Lars stopped laughing and sank in his seat. “You got me. I know all about the secret meeting.”

  “Holy cheese curds,” Molly whispered. “Roald got a confession.”

  “Tell me about the secret meeting, Uncle Lars!” Roald was bouncing.

  “Oh, the meeting was so secret,” Lars said, wiggling his fingers mysteriously. “Because the people at that meeting had to cover up—”

  “A murder!” Roald yelled.

  “Yes!” Lars said. “A murder!”

  Emmett looked to Molly. “Really?”

  “And do you know who the murderer was?” Lars asked.

  “A werewolf!” Roald squealed.

  “That’s right!” Lars roared. His face was red with laughter as he patted his nephew on the shoulder. “Oh, that was a good one, Roald. Let’s do another later and maybe you can let one of your friends play detective next time. I’ve got to get back to the maps now, or the captain will have my hide.”

  Roald walked away, beaming proudly.

  “What just happened?” Emmett asked Molly.

  “Lars thought it was a game, didn’t he?” said Molly.

  “Yes,” Emmett said. “But did Roald?”

  “I was entertained,” said Robot.

  Molly could not say the same.

  Peeking out from behind the privy, the kids watched as Icepick mopped a deck fouled with gloppy fish guts. The big man snarled angrily at a dark burgundy splotch, pushing the mop harder and faster until it seemed he might burrow straight through the wood. When the stain still remained, Icepick howled and broke the mop over his own head.

  “There’s no reason we have to do him next,” Emmett said.

  Molly shook her head.

  Captain Stone sighed heavily when the children entered the wheelhouse.

  “Ahoy, Cap’n,” Molly said cordially. The others stayed by the door, as Molly had instructed. “Having a good day driving the boat?”

  “Until now,” the captain replied. He didn’t bother turning around.

  “So,” Molly said. “That was pretty heroic of you to go out there and rescue Pembroke like that.”

  The captain said nothing.

  “You didn’t seem very happy to learn he was a criminal, though,” Molly went on. “Don’t like having untrustworthy people on your boat, huh?”

  “No.”

  “I bet you’d want to make sure he behaved himself while he was on board, right?” she tried. “I’d completely understand if you were tempted to . . . intimidate him. Know what I mean?”

  “No.”

  “You know, pop into the brig and scare some sense into him?”

  Captain Stone gave her a quick glance over his shoulder. “Not my style.”

  Three words! This was serious progress. “So, what is your style?” she asked.

  “Honesty,” Stone said. “So be honest with me: What are you getting at?”

  Molly wasn’t expecting that. Did he know something? Could he help them? Or was he hiding something? Or was she just getting the man angry? She checked back with the others. Emmett was shaking his head. Robot was nodding. Roald was following a fly around the room.

  “Nothing, sir,” Molly said. “Sorry to bother you.” Captain Stone was too difficult to talk to. He wasn’t even fun to annoy. He just made her feel cold inside. She left the wheelhouse, feeling defeated.

  This time Icepick was picking under his toenails with the bill of a swordfish.

  “Time to talk to Mr. Bell,” said Emmett.

  Alexander Graham Bell was pacing the lounge and pulling at his beard when the children entered with Robot. “Oh,” he said, looking up. “Are you finally ready for me to conduct my examination of our automaton?”

  The investigators turned around and left.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Icepick?”

  Icepick sat on an overturned bucket jamming heavy iron hooks through slick, wet fish heads. He looked up and snarled. “Why are you talking to me?” Without warning, he slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a dent in the metal exterior. “I don’t like being disturbed while I’m working.”

  Molly cursed her legs for shaking. “We, um, we just wanted to—”

  “What?” Icepick barked.

  “We were hoping to . . .” Emmett couldn’t get it out either. “Roald, why don’t you ask?”

  “Because he is scary,” said Roald.

  “Has somebody given this man a balloon?” Robot asked. “He looks very unhappy.”

  “Get out of here,” Icepick snarled. “Or I swear I’ll feed the lot of you to the piranhas.”

  Emmett raised his finger. “Piranhas are, um, freshwater fish, actually.”

  “Enough!” Icepick snapped. “Out!”

  “No, no, wait! Where were you yesterday about thirty minutes after Pembroke was put in the brig?” Molly rattled off the question so quickly, she barely understood her own words.

  “What is this, some kind of interrogation?”

  “Ja, ja! That is it!” Roald said, and then covered his head.

  “I was here!” Droplets of angry spittle caught in his wiry beard. “Doing this!” He squeezed the fish head in his hand until pink-gray goo burst between his fingers.

  The children ran, the bucket Icepick threw at them narrowly missing Molly’s head. “You just had to correct him about the piranhas,” she grumbled.

  A gull squawked somewhere in the distance. Molly had read enough seafaring tales to know that meant they couldn’t be too far from land. “Time is of the essence, people,” she said, sitting on the deck with her back against the rail. “Did we learn anything today? Other than that Icepick is a maniac, the captain is grumpy, Forrest is an obnoxious pig, and Lars is a big goof? No offense, Roald.”

  “None taken,” said Roald. “I like goofs.”

  “I learned that there are wet, mushy things inside fish,” said Robot.

  Emmett sat down next to Molly and shielded his eyes from the sun. “You gave it a shot,” he said. “But not everything works out. We’ll talk to your mother and—”

  “No,” Molly said brusquely. “She can’t be distracted from her work. If she doesn’t wow Bell with those designs, he’s gonna force us off at Barbados. That means we never get to Antarctica, never find the South Pole, never become famous, never get to find out if your father left you a message.”

  “I am very good at finding things,” said Roald.

  “Please stay out of this, Roald.” Emmett gritted his teeth in exasperation. “I understand the stakes here, Molly. But what if Mr. Bell isn’t the only one who could ruin things for us? You obviously think our mysterious traitor is a threat too. And I agree, considering the connections to Rector and the Onions.”

  “Exactly! The guy could be dangerous,” Molly said, jumping to her feet. “That’s why we have to find him ourselves. I can’t risk losing my mother again.”

  “But you’re fine risking me?” Emmett said, standing and turning his back to her. “Well, that explains a lot.”

  “That’s not what I was saying,” she replied. “My mother and I have a very special connection, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “Oh, that’s right, I wouldn’t know anything about parent-child bonds.” Emmett faced her bitterly. “You know, since I never knew my mother and my father was never around like yours was, right?”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault what your father did or didn’t do,” Molly shot back.

  “No, it’s mine, right? I get it—you were a better child than I was. You sacrificed everything for your mother, while I selfishly clung to my own goals and interests, instead of just pretending and becoming the person my father wanted me to be.”

  “You’re twisting my words,” Molly said.

  “I don’t know,” said Emmett. “They’re coming out pretty twisted on their own.”

  “You know,” said Roald, “my father—”

  “Stay out of it!” Emmett barked. He turned back to Molly. “Look, you do what you need to do, but I’m done here. I’m out of your little detective club.”

  Molly’s gut clenched. “If that’s what you really want—”

  “It is.”

  “Can you—can you please still not tell my mother? Even if you won’t help, can you just let me finish this?”

  Emmett paused. “I won’t tell her,” he said. “And you can trust me on that. Because I would never lie about something important.”

  “Fine, Emmett! I lied to you!” Molly cried. “But you know why I did it. You said you understood. So why can’t you just get over it and forgive me already?”

  “Because I trusted you!” Emmett snapped back. His eyes were watery. “Do you have any idea how hard that is for me? The only person I ever really trusted was my father. My whole life revolved around him, even when he wasn’t there. I trusted him to take care of me, to educate me, to feed me. I hated that he went away so much, but I trusted him to always come back. And then he didn’t. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to trust another human being again. Until you came along, Molly. And you got me to trust you. You and your mother made me feel safe again for the first time in years. So, yeah, it hurt when you broke that trust. And I don’t know how I’m going to get over it.”

  Molly dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. “So you hate me now?”

  “No!” Emmett threw his arms in the air. “Why can’t you understand that a person can feel two different— Aargh! I can’t do this now!”

  “That is all right,” said Roald. “I can do it for you. I am very good at understanding people. Molly, I think Emmett—”

  “What is your problem, Roald?” Emmett snapped. “This is between me and Molly! Why are you even here?”

  “To help,” the cabin boy said. “I am very good at helping.”

  “No, you’re not!” Emmett yelled. “You’re not good at everything! You know what you’re good at? Annoying people with your ridiculous, endless bragging! You’re so desperate to make people like you, and you’re so bad at it! Go play with your uncle!”

  Emmett ran off.

  Molly had never seen Roald so deflated. His eyes were red, his shoulders slumped. “I think some of that was really aimed at me, Roald,” Molly said.

  “No, Emmett was speaking to Roald,” said Robot. “Roald is the one who annoys people by bragging about himself.”

  “I will leave now,” Roald sniffed. He walked off slowly, his head hung low. Molly considered calling out to him, but didn’t. She didn’t really want to speak to anybody.

  “What are we investigating now?” Robot asked.

  Molly huffed. “Nothing.”

  “Am I still an investigator?” Robot asked.

  “No, Robot,” she grumbled. “The Investigators’ Guild is officially disbanded.”

  “What should I do, then?” Robot asked.

  “I don’t know!” she barked. “Jeez, Robot! Do whatever you want! Just—just leave me alone.”

  “All right.” Robot soared off into the sky, and Molly immediately began kicking herself. She’d just given the most literal mind she knew the vaguest directions ever. Who knew when she would see him again?

  She wandered the ship until the sun plunked below the horizon like a penny into a piggy bank, making whatever quick turns or about-faces she needed to in order to avoid other people. As dusk fell, she nestled between a pair of barrels on the aft deck and chewed some of Nellie’s salvaged jerky in lieu of visiting the mess hall for dinner. She wondered if Emmett was in there dining with the others. And if Roald was, and how awkward that must be. She wondered if her mother was questioning her absence. Or even noticing it, since the woman hadn’t so much as checked on her once in the past forty-eight hours. Molly sighed. She’d finally pushed her mother back into inventing; she should be ecstatic. So why was she sitting alone in the dark, feeling for all the world like a girl who just wanted her mother’s arms around her. Ugh. Why couldn’t a child’s feelings about their parents ever be simple?

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the frayed wires she’d torn from the telegraph, her trophy from the one thing she’d done right on this voyage. I don’t deserve these, she thought, and threw them into the sea.

  Molly sighed again at the sound of approaching footsteps. Still not in the mood for conversation, she scooted as far as she could into the shadows behind the barrels. As she did, her elbow mashed into a button on the wall and a panel slid open. Molly froze and waited for the person to pass before shifting onto her knees and peering into the hidden compartment. It was too dark to see anything, so she cautiously reached a hand inside and felt around. She flinched when her hand grabbed on to something soft and hairy. A rat! No. The hair pile didn’t move. Holding her breath, she pulled the furry thing from the hole in the wall and held it in the moonlight.

  It was a fake beard.

  17

  “And the Culprit Is . . .”

  “WHAT’S THE MEANING of this?” Alexander Graham Bell asked as he walked, bleary-eyed, into the hazy morning sun, waving the note that had been slipped under his door. The note, written in pencil, said, “Emergency Meeting on Central Deck, 0700 hours. MISS IT AND YOU WILL BE KEELHAULED!” And then it had a drawing of an angry pirate.

  Lars, Icepick, Roald, and Emmett were already there, grumbling with varying levels of impatience. “I don’t know anything about it,” Emmett said. “We all got the same note.”

  Bell looked at Emmett’s note. “Hmmph. Why doesn’t my pirate have a parrot?”

  “What’s the emergency?” Cassandra and Nellie hurried to join the others on the deck.

  “You don’t know?” Bell asked. “I assumed you had something to do with this.”

  “There’s going to be an emergency, if something doesn’t happen soon,” Icepick snarled.

  “Okay, whose idea was this?” Agent Forrest said, stretching and yawning. “Because I explicitly told you all that my mornings don’t start until nine.”

  “I am the only person on this ship who should be calling meetings,” Captain Stone said as he approached. “And I didn’t write these notes.”

  “I wrote them.” Molly popped from her hiding spot in a crate of fishing tackle and stepped into the circle of people.

  “What’s this about, Molls?” her mother asked.

  “Yeah,” Emmett said slowly. He looked hyperalert, as if expecting a jaguar to pounce. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Captain Stone crossed his arms.

  “Do you even know what keelhauling means?” Forrest asked through a yawn.

  “I can show her,” Icepick threatened.

  “I called this meeting,” Molly said, “because we have an imposter among us.” She paced the circle with her hands clasped behind her back. “It all started shortly after Pembroke was brought on board. I overheard someone talking to him in the brig. I couldn’t hear everything, but it definitely sounded like the two were in cahoots. We interrogated Pembroke and—”

  “You what?” Cassandra asked.

  “Please, let me continue.”

  “Are you certain you want to do this?” Nellie asked in a cautionary tone.

  “I know exactly what I’m doing,” Molly said. She noticed Emmett looking green, even though he hadn’t been seasick in days. He really didn’t trust her. She needed to change that. “Pembroke said he didn’t know the person who spoke to him,” Molly continued, “but that the person had a beard. Then, last night, I found . . . this!” She pulled the false beard from behind her back. People began shooting one another looks of confusion, skepticism, and suspicion. “This disguise confirmed my theory that someone on board this ship is not who they say they are,” she continued. “But which one of you? Who does this fake beard belong to?”

  This key piece of evidence had helped Molly narrow the culprit down to one of two people: Agent Forrest or Nellie Bly. She had her reasons for suspecting both, but only one, in her opinion, had revealed their true colors.

  “Our traitor,” Molly announced, “is the one man here without a real beard: Agent Archibald Forrest!” She mashed the faux facial hair against Forrest’s mouth.

  “Archie, is this true?” Bell asked, horrified.

  “Pah!” Forrest swatted the beard away. “Of course it’s not true. I would never wear such an unflattering disguise. You know girls and their wild imaginations. Also, you don’t get to call me Archie.”

  Molly refused to let Forrest smooth-talk his way out of this. “If you’re so innocent, why are you sweating?”

  “Because it’s a hundred and fifty degrees,” Forrest said. But everybody’s eyes were on him. “The rest of you aren’t buying into this, are you? Cass, can you please put a leash on your daughter?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Molly appealed to the others. “You’ve gotta throw Forrest in the brig with Pembroke until we find out what he’s up to! I’m telling you, Forrest is the bad guy!”

  “Nice try,” Nellie said.

  Molly whipped around. “What?”

  “Someone is up to no good on this ship,” Nellie said. “But it’s not Agent Forrest.”

  She stepped forth and took the beard from Molly. No, Molly thought, suddenly shaky. How could she have been so wrong? She’d trusted Emmett and his estimation of Nellie. The woman had defended her mother. But why if she was also—?

  “You see, I’ve been conducting an investigation of my own,” said Nellie. “And while Molly was correct about there being a traitor in our midst—she had the wrong man.”

  So Nellie isn’t the traitor? Molly thought. She’s just trying to show me up by proving herself a better investigator? That might actually be worse.

  “The traitor,” Nellie went on, “is still wearing a false beard now. He needs multiple backup beards because he is such a messy eater that he constantly gets fish innards stuck in the whiskers. Isn’t that right . . . Icepick Mahoney?” Shocking the big man, Nellie gave Icepick’s whiskers a powerful yank, peeling them straight off his face. There were gasps as Icepick leapt back and threw his meaty hands to his chafed, red cheeks.

  “Drat,” Molly cursed.

  “So, what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Mahoney?” Nellie asked proudly.

  “Heh. I say you can wipe that know-it-all smile off yer face,” he snarled. “’Cause that other beard ain’t even mine! The little girl was right—that one’s Forrest’s. He just thought he was too handsome to wear it. So, ha!”