, Chief Paley was waiting for Charlie.
“It’s your grandparents,” said the chief.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Charlie!” said Grandma Tickler when Charlie and Chief Paley walked into the kitchen.
“Ayuh,” said Grandpa Tickler.
Charlie’s grandparents were seated at the table with a deck of cards spread out. Thankfully, they had taken off their detective outfits and were dressed in normal clothes. Yvette was washing dishes at the kitchen sink.
“You can play, too, Chief Paley,” said Grandma.
“I’m here on police business,” said the chief. “It’s about Walter Simple.”
“Grandma and Grandpa,” said Charlie, “what did you do to Mr. Simple?”
“We did our job, Charlie,” said Grandma. “We suspected Walter Simple of stealing the Boney Hand, so we did what you’re supposed to do with a suspect!”
Charlie was afraid to ask, but he did so anyway. “And what is that?”
“We pinned him to the wall!” said Grandma.
“I wish that were a figure of speech,” said Yvette over her shoulder. “But it’s not.”
Charlie remembered what Grandma Tickler had said yesterday when she talked about catching a suspect. She mentioned pinning a guilty person to the wall.
“It was just a nudge with the taxi,” said Grandma. “Herman is very careful, and Walter Simple is strong as an ox.”
“That’s factual,” said Chief Paley. “Even though he was sandwiched between the taxi and a lamppost, he’s fine.”
“We couldn’t get Walter to confess,” said Grandma. “We’re going to need another method. And,” she added, “Herman wants us to pay for the damage to the taxi.”
“Ayuh,” said Grandpa.
Charlie turned to Chief Paley. “They mentioned something about pinning people yesterday,” said Charlie, “but I didn’t think they would actually do it.”
“Never underestimate octogenarians,” said Chief Paley.
“Now that’s the truth,” said Yvette without turning around from the sink.
“Underestimating octogenarians is a common pitfall in law enforcement,” said the chief. “As we were always reminded during my academy training—senior citizens are more than capable of nefarious acts, as well as courageous ones.”
“You bet we are,” said Grandma.
“Ayuh,” Grandpa chimed in.
“Grandma and Grandpa, you promised to wait for me before you did any more investigating. Remember?” said Charlie.
“We had our fingers crossed,” said Grandma Tickler. “Promises don’t count when you cross your fingers!”
“It’s fortuitous Walter Simple is declining to press charges,” said Chief Paley.
“When crime is a fact, good people act!” said Grandma. “Good people do good things!”
Grandma Tickler pointed to the certificate that Vince Vinelli had sent along with their Vince Vinelli When Crime Is a Fact, Good People Act detective kit. It hung in a frame above the kitchen sink.
“How was pinning Walter Simple with a taxicab a good thing?” asked Yvette as she reached for the dishtowel.
“Because, Yvette, we were helping. Frog taught us that sign.”
Grandma Tickler made a thumbs-up with one hand. She put her other hand, palm up, underneath it and lifted her hands upward. “Help.”
“Ayuh,” said Grandpa.
He reached out and squeezed Charlie’s hand.
“Help,” said Grandpa. “Helping our Charlie.”
It was so rare to hear Grandpa Tickler say anything but “ayuh” that everyone, especially Charlie, let those words float in the air for a moment.
“Our Charlie.”
“Helping our Charlie.”
Chief Paley cleared her throat. “Irma and Irving, I will drop this matter with the stipulation you will not do anything like this again.”
“Promise!” said Grandma.
“For real?” said Yvette.
“No fingers crossed, Yvette,” said Grandma. “But, Chief Paley, now that you’re here, we need some professional guidance, don’t we, Irving?”
“Ayuh.”
“You see,” explained Grandma, “besides the Boney Hand case, Irving and I have been trying to solve the Mystery of the Missing TV Remote Control. But then, at lunch, a new case presented itself to us. Didn’t it, Irving?”
“Ayuh.”
Chief Paley flipped open her notepad. “What’s the situation?”
Grandma Tickler went over to the refrigerator. She opened the freezer door, reached inside, and pulled out Grandpa Tickler’s plaid boxer shorts—frozen stiff.
“It’s the Mystery of the Frozen Underwear!” said Grandma.
Charlie looked away. It didn’t seem right to b
e staring at Grandpa Tickler’s underwear, even if it was frozen.
Especially if it was frozen.
“We’ve already interrogated Yvette,” said Grandma. “And Yvette said—Yvette, what did you say again?”
“I said, ‘Why on earth would I want to freeze Irving’s boxer shorts?’” said Yvette.
“That’s exactly what she told us,” said Grandma. “Chief Paley, we need your help!”
• • •
Just before bedtime, the phone rang. His grandparents were already upstairs, so Charlie picked up the black phone receiver.
“Tickler residence. Charlie speaking.”
“It’s me, your mother!” said Mrs. Tickler.
“And me, your father!” said Mr. Tickler.
“Hi, Mom and Dad,” he said.
“Charlie, we had a phone conversation with Mrs. Castle today,” said his father.
“You did?” said Charlie. “How?”
“Mrs. Castle called us using an interpreter,” said his mother. “She told us that the Boney Hand situation has been stressful for you and that she’s concerned about you. I told her we were concerned as well! In fact, I told her we had used that exact word the last time we talked with you!”
“But we think the interpreter misunderstood,” said Mr. Tickler. “Because he told us Mrs. Castle said, ‘Animals don’t need your help. Charlie needs your help.’”
Charlie couldn’t believe Mrs. Castle would say that to his parents.
“Mrs. Castle told us the interpreter did not make a mistake,” said Mrs. Tickler.
“It made no sense,” said Mr. Tickler. “I told her Charlie has a protected safe place to live. He doesn’t have to worry about his home.”
“Or worry about his food!” said Mrs. Tickler.
“Or fear getting eaten by a predator!”
“Alistair, perhaps the answer to what Mrs. Castle meant is in one of our new books.”
“Good thinking, Myra! Let’s take a look.”
His parents’ voices became muffled. It sounded as if they had put the phone down on their hotel bed. They had forgotten Charlie was there. He gently hung up the phone and went upstairs to the bedroom his parents used when they weren’t helping animals. Charlie looked at some of the parenting books they had borrowed from the library:
Children Are Not Pets
Become the Parent You Wish You Had
If Parenting Was Easy, Anyone Could Do It!
If parents could find answers in these books about their kids, maybe kids could find answers about their parents. Because his parents, Charlie realized, were the real mystery. Charlie picked up Children Are Not Pets and went to brush his teeth.
It was the first blustery day of autumn. Falling leaves spiraled and spun over the streets of the village. Charlie bent his head into the wind and tucked his hands into his coat as he walked to the gondola.
He watched Mr. Simple crank gears and pull levers as the gondola rode the cable from the castle. He hoped the wind wouldn’t get any stronger. The gondola wasn’t supposed to operate when it got too windy, but Charlie had to get to the castle to talk to Frog about last night. Not only about the knocking on the bathroom door, but also what Frog had seen Rupert do after the movie was over.
When the gondola reached the village, Mr. Simple stopped cranking and flashed his signal light. Charlie stood between two tourists clutching their laptops and cell phones, most likely heading to breakfast at the Flying Hands Café.
Charlie had hoped Mr. Simple would forget what his grandparents had done to him yesterday.
Mr. Simple hadn’t forgotten. He glowered at Charlie.
“I’m really sorry,” Charlie began as he handed him a dollar for the gondola ride.
“Your…your…your…” Mr. Simple spluttered. Steam seemed to spurt out of his ears, just like in the cartoons. “Grandparents!” Mr. Simple finally spit out the word.
“I know,” said Charlie. “I feel the same way.”
“They…they…they…” Mr. Simple spluttered some more.
“They think you stole the Boney Hand.” Charlie helped Mr. Simple say it. “But don’t worry,” said Charlie. “Frog and I don’t think you did it.”
Mr. Simple slammed the gondola door shut.
The gondola jerked forward with a vengeance.
• • •
Frog was working in the Flying Hands Café before school started, serving waffles, pancakes, and eggs.
There were two prices at the Flying Hands Café. Pancakes, for instance, were $4.99 if you used your hands to order them, whether it was signing or fingerspelling or gesturing or pointing. Pancakes were $9.99 if you used only your voice to order.
Charlie watched two hearing customers hesitate to walk between two signing Deaf customers. They couldn’t walk around them because of how the tables were set up. Finally, the hearing people ducked their heads and rushed between them. Charlie had learned the right way to walk between two people signing: Just walk between them normally. The signers will sign around you.
Frog saw Charlie. She finished serving her table and pulled him over.
“What happened with your grandparents last night?” signed Frog. She wore long sparkly earrings that shimmied as she signed.
“You don’t want to know,” signed Charlie.
Frog considered this. “Knowing your grandparents, you’re probably right,” she agreed.
“That,” signed Charlie. That was exactly it. “What did your mom say to you about finding us in her study?”
Frog glanced at her mother, who was talking with customers. She pulled out her pen and notebook from her apron pocket. Frog didn’t want anyone to see what she was signing.
Mom’s been so busy with the café, wrote Frog, that she hasn’t talked to me yet! That’s good, because last night I saw Rupert sign something to Jasper right after the movie was over.
Charlie knew Frog liked to make Charlie ask, so he did.
“What?” asked Charlie.
Rupert signed, “We have it—ha-ha,” wrote Frog.
She looked at Charlie, waiting for him to understand.
You think he meant, “We have the Boney Hand”? wrote Charlie.
“That!” signed Frog.
But what about the curse? asked Charlie.
Remember at the end of the movie? When the teacher takes off her coat and picks up the Boney Hand with it?
You think a coat will keep you from being cursed?
You aren’t touching it, Frog pointed out. The coat is. What if Rupert thought the same thing? Frog, like Charlie, was writing fast and messy.
But what about the fact, wrote Charlie, that I heard Rupert laughing OUTSIDE the graveyard wall right before the hand disappeared?
No offense, wrote Frog, but I don’t trust hearing. I trust SEEING. And you didn’t SEE that it was Rupert.
Charlie wasn’t offended. At this point he wasn’t sure he trusted his eyes or his ears anymore. So you think it was Rupert who stole the hand and Rupert who’s been doing the knocking? asked Charlie.
“Yes,” signed Frog.
Did you see him get out of his seat when I went to the bathroom? he asked.
Frog shook her head. I didn’t, she wrote. But I’ll ask some other students if they did.
Charlie had one more question.
What about motive? asked Charlie. What’s Rupert’s motive for stealing the Boney Hand?
Frog’s eyes narrowed.
“His motive,” signed Frog, “is that he’s MEAN.”
Frog fingerspelled MEAN and then showed Charlie how to sign it. She held one open hand near her face, and the other open hand near her chest. She brought the top hand down past the bottom hand as both hands changed into the ASL letter A. Frog made a mean face to match the sign.
He likes to scare people, wrote Frog. He thinks it’s funny. I’m going to prove that Rupert stole the Boney Hand. I’ll solve this case and prove I am a detective!
Charlie wanted Rupert to be guilty. He especially wanted R
upert to be guilty because of what Rupert had said to Frog. But you can’t just accuse someone.
We need proof, wrote Charlie.
Then we find proof, wrote Frog. Although being a bully should be proof enough.
Being a bully doesn’t mean Rupert stole the Boney Hand, he wrote. If we blame him without proof, then we’re the bullies.
That’s one way to look at it, wrote Frog. Other people might call it justice.
Charlie gave Frog one of her own are-you-kidding-me looks.
Frog sighed.
“Okay,” she signed. “We find proof.”
All afternoon Charlie and Frog carefully watched Rupert, looking for proof of his guilt. They both had science class with him. Rupert made comments about Charlie and Frog and whomever else he wanted to pick on in that moment.
Except when the teacher was watching. Then Rupert was perfect. It amazed Charlie how good Rupert was at looking perfect. The skeleton in the corner of the science room leered at Charlie with its awful grin.
It wasn’t until dinner that they saw something.
The dining hall was a long, elegant room that stretched the length of the castle. Charlie sometimes stayed for dinner, especially when it was pizza, like tonight. The pizza was delicious at Castle School for the Deaf, but neither Charlie nor Frog tasted it.
They sat at their small round table and pretended to eat as they watched Rupert.
Frog told Charlie that none of the kids she asked had seen Rupert leave the movie theater. But then again, they were all watching the movie, not Rupert.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened at first. Rupert ate numerous slices of pizza. Jasper hardly ate at all. But then Rupert and Jasper began writing notes to each other. There was only one reason to write notes when you were a fluent signer—you were saying something you didn’t want the other kids to see you sign. After a flurry of notes back and forth, Rupert nodded.
“Okay,” Rupert signed. “We do it after dinner.”
Jasper didn’t respond.
Rupert punched Jasper, who grimaced and rubbed his shoulder. Jasper was much bigger than Rupert. Charlie was sure he could punch much harder, too. But he didn’t. He didn’t even tell Rupert to stop hitting him. He said nothing.
With his elbows bent, Rupert brought his hands by either side of his face, fingers together, palms facing toward each other. He quickly moved his hands forward and backward twice.
