Jackaby (21 page)

SUPPLEMENTAL MATERIAL: THE HISTORY OF THE THREE FORKS

During the events of the Case of the Silent Scream, an item belonging to my employer was confiscated by the police as evidence. Following the whole ordeal, Jackaby was quite vocal with his indignation at their failure to return it promptly. A “miscarriage of justice,” he called it. “Unprofessional. Downright disreputable. I fear I may be forced to declare ‘shenanigans’!”

After some time, I was able to convince him that it was most likely a normal bureaucratic delay, and that a polite letter requesting the item’s return would likely do the trick. What follows is the letter Jackaby dictated, with just a little of my own editorial revision:

To the attention of the New Fiddleham Police Department: You’ve got my middle-C, and I would like it back. To convey the importance of its swift return, I will share with you its unique history.

There was once an old church. It sat in the center of town, as was often the case in those days, and it was in every way the heart of the little community. Neighbors came to meet for celebrations, babies were baptized, lovers were married, and funeral processions commenced at that humble church. The heartbeat of the little town rang with the sound of church bells.

In the bell tower hung not one, but three masterfully crafted bells. On very special occasions, the vicar would ring all three together, and their notes would complement one another in a rich chord, but more often they rang alone, each bell serving a distinct purpose.

In 1861, a civil war shook the country. Men and boys who had grown up to the tolling of the church bells were called away, and those left behind did all they could to support the war effort. The vicar at that time felt it was his duty to contribute as well, and so he offered up the beautiful bells to be melted down and reduced to cannons or blades.

The very day the bells were removed, the vicar developed a terrible fever and a sharp ringing in his ears. Relics of the church had been reduced to weapons, fated to help brothers slaughter brothers. It was an unholy day, indeed. When his temperature finally broke, the vicar found he had lost his hearing entirely.

Meanwhile, the soldier responsible for their transport was overcome with an urge to preserve at least some memento of the magnificent bells. Against orders, and against his own better judgment, he saw that small scraps of each were set aside. These he brought back to his own hometown and presented to a master craftsman he knew capable of reforging the metal. A bell, once rung, wants to ring, and he asked the man if he could return to them their voices in some way.

The smith melted and cast the shards into three wholly unique tuning forks. There was never any question in his mind as to which tone each fork should possess, for the metal sang to him from the first pump of the bellows. When he had finished, they each hummed the very same notes they had rung in the bell tower.

There was something stranger still about the forks. Each had become a pure and concentrated version of its former self, and carried with it the emotional power of its past incarnation.

The lowest, its toll accustomed to sounding the slow announcement of funerals, was imbued with a tone of somber tragedy. Those who heard it could not help but shed a tear. Not so powerful as a banshee’s keen, the note was like a single moment stolen from her complex melody of sorrow. Still, the sensation would wash instantly over any who now heard it chime.

The second fork, forged from the middle bell, had faithfully rung every hour for nearly six centuries. It had been a comfort to the townsfolk, and a beacon to guide them home when the mist and fog had turned them about in the hills. The middle fork, when sounded, issued a sense of normalcy and calm. It cut through the fog of fear and turmoil to reassure any in earshot.

The last fork, the highest, came from the bell used to announce the most joyous occasions: the births of children, baptisms, marriages, and all manner of celebrations. The fork forged from this bell could elate listeners with a single sound. While its tone held out, it became possible to forget the everyday stresses of life and be overcome with happiness.

These artifacts played a small role in the recent unpleasantness, which my assistant, against my advisement, has given the ridiculous title of “The Case of the Silent Scream.” During our investigation, I carefully selected the second fork, a middle-C, to instill in the doomed Mr. Henderson a sense of calm. This was a careful and deliberate choice. Had I rung the low tone, his misery would only have intensified. The highest note would have sent him into a state of madness from two supernatural sources pulling his mind toward opposite emotional extremes. The implementation of this invaluable resource proved an integral step in unlocking the mystery and putting a stop to the murders.

I hope, now, that you can appreciate the value of the complete set in my line of work. Miss Rook has suggested that a written reminder might aid in expediting the return to me of the aforementioned middle-C, still being held in evidence in spite of the closing question.

When Jackaby had finished dictating and left the room, I wrote a second letter. It read:
Please return Jackaby’s tuning fork. He’s getting even more obnoxious than usual.
This I sent out with the morning’s post.

The courier arrived that evening.

Jackaby was pleasantly surprised to find that the letter had prevailed. “At least someone in that station house has some sense,” he remarked. “I scarcely believed the dunderheads would bother to read it at all, but look.”

He passed me the note as he exhumed his property from the wrapping. The processing officer had written just three words. I smiled as I read them
. I completely understand.

Jackaby

William Ritter

ALGONQUIN

1. The expectations for girls growing up in the 1890s were very different from what they are now. Throughout the book, Abigail Rook resists many of her era’s rigid gender roles, although she is not comfortable giving up her femininity, either. How are societal expectations for women and men different today? In what ways do you feel comfortable in these roles, and in what ways do you rebel against them?

2. Abigail Rook’s first impression of Jackaby is that “he managed to seem both engrossed and entirely uninterested in me all at once” (
page 7
). Does Jackaby’s attitude toward Abigail change throughout the novel? How?

3. William Ritter peppered the novel with allusions to folklore, mythology, religion, the supernatural, and detective fiction. For instance, one of the policemen in New Fiddleham is named Allan, after Edgar Allan Poe. Did you catch any of Ritter’s other allusions? Why might the author make these allusions? Does it add anything to the story?

4. It’s often said that people see what they want to see, and there’s evidence of this throughout
Jackaby.
Jackaby is convinced the serial killer terrorizing New Fiddleham is a supernatural being, while the police are convinced it’s an ordinary villain, the type they’re used to dealing with. On
page 34
, Jackaby says, “I am a man of reason and science. I believe what I can see or prove, and what I see is often difficult to grasp.” Do you think Jackaby’s actions and thought processes prove that he would be open to the criminal being human, or did he just happen to be right in this case?

5. Why do you think that Douglas wants to remain a duck?

6. On
page 112
, Jackaby says, “Monsters are easy, Miss Rook. They’re monsters. But a monster in a suit? That’s basically just a wicked man, and a wicked man is a more dangerous thing by far.” Think about what monsters and men do and don’t do in
Jackaby,
real life, and in other novels. Do you agree with Jackaby’s observation? Why or why not?

7. Why do you think Jackaby wanted chapter 13 omitted?

8. On
page 223
, Hatun predicts that Abigail will die soon. Having faced so many near-death situations in the span of a day, Abigail seems remarkably unfazed. Would your reaction to the omen be similar to hers? If you were in her shoes, would you want to keep working with Jackaby?

9. Swift seems to have joined the police force in order to sabotage the investigation and keep himself alive. But why do you think Charlie chose to join? Knowing that it’s in his nature to be loyal, what may have caused him to take the oath he mentions on
page 278
?

10. Think about the detective stories you’ve read or watched. How is
Jackaby
similar? What does William Ritter do in
Jackaby
that makes the book unique? (Consider tone, structure, characters, or anything else.)

11. Do you sense any romances brewing between the characters? How might those characters be romantically compatible? What about their personalities and habits might make a romance easier or more difficult?

Reader’s Guide by Emily Parliman

WILLIAM RITTER began writing
Jackaby
in the middle of the night when his son was still an infant. After getting up to care for him, Will would lie awake, his mind creating rich worlds and fantasies—such as the ones in New Fiddleham. Will lives and teaches in Springfield, Oregon. Find him on twitter: @Willothewords. (Photo (c) Katrina Santoro.)