Once she had paid for her beverage, she carried it across the road and sat on the low bench outside Penny’s, enjoying the sun and making the drink last.
Nearly three hours and five fruit shakes later, Ray called out, “So I found your book. It’s short, more of an essay really — it’s called The Sea Whisperer. That’s the one you wanted, right? Came out ten years ago. I made some calls — the guy hasn’t written a word since The Sea Whisperer was published.”
Ruby paid for the book: it was indeed a slim volume, a flimsy paperback; the dog-eared and torn cover was orange, and an image of a sinister black tentacle trailed across it.
Ruby returned to her bench and sat in the fading sun reading it, cover to cover, over and over.
The book made for more than merely interesting reading; it was gripping. The author described an encounter with a creature he identified as the Sea Whisperer, the very creature all the legends spoke of. He had met it quite by chance when sailing off the Twinford coast: it was a giant octopus, spanning fifty feet, by far the biggest he had ever recorded.
At the time, he had told no one about what he had seen. He himself had found it hard to believe his eyes as he watched it pulse its way back down to the deep. He wanted evidence and became obsessed with the monster and spent every waking moment searching for it, and just six weeks later he was lucky enough to spot the octopus again. He had tracked it into waters north of the Sibling Islands. He had watched it attack huge prey — an eleven-foot shark.
Fornetti was busy taking pictures of the giant when it released a cloud of indigo into the water. He became disoriented, dropped the camera, and felt the creature pull the breathing apparatus from his mouth. Fornetti gulped in water and ink, stabbing at the creature with a knife — tiny by comparison with the monster’s bulk. Perhaps the creature could not be bothered to fight this miniature man, perhaps it simply wasn’t hungry, but Fornetti was lucky to live to tell the tale.
And tell the tale he did: in fact, he couldn’t stop himself. He claimed that the ink he had swallowed acted as some sort of truth serum and so he blurted the story of the sea monster to everyone and anyone. He became the butt of every joke. No one took him seriously.
It wasn’t this that Ruby found odd though. No: Ruby felt it strange that the diver’s first encounter with the creature was described so sketchily. Why had he dived into the ocean in the first place? He mentioned something about being on a sailing trip. But why had he not bothered to put on his scuba gear?
However, despite the missing details and blurry facts, there was something about the passionate way the story was told that made Ruby believe every word of it.
So that’s why this guy’s been lurking around Twinford, she thought. He’s trying to find the Sea Whisperer and prove that he’s not a crank.
But why is he showing up every place I go? What have I got to do with any of this? Why would he be interested in following me?
WHEN RUBY WAS DONE READING, she stuffed the book into her satchel and rode back as fast as she could to Cedarwood Drive. She ran in to the house and called out to Hitch.
No reply.
She ran downstairs and knocked on his door, but he wasn’t there. She tried contacting him via the rescue watch, but her signal was not answered. She walked slowly back upstairs. Where was he?
The sound of singing was coming from the living room. It was her mother’s voice.
“Oh, my Ruby, your mother’s jewel,
You lie there still as a tidal pool.”
Ruby entered the room and saw her mom sitting on a chair rocking a sleepy baby; it was the neighbor’s kid. Her mother smiled and said in a hushed voice, “Babysitting Archie. Elaine had to get her hair done; an emergency.”
“A hair emergency?” said Ruby.
Sabina held her finger to her lips. “He’s so cute. Wanna hold him?” she asked.
“Ah, not right now,” said Ruby. “You seen Hitch?”
“Not all day,” said her mother. Then she started up with the lullaby again. It was the one Sabina used to sing to Ruby when she was small.
“When the stars begin to fall,
You will hear the ocean call.”
By the time Ruby had reached her room, the song had caught and was playing around and around in her head, and like a fly buzzing in a sealed room, she couldn’t get rid of it. She had heard the song sung to her so many times when she was little that she knew it by heart even though she hadn’t heard her mom sing it for many years. Around and around it went:
When you hear that whispered sound,
You will know that you are found.
A golden bird guards over you
My little gem, my words are true.
Ruby shook her head, as if it might be possible to shake the song out of her brain.
She needed to make contact with Hitch. She had to tell him about Fornetti’s book. It had to be relevant, didn’t it? This sea monster — it could be what had killed Agent Trilby; it could be what had scared the sharks. Something struck her: it was probably what her parents had seen too, when they were floating around the Sibling Islands. Hadn’t they said that Pookie got covered in indigo ink?
Ruby was just about to try contacting Hitch again when she saw a message sitting there on her desk. It was a collection of musical notes, a piece of music. At the top of the page, written neatly in ink, was a message from Hitch:
Chime just broadcast one last unusual piece of music.
This is it.
Ruby quickly decoded it and saw that the musical notes read:
I will meet you at Far-West Point in the caves of Horseshoe Bay; wait there for my arrival. Stay put until I come.
There will be no further messages.
Underneath, Hitch had written:
See you when things are all tied up. Sit tight till then.
Ruby sat back in her chair. So that was where Hitch was. The case was wrapped up. Spectrum had gone to arrest the pirates and whoever was on their way to meet them, the mastermind behind the whole operation. She breathed out a long sigh, but not one of satisfaction: something was still bugging her.
She looked at the spider map, working her way through each incident, each clue.
She exhaled a deep breath. Basically, it all added up. Made perfect sense, all neat and tidy. Well, almost — there were a few unanswered questions, a few loose ends. Problem was, Ruby didn’t like loose ends.
Ruby picked up her satchel and dug out the three tapes Hitch had given her of the strange static that had been heard on Chime Melody. Maybe she had overlooked something. She slotted two of them into the stereo’s double cassette player, the third she clicked into the portable cassette machine on the floor. Then she played each one in turn. She listened, concentrating hard, using all her powers.
Nothing. No underlying voices, no secret message, no code whatsoever. OK, she thought. The static is just static.
She couldn’t concentrate properly, that darned lullaby was going around and around on a loop, occupying her brain:
Oh, my Ruby, your mother’s jewel,
You lie there still as a tidal pool.
When the stars begin to fall,
You will hear the ocean call.
When you hear that whispered sound,
You will know that you are found.
A golden bird guards over you.
My little gem, my words are true.
Ruby gave in to it, letting the lullaby wash through her; it was calming somehow. She even began to sing it out loud. She had never thought too much about the words. You don’t when you’re a newborn baby; they are just sounds sung to soothe, and as you get older, like nursery rhymes, you don’t question them. It’s all about the rhythm and not the meaning.
Finally, she came out of her trance: she needed to talk things through with someone, someone who would listen.
She plucked the receiver from the squirrel in the tux and dialed Clancy’s number.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re there.”
“How’d ya know it was me?” said Ruby.
“Rube, it’s kinda late. Who else is it likely to be?” said Clancy.
“You wanna get over here?” It was a demand rather than a question.
“When?”
“Like now, bozo.” She returned the receiver to the rodent and pressed the call button on the rescue watch. It should reach Hitch immediately — but it didn’t. She pressed again, this time contacting Buzz.
“I need to speak to Hitch,” she said.
“He’s not contactable,” came the reply.
“Blacker then.”
“Not contactable.”
“LB?”
Buzz inhaled, but Ruby got there first.
“Don’t tell me — not contactable?”
“Correct,” said Buzz. “Can I assist you with anything else?”
“No,” said Ruby. “You’ve been super, just super.”
She lay back on the beanbag. Spectrum seemed satisfied with how things had turned out, so why wasn’t she? Couldn’t this whole case simply be about a few gems and some gold coins? Was she overcomplicating things by insisting that there was more to it?
Unable to let it go, she turned the tape machine back on, switching from one to the other, around and around, but it was still all static, just static . . . until she heard another sound, a loud tapping, coming from the window.
Ruby looked up. It was Clancy. She got up and released the catch on the sill, and the huge glass pane swung open. He pushed himself through — arms first — and ended up sprawled on the floor. Not very dignified.
“That’s no way to come in through a window,” said Ruby.
“Sorta lost my balance,” said Clancy, rubbing his knee. “So what’s on your mind?”
“A few things actually,” said Ruby. “There’s this first thing that doesn’t make sense.”
“Hit me with it,” said Clancy, flopping down on the beanbag.
“Why would someone go to all the trouble of devising a supersmart code, which even when translated is super cryptic, and then just when they’re almost home free, they blow it by being unnecessarily obvious? Why would they do that?”
“Human nature,” said Clancy. “Criminals’ remorse, they want to get caught. It’s like in Crazy Cops, Detective Despo always says that criminals want to confess. They can’t help themselves.”
“I don’t think that’s it, Clance. We’re not talking about some accidental murder here, or some heat-of-the-moment crime. This plan was thought through in triplicate; this plan is about locating something and stealing it. This gang wants to get away with it. Why wouldn’t they? But maybe someone else doesn’t want them to; perhaps the mastermind of this plan wants them to get caught.”
“What do you mean by that?” said Clancy, trying to wrestle himself out of the beanbag, but his arms were restricted so he resembled a beetle flailing on its back. “You saying the mastermind criminal mighta set up the rest of the gang?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I’m thinking. But then I’m thinking, why?”
“Revenge?” suggested Clancy.
“Then why not take the treasure too? Getting the pirates caught means losing the booty — makes no sense. There has to be something bigger, far more valuable, that this top guy wants. He must know we’re onto him, watching the waters, so he’s using the little guys as a distraction; if you like, they’re the bait, the sprats, and this guy is fishing for sharks.”
Inevitably though, Clancy only registered the word shark and immediately looked panicked.
Ruby rolled her eyes. “It’s an expression, dummy. What I mean is, this guy is most likely looking for the real treasure.”
“Meaning what?” Clancy was scrunching his brow.
“Meaning the Fairbank rubies,” said Ruby.
“But I thought that was just some legend,” said Clancy. “No one really believes they actually exist.”
“I do,” said Ruby. “Martha Fairbank said they were left in that cave, and I believe her.”
“Why?” said Clancy.
“Because,” said Ruby, “she couldn’t tell a lie.”
“Why not? Little kids often come up with crazy ideas. Take my sister Amy — she thinks a pixie lives up the chimney.”
“You’re missing the point, Clance. Martha couldn’t tell a lie because she had ingested a truth serum.”
“Now you’re talking crazy, Rube. Martha was born in the eighteenth century, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think she would have just happened to swallow a truth serum.”
“Well, that’s where you are wrong, my friend; that’s exactly what happened, just like it happened to Pookie, the Gruemeisters’ dog, and possibly to Francesco Fornetti, the famous marine biologist.”
Clancy was staring at her in disbelief.
“Quit with the face, would you, Clance?”
“I’ll quit with the face if you explain what the Sam Hill you’re going on about.”
“OK,” said Ruby. “You’ve heard of the Sea Whisperer?”
“Of course,” said Clancy.
“So what I’m saying is this creature actually exists, not a devil but a giant octopus.”
“What?” said Clancy. “A giant what did you say?”
“Octopus,” said Ruby. “The sea devil, the creature Martha Lily Fairbank heard those pirates shrieking about, not the same actual octopus obviously, but the same one Red heard, the same one I heard, and all those other kids and possibly the same one that Francesco Fornetti saw ten years ago.”
“Octopuses only live for a maximum of four to five years,” said Clancy. He was sure on this point.
“Yeah, but this octopus isn’t like others. It’s bigger for a start. Most giant octopuses have a thirty-foot span, but this one, according to Fornetti, is more like fifty feet wide.”
“Geez,” said Clancy. “You saying a giant octopus has been terrorizing the sharks?”
“And strangling unfortunate fishermen,” said Ruby. “Remember the guy found strangled in his boat?”
Clancy nodded.
“The octopus did it,” said Ruby.
“Huh?” said Clancy.
“There’s this seafarers’ legend about the Sea Whisperer,” said Ruby. “‘They say it can lure a child to a watery grave, that it can strangle the breath from the strongest man. . . .’”
Clancy chimed in.
“‘Some say it can persuade a stranger to tell his darkest secret.’”
“You know it?” asked Ruby,
“Yeah, I know it,” said Clancy. “It’s mentioned in one of the myths of the ocean books I got.”
“Of course, why am I surprised? I am speaking to the boy who knows everything about the ocean, but never dips a toe in it. Anyway,” said Ruby, “the Sea Whisperer must have pulled the fisherman out of his boat, dragged him underwater, strangled him, and then dumped him back.”
“Why didn’t it eat him?” said Clancy.
“I don’t know, Clance. I’m not sure what makes a giant octopus tick, but it killed that diver by dragging him under until he ran out of air. ‘It can strangle the breath from the strongest man.’ The strange marks on his ankle were from where the tentacle — or rather octopus arm — grabbed him. Also, the legend says, ‘They say it can lure a child to a watery grave.’ Well, that’s true too, in part anyway. It makes this sound, you see, like a siren calling out for help. Only the young can hear it, and if they follow the sound, they end up drowned or in its clutches.”
Clancy wasn’t feeling so good. This was meant to be fiction, just a legend.
But Ruby hadn’t finished. “‘Some say it can persuade a stranger to tell his darkest secret.’ There’s a truth serum in its ink; if you swallow it, even a little, it will make you talk and talk, and for a while every word will be the truth. Francesco Fornetti experienced it for himself.”
“OK, so let’s say you’ve convinced me, and I’m not saying you have, but just say for argument’s sake that the sea monster is real, the rubies ex
ist, the arch villain wants the rubies, the rubies are in a cave. And this villain has sent Spectrum off chasing the pirates to get everyone out of the way.”
“Uh-huh,” said Ruby.
“So how did he know Spectrum had broken the Chime Melody code?” asked Clancy.
Ruby frowned. She thought about the question for a couple of minutes and then replied. “Because he saw us that day when we were diving the Seahorse wreck.”
“How do you know?” said Clancy.
“Because I saw him, at least I saw a flash of light, his binoculars catching the sun maybe. He was watching us that day. He saw me and Hitch and Kekoa turn up. He must have known we’d cracked the Chime code, otherwise why would we be there in that exact spot? He must have been standing there on the island; he must have found a way into the caves.”
“OK,” said Clancy. “If all that’s true, then where’s the cave?”
“That’s a question, and a good one.” Ruby sighed. “That part I haven’t figured out. Somewhere in the smaller of the two Sibling Islands. But if Martha was right, it was most likely covered by a landslide — that’s why no one ever found it.”
“So you don’t have any way of proving your theory?”
“Not yet,” said Ruby, exhaling heavily.
Neither of them said a thing, not for several minutes. The silence or near silence was broken by Clancy suddenly becoming aware of the static tape playing in the background. “What are you listening to, by the way? It sounds like white noise. It’s pretty boring, and it’s giving me toothache.”
He reached over from his reclined position to switch off the tape, but instead clicked play on the second cassette. Two static sounds played one on top of the other, making an eerie sort of noise. “Oops,” he said. “Even worse.” He reached for the off switch, but fell backward into the beanbag, his hand landing on the portable player to his left and triggering the play button on that machine.
Now all three static sounds were hissing at once, but it wasn’t static Ruby and Clancy could hear anymore — it was jumbled words.