by Karen Kane
Charlie opened the bag of chips Yvette had packed.
“I especially remember Mabel’s friend,” Grandma Tickler said. She opened her egg salad sandwich and placed several potato chips inside. “She was so tiny. And she was always knitting Irving scarves and such!”
Knitting?
Charlie wrote this down. Frog began hopping up and down on one foot. She urged Charlie to keep up his questioning.
“Grandma, do you remember her name?” Charlie asked.
“No,” Grandma Tickler said. “I do not remember her name. But I remember that big mole on her face. That’s how I recognized her this morning.” Grandma Tickler took a crunchy bite of egg-salad-potato-chip sandwich.
“This morning?” Charlie said. “You saw her this morning?”
Charlie scribbled this down. Frog started jumping up and down with both feet.
“Grandma, was her name Aggie?” Charlie spelled her name as he spoke it.
“That was her name!” Grandma Tickler nodded. “Aggie Penderwick.”
NO WAY! Frog spelled.
“Did she look okay?” Charlie asked.
“She looked perfectly fine. Just worried. Isn’t that right, Irving?”
“Ayuh,” Grandpa Tickler said.
“Tell us what happened, Grandma,” Charlie said.
“Well, Irving and I were headed to our doctor’s appointment to get our hearing checked—both of us, both ears. When Herman’s taxi stopped at a red light, I saw Aggie on the sidewalk. I said, ‘Isn’t that the woman who was always knitting you scarves and such?’ Didn’t I say that, Irving?”
“Ayuh,” Grandpa Tickler said.
“So I waved to Aggie—just to be polite, you know. She came over to our taxi. That’s when we saw she was worried about something. But we couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell us because Irving only remembers the sign for ‘sweetheart.’ Isn’t that right, Irving?”
“Ayuh,” Grandpa Tickler agreed.
“So Aggie quickly wrote on a notepad looking for a book and waiting for Sol Castle,” Grandma Tickler said. “But we had no idea what that meant!”
Charlie scribbled down what Grandma was saying as fast as he could for Frog.
“Irving gestured for Aggie to get into the taxi, but then the light turned green,” Grandma Tickler continued. “Herman started driving away, because that’s what Herman does when lights turn green. But Aggie didn’t want to get in. She just hurried off. She acted very mysterious. Aggie always did love mysteries, didn’t she, Irving?”
“Ayuh,” Grandpa Tickler said.
Charlie and Frog asked Grandma and Grandpa Tickler to tell them more about meeting Aggie. Neither one could recall anything else.
At least we know Aggie is okay, Charlie wrote.
For now, Frog replied. And we know Aggie is looking for a book. And we know why Aggie was at the castle—she was looking for Grandpa Sol. But why? How can Grandpa help her?
Maybe Grandpa Sol knows about the book Aggie is looking for, Charlie suggested.
Charlie and Frog debated where to investigate next. Should they go back to the castle? The graveyard? The village? And what book was Aggie looking for? How did a book connect to the secret Aggie had told?
Miss Tweedy had promised violence and bonding over fishing. Nothing of the sort happened. In fact nothing much happened at all—although Grandma and Grandpa Tickler did manage to nap while holding their fishing poles.
When Herman arrived to bring them home, he handed a letter to Frog that Mr. Simple had passed on to him.
Frog,
Your mother is back from her errands and agitated that you are not here. Please come home as soon as you receive this note. There is much cleaning still to be done.
XO, Dad
Herman drove by the gondola station before taking Charlie and his grandparents home. He didn’t come to a complete stop, but he did drive slowly enough for Frog to jump out with the fishing poles.
“Such an adventure!” Grandma Tickler said as Yvette served their dinner on TV trays. “Driving to the pond, sitting by the pond, throwing worms into the pond. An adventure, I tell you!”
Grandma Tickler settled back in her E-Z chair recliner with a satisfied sigh.
“Ayuh,” Grandpa said.
“It doesn’t matter that we didn’t catch any fish, Irving,” Grandma Tickler said. “The point of fishing is to do something together. Isn’t that right, Charlie?”
“That’s right, Grandma!” Charlie said as he carried in silverware and napkins from the kitchen.
“I never thought I’d see the day when Irma and Irving Tickler went fishing,” Yvette said. She placed a glass of milk on each of their trays. “This is the most fun I’ve had since I started working here.”
“Exactly!” Charlie said. “Having a grandson around is fun!”
“But not too much fun, Charlie.” Grandma Tickler speared something white and drippy from her plate. “Too much fun, like too much of anything, is never a good thing. We need to recover from all the excitement of today. Next year, though, we’ll be ready to fish again, won’t we, Irving?”
“But, Grandma—”
“Hush, Charlie! Our show is about to start.”
• • •
Charlie and Yvette ate their dinner in the kitchen. The white, drippy noodle casserole Yvette had made looked disgusting, but tasted delicious. As Charlie ate he thought about his grandparents and their self-defense moves.
How they had jumped out of their chairs.
How they had circled each other.
How they had seemed so different.
“Yvette, do you think people can change?” Charlie asked.
“Nope,” Yvette said. She picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip.
“Okay, not change then,” Charlie said. “But what if someone has something hidden deep down inside, like Frog. On the outside Frog is an average girl, but on the inside she’s an amazing detective who can solve puzzling cases. Or will solve them,” Charlie added, crossing his fingers as he thought about Aggie.
“Or Grandma and Grandpa Tickler?” Charlie hurried on before Yvette could say anything. “On the outside they look like boring grandparents, but on the inside they’re really…ninja warriors or something! And they just need help bringing that part of them out!”
“Charlie.” Yvette put down her coffee cup. “I’m going to say this because it has to be said. Outside and inside, there isn’t anything your grandparents like doing except watching television, eating, and visiting doctors.”
“Frog says we have power,” Charlie said. “Power to…to do stuff!”
“Charlie, do you know this sign?”
Yvette signed the letter Y with both hands. She made circles with her hands, bringing them away from and then toward each other, pausing a slight bit every time she completed a circle.
“A lady I used to work for would sign this about her husband,” Yvette said. “She called this sign ‘same-same.’ In English we say, ‘Same old, same old.’ She meant her husband would never change. That’s how it is with your grandparents.” Yvette signed it again. “Same-same.”
Charlie copied the sign, though he refused to believe it. He still had time to convince his grandparents to want him to stay. Just like he and Frog still had time to find Aggie.
Charlie stood up to clear his plate. “I have to finish reading a book Frog gave me,” he said. He had promised Frog, after all.
Yvette touched his arm. “Bring the book down here,” she said, “and read aloud while I do the dishes.”
• • •
Charlie explained to Yvette what had happened so far in Dorrie McCann and the Mystery of the Secret Treasure. Then he began to read:
“The chief of police looked at his watch. Time was running out. Dorrie McCann needed to decipher the final secret message before it was too late.
“Suddenly Dorrie stood up. She reached inside her leather bag and pulled out a long red scarf. She wrapped the scarf around her neck a
nd closed her eyes.
“‘What is she doing?’ the chief demanded. ‘I need Dorrie to solve this last cipher right now! Plus, it’s hot in here. Why does she need a scarf?’
“‘The scarf isn’t to keep her warm,’ Jack explained. ‘The scarf is to remind Dorrie to look inside herself and find her own power.’”
Charlie stopped reading.
“What’s wrong?” Yvette asked.
“Nothing,” Charlie said.
“Then keep reading!”
But there was something important in what Charlie had just read. What was it? Something he had seen before? Charlie shook his head and kept reading.
• • •
In the middle of the night, Charlie woke up. He knew what the something important was.
Aggie’s knitting bag rested on top of his dresser. Charlie got out of bed and went to the bag. Whatever Aggie had been knitting was wrapped around the ball of yarn. Charlie pulled out Aggie’s knitting needles, and let her work unfurl.
A long red scarf hung to the floor.
Frog stared at Aggie’s scarf and then at Charlie in disbelief. Finally she picked up her pen. How could you not have noticed Aggie was knitting a red scarf?!
Charlie was sorry he hadn’t noticed what Aggie had been knitting—but seriously? How could Charlie have known that would be important?
Frog reached again into the knitting bag, and pulled out Aggie’s note—the note Aggie had written to Miss Tweedy and Charlie, telling them she had told a secret.
And you never showed me this note, either! Frog wrote.
But Charlie had already told Frog everything that was in the note. But he knew better than to point this out to Frog.
Frog placed the scarf and note gently back into Aggie’s knitting bag.
Every Dorrie McCann fan knows about the red scarf. It’s her statement piece! D. J. McKinnon had a scarf just like it from her mother. Her mother told her to wear it and believe in her own power. D.J. wrote all her books wearing her red scarf.
Charlie thought about the yearbook. D.J. and Aggie were in the same class, he wrote. Maybe Aggie knows who burned D. J. McKinnon’s manuscript. She’s afraid something like that will happen again with the secret she told. Aggie said theft or destruction could happen. Burning something means destroying it.
Frog paced her bedroom, twisting her long pearl necklace around her hand before she grabbed her pen again.
Aggie is knitting a red scarf. The red scarf could be a clue about D. J. McKinnon. Aggie also signed “dead.” The sign “dead” could be a clue about the graveyard. So that means Aggie’s secret could be…
Frog chewed on the end of her pen.
…a buried treasure hidden inside D. J. McKinnon’s grave! We need a shovel!
Whoa! Let’s just LOOK first! Charlie wrote.
Frog ignored this. We have to investigate the graveyard. But I’m supposed to be helping set up for the Founders’ Day Dinner. I’m lucky Mom even let me come talk to you!
Frog paced the room once, and then wrote: We’re close to cracking this case. I feel it.
Frog touched her fingertips just under her rib cage.
Charlie got it.
“Intuition.”
Detective intuition.
• • •
Frog peered around the corner and looked down into the great hall. Mrs. Castle was directing Nate Marsh where to set up round tables for the Founders’ Day Dinner. When her mother’s back was turned, Frog waved to get Oliver’s attention.
Frog signed. Oliver nodded.
Oliver went over to his mother and, making sure she faced away from the stairs, engaged her in conversation. Charlie and Frog raced down the steps, Charlie with his key between his knuckles.
Frog sprinted toward the graveyard. Charlie followed at her heels. Suddenly Frog veered off when they came to the barn. She ran inside and came out holding a shovel.
“No!” Charlie signed.
“Yes!” Frog insisted.
“No!”
“Yes!”
Frog began running again. She didn’t hesitate when they reached the graveyard door set inside the stone wall. She pulled it open in a single swing. A piercing squeal screeched from the rusted hinges.
In the bright light of the sunny day, the graveyard didn’t seem nearly as scary as it had in the night. A robin swooped by and settled in a tree. Pale yellow flowers decorated a headstone.
A squirrel, perched on Edward Hyde [NO ONE EVER LISTENS (SIGH), UNTIL IT IS TOO LATE], froze as they passed by.
Charlie and Frog searched for any sign of Aggie or Dex and Ray. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“Same-same,” Frog signed, and then wrote: Everything is the same as it was before, when I investigated the graveyard with Bear.
As they followed the winding path to the back of the graveyard, Frog hoisted the shovel with a determined look. Charlie scrawled a hasty note as they walked.
Frog, we cannot dig up D. J. McKinnon’s grave!
“Can,” Frog signed.
“Can’t!” Charlie signed back.
Someone had left a red flower next to D. J. McKinnon’s headstone. Charlie remembered Mr. Simple had said that former students liked to come early, before the annual Founders’ Day Dinner, to visit their favorite author’s grave. One of them must have left the flower there.
Frog did not seem to notice the red flower. Instead she walked around the headstone, testing the ground with the end of her shovel, searching for the best place to start digging.
Charlie held his notebook up to Frog’s face. WAIT! HOW DO YOU SIGN “WAIT”?
Frog sighed. She leaned the shovel against her chest. She held up her hands, palms facing inward, one hand slightly closer to her body, and wiggled her fingers. “Wait.”
“Why?” Frog signed.
Good question.
Because they would get in so much trouble? Because digging up a body was against the law? Because Charlie did not want to see the inside of a grave? Charlie knew none of these reasons would be good enough for—
Charlie bent down. The flower on D. J. McKinnon’s grave wasn’t a real flower. It was a red knitted flower. The flower Aggie had been wearing the day Charlie had met her.
Charlie picked up the flower pin and handed it to Frog. This is Aggie’s!
Frog rubbed the knitted flower with her fingertips. You never told me Aggie was wearing a statement piece!
How could Charlie have known a statement piece would be important? He didn’t even know what a statement piece was before he met Frog. But Frog wasn’t mad—the flower pin seemed to confirm something for her.
This proves Aggie is connected to D. J. McKinnon! Frog wrote. And D. J. McKinnon is in the graveyard—that means this IS a murder mystery!
Are you saying D.J. was murdered?!
No! Yes! I don’t know! But we have to DO something. Good people act!
Frog raised her shovel high, ready to dig. Charlie grabbed the shovel handle with one hand and with his other hand signed, “Wait!”
Dorrie McCann and the Mystery of the Secret Treasure whirled through Charlie’s mind. He let go of the shovel and signed, “Wait!” one more time. He quickly wrote: What if there’s something on D.J.’s headstone? Like a secret code?
CIPHER, Frog spelled.
“That,” Charlie signed.
Frog lowered her shovel and nodded.
The letters on D. J. McKinnon’s headstone inscription were all engraved differently: Some were swirly, some were plain. Some thick, some thin. Some large, some small.
Why are the letters that way? Charlie asked.
It’s different kinds of fonts. She was a printer, remember? It was a way to honor her work. Look for patterns and write them down.
Charlie wrote down the whole inscription. Then he studied the headstone. The year she was born and the year she died were written in the regular way. But the next line read:
DIED ON THE 4TH DAY OF THE 1ST MONTH, AT THE 9.TH HOUR AND 7TH MINUTE.
That’s a weird way to write when she died, Charlie wrote.
It isn’t weird! It’s unique! But Frog looked at the numbers closely. The numbers of the day, month, hour, and minute are all in the same font. But not the years.
Charlie wrote down the numbers of the day, month, hour, and minute together. 4197. Frog pointed to the engraved line below the date D. J. McKinnon died.
DEAREST DAUGHTER AND LOYAL FRIEND
Frog tapped the r in “dearest,” the e in “daughter,” and the f in “friend.” REF. Those three letters were in the same font as the numbers of the day, month, hour, and minute. Charlie wrote down REF next to the day, month, hour, and minute numbers. 4197 REF.
Charlie and Frog continued to study the headstone. Charlie wrote down any letters that were in the same kind of font together. Finally they sat back on their heels and studied Charlie’s paper. It seemed just a jumble of letters and numbers.
Frog sighed. I have no idea! I need Dorrie’s scarf! Frog fell back onto the grass. Charlie joined her. Together they gazed at the blue sky. A soft breeze blew. A robin trilled from a tree above them. Frog sat up and grabbed the pen.
We need to go back to the beginning. Aggie went to the village library. Dex and Ray went to the village library. We KNOW Aggie is looking for a book. Maybe these letters and numbers will guide us once we’re at the library.
But, Charlie protested, you aren’t allowed to go anywhere!
Frog stood. We have to! She pulled Charlie to his feet. Aggie needs us. Besides, a true detective would never stop an investigation just because she might be grounded for eternity!
• • •
For once the gondola ride was smooth and easy. Charlie and Frog were the first ones off. When they reached the library, Miss Tweedy was checking out books to a father and son. Charlie and Frog flopped in the squishy chairs in the front of the library, breathing hard. Mr. Dickens eyed them with exasperation.
When Frog had caught her breath she wrote: Okay. We’re here! Where do we start?
You’re asking me? What about Deaf can?!
I said let’s go to the graveyard! I said let’s come to the library! It’s time for hearing can!
Fair enough. Charlie wiped his forehead and studied the paper. The letters and numbers were still a jumble.