The Case of the Clever Secret Code Read online

  For some reason, we started tiptoeing around very quietly. Though to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure why we were being so careful.

  Finally, Bogey paused and nodded toward a set of books near the floor of one bookcase. “Take a look at these, kid. Notice anything unusual about these books?”

  I took a good look and tried to figure out what he was getting at. “Um . . . well . . .”

  I leaned in closer and sniffed. Before I knew it, I sneezed louder than I’d ever sneezed before. A few seconds later I sneezed again. Then I looked around to see if anyone had heard me. Funny, but my heart started to pound like we were about to get caught or something.

  Bogey grinned at me. “I’d say you picked up on something, kid.”

  I did?

  I shook my head and blinked a couple of times. “There sure is a lot of dust around these books. And they smell funny.”

  Bogey nodded at the books. “You got it, kid. That’s mold you’re smelling. These books are really old. Probably some of the first ones brought into this place.”

  I leaned in again. “These books are a lot like the books our Mom sells in her store.”

  Bogey nodded. “They’re old enough to be antiques, all right.”

  He ran his paw along the edge of the bookshelf, and his black toes turned gray with dust. I could see the place on the shelf where he had swiped it clean. In fact, that clean spot stood out from the rest of the dust on the shelf. Bogey had once told me that cat detectives call marks in the dust a “disturbance.” He said he’d seen footprints and fingerprints and all kinds of things in dust or a layer of dirt. Sometimes a disturbance could even be a big clue in a case.

  But not this time. Not when Bogey had been the one to do the disturbing. I watched as he grinned and wrote the letters “BBCDA” in the dust, too. For the Buckley and Bogey Cat Detective Agency. Then he blew the dust off his paw.

  He stood back and admired his paw-work. “I’d say no one has checked these books out in a while, kid.”

  I looked closer at them. “That’s weird. I wonder why not.”

  Bogey shook his head. “Don’t know, kid. Guess people only want to read new books.”

  I crinkled my brow. “But if they only read new books, won’t they sort of miss out on things people knew a long time ago?”

  Bogey moved down the row a little way. “That would be my guess, kid. Seems like old stuff might be important to know, too.”

  I suddenly thought of the oldest cat who lived at our house. She was so old you might even say she was ancient. But because she was so old, she’d seen all kinds of things and been all kinds of places. As a result, she was very, very wise. That’s why we called her the “Wise One.” Even though her real name was Miss Mokie.

  Now Bogey pointed to a set of books that were extra tall and more narrow than the other books around them. There was an entire collection of them. He wiped the spines off with his paw, so we could read the titles. It turned out they all had the same title but different volume numbers.

  So I read that title out loud. “The Complete Works and Diaries of . . . Arthur J. Father . . . Farther . . . Farthering . . . ston . . . Fartheringston.”

  Let me tell you, a name like Fartheringston wasn’t exactly the easiest name for a guy like me to say!

  I raised my brows. “This guy must have been pretty important to St. Gertrude.”

  Bogey nodded his head. “Sounds like it, kid. But I never heard of him before today.”

  I looked closer at the collection. “Well, whoever he was, he sure wrote a lot of books.”

  Bogey sniffed around and then tilted his ears forward. “You got that right, kid. But we’d better get a move on. We’ve gotta be there when Gracie reads her essay.”

  “Aye, aye,” I told him.

  I tried to salute him but I only ended up poking myself in the nose. Luckily he didn’t see me since he was already headed for the stairs. So I chased behind him and together we raced down to the third floor.

  This floor looked a lot different from the last floor. I could hardly believe they were even part of the same building.

  The lights on this floor were nice and bright, and I didn’t see any dust anywhere. In fact, the whole place looked pretty clean. And the books here looked like they were new. Or at least, they weren’t as old as the ones we’d seen on the last floor.

  Bogey and I zoomed up and down the aisles. The bookshelves here weren’t as tall as the floor before, and they were made from metal. But each one was still packed with books.

  It didn’t take us long to run around all the rows. Then we headed down to the second floor right away. This floor looked a lot like the last floor. Again, we ran through all the aisles and came out near the staircase.

  That’s when I stopped and sat in front of the display case with the big rock. I stared at it for a few seconds and tried to make sense of it. There were lots of marks and lines that looked like they had been carved into that rock. And at first, I just thought it was some kind of artwork. But after I tilted my head from side to side and kept on staring at it, I could finally make out some letters. Then the more I looked at it, the more clearly I could see those letters. They were in groups, like words. But the only thing was, those letters didn’t exactly spell out any words that I recognized.

  Bogey loped over and sat beside me. Then he gazed at the big rock, too.

  “What do you make of this, kid?” he asked me.

  I squinted my eyes and stared at it some more. “I’m not sure. It’s like somebody was trying to write words on this rock, but those words just don’t make any sense.”

  Bogey shook his head. “It doesn’t look like English, kid. Or Spanish or French.”

  He pointed to the label on one corner of the rock. It read, “Found in library basement, after the passing of Emily Fartheringston, when the entire building was willed to the City of St. Gertrude. Message carved into stone is of an unknown tongue, possibly ancient Native American.”

  “Tongue?” I repeated. “It doesn’t look like a tongue to me. It looks more like the kind of rock we have in our front yard.”

  Bogey put his paw on my shoulder. “Just an expression, kid. Tongue is a word they use for language.”

  I tilted my head. “Oh . . . okay. Sometimes I don’t understand why there are so many expressions for things.”

  Bogey nodded. “I hear ya, kid.”

  Then I remembered Gracie and her essay. “Um . . . Bogey. We probably better hurry up and get to the auditorium.”

  But Bogey didn’t answer. Instead he just stayed put and kept his eyes glued to that rock.

  I got up and slowly trotted toward the stairs. “C’mon, Bogey. We’d better get going.”

  Bogey turned his body my way but his gaze didn’t follow. It stayed right on that stone.

  “Sure. Right, kid,” he sort of mumbled. “Let’s go.”

  This time I was the first one to make it to the stairs. Finally, Bogey got up and loped in behind me. And though his feet were moving, his mind seemed to be somewhere else.

  So I ran on ahead, down that circular staircase to the first floor. I had to say, it was as much fun to race down those stairs as it was to race up them. I sure hoped we could come back to the library another time. So we could run those stairs again!

  I was almost to the bottom when I looked back at Bogey. And I could hardly believe it! Once again, I’d gotten somewhere before he did! That had never even happened once before, let alone twice in one day. I waited until Bogey joined me and we trotted toward the auditorium. All the while, we kept an eye out for any people who might be around.

  We were almost to the door when Bogey said. “What if it’s not really a language at all, kid?”

  I glanced back at my brother. “What if what isn’t a language?”

  Bogey stopped and stared up at the tall ceiling. “The letters on that stone, kid. What if they’re not written in any kind of a language?”

  I tried to keep him moving toward the door of the a
uditorium. “Um, I don’t know. If it’s not a language, then what would it be?”

  Bogey grinned. “Think about it, kid. If you wanted to leave a secret message for someone, how would you write it?”

  By now, we were just a few feet from the door. It had been propped open with a doorstop.

  “Um . . . I don’t know,” I whispered.

  Bogey glanced back at the stairs. “In a code, kid. You’d put it in a secret code.”

  Right then, I think my eyes went about as wide as my food dish. “A secret code?”

  Bogey nodded, just as we reached the side of the open door. “That’s right, kid.”

  “But-but-but . . .” I sort of sputtered. “Why would somebody write something in a secret code?”

  Bogey grinned again. “So everyone else can’t read it. It’s meant for a certain someone’s eyes only. Because secret codes usually lead to something hidden, kid. Something big. Something important.”

  I gasped. “They do? You mean, something like hidden treasure?”

  “Could be, kid,” Bogey said.

  “Wow . . .” I breathed. “But if something is written in a secret code, how can anyone ever figure out what it says? Like the one who is supposed to read it?”

  Bogey ran toward the wall next to the open door, and he motioned for me to do the same. Together we hid behind the wall and peeked into the huge room.

  “There’s usually two parts to a code, kid,” he said quietly. “There’s the code and then there’s the thing that decodes it. The part that decodes the secret code is called the key.”

  “A key? Like a door key?” I asked.

  Bogey shook his head. “Nope, kid. It’s different. A key for decoding a code is usually something like a document. Or a page in a book. Or a letter.”

  I blinked my eyes a few times. “Sounds like a lot of work to me.”

  Bogey shrugged. “Back in the olden days, people used secret codes all the time. It’s how they kept other people from getting their personal info, kid. Or from finding something they’d hidden for a certain person to find.”

  “Oh . . .” was about all I could say.

  A secret code. I’d never seen a secret code before.

  “Too bad we didn’t memorize it, kid,” Bogey said. “So we could take a shot at decoding it ourselves.”

  Suddenly my heart started to pound really loud. “We could?”

  Bogey nodded. “Absolutely, kid. In the biz we call it ‘cracking the code.’”

  Holy Mackerel! That was a new one for me. In all my training as a cat detective, I hadn’t learned how to crack any codes yet. It sounded like it might be really hard, and, well, kind of exciting at the same time.

  “We’d better go back,” I whispered to my brother. “We’d better go take another look at that stone. Maybe we can each remember part of what was written there.”

  Bogey shook his head. “No can do, kid. Take a gander inside.”

  I crinkled up my forehead. “A gander? Isn’t that some kind of a bird?”

  Bogey tilted his head toward the door opening. “Nope, kid. Just another expression. For looking at something.”

  So I did just that. I looked inside that auditorium. Mrs. Peebles had just walked onto the stage in front. She picked up the microphone and starting speaking into it.

  The ten kids who were in the essay contest all sat side by side in the front row. And they were the only ones sitting in the front. I spotted the back of Gracie’s head and I couldn’t help but smile. I really hoped she was going to win the contest tonight!

  There were a whole, big bunch of people sitting in the audience, so I knew Gracie was probably going to be pretty nervous. That meant it was even more important than ever for Bogey and me to be there for her.

  Bogey nodded toward the row of seats in the back. “C’mon, kid. It’s show time. Let’s run in now. While all the eyes are to the front.”

  With that, I followed Bogey as we zoomed into the auditorium. Single file and low to the ground. And even though I was dying to go back and look at that big stone again, I knew it was too late. We’d just have to figure out another time to see it, so we might have a chance to crack that code.

  But right now, the essay contest had begun.

  Holy Catnip!

  CHAPTER 7

  Holy Catnip!

  I had so much on my mind as Bogey and I raced into the auditorium that I could hardly think straight. Not only was I worried about Gracie, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that stone. If Bogey was right — just like he almost always was — the letters on that rock were a secret code. And the more I thought about it, the more I was dying to figure out the message in that code. And best of all, what it might lead to.

  Would it be treasure? Or a map to a secret hideout? Or something else?

  My heart must have been beating about a million miles an hour as I followed Bogey. It sounded so loud in my ears that I was afraid someone might hear it as we zoomed to the left side of the room. We paused when we reached the back row of folded, padded seats. That’s when I took some deep breaths and tried to settle down.

  “Okay, kid, stay low and follow me,” Bogey whispered. “I see the perfect spot for us down there. We’ll have a front row view.”

  “Okay, got it,” I told him.

  Then we stayed single file as we slunk past row after row of seats. We had to be careful not to be spotted, because lots of those seats had people sitting in them. So we ran nice and smooth and didn’t make any sudden movements that might get someone’s attention. We kept our tails down and stuck close to the side of each row.

  We continued slinking along until we were almost all the way down the slope of the auditorium floor. That’s when Bogey nodded toward an empty section on the end of a row. He slipped into that row and I followed right behind him. Then we started to sneak down under the folded chairs. From one level to the next. Row after row. Until finally, we made it to the front row where the contestants were seated. Gracie was sitting on the left of all the kids and closest to us. We moved over so we were just a few seats away from her.

  I peeked out and caught her eye. She started to giggle but she quickly put her hand over her mouth.

  I knew that she knew we’d made it. She knew that Bogey and I were there to watch her and support her.

  Then Bogey and I scooted into the shadows under the chair. Sometimes there are real advantages to being black cats. We can hide in the shadows a whole lot better than cats of other colors. That meant we could see out, but no one could see us.

  Now Mrs. Peebles announced, “Would everyone please rise for the presentation of the colors followed by our National Anthem? Please remain standing until the color guard exits the hall.”

  I turned to my brother. “Huh? The what? Do we have to rise?”

  Bogey shook his head. “Nope, kid. We just stay hidden. This is where they bring out the flag and play the National Anthem.”

  I crinkled my forehead. “The what?”

  Bogey flexed a paw. “The National Anthem, kid. Every country’s got one. And this is ours. The Star Spangled Banner.”

  Before I could say another word, everyone in the audience stood up all at once. Then three men and one woman marched single file onto the stage. They wore really nice uniforms, and I had to say, they looked pretty sharp. They stepped around so they stood side by side and formed a perfect line. The two people on the outside had long rifles resting on their shoulders, while the two people in the middle carried flags. One was the American flag, just like our Mom had in her store.

  Suddenly the man holding the American flag shouted some commands. Then the group did some pretty fancy marching for a few minutes.

  Holy Catnip! I could hardly believe it! Here I was, a guy who could never get his paws to go where he wanted them to go. And now I was watching those people march around without even bumping into each other. Or tripping over their own feet. I was so amazed that I closed my eyes and shook my head a couple of times. Just to make sure it was all
real.

  Finally, some music started to play and everyone stood up and sang. I saw Gracie stand up, too, and she started to sing just as loud as she could.

  “Oh say can you see? By the dawn’s early light . . .” everyone sang.

  I leaned over to Bogey. “Do you think we should get uniforms? Those people sure do look nice in theirs.”

  Bogey nodded. “They look spiffy, all right, kid. But we do so much undercover work, they might make us stand out.”

  Well, Bogey had a point about that.

  When the song was over, the man with the flag shouted a few more commands. Then the whole group marched off the stage. Again, they all stepped together perfectly. They went up the right side of the room and out the back door. I’d never seen anything like it in my life!

  Now Mrs. Peebles climbed the stairs onto the stage and went back to the microphone. Then she introduced all ten of the essay contestants. When she did, each contestant stood up and the people in the audience clapped. She called Gracie’s name last, and I could hear our Mom cheering for her. Bogey and I sat there and grinned. I was so proud of Gracie, I could hardly stand it!

  Next Mrs. Peebles introduced the three judges who were sitting at a table near the stage. There were two men and one lady. One of the men was the mayor of St. Gertrude, a man with bushy, gray hair named Phineas Bobb. The other man and lady worked for businesses downtown. The man was about the same age as our Dad and had a baldhead. And the lady was probably a little younger than our Mom and had puffy, blonde hair.

  After everyone had been introduced, Mrs. Peebles called the first contestant onto the stage. A red-haired girl named Lizzie Smith.

  But poor Lizzie was shaking so hard that she could barely even read. That was, until I saw Gracie wave and smile at her. And suddenly Lizzie’s voice started to sound a whole lot stronger.

  I thought that was awfully nice of Gracie to help Lizzie. Especially since Lizzie might even win the contest now, thanks to Gracie’s help. But I guess Gracie knew what it felt like to be nervous, and she didn’t want Lizzie to feel that way.

  When Lizzie had finished her essay, the audience clapped again. Then Mrs. Peebles called the next contestant, Billy Canton. And it went on and on like that. Each one of the contestants had good essays. But I didn’t think they were as good as Gracie’s.