Watson's Case (8 page)

Teachers in D
isguise

Rollie woke up around half past seven, his usual wake-up time during the week. When he heard his roommates still snoring, he dozed back off for another hour and a half. A light rap on the door roused him. Eliot groaned and buried his head under his pillow. Rupert continued dreaming in a heap of rumpled blankets, candy wrappers, and dirty laundry. Rollie answered the door.

“Top of the mornin', mate.” Wesley leaned in the doorway. He was still dressed in his green-striped pajamas and his usually well-groomed hair stuck out in odd places. He held a white cardboard box and small bottle of milk. “Here's your breakfast. It's delivered to your door on the weekends.” He handed the food to Rollie.

Rollie opened the small box and smelled pumpkin scones. “How come no one talks about the weekends here? It's fun!”

Wesley grinned. “It really is, but the teachers ask us not to advertise it. They don't want a bunch of students staying just because it's fun. They want students to visit their families.”

“Did you already eat breakfast?”

Wesley nodded. “I've been up about a half hour.” He joined Rollie on the bed.

“What time is Mr. Chad's outing?” Rollie asked as he bit into a pumpkin scone.

“Probably around ten. The teachers are in no rush on Saturdays.” Wesley's brown eyes lit up. “Want to spy on them? I know where they are right now. They're worth seeing.”

Rollie nodded eagerly and swallowed his last bite. “I've always wondered what the teachers do on the weekends.”

“You have no idea.” Wesley sprang off the bed and led Rollie downstairs.

A few students in their pajamas visited each other in their rooms, but many doors were still closed and many snores were still heard. Wesley and Rollie traipsed down to the first floor. The rich aroma of breakfast wafted out of the room. He smelled eggs, bacon, scones, and, much to Rollie's dismay, hash browns. He missed those quite a lot. The door was slightly ajar. Rollie peeked through the crack.

All the teachers, including Headmaster Yardsly, sat around an oval table laden with breakfast food atop an orange tablecloth. They all wore pajamas, robes, and slippers. The headmaster sat hidden behind an open newspaper. His hand occasionally shot across the table to nab a piece of bacon. Ms. Yardsly sipped her tea and laughed at something Miss Hertz told her, which Rollie found fascinating since he had never seen Ms. Yardsly laugh at anything. Mr. Notch's hair looked frizzier and his pajamas more disheveled, if that was possible. He knitted his bushy eyebrows together at a crossword puzzle in the
Times
. Mr. Chad wore black-rimmed reading glasses that distinguished his otherwise common features. He scribbled in a pocket notepad as Miss Gram listed items she needed in town. She looked groomed and polished even in her lavender silk robe and slippers topped with pom-poms. They all appeared relaxed and jovial.

Rollie turned back to Wesley with a smile. Wesley grinned and beckoned Rollie back to the stairs. Once they started up, both boys chuckled.

“Isn't it funny to see them like that?” Wesley exclaimed.

“I forget that teachers are normal people, too. I can't wait to tell Cecily about this!” Rollie confessed. “Do the teachers hang out in there on Sundays also?”

“No, on Sundays they go their separate ways for the day. Some work in their classrooms, and others visit family and friends. Oh, and Miss Hertz takes students to mass.”

“What do you guys do?”

“We're not allowed to leave the grounds—new school rule. We can play on the roof, or study, or hang out.”

When they returned to Rollie's dorm room, they found Rupert dressed and rushing out the door. Eliot sat in bed, nibbling on the last pumpkin scone and counting names on his petition.

“Oh, there you are,” he greeted as he brushed crumbs off his blanket. “Spying on the teachers?”

“You never told me what they do on the weekends,” said Rollie.

“I don't tell you everything.”

Rollie was taken aback by Eliot's comment. “Oh.”

“You don't tell me everything, so . . .”

“Are you still upset about my stupid nickname?”

“I'm over that. I'm upset about something new.”

“I'll meet you guys downstairs at ten,” Wesley said.

When Wesley stepped out, Rollie sat cross-legged on his bed. “What's the matter?”

Eliot cleared his throat. “Well, for starters, where were you last night?”

Rollie's face heated. “When?”

“Who knows? It was the middle of the night. I woke up and you weren't in your bed. You broke a school rule!” He pointed to the list tacked on the wall.

“I stepped out for a few minutes. That's all I'm saying.”

“Fine. Will you hang out with me today, or is Wesley hogging you?”

“I'll hang out with you
and
Wesley, okay?” Rollie grabbed his trousers and a navy blue sweater. Turning his back to Eliot, he stooped and reached under the bed for the loose floorboard. He opened it and snatched his Holmes newspaper map from Auntie Ei. He headed for the bathroom.

He locked the door and quickly got dressed. Before exploring more of the secret passage, he needed to study the map. He separated the newspaper pages and spread them on the bathroom floor. With the aid of his magnifying glass, he slid the pages around to match the corners.

“This must be the second floor,” he muttered to himself.

“What did you say?” Eliot hollered.

“Just talking to myself!”

He worked to match more page corners until the entire bathroom floor was carpeted with newspaper. Rollie tiptoed across the pages to study the sketches. He assembled the third and fourth floors. All the tunnels looked alike, each floor having a corner entrance and a trio of numbers listed. Rollie committed them to memory. When he studied the first floor closer, he noticed a second entrance leading outside to the back of the building.

Someone stomped around outside the bathroom door. “Hurry up, will you?” Rupert whined. “I have to go really bad!”

Rollie rolled his eyes. He shuffled the pages into an uneven stack.

Knock-knock!
“Come on!”

“Just a minute!” Rollie folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. He swung open the door. “I thought you just left.”

Rupert, looking very annoyed, shoved past him and slammed the bathroom door shut.

“Were you reading the paper in there?” Eliot asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sure. It's the only place I can get any peace and quiet around here,” Rollie said with composure to keep a straight face.

Eliot snickered. “Okay, Grandpa Wilson. Tell me, what's the latest in London?”

“Nothing interesting. Are you getting ready?”

Eliot nodded. “As soon as Rupert's done with the bathroom.”

“Where was Rupert this morning? What's he up to now?”

Rollie barely hid his newspaper back under the floorboard when Rupert emerged from the bathroom. He stood with his hands on his chubby hips and stared at Rollie.

“You want to know what I've been up to? Figure it out, Sherlock.” Rupert stormed out of the room before another word could pass between them.

“Crikey! He sure doesn't like you,” Eliot observed as he tossed aside his bed covers.

“I have no idea why!” Rollie replied.

“At least he's honest about how he feels. If more people were honest with each other, the world would be a more understanding place to live in.” Eliot closed the bathroom door behind him.

For once, Eliot made sense. Although Rupert was not being honest about
why
he disliked Rollie, he was open about how
much
he disliked him. When Rollie was honest with himself, he admitted how much he disliked Rupert back. Rupert acted sneaky by skulking off at odd times of the day and night. He was a disinterested student, absent from his classes more often than not. And he was antagonistic towards others, most of all his roommate. Rollie did not have any concrete evidence for incriminating Rupert as Herr Zilch's mole, but his suspicion was raised by Rupert's mysterious behavior.

As Rollie tied his shoelaces, he realized he needed more evidence. He needed to figure out why Herr Zilch wanted the mole to find the secret passage. He decided to explore the tunnels more that night. He was not sure what evidence he would find, but he secretly hoped it would point to Rupert.

When Eliot was dressed, the two boys trekked downstairs. They met Wesley and a handful of other students, including Rupert, at the front door. Rupert stood off by himself from the group. He kept his eyes down.

“What is this, a gang?” Mr. Chad's familiar voice sounded. He was dressed in blue jeans, a black peacoat, and Converse sneakers. “Why are you all hanging around here?” he said as he adjusted his black-rimmed glasses.

“You know why, Mr. Chad,” Wesley said with a smile. “Scavenger hunt, right?”

“It seems I have no choice.” Mr. Chad shrugged. “I see you've got your American goods on, Wes.” He matched his foot to Wesley's. They tried to guess each other's shoe size; Wesley's foot was a few inches smaller. Mr. Chad's blue eyes lit up when he spotted Rollie. “Mr. Wilson! What are you doing here?”

“I'm staying the weekend to keep Wesley and Eliot company.”

Mr. Chad studied Rollie for a moment. He leaned in and whispered, “Any other reason? A case maybe?”

Rollie wondered if he was referring to the mole case. Did he know about that, or about how Headmaster had assigned Rollie on the case? Reluctantly, Rollie chose to honor Yardsly's request by keeping it a secret just in case Mr. Chad did not know about it. “I've never seen you wear glasses before, Mr. Chad.”

Mr. Chad gave a crooked smile. “I wear them on the weekends when I don't need to wear disguises for class. Alrighty, kids, Gwen—oops, I mean
Lady Gram
—needs some things.” He whipped out the list he had made earlier at breakfast. “We'll grab those things for her, and then head to Regent's Park.”

Mr. Chad led the group of kids out into the chilly autumn air. Fog blanketed the city, and a cold wind whipped down the streets. Sticking close together, the group headed down Baker Street. The girls linked arms together and giggled about things that always made girls giggle. The boys stuck their hands in their pockets and made a game of knocking into each other with their shoulders.

Rupert trailed behind, his hands deep in his coat pockets and his eyes on the lookout for something.

Rollie wish he knew what.

Deep Digging

M
r. Chad led the kids south on Baker Street. They passed a library with a tall steeple and rows of tall red brick buildings. Mr. Chad cautioned them to look both ways when crossing at an intersection, for the traffic was particularly dangerous near the Baker Street tube station. He took them to a large convenience store. When they entered through the glass double doors, Mr. Chad gathered everyone around him.

“We've got a list of things to find, but first a life lesson: guys, don't be shocked when women in your life ask you to do things for them. And girls, don't be shocked when the men in your life aren't too excited about shopping. Honestly, the only thing Gwen really needs is a map of the city so she can do her own errands.” While he tried to disguise his feelings with grumbles, his blue eyes still sparkled when he referenced the pretty teacher.

Rollie bet if Mr. Chad were honest with himself, he would admit his fondness of Gwendolyn.

“Wes, take Rollie, Eliot, and Rupert to find these items.” Mr. Chad tore off a piece of the list and passed it to Wesley. “Hazel, take the girls to find these.” He handed her another piece. “The rest of you boys stick with me. That means you, Arthur—no wandering off. Everyone meet back here in twenty minutes to check out. Do me proud!”

The children disbanded and headed down different aisles to find their assigned items.

“What do we have to get?” Rollie asked as he and his roommates followed Wesley.

“Tools. A hammer, screwdriver, pliers, and a spool of—”

“Pink ribbon, right?”

Wesley glanced at Rollie in surprise. “Right. How did you know that?”

“Miss Gram is missing her hammer. I guess more tools have gone missing, and she decorates all her tools with pink ribbons.”

“She must be very absentminded,” Eliot commented.

“Must be,” both Rollie and Rupert chimed at the same time. They locked eyes for a moment.

He must know something about the missing tools
, Rollie thought.

After a few minutes of searching, the boys found the right tools and the spool of pink ribbon. They made their way through the bustling store to the entrance where Mr. Chad and his group waited. Hazel's group had not finished yet. As they waited for her, the kids hovered around the candy dispensers.

Mr. Chad sidled up to Rollie. “So why are you here this weekend, kiddo?”

Rollie avoided eye contact with his teacher. “I told you, I'm hanging out with my friends.”

“Ya know, not only can I wear a great disguise, I can also see through one. Why are you really here?”

“Not sure I'm allowed to tell you.”

“Fair enough. I'll tell you then. You're working on a case,” Mr. Chad lowered his voice. “How are you doing so far?”

Rollie sighed. “So-so. I have some guesses.”

“Not good enough. You need evidence.”

“I know, but I'm not sure what to look for.”

“Dig around in your brain, around your classmates, around school—just dig around. I'll bet the evidence is right under your nose. You just have to notice it.” Mr. Chad socked him fondly in the shoulder. “You'll find it.” With a reassuring wink, he raised his voice to summon the children. “Hazel's here. Let's check out. Did you find everything? Hair products, tea bags, tools?”

Tools!

Flutter, flutter!

That was the evidence to find: Miss Gram's lost tools. Those missing tools could incriminate whoever had them since the tools most likely were used to search for the secret passage. He remembered that not only did her tools have pink ribbons, but they were also monogrammed with GAG. Rollie grew antsy to get back to school to search for them. He knew exactly where to look first.

“Where's Arthur?” Mr. Chad called.

“Wight hea!” a little voice answered.

“Geez, you need to grow, kid. I always lose sight of you.” Mr. Chad slapped a high-five with the small boy. “Don't worry. I was little for my age as a kid and I was a great spy.”

After purchasing the items, Mr. Chad led the children back up Baker Street. Bypassing Sherlock Academy, they continued north to Regent's Park right up the street from 221. Even in autumn, the park was green with manicured lawns and flowers. They crossed a little bridge over a waterway and settled on a span of lawn beside the water. The sharp breeze teased graceful willows and scattered papery leaves.

From a sharp-pointed gazebo, Mr. Chad organized a relay race with the use of sticks, a lounge chair, and a handful of pebbles. The prize for the winning team was a bag of assorted Halloween candy he had purchased at the convenience store. Rollie was so engrossed in the game he did not notice that Rupert was gone until the game was over and he and his team were enjoying the candy.

He spotted Rupert down the narrow path leading towards Queen Mary's Rose Gardens. Looking past him, Rollie barely caught a glimpse of a man in black. The man in black gave Rupert an envelope, which he promptly stuffed inside his coat. The two exchanged a few words.

Suddenly, the mysterious man looked up. He had noticed Rollie watching them. He gave Rupert a curt nod, and hurried away up the path, disappearing around the bend.

Who was that man? One of Herr Zilch's agents? What had the stranger given Rupert? Rollie studied the stout boy as he plopped down on a park bench. He decided to prod Rupert. After picking out a candy from the bag, he joined Rupert on the bench. The roommate did not acknowledge Rollie, but continued staring down at his feet.

“Who was that man?” Rollie opened his palm to offer the candy.

Rupert glanced sideways at the candy, but did not take it. “I told you to mind your own business.”

“Listen, I don't want to fight with you. Just be honest with me.”

“I have no reason to. You're just as secretive as I am. I know you were out last night.”

Rollie stiffened. Had the ghostly shadow been Rupert after all?

Rupert finally looked at him. “Are you working on some big case? Gonna be the school hero again? Why don't you leave some mysteries for us to solve? Or are you too smart for us?”

“Smart enough to know you're up to something.” Rollie glared.

“Everyone's up to something. If you go sniffing around in my business, I'll tell Headmaster you've been breaking curfew!” Rupert ended this threat with his famous smirk, then rose to his feet and plodded away through the trees.

Rollie stared after him, a bit stunned. He had wanted to investigate Rupert's connection with the stranger, perhaps by trailing Rupert around or enlisting Headmaster's advice. But he had been trumped without warning. He could not risk Rupert telling on him, especially since he was not entirely in Yardsly's good graces with his homework. For now, he would have to leave Rupert alone.

The minutes seemed like hours as the group strolled back to Sherlock Academy. Rollie was anxious to prove Rupert's guilt. He had to search their dorm room before his roommates settled in there for the day. Upon returning to school, Rollie paused on the fourth floor and promised his friends he would join them for lunch in a few minutes.

Losing no time, Rollie stormed into the dorm room. His heart pounded and his breathing quickened with anticipation of what he might find.

First, he dove for Rupert's bed. He ripped back the sheets, shoved up the mattress, and swept under the bed.

No hammer.

Next, he tackled Rupert's small trunk stored under the bed. He forced it open and flung clothes out. He chucked out other random items from the trunk: miniature toy cars, broken pencils, small rubber balls, and chewing gum.

No screwdriver.

Then Rollie attacked the desk. He yanked open Rupert's drawer in the middle. He weeded out wads of crumpled paper, most containing drawings of little people. He lugged out textbooks and pitched them to the floor.

No pliers.

In a frenzy, Rollie checked the bathroom. The only items incriminating Rupert were his sealed tube of toothpaste and his brand new toothbrush—no wonder his breath always stunk. In spite, Rollie scattered these around the bathroom.

He could have stopped there, but he did not.

“Where are they?” He checked under Eliot's bed. “He has to have them somewhere.”

Or did he?

The search was rapidly proving Rupert's innocence—but not yet. Rollie would dig and dig until he could dig no deeper. Only then would he clear Rupert.

“You can't cover your tracks much longer,” Rollie muttered.

“Crikey! What happened?” Eliot exclaimed. He stood in the doorway gaping at Rollie and the ransacked room.

Rollie snapped back from his thoughts, only then realizing the mess he had created. He stood in the center of the room and surveyed the damage. The room looked as if a bomb had exploded.

“Did you make this mess?” Eliot jabbed a finger at him.

Rollie swallowed, slightly embarrassed by his lack of self-control. “I was looking for something.”

“I'll say you were. You had better clean up everything before Rupert sees his stuff everywhere. He'll be so mad!”

Ugh
. If only Rupert had those tools. If only he could be proven guilty. That would take care of a lot of problems.

“I'll help you, chum,” Eliot offered as he picked up Rupert's textbooks and stacked them back in the drawer. “Even if we had our maids, they wouldn't take care of
this
mess.”

Rollie remained silent as he repaired the room. He was unsure what he had felt in those moments of fever, but he did not like it.

* * * *

Late that night, Rollie dozed while waiting for his roommates to fall asleep. Around midnight, he awoke himself and crept out of bed.

He made his way downstairs to the corner entrance of the secret passage. He hurried along the gloomy first floor passage. He spied a low doorway he had not noticed on his first journey. When he stepped through it, he found another tunnel even more dimly lit by one light bulb. A few yards farther along, he came to a crooked door. He pulled; it would not budge. He pushed; it budged slightly. Applying his shoulder, he gave it a rugby-worthy shove. With a scraping noise, the door inched open. A blast of icy air smacked him as he stepped outside into an alley. How handy to have a secret means of escaping or entering the school! He wondered if Holmes had ever found it useful.

Shivering from the cold, Rollie stepped back into the tunnel, careful to pull the door closed behind him. He returned to the main passage, and stopped at the little door with the combination lock. This time he remembered the numbers—1, 6, 54—and tried them in different sequences on the lock. The lock finally opened when he spun the combination 1-left, 6-right, 54-left. The door scraped against the floor when he pulled it open. On the other side he found a narrow staircase. He tiptoed up the steps, and crept along the continuing tunnel. Vents ran along the baseboard every couple feet. Rollie squatted to peer through one, and spied Miss Hertz's dark classroom—he was on the second floor.

He wondered where the entrance on this floor was. As he progressed through it, he ran his hand along the wall to check for openings to give way. When he pressed a corner, it opened. Rollie poked his head through the new opening and recognized the second floor hallway right next to Miss Gram's classroom.

Wasting no time, Rollie ducked back into the secret passage. He made sure the corner sealed up behind him before hurrying along the tunnel. He came to another little door with a combination lock. He spun 3-left, 31-right, 53-left. Through the door he mounted rickety stairs to the third floor passage. Again Rollie felt along the wall, applying pressure to the corners. To his delight, a corner opened. He poked his head through, confirmed the girls' dormitory hallway, and ducked back inside.

Rollie worried about the time. He did not want to break curfew rules longer than necessary, and he surely did not want to get caught by the night guard. He knew he had one more door to get through. As he rounded a corner, he collided with stacks of boxes. He stepped back to survey the obstruction.

The passage was crammed with footlockers, steamer trunks, cardboard boxes, and metal cases of various sizes. Most were locked with padlocks, and labeled with tags. As he perused a few tags, he recognized names associated with Sherlock Holmes' career:

Holmes' Pipe Collection

Irene Adler's Letters from Bohemia

Inspector Lestrade's Telegrams

Watson's Case

Metal locks guarded the boxes. Rollie knew just by looking at them that they held great treasures. He picked his way through the storage. He could almost taste the mystery in the musty air, as if the walls were soaked with history. If they could speak, what would the walls say? Which stories would they tell? Perhaps they would tell about the lifelike bust Holmes made of himself and planted as a decoy in the window while he doubled back to surprise his enemy Colonel Moran. Or maybe they would tell about when Holmes disguised himself to look deathly ill in order to fool an enemy. They would number an incredibly long list of clients of the more than five hundred cases Holmes worked. If only they could talk. All that remained of those great adventures were the Academy and its secrets, one being the secret passage and these treasures.