Charlie and Frog

by Karen Kane

  “Viewers! When crime is a fact, good people act! Why didn’t anyone act? Where were the good people? Remember…” Vince Vinelli took a deep breath and boomed out his signature line, the one he encouraged his audience to say with him.

  “Good people do good things!”

  The phone number flashed on the television screen along with pictures of wanted criminals.

  “Irving!” Grandma Tickler leaned over and poked Grandpa Tickler. “Do any of those criminals look familiar?”

  “Ayuh,” Grandpa Ticker said.

  “I didn’t think so,” Grandma Tickler agreed.

  Grandma Tickler turned off the TV and shuffled upstairs with Grandpa Tickler. Where were those crime-fighting grandparents from this morning? Charlie followed them slowly up the stairs. He doubted Grandma and Grandpa Tickler’s self-defense moves would be effective against a criminal who was not moving at the speed of mud.

  Charlie brushed his teeth and in the mirror repeated the sign Aggie had used. He rinsed his mouth and wiped up the toothpaste in the sink.

  No one came to tuck him in.

  Charlie checked the closet for wanted criminals. Then he turned off the ceiling light and made a running leap for his bed. He made sure to begin his jump far enough away to clear any arms that might stretch out from under his bed and grab him.

  With his bedside lamp on, Charlie pulled the covers up to his chin. He reached for his library book. Then he glanced at his dresser, where Aggie’s bag rested.

  When crime is a fact, good people act.

  Had a crime been committed? Charlie didn’t know. He only knew that Aggie had been afraid.

  Good people do good things.

  Charlie sighed.

  He would ride the gondola across the Hudson River.

  He would find Frog Castle.

  He would find out what that sign meant.

  “Is this safe? No way this is safe.”

  “I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”

  It was the same young couple Charlie had passed by yesterday. They stood next to Charlie, waiting to board the gondola along with other tourists huddled together clutching cell phones and laptops.

  Charlie watched the gondola glide across a narrow span of the Hudson River on a steel cable. Mr. Simple controlled the gondola from inside the station on the riverfront. He cranked gears, pulled levers, and pushed buttons.

  “This is a one-man operation?” the guy asked. “That doesn’t seem right. I want to see an inspection certificate—you know, like they have with elevators.”

  “Would you stop? It’s the fastest way to get there. Besides, they have cell phone service and Wi-Fi up at the castle—a castle!” The woman sighed. “Just like in England!”

  The gondola pulled into the station, and a group of queasy-looking passengers disembarked. Mr. Simple collected dollar bills from the passengers waiting to board.

  Charlie stepped out of line and took a few deep breaths.

  “You riding?” Mr. Simple asked Charlie. Mr. Simple’s forearms were huge. Popeye huge.

  Charlie nodded hesitantly.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve been operating this gondola over forty years. Never lost anyone yet.” He winked at Charlie.

  Charlie took a deep breath and handed Mr. Simple four quarters. Mr. Simple handed Charlie a US Mail bag in exchange.

  “Give this to Oliver, would you? He’ll be the lad meeting you on the other side.”

  Mr. Simple locked the door and returned to the controls. The gondola began to inch forward and upward, higher and higher, until it was swinging over the Hudson River. The castle sat on a bluff, its turrets and towers dark against the bright blue sky. Sailboats dotted the Hudson, glittering in the sunshine below.

  Charlie had just begun to relax when the gondola came to a sudden stop.

  The cabin swayed left and right and then slid quickly backward.

  “Help,” someone whispered.

  Charlie clutched the mailbag to his chest. The gondola jerked. Charlie’s stomach flipped. Several people squealed. Charlie pictured Mr. Simple inside the station, gleefully playing with gears and levers and buttons. Then, as if Mr. Simple felt he had tortured them enough, the gondola moved smoothly forward again. A sigh of relief echoed around the cabin as the journey resumed.

  A small crowd was waiting to take the return trip. A man unlocked the gondola door. A thin kid wearing a green-and-gold CASTLE BULLFROGS T-shirt placed a step stool in the doorway.

  The kid held out a hand for passengers who needed assistance. “Welcome to Castle School for the Deaf!” he yelled. “Head right up to the Flying Hands Café with free—yes, free!—high-speed Internet. The food is delicious, thanks to our world-renowned chef! The café is a sign-language-only environment. Good luck, hearing people!”

  Charlie stepped off the stool. He was never so glad to be on solid ground again.

  “Are you Oliver?” Charlie asked.

  “That would be me.”

  “This is for you. It’s from Mr. Simple.”

  Oliver reached into the mailbag and pulled out one letter. “Give this to my mother, would you? She’s the woman running the café. Thanks.” Oliver handed the letter to Charlie and turned to the waiting crowd to help them board. Charlie looked at the letter.

  Nathan Marsh

  Nathan’s Ice Cream Emporium

  Castle-on-the-Hudson, NY

  Eleanor Castle

  Castle School for the Deaf

  “Sure,” Charlie said. Why not? Since he had arrived in Castle-on-the-Hudson, people had been handing him things: a key, a library book, a knitting bag, a mailbag—and Charlie had taken them all.

  He followed the crowd up to the castle. Next to the massive front doors was an engraved plaque that read:

  CASTLE SCHOOL FOR THE DEAF

  FOUNDED 1818

  Charlie stepped into a domed foyer. The Flying Hands Café was on the right. Some of the gondola passengers had obviously been here before. They went right inside and sat down. But several others, like Charlie, stood in the front, unsure of what to do next. No one was talking in the café. Everyone was signing, texting, or tapping on a keyboard.

  A tall woman in a billowy skirt handed Charlie a menu. She gestured for him to read it.

  WELCOME TO THE FLYING HANDS CAFé!

  We communicate in American Sign Language (ASL) but feel free to use any other sign language you know: French Sign Language, Japanese Sign Language, Kenyan Sign Language, etc.

  If you use your voice to communicate while in our café, you will pay the price on the left side of the menu. If you use your hands to communicate, you will pay the price on the right side of the menu.

  Charlie looked at the prices.

  If you used your hands to communicate, a glass of lemonade was $1.99.

  If you used your voice, a glass of lemonade was $4.99.

  All your servers are Deaf.

  Please use the back of the menu to learn the manual alphabet and basic signs in ASL.

  Pointing also works. And smiling. ☺

  Enjoy!

  The woman raised her eyebrows as if to say, “You got it?”

  It wasn’t really a question. It was more of a warning. Charlie bet this was Oliver’s mother. He showed her the letter. She took it and gave Charlie a thumbs-up.

  Charlie sat in a booth by a window and took in the smells of roast chicken, macaroni and cheese, and fudge brownies. Or at least that’s what he thought he smelled. But first Charlie needed something to drink. He turned to the back of the menu and practiced the signs “I,” “want,” and “drink.”

  A girl came over and stood by Charlie’s booth. She wore the same Flying Hands Café black T-shirt and apron as the other servers. But she also wore a diamond brooch the size and shape of a daisy. She couldn’t be a server, though. She looked the same age as Charlie. She tapped her pen impatiently on her notepad and gave Charlie a let’s-hurry-this-up look.

  Charlie pointed at her and fingerspelled WAITER?

  Th
e girl pointed at Charlie and spelled back GENIUS! She touched the middle finger of her open hand to her forehead and flicked her palm out as her hand moved away. “Genius.”

  That was rude. And was it even legal to wait tables at her age? Charlie repeated the sign with his left hand. “Genius.”

  The girl scribbled on her pad of paper.

  Sorry. In a bad mood. My mother is making me crazy!

  She looked pointedly at Oliver’s mother. Charlie nodded. He understood about mothers making you crazy. He signed, “I want a drink,” and pointed to the word “lemonade.” The girl nodded. She was about to turn away when Charlie gestured to her paper and pen.

  Charlie wrote: I’m looking for someone named Frog.

  The girl pointed to herself.

  Charlie pointed back at her with a look that said “That’s you?”

  Frog signed, “Genius!” and pointed at Charlie. But this time she grinned.

  Frog wrote: I’m Francine Castle, aka Frog. Why are you looking for me?

  Can you please tell me what this sign means? Charlie asked.

  Charlie put down the paper and pen. He showed Frog the sign Aggie had used in the library. He held his hands out in front of him with one palm up and the other palm down. Then he flipped his hands over. One palm down and the other palm up.

  Frog gave him an odd look, then translated: DEAD.

  Dead.

  “Dead” was what Aggie had signed.

  Why do you want to know the sign for “dead”? Frog asked.

  Charlie explained what had happened at the library with Aggie and Miss Tweedy, and Dex and Ray. Frog immediately assessed the situation.

  Obviously Dex and Ray were looking for the same thing Aggie was looking for, Frog concluded. But what did Aggie mean when she said she told a secret? And what did she mean when she said theft, destruction, or worse would happen unless she fixed it?

  I don’t know, Charlie wrote.

  Why don’t you know? You should have asked her when you had the chance!

  Aggie was upset! It didn’t seem appropriate to ask questions.

  Appropriate?

  Appropriate means—

  Frog grabbed the pen. I know what it means! That wasn’t the time for APPROPRIATE! It was the time for action! To ask hard questions! To discover the truth!

  Charlie didn’t know what to say. Instead he wrote: Miss Tweedy said she’s fluent in American Sign Language. But she had never seen the sign “dead” before.

  Frog snorted.

  Miss Tweedy hates anything to do with death! She refused to learn that sign when I was teaching her. Besides, she’s only fluent in Tweedy Sign Language—TSL.

  Then is this the sign for “wrong”? Charlie asked. Miss Tweedy said it was.

  Charlie showed Frog the sign.

  Frog nodded. Yes, it is. Sometimes Miss Tweedy does get ASL right! She forgets easily, though, so you have to be patient with her. Okay, writing is way too slow! Be right back!

  Frog signed something to her mother and left the café. Charlie still had no lemonade.

  The people next to Charlie had stopped texting each other with their phones. They were now whisper-arguing. Frog’s mother went over to their table. She jabbed her finger at the higher prices on the left side of the menu. They closed their mouths and resumed text-arguing.

  Frog returned with Oliver and gestured for Charlie to follow them. Charlie tried to sign, “I want a drink,” but they were already walking out of the café.

  The domed foyer opened onto a great hall with a vaulted ceiling and enormous windows. Paintings, portraits, and glass exhibit cases lined the walls. In the middle of the great hall stood a statue of two girls. At the far end of the hall a woman was hanging a large banner that read:

  WELCOME TO

  CASTLE SCHOOL FOR THE DEAF

  FOUNDERS’ DAY DINNER

  Frog and Oliver headed toward the wide stone staircase leading to the upper floors of the castle. Charlie trailed them up the stairs to a landing overlooking the great hall. Two passageways ran on either side of the landing. They turned down the left passage and walked to a door leading into an apartment.

  They passed by a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen, where the refrigerator was surely filled with cold drinks.

  Frog marched them into a bedroom. Clothes lay scattered on the floor, along with books and pens and papers. The dresser top glittered with piles of jewelry. And there were frogs. Frogs everywhere. Frog posters, frog figurines, frog pillows, frog lamps, frog stuffed animals, and a frog picture frame with a photograph of Frog as a toddler. She was squatting like a frog, looking at the camera with big eyes and a wide smile.

  Frog gestured for Charlie to sit on the book-covered bed. Charlie pushed aside The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Secret Garden, and The Complete Book of Poisons and sat down.

  Oliver plopped down next to Charlie. Frog dragged a chair from the desk in the corner and sat facing them both. Watching Oliver closely, Frog began signing.

  “This is my brother Oliver,” Frog signed as Oliver spoke. “He’s going to interpret for us. He’d better say exactly what I sign and not add any of his own opinions or I will become infuriated and hit him.”

  “Okay, she didn’t really say that last part,” Oliver added while also signing, “but that’s what she meant. And for the record I’m her older brother.”

  Frog leaned forward and gave Oliver a punch on the arm.

  “Ow!” Oliver said.

  Frog continued signing and Oliver continued interpreting.

  “The answer is yes,” Frog said.

  Frog looked expectantly at Charlie, waiting for his response.

  “Um,” Charlie said. “What’s the question?”

  “Will I help you solve this mystery?”

  “What mystery?” Charlie asked.

  “The murder mystery!”

  “There is no murder mystery!”

  “You just said that woman Aggie signed ‘dead’ to you!”

  “Yes!” Charlie said. “But that doesn’t mean someone was murdered!”

  “She told a secret that she obviously wasn’t supposed to tell,” Frog said. “Then she told you something about death. Something is clearly wrong. Murder wrong!”

  “Look,” Charlie said. “Maybe Aggie meant, ‘I’m dead tired.’ Or she meant, ‘There’s a deadly animal outside!’”

  “The meaning of ‘dead’ is different in those examples, so the sign used would be different. I think something is really wrong, and if something is really wrong, do you want to do nothing? Good people do good things.”

  “Vince Vinelli?” Charlie said. “You watch Vince Vinelli, too?”

  Frog pointed to a picture on her wall. Like a prince among frogs, there hung Vince Vinelli and his gleaming white teeth. Pointing a finger right at Charlie.

  “V-V!” Frog signed and kissed the back of her fist.

  “Vince Vinelli says good people act,” Frog told Charlie. “He means us! We have to act!”

  “We could tell the police,” Charlie said.

  “Tell them what? That a woman signed ‘dead’ to you and then disappeared? We need to find Dex and Ray. We need to find out what crime they committed.”

  “I don’t know that they committed any crime,” Charlie said. “I only know Aggie was scared.”

  “We need to find Aggie, then,” Frog said. “We need to find out what she was trying to tell you.”

  “True,” Oliver signed and said. Frog did not punch him this time.

  Charlie considered.

  Aggie had needed help from Charlie. She had signed to him. But he couldn’t help her because he didn’t understand sign language. Charlie looked at Vince Vinelli.

  Good people do good things.

  “Let’s do it,” Charlie said.

  “If we’re going to solve a murder mystery together, you need to learn ASL,” Frog told Charlie as Oliver interpreted.

  “Can we just call it a ‘mystery’?” Charlie asked. “Or call i
t ‘helping Aggie’?”

  “I plan to be a detective,” Frog said, “so I prefer to call it a murder mystery. It’ll look better on my résumé.”

  “Arguing with Frog is pointless,” Oliver told Charlie. “Besides, James or Millie should be the ones teaching you ASL. James isn’t here. Millie is only six, but she’s got way more patience than Frog has.” Oliver then signed what he had just said to Frog. Frog fingerspelled two words to him slowly and deliberately.

  GO AWAY.

  Oliver stood up. “Good luck, Charlie.” Oliver gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”

  Frog pulled out her notepad and pen as Charlie heard the front door slam shut.

  Oliver is such a pain! Frog wrote.

  At least he interpreted for us, Charlie responded.

  He has to interpret. I know his secret. This is the price for my silence.

  Charlie heard the front door open again, which he signaled to Frog. Nails click-clacked along the hallway floor. In the doorway stood a small girl and a large black bear. Actually, it was a dog that looked like a black bear. The dog held a rolled-up piece of paper in its mouth. Frog reached for the drool-covered paper with her thumb and forefinger.

  Frog! Get back here now! Mom.

  Frog scribbled a response as the bear-dog panted with a bright pink tongue.

  Frog handed the note to the dog and then wiped her hands on her shorts. The dog trotted out of the room. The little girl followed. Charlie heard the front door open and close once more.

  Frog was now searching for a book on her shelves. The girl returned and tapped Frog on the shoulder. Frog signed something.

  “Oh, you’re hearing,” the girl said to Charlie. “I’m Millie. What’s your name?”

  “Charlie,” Charlie said. Millie was also “hearing,” and she had two missing front teeth.

  “Hi, Charlie. Frog’s been gone too long. Mom didn’t trust she would read Bear’s note, so she sent me to make sure Frog came back. The café is really busy today.”

  Café. Lemonade.

  “Millie,” Charlie said, “may I please have a glass of water?”