فصل سی و نهم

chapter-39

Everyone in the reading room was quietly lost in the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Kyle had just finished a pretty cool story called “A Scandal in Bohemia,” about a king who was going to get married to a royal heiress with maybe six names. But the king was being blackmailed by an old girlfriend, an opera singer from New Jersey named Irene Adler.

Something Sherlock Holmes said to Dr. Watson early in the story really stuck with Kyle: “You see, but you do not observe.” Kyle figured that was why Mr. Lemoncello wanted them all to take a break from chasing clues and read these classic mysteries. Not to find new clues but to become better puzzle solvers. Had they been seeing things without really observing them? Probably.

Reading the story was also kind of fun. Kyle could totally see Holmes’s apartment at 221b Baker Street and the snooty king and the horse-drawn carriages on the foggy London streets and the disguises Holmes wore and the smoke bomb Dr. Watson tossed through a window and everybody on the street screaming, “Fire!” It was like he was watching a 3-D IMAX movie in his head. Kyle couldn’t wait to start the second story in the book, “The Adventure of the Red-Headed League.” “How’s it going?” whispered Akimi.

“This book is pretty cool. This Sir Arthur Conan Doyle guy knows how to keep his readers hooked.” “His characters leap off the pages,” said Sierra.

“Yeah,” said Miguel. “I dig the ‘consulting detective.’ ” “Huh?” said Kyle.

“That’s what Holmes calls himself sometimes.” “Oh. I’ve only read one story so far and …” Suddenly, something seemed odd to Kyle.

“Hey—how come Conan Doyle isn’t one of those statues up there?” “What do you mean?” said Akimi.

“He’s a famous author, right? How come they’re projecting a statue of a modern writer like Pseudonymous Bosch but not the author who created a classic like Sherlock Holmes?” “Good question, bro,” said Miguel.

“I need to consult with my brother Curtis.” “How come?”

“Curtis has read more books than anyone I know, except maybe Sierra. He scored an 808 on his SAT Subject Test in Literature.” “Uh, Kyle?” said Akimi. “I think the top score for any SAT test is 800.” “Yep. Then Curtis took it. They had to raise it.” “So maybe he can help us figure out what’s up with all the statues,” said Miguel.

“Exactly. Why these ten? Why not ten other writers?” “Why not the same ten Bridgette Wadge had for her Extreme Challenge?” added Sierra.

Kyle looked around the room.

“Mrs. Tobin? Hello? Mrs. Tobin?”

The hazy holographic image of the 1960s librarian flickered into view.

“How may I help you, KYLE?”

“I’d like to talk to an expert.”

“And whom do you wish to speak to?”

“Mr. Curtis Keeley.”

“Your brother?”

“And an SAT-certified expert on the subject of literature and authors and other literary-type junk.” Suddenly, the hologram vanished and Dr. Zinchenko’s voice came over the ceiling speakers.

“This is a rather irregular request, Mr. Keeley.” “Hey,” said Akimi, “this whole game is rather irregular, don’t ya think?” “We just need some more data,” said Kyle. “Because, like Sherlock says to Dr. Watson, ‘it is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data.’ ” “I take it you’re enjoying your book?” said the librarian.

Kyle gave the closest security camera a big thumbs-up. “Boo-yeah. Can’t wait to see what’s up with that league of redheaded gentlemen.” “Ah, yes,” said Dr. Zinchenko. “A fascinating story. I recently reread it myself. Very well, Kyle. We will contact your brother to determine if he does indeed qualify as a literary expert. It may take a while.” “No rush,” said Kyle. “I’ve got a good book.” Kyle was busy helping Holmes figure out that the Red-Headed League was just a clever ploy pulled by some robbers to get a red-haired pawnbroker to leave his shop long enough for them to dig a tunnel from his basement to the bank next door when the librarian’s voice jolted him out of London and brought him home to Ohio.

“My apologies for the interruption.”

Akimi, Miguel, and Sierra closed their books, too. It was eleven-fifteen. Everyone had sleepy, dreamy looks in their eyes because they’d been kind of drifting off in their comfy reading chairs.

“What’s up?” said Kyle.

“We have arranged for your expert consultation with Mr. Curtis Keeley.” “Awesome! How do we do it?”

“You and your expert may have a five-minute video chat on my computer terminal, which is located behind the main desk.” Kyle hurried over to the round desk in the center of the room. His three teammates hurried right behind him.

“Your consultation begins … now.”

And there was Curtis. Sitting at his computer in his bedroom.

“Hey, Curtis!”

“Hi, Kyle. How’s it going in there?”

“Great.”

Kyle’s oldest brother, Mike, popped into the doorway behind Curtis.

“Ky-le, Ky-le,” Mike chanted. “Whoo-hoo!” Kyle had never had his own cheerleader before.

“We need you to give us one hundred and ten percent in there, li’l brother!” Mike squinted at the screen over Curtis’s shoulder. “Who are those other guys?” “My teammates, Miguel, Sierra, and you know Akimi.” “You guys are a team? Smart move. Even I can’t win football games without help from ten other guys.” “Um, Mike?” said Kyle. “Curtis and I only have five minutes to chat.” “Cool. I’m outta here. Win, baby, win!” Mike backpedaled out of the bedroom, making double fist pumps the whole way.

“You have four minutes remaining,” advised Dr. Zinchenko.

“Okay, Curtis, here’s my question. What do these authors have in common?” Kyle rattled off the list of the statues in order.

And Curtis stared blankly into his computer cam.

For a real long time.

Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I have no earthly idea.”