“I don’t know why he does that,” sighed Miss Rodowsky. “He sometimes just randomly spouts off letters.”
No, it’s in response to sound, I thought. He hears something in the crumpling of paper and the falling of pencils. There’s some sort of pattern that the rest of us aren’t paying attention to. I wondered if it was Morse code. From my formative years living with the old telegrapher, I had learned to recognize it, but I had never been taught it—and why would I have been? Scientists tend to only bother with teaching language skills to primates. Anyway, it was time to put this theory to the test. I climbed down Watson’s arm, wandered across the desk, and pecked the hard surface once.
“A!” he sang. Aha.
I then tried something I’d heard about on VH1. I pecked out the rhythm to the intro of a Rush song.
“Y, Y, Z!”
“Ah, so he knows his classic rock!” Watson exclaimed brightly.
No, you twit, he knows Morse code, I tried to project into my half-witted assistant’s mind. The clever Canadians that constituted the band Rush had written the oddly timed tritone into the introduction of their famous instrumental to sound out Y-Y-Z, the code for the Toronto Pearson International Airport. Like I said, television is most educational these days, so long as it isn’t geared for children.
I knew one more basic code. I rapped out S-O-S, which the young man identified right away.
“Wait a minute…that’s S-O-S…this kid knows Morse code!” exclaimed Watson. “Sherlock, you really do know your codes!”
Actually, Morse code is technically a cipher—a code replaces every word, and a cipher replaces every letter. But I wouldn’t expect a featherless dolt to remember that.
“Sherlock, did you take note of those teachers drumming on the tables? It was annoying at the time, but now I think they were actually communicating with each other,” pontificated my slow-witted accomplice at long last.
I’d have told him that from the get-go if only I’d had the words. Relieved that even humans could eventually catch on, I opened my beak and clicked out exactly what I’d heard being hammered out at the meeting.
“B-A-X…T-E-R…B-U-N-N-Y!” Jerome sang. And then the response: “C-O-N-T-A-C-T…S-L-O!”
Miss Rodowsky’s jaw went slack. “Baxter Bunny? Like the cartoon? What in the…” Her incredulity rendered her speechless. “What does this have to do with the Core testing company?”
We three sat in silence for a moment, but Jerome was on a roll. Happy to be able to have some common ground on which to communicate, he sang:
“Who’s a symbol of this cult that’s made for you and I?
B-A-X, T-E-R, B-U-N-N-Y.”
Miss Rodowsky made the sobering connection. “‘Made for you and I?’ See, they can’t even get their grammar right! Let’s have a closer look at this publisher that everyone is trying to push down my throat.” She rifled through her desk and came up with a Rabbit’s Foot Textbooks catalog. Printed on the bottom left corner in tiny letters was Baxter Enterprises. “This is no coincidence of names. If there’s any business that has to do with children, they cash in on it. They manufacture everything from toys to video games. They even have their own cartoon series. Why wouldn’t they also have a subsidiary that publishes textbooks?”
Watson’s brow creased. “If there is a big publishing company with big money behind it, that means that they could be in cahoots with testing companies all over the country, not just SLO. There has to be some sort of liaison.”
“Remember the binary message?” Miss Rodowsky said. “Books arrive Monday. Someone went ahead and ordered new textbooks for me behind my back! I know everyone seems to want this new series in the school, but why is everyone so motivated?”
They perused the catalog until they found a tiny ad: Get Rabbit’s Foot Books in your school, receive commission! And it got even more devious. According to the policy, whoever recruited more sellers got an even bigger slice of the pie, like a pyramid scheme. Arranging an alliance with the testing companies provided the best financial bonuses of all.
“Whoever is behind this, we have to catch them as they pick up the books,” Watson said, suddenly looking alert. “Would they have some sort of meeting place? Sherlock, who were the people sending messages?”
I gave Watson a look. No one had formally introduced me to these people, which would have given me a way to associate sounds and faces. How could I explain that it was the rat-faced woman and the one that looked as if someone had stuck a ramrod up his…well, anyway, I had no way to describe them.
Miss Rodowsky sighed. “Let’s just go. There is one warehouse where all of our supplies are delivered. Let’s take your vehicle. If there are other teachers involved, they’ll recognize mine in a heartbeat.”
• • •
The three of us cramped in Watson’s car, sitting in the parking lot of J. R.’s Educational Supplies, was not my idea of a good time. I wanted my warm house, I wanted the TV, and I wanted a snack. “Sunflower seed!” I squawked.
Watson groaned. “Sherlock, I keep trying to tell you that you can’t have too many! Veterinarian’s orders! Doctor Milazzo told us that one sunflower seed to a parrot is like a candy bar to a human. And even if I wasn’t concerned about your health, seeds make you act like you’re on steroids!”
I growled.
He sighed. “Okay, okay, we’ll have a sunflower seed when we finish this mess! Help me nail these culprits, and I’ll even give you two, okay?” It would have to do.
I didn’t know what we were supposed to be looking for, but a brand-new SUV rolled up into the parking lot. Miss Rodowsky made a startled noise in her throat as the familiar-looking driver entered the warehouse. It was the rat-faced woman I’d seen beating out the rhythms at the faculty meeting.
We followed her into the warehouse, where she received several crates of books. We overheard her saying, “Yes, I’m Roxanne Cramer, here to pick up a shipment. The invoice is made out to Zoë Rodowsky, but I’m authorized to collect them.”
“Well, isn’t that kind of you,” said Miss Rodowsky, stepping out of the shadows.
The other teacher stood slack-jawed for a second. I watched her beady eyes flick toward the exit, so I decided to play my final trump card. I launched myself off of Watson’s shoulder and dive-bombed Miss Cramer. She shrieked, but I backed her into a corner, flying back and forth while she shielded her face. I snarled, “Go ahead, make my day!”
She swung her purse at me. It missed, but a small plastic bottle flew out. It hit the concrete floor and broke open, spilling white goo. Airbrush paint.
The purse flew out of her grip and hit the ground. The rat-faced woman gaped as another bottle went rolling out. “You don’t understand!” she spluttered. “I need that t-textbook commission! If teachers were getting p-proper pay, I wouldn’t have to m-moonlight as a s-s-stupid clown!”
“Cry me a river, Roxanne,” said Miss Rodowsky. “I get the same wages as you, and you don’t see me in big floppy shoes, do you?”
“It was the only j-job I could do on the side.”
“Roxanne. You don’t have to put on the red nose,” said Miss Rodowsky sternly.
Miss Cramer was desperate. “Lester Ventress was in on it too! He was tapping out the codes with me in the meeting today!” she bawled. “The guys at Baxter had made us a sweet deal—a commission for every textbook sold. It was a win-win situation! The system was popular with the children, and popular with the parents as well, since aptitude scores are going up—”
“Even if the information is false?” interjected Miss Rodowsky. “Roxanne, not only are you manipulating the school system for profit, you have also engaged in larceny, vandalism, and arson. There is also a dead man in the picture, so manslaughter is on your hands, if not murder! How convenient of you to set a fire—perhaps on your way home from a gig—while you were disguised as a clown. Who’s going to recognize you from afar? Did you know in advance how flammable airbrush paint is? I looked it up, and it is considered a HAZMAT.”
> “I will have you know that I was very careful when I set that fire,” she began.
“Then you can explain all of that to your attorney,” intoned a new voice. The police seemed to have caught the tail end of the conversation, including the fortuitous confession. In the wake of Miss Rodowsky cutting down Miss Rat-Face to size, I had forgotten that Watson was able to make himself useful by notifying the gendarmes. “You have the right to remain silent.” I was fascinated by the proceedings. It was just like Law and Order without the catchy music.
“Roxanne?” our client queried in a softer voice after they had clapped the handcuffs on our motley miscreant. “I just wanna know one thing: how did so many of you guys know binary and Morse code?”
The other woman shrugged. “We all watch the History Channel, I guess.”
Miss Rodowsky heaved a huge sigh as they led away Miss Cramer. No doubt she was feeling all sorts of emotions, but she never lost her cool. She bade us both goodbye, promising to swing by on the morrow. She had to go home and process all of the revelations, and I couldn’t blame her.
Watson was most definitely relieved. “At least we didn’t have to deal with another body. Right, Sherlock? Sherlock?”
He was wrong. If he didn’t have my Horus-damned sunflower seed, there would definitely be a body, or at least lots of blood.
• • •
“Well, it turns out that nine teachers were in on this thing,” said Watson, twirling his spoon in his teacup. “You did more than stick up for these children; you blew the whistle on quite a bit of corruption!”
Miss Rodowsky was still morose. Shabby beyond recognition, the homeless man had finally been identified as the former music teacher at the school. Once the budget cuts forced him to lose his job, he had apparently fallen into hard times, but his last endeavor had been an attempt to save the books. And he had been her friend.
She buried her face in her hands. “Not only am I seriously bummed out about the fate of this guy, but now I have to spend the summer testifying in court. I was hoping to just read and hang out with my Dobies.”
“Dobies? As in Dobermans?” queried Watson with a sudden brightness. “I love Dobies! I would have gotten one a long time ago except that…” He checked himself with a wary eye on me. “I couldn’t possibly want for a finer pet than my Sherlock over there.” He flashed me an ingratiating smile. I weaved my head back and forth, since I couldn’t roll my eyes.
There was definitely a spark of chemistry between my roommate and our client. She invited him to her house so that he could get his doggie fix, and his eyes lit up. I was about to rain on his parade, as I often enjoyed doing, but then I stayed my claw. Why not? I thought. I liked the human woman, and she might get Watson out of my nest. Then I could watch that upcoming show about the Voynich Manuscripts in peace.
As they left for Miss Rodowsky’s house, I still couldn’t resist calling out a parting shot, “Bowm-chicka-WAH-waaaahh.” Then I let myself become engrossed in the TV, ready to see if my theories about the Voynich were correct. I was certain that I would have it figured out by morning, although I knew it would take these humans forever to give me verbal cues.
The commercial for Cheez-Its certainly looked enticing. Perhaps I did want a cracker after all.
About the Authors
JIM AVELLI’s first novel, A Spider’s Vow, was recently released and he’s hard at work on the follow-up.
KEITH R. A. DECANDIDO is the author of a truly absurd amount of stuff. Recent and upcoming work includes A Furnace Sealed, first in a new urban fantasy series about a nice Jewish boy from the Bronx who hunts monsters; the Marvel Tales of Asgard trilogy of prose novels starring Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three; the Stargate SG-1 novel Kali's Wrath; Mermaid Precinct, the latest in his fantasy/police procedure series; the Heroes Reborn novella Save the Cheerleader, Destroy the World; the Super City Police Department novellas Avenging Amethyst, Undercover Blues, and Secret Identities; short fiction in Aliens: Bug Hunt, Altered States of the Union, A Baker's Dozen of Magic, BuzzyMag.com, Joe Ledger: Unstoppable, Limbus Inc. Book 3, Nights of the Living Dead, The Side of Good/The Side of Evil, V-Wars: Night Terrors, The X-Files: Trust No One, etc.; and twice-weekly rewatches of classic TV shows in the Star Trek and Stargate franchises, as well as the 1966 Batman, for Tor.com. Keith is also a second-degree black belt in karate, an editor, a musician, and probably some other stuff that he can't remember due to the lack of sleep. Find out less at his web site at www.DeCandido.net.
AUSTIN FARMER is a performer in Southern California, and his band's original music can be heard on ABC, Fox, and Nickelodeon. This is his first short story published in an anthology. You can find him online @mraustinfarmer.
DAVID GERROLD is a Nebula and Hugo award winning author of over fifty books, several hundred articles and columns, and over a dozen television episodes. TV credits include episodes of Star Trek, Babylon 5, Twilight Zone, Land Of The Lost, Logan’s Run, and many others. Novels include When Harlie was One, The Man Who Folded Himself, the War Against the Chtorr septology, The Star Wolf trilogy, The Dingilliad young adult trilogy, and more. The autobiographical tale of his son’s adoption, The Martian Child, won the Hugo and Nebula awards for Best Novelette of the Year and was the basis for the 2007 movie starring John Cusack, Amanda Peet, and Joan Cusack. His web page is www.gerrold.com.
New York Times-bestselling author JONATHAN MABERRY’s latest series, Rot and Ruin, has just been optioned for film, and other works of his are heading for the big screen as well. He’s a multiple Bram Stoker Award-winner and has written for Marvel comics. He’s been named one of today’s top ten horror writers. His website is www.jonathanmaberry.com.
GAIL Z. MARTIN is best known for her Chronicles of the Necromancer (Solaris Books) and Ascendant Kingdoms (Orbit Books) epic fantasy series, and her Deadly Curiosities urban fantasy series (Solaris Books). Her short stories have been in over 30 US/UK anthologies. Her web page is www.GailZMartin.com.
HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Originally from Portland, Oregon and raised in the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont. Her works include: The Beaumont Series, The Archers and The Boys of Summer.
JODY LYNN NYE has published more than 40 novels and 150 short stories and may be best known for the books she has written in Robert Asprin’s Myth Adventures series as well as her own Mythology 101 series. Her latest books are Myth-Fits (Ace Books), Wishing on a Star (Phoenix Pick) and Rhythm of the Imperium, third in her Lord Thomas Kinago humorous space opera series (Baen Books) Her web page is www.jodylynnnye.com.
BETH W. PATTERSON’s most recent novel is Mongrels and Misfits. Her short stories have appeared in the anthologies Rise of the Goddess, Poets in Hell, and Tales of Fortannis: A Bard Day’s Knight.
MARTIN ROSE writes a range of fiction from the fantastic to the macabre. His early stories found homes in Necrotic Tissue and Murky Depths, and numerous anthologies such as Urban Green Man, Handsome Devil, Ominous Realities, and Dread. Bring Me Flesh, I'll Bring Hell is a noir, dark novel of a zombie private investigator, recognized as one of "Notable Novels of 2014" in Best Horror of the Year, Vol. 7. Upcoming work slated to appear in Vastarien: A Literary Journal and Heroic Fantasy Quarterly. He resides in the pine barrens of New Jersey, but believes the Jersey Devil was burned out long ago in the region's numerous wildfires. More details available at www.martinrose.org.
HILDY SILVERMAN is the publisher of Space and Time, a fifty-year-old magazine of fantasy, horror, and science fiction. She is also the author of several works of short fiction, including “The Vampire Escalator of the Passaic Promenade” (2010, New Blood, Thomas, ed.), “The Darren” (2009, Witch Way to the Mall?, Friesner, ed.), “Sappy Meals” (2010, Fangs for the Mammaries, Friesner, ed.), “Black Market Magic” (2012, Apocalypse 13, Raetz, ed.), “The Bionic Mermaid Returns” (2014, With Great Power, French, ed.), and “Tweets of the Damned” (2015, Sha’Daa Facets, McKeown, ed). In 2013 she was a finalist for the WSFA Sma
ll Press Award for her story “The Six Million Dollar Mermaid” (Mermaids 13, French, ed.).
Baen Books published RYK SPOOR’s first novel, the urban fantasy Digital Knight, as well as collaborations with Eric Flint on Diamonds are Forever and the hard SF Boundary series. In 2010, he released Grand Central Arena, his bestselling solo salute to the Golden Age of space opera. Two years later the first volume in his Balanced Sword epic fantasy trilogy, Phoenix Rising, was released.
MIKE STRAUSS is a part-time freelance writer with credits on Yahoo News and from Sword & Sorcery Studios. He has had four stories published in the Tales of Fortannis anthologies.
MICHAEL A. VENTRELLA’s third novel, Bloodsuckers: A Vampire Runs for President, was released in 2014. He edits the Tales of Fortannis short story collections, and has had his own stories printed in many anthologies, including Janet Morris’s Dreamers in Hell, Rum and Runestones, Twisted Tails, and The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Archives. His website is www.MichaelAVentrella.com.
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