She smiled at him sadly, got on her bike, and rode back toward home.
Hitch’s car was not in the driveway, and the lights were off in his apartment. It looked like he would be gone all night.
At 2:43 a.m., Ruby woke up cold and sweating. Her dreams had been turbulent. First she’d had the recurring nightmare, the one where something pulled her down into deepest indigo, something whispering, something with eyes that never blinked.
Then her parents had appeared, they were wading through the surf, calling to her, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She walked toward them, but no matter how many steps she took, she could not get any nearer. Then suddenly a huge wave engulfed them, and when it retreated, they were gone.
Ruby snapped the light on and reached for her glasses. She looked around for Bug, but he must have gone downstairs to his basket. She couldn’t shake the image from her head, so she climbed out of bed, and went down to the kitchen.
Bug lifted his nose and got to his feet, yawning.
“Hey there, Bug.” She stroked him behind the ears, trying to bring to mind exactly what Clancy had said. Did he really have a hunch, or was he just being kind?
She switched on the radio. There was a late-night quiz show aimed at security guards and insomniacs; the questions were pretty dumb, but they were some distraction.
“WHAT WOULD YOU CALL A BABY WHALE?”
“A calf,” said Ruby automatically.
“WHAT WOULD YOU SAY IF YOU STEPPED ON A GERMAN’S TOE?”
“Entschuldigung,” said Ruby. “No, wait, verzeihung.”
“WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE A COOPER?”
“Make barrels.”
“WHAT WOULD YOU BE IF YOU WERE ON CHARON’S FERRY?”
“I know this one . . . what is it?”
Suddenly a news announcer’s voice broke in.
“WE ARE SORRY TO INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR SOME BREAKING NEWS. TWO BODIES HAVE BEEN FOUND BY A FISHING CREW TWENTY MILES OUT TO SEA. THEY HAVE NOT YET BEEN IDENTIFIED AND AT THIS TIME WE CAN ONLY SAY THAT THEY ARE A MAN AND WOMAN OF APPROXIMATELY MIDDLE AGE.”
Ruby didn’t hear anything more of the broadcast; all she heard was the answer to the quiz show question pinging into her head.
“Dead,” she said.
She leaned back against the wall and let herself slide down to the floor.
RUBY DIDN’T SLEEP ANY MORE THAT NIGHT. She sat in her bedroom in the dark just staring out of her window, waiting for dawn to come.
At 6:30 a.m. on Wednesday morning, the phone in her room rang. Clancy, she thought, but she didn’t pick up. She couldn’t talk to anyone, not even Clancy Crew. Talking to people meant listening to them telling her it was going to be all right, and she knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t all right at all.
At 6:39, Hitch knocked on her door. He could tell just by looking at her face that she must be aware of the latest reports.
“I heard the news, kid.”
She blinked back at him.
“I agree it doesn’t look good,” he said. “But we don’t know, not for sure. No one’s been identified.”
She didn’t speak.
“I spent all night in the boat, and I found nothing. Doesn’t mean it’s over; ‘nothing’ can also be good. Zuko’s out in the chopper now; he’s a good agent with good eyes, good instinct. If there’s anything to find, he’ll find it.”
They went down to the kitchen, and Mrs. Digby came right over and kissed Ruby on the top of her head and squeezed her cheek, like she always did, always had done from the first day she was born.
“I’m not going to school,” Ruby said.
“Course you’re not, Ruby. You’re staying here with me,” said Mrs. Digby, nodding her head. “I’m making you French toast and proper English tea.”
The housekeeper didn’t want to let Ruby out of sight, but at about a quarter to noon Ruby managed to give her the slip. She wanted to be out in the fresh air where she could think, where she wasn’t surrounded by everything that was her mom and dad.
She took a walk down to Amster Green. She nimbly climbed the old oak, and when she reached the topmost climbing branch, she sat down. She felt around with her left hand, reaching for the deep knot in the bark. She pulled out a neatly folded origami turtle. The coded note said,
ec hbbtzik erl ocoeqw rpuyl
She took out her pencil, crossed out the code and wrote,
Commiserations, you now have
a blemished record.
She climbed back down, got on her bike, and rode out to Twinford Harbor.
For some reason it was the only place she wanted to be. Maybe because her parents had always loved boats, had always loved the ocean, or maybe it was because this was one of the last places Ruby had seen them alive.
The Redforts had met in the ocean, and now they had died in the ocean. What had been the most romantic of beginnings was now the most tragic of endings.
Her parents had told the story so many times Ruby could almost hear their voices explaining how they had met off the Tuscan coast of Italy.
SABINA: It must be seventeen years ago now. Boy, was your dad ever handsome.
BRANT: And your mom, she was a knockout.
SABINA: Brant was working as a diver, for that marine biologist.
BRANT: Yes, and you, honey, were sailing single-handed around the Mediterranean coast. What a gal!
SABINA: I was trying to become fluent in Italian, but I never really got further than the word ciao.
But as it turned out, she hadn’t needed to. They had met underwater, and it was love without words.
Somewhere far off, Ruby thought she could hear a dog barking. A real yapper, she thought.
“Could you give it a rest already!” A loud voice belonging to a woman scolded the dog, and the dog stopped yapping.
Then . . .
“Ruby Redfort! Ruby! Ruby Redfort!”
Ruby looked up, but the sun was shining directly into her eyes, blinding her. All she could see was a tall silhouetted figure, a woman in a long, voluminous robe who appeared to be waving.
“Ahoy there!” came another voice, deep and sort of fat sounding.
Ruby squinted into the bright light, trying to make out the callers.
“Nice of you to come meet us.” It was Bernie and Eadie Runklehorn, friends of Ruby’s parents.
“Look who we fished out of the drink!” bellowed Mr. Runklehorn.
And then two other figures came into view, followed by a little dog.
“Hey, honey. How did you know we would be sailing in today?”
“Mom? Dad? Are you really alive?”
Her father glanced down as if checking. “Last time I looked,” he called back.
IT WAS AGENT ZUKO WHO HAD SPOTTED THEM. The Runklehorns’ yacht’s engine had failed, and due to the lack of wind, they were making slow progress back to shore. Zuko had landed the sea chopper on the water and fixed the engine. Not long after this, the yacht cruised into the harbor. Everyone safe, everyone sound. Brant had swung Ruby up over his shoulder and mussed up her hair in the way he always did, always had done since she was just a little kid — but for once she really didn’t mind one bit.
“I owe you one, pal,” said Hitch, shaking Zuko’s hand.
“Hey — easy job. You owe me nothing,” said Zuko.
When things had calmed down and Ruby and Hitch were alone, she said, “Hey, you know — thanks.”
“All part of the job,” he replied.
“No,” said Ruby. “I know it’s not, so thank you.”
He winked at her. “Consider it my pleasure, kid. I happen to like your folks a whole lot. Your mother can be a little persnickety, and I can’t stand your father’s whistling, but on the whole I’d rather not do without them.”
Of course, it was important that Brant and Sabina should be debriefed as soon as possible, before they forgot anything that might prove vital to catching those responsible for their near-death encounter. Both the police and the coast guard
were keen to get some kind of description of the assailants, but the interview was not going well.
Ruby sat in on the debrief. Partly because it was so nice to see her not-dead parents, but also because she was intrigued to hear what they had to say.
“He had terrible dental work,” said Sabina, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, he went to the trouble of having five or six gold teeth fitted, but the front one was very discolored, and a couple of the lower ones were missing altogether, and talk about halitosis. I don’t think he had so much as sniffed a bottle of Mint-Mouth his whole criminal life.”
The police detective felt Sabina was getting sidetracked by teeth and tried to bring things back to more useful territory.
“Try, Mrs. Redfort, if you will, to focus on the overall appearance of the man — how tall he was, for instance. Was he stocky? Was he lean? How was he dressed?”
“Oh, he was dressed appallingly. Nothing went together. Lots of things that didn’t make sense, very tasteless; not that the clothes themselves were all bad, but they didn’t work as an ensemble.”
Brant thought it might be time for him to chime in.
“I think what Sabina is getting at is that the man had a somewhat haphazard appearance. He was small yet tough; no one doubted his strength. His clothing suggested that much of it was stolen — or acquired. Maybe he saw things, took them, and wore them.”
“Yes, well put, honey,” agreed Sabina. “That’s exactly it! He’s not a shopper.” She stopped as if remembering something important. “But his colleague was.”
“Colleague?” queried the detective.
“His cohort, accomplice, whatever you call these pirate types.” Sabina waved her arms. “What I’m trying to say is that there was a fellow on board who did not look one bit like a pirate, yet he was in with them.”
“So what did he look like, Mrs. Redfort?” asked the detective.
“Sort of collegey, educated, respectable, nicely dressed, kinda like Brant,” said Sabina.
Now, this was interesting. What was a guy like that doing with a bunch of pirates? thought Ruby.
“And how many of these pirates would you say there were?” asked the detective.
“Forty, I’d say, at least. Would you agree, Brant?”
Brant nodded. “Give or take — perhaps more like twenty.”
“And would you say that these pirates were even slightly interested in kidnap and ransoms? I mean, did you think it crossed their minds?” the detective asked.
“No, that wasn’t my impression,” said Brant confidently. “They had no idea who Ambassador Crew was, and they seemed to have not one jot of interest in us, just our wallets.”
“And jewelry,” added Sabina, looking down at the ring still firmly jammed on her finger, her finger still firmly attached to her hand.
“And their boat?” asked the detective. “Could you describe that?”
“Pirate-like,” said Sabina.
“What do you mean, pirate-like?” said the detective.
“The sort of vessel,” said Brant, “that you might expect a pirate to sail in. It was dramatic, sort of corny almost.”
“Like in a film,” said Sabina. “Old-fashioned. Lots of rigging and sails — you know, crow’s nests and the like — all it was lacking was the Jolly Roger.”
The detective wrote that down. It was something, and they didn’t have a whole lot to go on.
Old-fashioned, thought Ruby. Wasn’t that exactly the way the fishermen had described the boat they spotted in the distance, the one that failed to pick them up? Ruby found herself mulling this final fact over and over in her mind. There was something intriguing about it.
Like in a film, she said to herself.
AT ABOUT SIX O’CLOCK THAT EVENING, Ruby was lying on her parents’ bed: her mother was sitting at the dressing table brushing her hair. Brant Redfort was choosing a necktie from his very large collection of neckties. They were all looking forward to a fun evening with the Runklehorns, who were expected within the next half hour or so.
“So,” asked Ruby, “what exactly did you learn out there — the whole history deal I mean?”
“Some pretty fascinating stuff,” said Brant.
“Oh, my! Did we ever,” agreed Sabina. Ruby waited for her mother to launch into the story of the treasure of the Seahorse, a legend she was prone to talking about whenever she got the opportunity. Sabina was very fond of this tale because the legendary treasure — in particular, a priceless ruby necklace — supposedly belonged to her great-great-great-grandmother, Eliza Fairbank.
Tonight Sabina was particularly excited because during the cruise Dora Shoering had confirmed that the story was a lot more than legend. It was all, most probably, true. The fact that Dora Shoering knew no more about history than the next man or woman didn’t seem to bother Sabina.
“Of course, they were my great-great-great-grandmother’s rubies.” Sabina paused. “Or were they my great-great-great-great-grandmother’s? Either way, people say they were the most stunning jewels this side of India.”
“What was the whole big deal about them?” asked Ruby, who of course knew the whole big deal, but her mother liked to explain, and Ruby was feeling kind enough to ask.
“They were flawless — crystal clear and flawless — big, too,” replied her mother. “They would have been yours, of course, eventually.” She sighed. “They would have gone so well with this Marco Perella dress.” Sabina was scrutinizing herself in her dressing-table mirror.
“Oh, you don’t need jewels, Mom,” said Ruby. “You always knock ’em dead — rubies or no rubies.”
Her mother smiled. “As long as I have my little Ruby Redfort,” she said, hugging Ruby. “Who cares about stones?”
Ruby didn’t usually go in for this sort of schmaltzy convo, but tonight, well, tonight her parents had come back from the dead, so Ruby was easing up on the teen attitude. She did actually mean every nice word she said, but she also wanted to get out of having to wear the flouncy yellow blouse her mother had picked out for her. It was touch and go as to whether this strategy would work, but it was worth a try.
“So,” said Ruby, “tell me again, what exactly happened out there?”
“Oh, come on, Rube!” said her mother, laughing. “We’ve told you at least four times!”
But Ruby couldn’t get enough of the story — she was kind of proud that her parents had survived such a dicey situation. There was of course another reason for wanting to hear it over and over; it was RULE 14: VERY OFTEN PEOPLE NEGLECT TO TELL THE MOST IMPORTANT DETAIL. She’d learned this from Detective Despo; Crazy Cops might just be a TV show, but if you wanted to learn about detective work, then this show was packed with an awful lot of good tips.
“Well,” said her father, “I woke up to hear that little dog yapping . . .”
They went through the whole terrifying ordeal again. How, as the pirates started shooting into the water, both of them had escaped the clutches of almost certain death by diving deep down under the boat and holding their breath.
“The pirates left us for dead, no life preservers, no nothing,” said Brant. “But we managed to grab onto Ambassador Crew’s luggage. The pirates had thrown it overboard. I think he might have been getting on their nerves; Lester can do that to people.”
“Yes, we were very lucky with the suitcase,” said Sabina. “It floated beautifully — it’s top-quality luggage, you know. Good luggage is always a good investment. The three of us, that’s Pookie, your father, and I, clung on for dear life.”
“Pookie?” said Mrs. Digby, who had just come in to collect the laundry.
“The yappy dog,” said Ruby.
“What kind of creature suits a name like Pookie?” sniffed the housekeeper.
“Pookie,” said Ruby.
“Well, I pray I don’t meet him,” said Mrs. Digby, picking up a basket and making her way back to the kitchen.
“Yes, the three of us managed to paddle toward the Sibling Islands, though why they call t
hem islands I don’t know; they’re nothing like islands, just big old rocks — there’s absolutely no sign of life there. You can’t even climb onto them, unless of course you happen to be Spider-Man.” Her mother was dusting her nose with powder.
“But I thought the waters near the Sibling Islands were supposed to be super dangerous, what with the currents and tides and all?” said Ruby.
“Well, that’s true enough,” said her father. “But the darnedest thing must have happened — the currents were still, totally still. Something to do with the moon, or is it the stars? I forget what causes it, but something up there.” He pointed vaguely above him.
Of course, thought Ruby. He wasn’t exactly on the money with his explanation, but it was close enough. The asteroid! YKK 672. She had read somewhere that large asteroids, passing close enough to Earth, could modify the local attraction of the moon and stop water currents for as long as the asteroid stayed near the atmosphere.
“It can last several days, or just a matter of hours, you never can tell,” continued her father. “For just a short window of time the currents calm, and you can actually swim without getting sucked under, and hey, presto! Your parents don’t drown!”
“Yes, were we ever lucky with that!” said her mother. “Your dad and I are excellent swimmers, but no one can swim in the Sibling waters when the currents are strong. What are the chances?” Her mother grinned and powdered her nose some more. “This happens once in a blue moon, and we get lucky. Who could believe it?”
Ruby could: her parents were born lucky.
“So how come you know all this info on the tides and currents an’ all?” asked Ruby.
“It all comes from his days aboard the Sea Wolf. You remember, your dad worked for that diver guy in Tuscany, Italy?” said Sabina. “Of course, he already had a free-dive scholarship at Stanton too.”
Ruby did remember this, but she had no idea Brant had actually taken any of it on board — her dad wasn’t exactly the smartest fish in the barrel.