by F. C. Shaw
“Zilch told you about his nephew once, didn’t he, Rollie?” Cecily questioned. “Didn’t he mention that his nephew had attended Sherlock Academy long ago?”
Rollie nodded. “I should ask Headmaster about him sometime.”
“We didn’t know Zilch’s sister died and he was his nephew’s guardian,” added Cecily.
“Poor Zilch,” Eliot said quietly.
The other three gaped at him.
“Poor Zilch!” Wesley growled. “He will never have my pity, not after all he’s done to us . . . to me.” He rubbed the bruise on his forehead.
“Anyone who has lost a loved one should have pity,” Eliot lectured in a sad tone. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. My mum.”
Wesley’s face softened. “What happened to your mum?”
“She died,” Eliot said bluntly. “Cancer—I don’t remember what kind. I just remember being worried and sad, and then one day she was gone. I was four.”
Everyone placed a sympathetic hand on Eliot’s shoulders.
He smiled. “I’m fine now, so don’t feel too sorry for me. It’s just the way my life turned out to be. And I’ll say it again: poor Zilch.”
“And poor nephew,” Cecily whispered. “Does the journal mention his name?”
“Let’s take this home and read more.” Rollie closed the journal and tucked it under his arm. He replaced the loose bricks in the hole inside the fireplace and readjusted the screen.
As he and his friends made their way back to his house, Rollie thought about Herr Zilch. He was curious to know more about the villain by reading the journal. He knew it was hard having a loved one die. He had not experienced that yet, but the thought of losing someone he loved, like a family member or friend, made him sad. Even if he was a criminal, Herr Zilch had been sad to lose his sister.
Maybe there was another side to Herr Zilch, just as there seemed to be another side to Auntie Ei.
A side Rollie had never considered.
Herr Zilch’s Story
The sleuths gathered before the parlor fireplace to take the cold out of their bones. Mrs. Wilson brought them hot chocolate to help with the chill. Once they were all cozy on the warm carpet, Rollie opened Herr Zilch’s journal and flipped to the second entry.
“5 June 1921: This morning I was summoned to Glasgow. The director of MUS headquarters there has been missing for a fortnight. I fear he may have been captured. I was reluctant to leave Nephew. He is still in mourning for his mother. Her death has been quite a blow to him, especially since he mysteriously lost his father only a few years ago. His father, a government agent, has been missing in action and is assumed dead. My niece is traveling abroad this summer and has no desire to be with family. Perhaps it is her way of coping. As for Nephew, I have not told him of my work, but I would not doubt he has formed his own suspicions of me.”
“Glasgow!” Eliot exclaimed. “That’s in Scotland—I live in Scotland! I wonder if that MUS branch is still there. Or if there are any in Edinburgh where I live.”
“We should turn this journal over to Headmaster,” Rollie decided. “It could help him find Herr Zilch.”
“Good idea.” Cecily sipped her hot chocolate. “But not until we’ve read the whole thing. We need every clue we can get to help us right now, too.”
Rollie flipped to the third entry. “28 June 1921: My worst fear has been realized. While I was away on MUS business, Nephew received an invitation to attend a brand new detective school: Sherlock Academy of Fine Sleuths. I am not sure how they found him. The invitation was sent to his postal box in town, which is a relief. If they were to find him living with me, my cover could be exposed. As of now, there is no possible way for anyone associated with the Academy to connect me to Nephew since our last names are different.
“30 June 1921: I have tried dissuading Nephew from attending Sherlock Academy. That is the last thing I want for him. However, he is most intrigued, and it seems my dissuasions are only making him more interested. I have no choice but to allow him to attend orientation tomorrow, being the first of July.
“7 July 1921: Nephew has been accepted to the Academy. This does not entirely surprise me, for I knew he was an intelligent lad. At first I was livid, but I have come to realize that this could be a benefit in disguise. I can use Nephew as a spy inside the Academy—”
“So I wasn’t the first kid he used,” Wesley interrupted bitterly.
“—to learn its weaknesses. If he is intelligent enough for Sherlock Academy, he is intelligent enough for MUS. I have made it my personal mission to destroy Sherlock Academy, for I cannot allow scores of Sherlockian detectives to interfere with MUS. Furthermore, this vendetta holds personal significance to me, for the headmaster is none other than my former colleague Sullivan Yardsly.” Rollie paused to voice his own thoughts. “Yardsly and Zilch were colleagues?”
“How? When?” Eliot shot off. “Read!”
“13 August 1921: I have been extremely preoccupied with MUS affairs, so I have not had a moment to make an entry. But this week’s catastrophe merits recording. I harbored hopes of using Nephew as a spy inside Sherlock Academy. I made the assumption he would want to help his uncle and guardian. I decided it was time to tell him about my work with MUS and my desire to destroy the Academy. I related the history of MUS, dating back to Professor Moriarty himself. I explained how my hard work and cunning had earned me leadership of the entire society. I also told him I wanted to name him heir to my position. He was quite stunned, but he said he would take some time to consider everything before giving me an answer. I shared my deepest fear with him: I fear being defeated by another great detective just as Moriarty was defeated by the great detective Holmes. I must close Sherlock Academy to keep the school from producing such a detective!”
“That makes sense,” Cecily interjected. “Rollie! That’s why he’s taken an interest in you! He’s afraid you could be that great detective to stop him someday.”
Everyone was silent as Cecily’s observation registered.
Auntie Ei’s words from October echoed in Rollie’s memory: “There is a reason you were chosen to attend Sherlock Academy. Headmaster Yardsly knows it, I know it, and Herr Zilch knows it.”
He still wondered about the reason he was chosen. Was it based merely on his promising abilities as a detective? Was Yardsly hoping he would one day be the great detective to defeat Herr Zilch once and for all, just as Holmes had defeated Moriarty?
In opposition, did Auntie Ei not think Rollie could defeat Zilch? There were circumstances that made her hesitate allowing him to attend Sherlock Academy. Had she thought he would not be good enough?
Flutter, flutter! went his middle.
Wesley nudged Rollie. “Are you alright, mate?”
Rollie swallowed. “I’ll bet he fears you, Wesley. That’s the reason he tricked you into being his spy. You’re a promising detective, too.”
Wesley smiled. “Thanks, mate, but I think Cecily is right about you being the ultimate threat.”
Rollie turned a page in the journal. “17 August 1921: I am undone! My attempt at honesty with Nephew has backfired. He has betrayed me. He has told Yardsly everything: that I am his uncle, that I want him to be my spy, and that I want him to inherit my position as leader of MUS. He has even told Yardsly where we are living. It seems Nephew has been brainwashed by the Academy’s doctrine. I feared this. I have no choice but to leave our West End flat and go underground for a while. I must disown Nephew. When I feel it is safe, I will search for a new residence, perhaps in a quiet suburb. While my first priority is and will always be MUS, I hate to confess . . . I am heartbroken.”
“That’s not how I expected the story to turn out,” Wesley admitted. “I assumed the nephew betrayed Sherlock Academy by taking Zilch up on his offer to be the MUS spy.”
“Me too!” Rollie closed the journal. “But this nephew t
urned out to be a good guy.”
“Is there more in the journal?” Cecily wanted to know.
“The whole journal is full. It will take us awhile to read through the whole thing.” Rollie set the journal down on the carpet and took a sip of cocoa, which had cooled considerably. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there are clues and codes hidden in his journal. Maybe that’s why this journal was hidden away in that secret hole.”
“I’m surprised Zilch didn’t take this journal with him when he fled the house,” said Wesley.
“He probably forgot all about it,” replied Rollie as he flipped to the last page. “His last entry was in 1927—that was a while ago. It was hidden in the fireplace, and he left in a great hurry.”
“Now do you feel pity for him?” Eliot blurted. “He lost his sister and his nephew all in one year. One to death and one to betrayal—I don’t know which is worse.”
“I can’t say because I’ve never lost anyone to death,” Rollie muttered. “But I have been betrayed, and it was the worst feeling in the world.” He glanced at Wesley, whose brow furrowed with regret.
“This nephew must have been quite brave to betray his uncle,” Eliot said quietly. “Uncle Zilch was his only family left besides his sister. I don’t know if I could ever be that brave. I don’t have a lot of family either—just my father, my grandfather, and one aunt. I’d have a hard time betraying any of them.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t if they were bad guys like Zilch,” Rollie countered. “But you’re right: this nephew was very brave.”
Eliot sighed. “I wish we knew more about him or knew who he was.”
“I’ve been thinking,” began Cecily. “We’re sort of a team now—the four of us. Don’t you think we should make our team official? We should name ourselves.”
“Yes! A great name,” Eliot agreed, getting excited. “Like the Anti-Moriarty Underground Society.”
Cecily wrinkled her nose. “Too long.”
“The Four Sleuths.”
“Too short!”
“We need to give this some serious thought,” Wesley agreed. “It’s only right to include Holmes in our name.”
“I agree.” Rollie fingered the leather journal. “We’ve become a team mainly to stop Zilch and fight MUS. We need a strong name. Wesley, what was the name of Euston’s club?”
“The Holmes Brigade!”
“Let’s use that name—it’s great!” Rollie decided. “Watch out, MUS!”
“Euston’s in a secret club?” asked Cecily.
Wesley nodded. “He wears a leather wristband with a strange symbol on it. He’s part of the Holmes Brigade. That’s all I know. I wish we could ask him more about it.”
The new Holmes Brigade made deductions about the present mystery of Zilch’s whereabouts, the nephew’s identity, and the secretary’s strange painting. They wanted to spend the afternoon reading the rest of the journal, but their sleuth work was interrupted. Mrs. Wilson had a task for them.
“Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve,” she announced, collecting their empty mugs. “Daddy thinks we should host a little party, mainly to keep Edward and Stewart out of trouble because they’ve been invited to a few parties. Is everyone up for that?”
They gave their hearty consent.
“Would you mind coming up with some games or activities for the evening?” Mrs. Wilson looked from one detective to the other. “Of course, we’ll do a midnight countdown and have party crackers to pop. It would be fun to have some games to play before then.”
“Sure, Mum, we’ll come up with something,” Rollie told her.
“Great. Please include your sisters. Lucille! Daphne!” Mrs. Wilson left the parlor as the twin girls came running in.
Lucille plopped onto the carpet next to Eliot. Daphne flanked his other side and stared at him with dreamy blue eyes. Eliot looked a little uncertain of this attention. He scooted closer to Rollie.
Wesley suggested they create some Sherlockian games like pin the pipe on Holmes. Cecily came up with Sherlockian charades and Pictionary.
“How about a kissing game?” Lucille managed to say between giggles.
Daphne giggled uncontrollably at her sister’s suggestion.
“Ew! What’s wrong with you, Lu?” Rollie scrunched his nose in disgust.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Lucille reasoned. “Everyone will kiss someone at midnight. We could make a game out of it.”
“I know who I’m going to kiss,” Daphne said softly, casting a shy look at Eliot.
“You can’t kiss anyone,” Rollie said sternly. “You’re seven. Only Mum and Dad get to kiss each other. Oh, and Ed and Stew will kiss their girlfriends.”
“Not on the lips!” Lucille gagged. “We can’t do that, but we can peck ‘em on the cheek. Who are you going to kiss, Cecily?”
Cecily blushed slightly. “I don’t need a kiss from a boy.”
“If no one kisses you, I’ll give you a peck on the cheek,” Lucille promised.
“Thank you.” Cecily smiled. After a moment’s pause, she turned to Wesley. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
Wesley laughed. “No—but I did like Hazel at school.”
“The tall girl?” Cecily narrowed her eyes. “She’s on the fencing team.”
“Yeah, but I think she likes my friend Todd.”
Rollie rolled his eyes. “Let’s get back to planning New Year’s Eve.”
Mrs. Wilson gave Wesley a sheet of butcher paper to draw a large Holmes silhouette on. She also gave him extra drawing paper for the pipes and scissors to cut them out. While Wesley worked on his Holmes silhouette, Eliot drew and cut out the pipes. Rollie and Cecily wrote prompts on little squares of paper for charades and Pictionary. They sat side by side on the sofa.
“Rollie,” Cecily elbowed him. “I hope I didn’t scare you with what I said about Herr Zilch fearing you. About you being the great detective to stop him.”
Rollie cocked his head to one side. “Honestly, it does scare me a little, but I already knew Zilch had an interest in me. That alone is scary. He’s been trying his hardest to get me to back off.”
“You shouldn’t worry about it,” Cecily said. “You’re a good detective now, and you’ll only get better. Headmaster and Auntie Ei believe in you, and they’ll always help you out. So will I.”
“Thanks, Cecily.” He wrote another prompt on a slip of paper. “I’m not so sure about Auntie Ei anymore.” Lowering his voice, he told her about the letters he had found at school. He shared his confusion over Auntie Ei’s initial reluctance to have him attend Sherlock Academy and how he distrusted her at the moment.
“That makes no sense!” Cecily exclaimed. Remembering to be hushed, she added in a lower tone, “Maybe those circumstances have to do with Herr Zilch. Maybe Auntie Ei knew Zilch was gunning for you and wanted to protect you from him.”
“But that still doesn’t explain why she lets me attend the Academy now. It doesn’t explain why she gave me the marmalade jar and the newspaper map—both helped me stop Herr Zilch. In October, she told me never to stop looking out for Zilch. I thought she wanted me to help stop him.”
Cecily shook her head of auburn curls. “I don’t know, Rollie. You should just talk to her about it.”
Rollie grunted. “We’re not speaking to each other right now. I don’t want to get into it. The important thing is figuring out why Zilch’s secretary painted that wall last night.”
“Yes, we mustn’t lose sight of the real case here. Let’s watch out for her tonight. I’ll spend the night again. My parents will be away until next week.”
“I wonder if the secretary will finish painting the study . . . and why in the world she is doing it.”
Auld Lang Syne
They were disappointed; Zilch’s secretary did not return that night.
After exploring the vacant house more and fin
ding nothing of interest the next morning, they built snow forts in the Wilson’s back garden for a while. Then when Cecily mentioned her interest in trying out for the fencing team next year, Wesley offered to coach her. He found two sticks about the size of fencing foils and marked a practice area in the snow. Cecily caught on quickly, much to Wesley’s surprise and delight. When the temperature dropped and the daylight faded in the late afternoon, they joined the rest of the Wilson family indoors to prepare for the New Year’s Eve party.
Wesley tacked the large Holmes silhouette on a blank wall in the parlor. Rollie tacked some more butcher paper beside the Holmes silhouette for Pictionary. Cecily and Eliot moved around the furniture to allow room for acting out charades. Edward and Stewart blew up a plethora of different colored balloons. Mrs. Wilson set out glass bowls of popcorn and candy. Mr. Wilson brought out boxes of party crackers while Lucille and Daphne hunted around the aging Christmas decorations for mistletoe. Uncle Ky stood back, his hands jingling coins in his pockets, and watched all the bustle with amusement. Auntie Ei stayed away until the last minute.
Around eight o’clock, a few neighborhood friends, including the teen twins’ girlfriends, arrived to join the party. Once Auntie Ei came out of hiding, Mr. Wilson organized the first round of Pin the Pipe on Sherlock. Each contestant took a turn wearing a blindfold and pinning a pipe as close to Holmes’ mouth as possible. Everyone was fairly off base, pinning pipes on Holmes’ shoulders and arms and head. Edward came the closest. While they played, Uncle Ky sat in an armchair, occasionally nodding off.
Next, everyone played Sherlockian charades. Mr. Wilson proved quite goofy with his actions, making everyone, except Auntie Ei, laugh heartily. The game was going along fine when something unusual happened.
Auntie Ei finally laughed.
Now for all who knew her well, they remembered only two actual laughs from the elderly woman. The first laugh on record happened when Rollie was a toddler. He had mimicked Auntie Ei’s favorite Holmes saying, “Elementary, my dear Watson!” His little voice and cute appearance coupled with the ridiculous notion of a toddler saying this phrase had compelled a hearty laugh out of Auntie Ei. The second instance was when Edward’s experiment with a new edgy haircut went awry. Auntie Ei had bust out in laughter, which was a little mocking but well deserved.
