The Tell-Tale Start (16 page)

The boys said nothing.

Instead, they began whistling “Ring Around the Rosy.”

Roderick poked his head out from behind the props, out of the professor’s line of vision. He had cleverly slipped his collar and leash.

The man smiled. “Ah, whistling in the face of death. I give you both points for style, boys.”

Being a well-trained cat, Roderick leaped to the
taut web of ropes beneath the stage, directly above the professor.

Now all the twins needed to do was stall for time.

“We have one last request,” they said hurriedly, before the professor could pull the trigger.

“Yes?”

“Before you send one of us into the ‘next world,’ will you tell us how you became such a distinguished and unmatched genius?”

The professor straightened in his wheelchair, surprised. “That’s an outstanding question. I’m glad you boys aren’t taking this dying stuff too personally.”

“And can you start from the beginning?” Allan asked.

“Oh, I’m afraid there isn’t time for that,” the professor said. “But since you asked, I will share a few insights about my journey, my genius, myself.”

The boys encouraged him to continue.

Roderick Usher started on his work in the rafters, fraying, fraying, fraying…

His claws were sharp, his paws fast.

But would they be fast enough?

When the professor’s egotistical ramblings began to wrap up, the twins pressed for more.

“When did you first realize you were a genius?” Edgar asked.

With ironic timing, the heavy counterweight directly above the professor snapped loose from the newly frayed rope and came down on his head just as he said, “My genius came upon me suddenly, like a bolt of lightning out of the sky—”

Bam!

He tipped in a heap out of his wheelchair to the ground, unconscious.

“Nice work, Roderick!” the twins cheered.

The cat leaped down from the rafters and wove a figure eight around their legs.

Still, not all was well.

Above them, they heard crashes, clanks, and thuds. The rope that Roderick Usher had loosed held more than just one counterweight—it was part of the web that controlled all the trapdoors in the stage. Suddenly, long lengths of rope whipped through the pulleys, snapping at the air like angry serpents, and counterweights began to fall all around the boys, exploding fragments of cement wherever they landed.

And making matters worse…

The trapdoors in the stage
all
fell open at once. Whatever props or scenery the trapdoors supported
plunged down, crashing all around the boys. The half-ton brass machine used to simulate the Wizard of Oz in his grandiose, flame-breathing disguise fell just inches from where they stood.

Crash!

Next, band instruments plummeted from the stage, including the drum kit and piano.

Clang! Boom!

And the musicians who played the instruments.

Ouch!

Seconds later, the Wicked Witch, Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the other actors fell from above as if they’d actually been dropped by a tornado.

The boys could only jump out of the way.

But where were the dangerous Mr. Archer and the other flying monkeys?

Looking up through the open trapdoors, Edgar and Allan saw why no monkeys had fallen into the basement—they’d all been jerked upward to the top of the theater, where their ropes tangled with the rafters. There they dangled helplessly, thirty feet up, in a single ball of kicking fur.

The panicked audience of the OZitorium couldn’t see the mayhem taking place above and below the stage, but
they heard it. There was a mad rush for the exits, everyone pushing and shoving despite their Etiquette Society training.

Who’d have thought so much could come from the untying of one rope?

Roderick Usher leaped into Edgar’s arms and mewed at the boys.

“Let’s get out of here,” Allan said.

“Over there!” Edgar indicated a metal stairwell that led up to a door marked Exit.

“What about that dried-up old spider?” Allan asked, pointing to the professor, who remained unconscious beside his tipped wheelchair. “Should we tie him up?”

“He’s not going anywhere. We’ll tell the cops where to find him.”

They raced up the metal stairs and pushed on the door, hoping it wasn’t locked.

It flew open.

The three tumbled into the sunlight, safe.

WHAT THE POE TWINS DID NOT KNOW…

TEXT MESSAGE FROM THE CELL PHONE OF IAN ARCHER TO THE CELL PHONE OF PROFESSOR S. PANGBORN PERRY

(AKA PROFESSOR MARVEL), SENT WHILE ARCHER DANGLED FROM THE CEILING OF THE OZITORIUM:

SECOND TEXT MESSAGE FROM THE CELL PHONE OF IAN ARCHER TO THE CELL PHONE OF PROFESSOR S. PANGBORN PERRY, SENT FOURTEEN MINUTES AFTER THE FIRST MESSAGE:

NO FURTHER TEXT MESSAGES TO OR FROM THE CELL PHONES OF IAN ARCHER AND PROFESSOR S. PANGBORN PERRY.

THE
next day at the press conference, when Edgar and Allan emerged with their aunt and uncle through the wide double doors of the county courthouse, hundreds of cameras flashed in their direction. To the boys, it appeared to be a whole galaxy of tiny, exploding stars. Dozens of shouted questions arose from the crowd of reporters, photographers, television cameramen, and sound engineers who pushed and jockeyed at the foot of the old building’s wide staircase for the best view of the boys.

“Look at that mob,” Allan whispered to his brother.

Edgar nodded. “If any group of kids ever acted this out-of-control they’d probably get detention for life.”

The camera flashes continued and the shouted questions came so fast and furious that even with two brains
operating in perfect coordination, the Poe boys could make little sense of it. The mayor, who looked like the host of Aunt Judith’s favorite TV game show, smiled reassuringly and led the family to a podium that had been set up at the top of the stairs beneath a banner that read:

Edgar and Allan knew for certain that this time the welcome wasn’t for Parents of Exemplary Students—and most certainly not for Physicists of Extreme Science.

The mayor commanded the podium. He tapped the microphone. The boys half expected him to introduce them as the “daily double.” Disappointingly, he merely delivered a boring speech.

“It is my distinct pleasure,” he said, in a voice that had little game-show excitement in it, “to welcome you distinguished ladies and gentlemen of the media to our lovely town and to assure you that we will make your stay with us…”

To the boys it sounded like “Blah, blah, blah.”

Eventually, the mayor got around to the facts: “These two boys, working entirely on their own, identified,
caught, and detained two dangerous criminals, one of whom they rendered unconscious and the other of whom they tied up for the police.”

“How did you boys track ’em down?” a reporter shouted.

“How’d you figure it out, Edgar and Allan?” another asked.

“Did you ever fear for your safety?” a third reporter called.

The mayor held up his hand to silence the reporters, and continued with his statement: “The arrest of Mr. Ian Archer, who is high on the FBI’s Most Wanted List, represents an important victory for law enforcement. Trust me, ladies and gentlemen of the press, Batman himself couldn’t have delivered a criminal to us in a neater package.”

Hands shot up among the members of the press and dozens more questions were shouted, but the mayor ignored them and continued:

“But even
more
significantly, these boys captured Professor S. Pangborn Perry, a wanted felon who has been living in these parts for seven years under the name of ‘Professor Marvel.’”

“Have you boys solved crimes before?” a reporter interrupted.

“What brought you to Kansas?” another called.

“Would you boys be willing to do an interview for the local news?”

Again, the mayor held up his hand. “Please! Ladies and gentlemen…”

Reluctantly, the press corps quieted.

“Mr. Archer, arrested while disguised as a winged monkey, is currently in police custody,” the mayor continued. “Meantime, Professor Perry, who received a severe blow to the head, remains unconscious in a local hospital where he is under twenty-four-hour police guard. That these boys traced these criminals to our town, when even the FBI could not do so, speaks to their amazing deductive powers.”

Next, the rotund police chief, dressed in a uniform clanking with medals, walked up to the podium. He cleared his throat. “It’s my honor to present to these boys the Kansas Commissioner’s Medal, the highest honor given to private citizens for contributions to crime-fighting.”

Amid a furious clatter of cameras, the chief pinned a twin set of shiny medals on Allan and Edgar.

“Your mother and father would be very proud of you,” Uncle Jack whispered to the boys.

“As
we’re
proud,” Aunt Judith added.

Hearing these words felt good to the boys—even better than receiving medals.

The roar of questions only got louder and more out of hand when the twins started toward the microphone.

“How’d you boys figure it out?”

“What were the clues you followed?”

“How’d the two of you infiltrate the professor’s lair?”

Edgar and Allan had decided it was too risky to tell the press the whole truth—some other lunatic might come after them if the professor’s “quantum entanglement” theory went public.

Edgar stepped up to the mike, straining on tiptoe to reach it. “First, you all should know that we’re the great-great-great-great grandnephews of the author Edgar Allan Poe. So we start with a bit of an advantage in the imagination department.” He pointed to the journalists. “Go ahead, write that down.”

“Can you be more specific?” they asked.

Allan joined his brother, rising to his tiptoes, too. “Sorry, but we captured these criminals using an ingenious thought process that would be impossible for most of you to follow.”

Edgar raised his eyebrows. “Is anyone here the great-great-great-great grandnephew or grandniece of, say, Sherlock Holmes?”

No one raised a hand.

“In that case,” Allan said, “let’s just leave it at this: we solved the crime and you didn’t.”

“Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen,” Edgar said.

“Wait!” a reporter shouted. “What are your plans for the future?”

The boys looked at each other. “For now, we’re just planning to spend time with our friend Roderick Usher.”

“Roderick who?” the reporters shouted.

“Our cat.”

“Can we get his picture too?”

The boys shook their heads no. “He’s having a nap right now.”

The mayor took the podium once again. He held up a cell phone and announced to the press: “I have a call here from none other than the governor himself. He’d like to offer his congratulations.”