Devil's Pawn

by Levinson, Marilyn

  Pol shot me a look of disdain. “It’s what we wanted to discuss with you last night. Andy and I decided we had to stop your uncle from building condos on the playing fields.”

  My heart thundered in my chest as an internal voice ordered me not to tell Pol that construction would begin once the paperwork was in place. Instead, I was to learn everything I could about the twins’ plans. A cold rage settled over me. I would not allow my uncle to control me!

  Still, I didn’t have to tell Pol about the condo plans right now. “What’s next on the Save the Playing Fields campaign?”

  “We’re meeting tomorrow night to rally support to keep the playing fields as they are. Dad said he’d check out the legal papers, see if there’s a loophole we can use to hold up construction. Meanwhile, we’ll draw up petitions, get as many Buckley residents to sign them as we can. Dad’s going to find out if the city council can defeat the motion.”

  “Probably, with Uncle Raymond leading them on,” I said sarcastically.

  “You needn’t be so negative.”

  “I’m being honest.”

  Pol threw me a hurt look. “Are you with us or against us?”

  The Raymond influence inside me urged me to cover my tracks. “What do you think?” I sputtered. “I’m with you, Pol. All the way.”

  Pol wrinkled her nose. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re acting different lately. Downright strange.”

  Andy rushed over just then, saving me from answering. He sat across from me and tossed a list of names on the table. His cheeks were red; his eyes glittered with excitement.

  “Eight people said they’ll come tomorrow night. They’re all bringing friends and relatives.”

  “Where’s this meeting?” I asked.

  “Our house.” Andy put a sheet of paper in front of me. “Here’s a petition form. Try to get as many people as you can to sign. Make sure they include addresses and phone numbers.”

  “Uh, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be doing this.”

  “Why not?” Andy asked.

  “Are you kidding? My uncle will be furious if he hears I’ve been collecting signatures.”

  Pol and Andy exchanged glances. “I told you,” Pol said.

  Enough of my own personality was present to make me realize that if I didn’t go along with this, I’d lose their friendship forever.

  “I’ll do it.” I took the petition and folded it.

  “Great!” Andy grinned, quick to forgive. “Just don’t let your uncle see it, okay?”

  “Of course.” I bit into my tuna salad sandwich, though I was no longer hungry. My life was getting so complicated I could hardly think straight.

  “Excuse me, guys.”

  Startled, I jumped a foot in the air. I turned to see Craig Averil, hands on hips, standing behind me.

  “I hate to interrupt your one free period of the day, but I was hoping one of you could do me a favor.”

  Andy eyed him warily. “What is it?”

  “Both secretaries are out and I need someone to cover the office.” Craig flashed the toothy smile that made him such a hit with his female students. “Any of you up to volunteering to man the phones for the rest of the lunch period?”

  “Will the volunteer get paid extra?” Pol asked.

  “I’ll do it!” I offered before Craig had a chance to answer Pol’s question.

  “Wonderful!” Craig clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Gather up your lunch and follow me.” He flashed Pol a smile. “For future information, volunteers get paid back with time off. Sorry, the budget doesn’t allow for monetary remuneration.”

  I followed Craig to the office, which was through the lunchroom, to the front of the building. I breathed in the cool air and decided that sitting in an air- conditioned room was an unexpected bonus I hadn’t counted on when I’d grabbed the chance to get away from Andy and Pol. The less I saw of them the better, until I decided how to deal with them.

  The office was compact and orderly, with not an inch of wasted space. Tall file cabinets stood along one wall. Craig pointed to one of the two desks facing each other in the center of the room. Each was large enough to hold a computer and a phone.

  “Why don’t you sit at Cheryl’s desk and finish your lunch? When the phone rings, say, ‘Good afternoon. Shady Brook Day Camp, Simon speaking,’ and take a message.”

  I noted the pen and pad of paper next to the phone. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “We get very few calls in the middle of the day, but someone has to be here at all times. I’ve got a counselor covering next period, so you can leave at ten to one.”

  When Craig left, I finished my sandwich. I welcomed the solitude and the silence. The only sound was the air conditioner whirring and clicking on and off. The phone rang—a mother calling to say she was stopping at camp before two o’clock to bring over her daughter’s swimsuit. I jotted down the message and ripped the sheet from the pad.

  There was nothing else to do, so I took out the petition. I read it and laughed. While I sympathized with the twins’ cause, I doubted their efforts would get them anywhere. Raymond owned the playing fields property and the town had no legal standing. So why were they wasting everyone’s time, mine included?

  Irritated, I told myself I had more important things to think about. I had to figure out how to escape Raymond’s clutches before the monster succeeded in taking over my body. Running away was no solution, unless…unless I could find Aunt Grace!

  I stared at the computer, excitement surging through my body. I typed her name in the Google Directory. Her old address in New Mexico came up. I jotted down her number on a scrap of paper and quickly deleted all traces of my search. I needed my cell phone ASAP. After camp I’d take it to one of the stores in town and have my service hooked up. Then I’d call the phone number that was in the “Gretel” email.

  I picked up the pen and started a “to do” list: Get cell phone activated. Call Aunt Grace. Call Gretel. Visit L soon. I felt my spirits rising. I wasn’t totally alone. Surely Lucinda would come up with a plan to help me.

  I smiled as her words came back to me. “Remember, your power is greater than Raymond’s.” I hoped it was true. I had to believe it was true, if I was going to save my life.

  I noticed the small radio on the book shelf and listened to a music station. Finally Brittany, one of the counselors, came in and said I could leave. I was getting into the pool, ready to instruct the six-year-old girls, when I let out a gasp of horror. I’d left the petition on the desk, open for anyone to read.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS SOON AS I GOT HOME, I raced upstairs to get my smart phone, which I kept in the top drawer of my desk. I stared at it, amazed I hadn’t really missed it until now. I took a check from the checkbook and went looking for my aunt. I found her behind the house, watering flowers.

  “Aunt Mary, I’m going into town for a while.”

  “All right, Simon. Anything special you’d like for dinner tonight? Your uncle has a meeting, so it will be just the two of us.”

  I grinned. Terrific! No Raymond at the dinner table. “Anything’s okay.” A thought occurred to me. “How about hot dogs?”

  Aunt Mary beamed at me. “That’s a wonderful idea. I’ve baked beans and relish, but no buns. I’ll pick some up when I’m in town.” She shook her head in amazement. “I haven’t had a hot dog since—since I can’t remember when.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Then we’re long overdue,” Aunt Mary said.

  I walked the five blocks into town, thinking about my conversation with Aunt Mary. It was like any normal conversation with a relative. The kind we never had before. Why? I wondered. Probably because she usually acted like a zombie, probably from all the pills she took. Did she know about her husband’s evil behavior? She had to. After all, she’d lived with Raymond all these years.

  Then why didn’t she leave? Probably for the same reason I wasn’t runn
ing. There was no escape.

  A chill ran down my back. Maybe Aunt Mary was in cahoots with my uncle, the two of them working hand in hand. Maybe her job was to throw me off guard so Raymond would have an easier time breaking down my defenses.

  Reactivating my smart phone account was easier than I’d expected. I used a check for the initial payment and instructed the college-aged salesman in the electronics store to send the monthly bills via email so they wouldn’t arrive in the regular mail. The less Raymond knew about my business, the better. That taken care of, I walked up the block and dropped onto one of the benches outside the library. I took out the scrap of paper on which I’d jotted down my aunt’s phone number and thumbed the tiny pads.

  “This number is no longer in service.”

  I frowned. Aunt Grace wasn’t simply away. She was gone. Where did she go? I shuddered. Had something happened to her, too? No, that was too crazy. There was no reason why my uncle would harm my mother’s sister.

  I retrieved the “Gretel” number from my shorts’ pocket and made the call. A tingle ran up my back as I waited.

  “Who is this?” a man with a gruff voice asked.

  Startled, I blurted out my name.

  “Finally.” He let out a deep sigh. “Are you alone?”

  I glanced around. Two teenaged girls in tennis whites whom I recognized as seniors, a grade ahead of me, stood chatting near the library entrance, well out of hearing range.

  “I’m alone. Who are you? Why did you send me an email?”

  “Because I have vital information for you. Christ! I didn’t think you’d take this long to call. She’s frantic with worry.”

  “Who’s frantic with worry? Who are you?”

  “Listen, Simon, all I can do is pass on a phone number to you, which I hope and pray you call ASAP. Believe me, you’ll be glad you did.”

  “What’s with the Gretel business?”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I drew a deep breath and let it out. “Is this about my sister?”

  “Here’s the number. Got a pen?”

  “No. Wait!” I shouted because he was rattling off a long distance number.

  He let out an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. “Hurry up. Get with it, kid.”

  I ran over to the two girls. “Do either of you have a pen I can borrow?”

  The pretty, dark-haired girl opened her small purse. “Sure. Here you go.”

  “I’ll bring it right back,” I promised. I raced back to the bench. “I’ve got a pen now.”

  The man repeated the number and I wrote it carefully on the back of the slip of paper. “Don’t lose it,” he warned. “Now that we’ve made contact, this number’s going to disconnect.”

  He hung up, and I started to giggle. Made contact? This number’s going to disconnect? It was like something out of Mission Impossible. What was the guy smoking? For all I knew, this would turn out to be one huge prank. But who would go through the trouble of carrying out a prank like this? Besides, the email had been sent back in May. Almost two months ago.

  The brunette was alone when I handed back her pen. “Keep it,” she said, flashing a bright smile. “I’ve a drawer full of them at home.”

  “Thanks.” She had a dynamite bod, I noticed, and a great tan.

  “You’re new to Buckley, aren’t you?”

  “Kind of. I moved here in April. My name’s Simon Porte.”

  She held out her hand. “Tasha Wells. I’ve seen you around.”

  I shook her hand, surprised by the firmness of her grip.

  “And I’ve seen you. You’re a cheerleader, right?”

  She winked, suddenly looking elfish and full of mischief. “Don’t let that scare you off.”

  I grinned. “Okay, I won’t.”

  Tasha glanced down at the books she was holding. “I’d better get going. Want a lift anywhere?”

  “No, thanks. I have to take care of something.”

  Tasha opened her eyes in mock surprise. “Sounds very mysterious.”

  “Actually, it is mysterious.”

  “Maybe you’ll tell me about it some time.”

  “Maybe I will,” I answered, flustered by her attention. Was Tasha Wells interested in me, or was this how she came on to every guy? And what was I doing talking to a girl when I had to make an important phone call. “Gotta go,” I called over my shoulder as I took off in the direction of the adjoining park.

  My fingers trembled as I dialed the new number. Another male voice answered, only this guy was more polite.

  “Hello, who is this, please?”

  “Simon Porte.”

  A pause, then, “Can you verify that?”

  “Sure. How?”

  “What’s your mother’s maiden name?”

  “Cassidy.”

  “Your sister’s birthday.”

  I swallowed. “May sixteenth.”

  “What did you give her for her last birthday?”

  “A Barbie doll dressed in a gown.”

  “Call this number in an hour. It may ring several times. Wait until someone answers.”

  “Okay.”

  The man read off a telephone number with a different area code and had me repeat it back to him. He hung up.

  An hour! Jeez. An hour from now I’d be eating dinner. I worried as I headed for home. How was I going to keep this from Raymond? Then I remembered my uncle wasn’t going to be home at dinner time. I’d tell Aunt Mary I wasn’t feeling well so I could make the call from my bedroom.

  But when I got home, I found Aunt Mary more excited than I’d ever seen her.

  “I bought buns, potato salad, and coleslaw to go with our hot dogs. And I’ll cut up a nice tomato salad with some fresh basil. How does that sound?”

  She looked so pleased with all her dinner preparations I didn’t have the heart to carry out my plan. I came up with another idea.

  “Sounds terrific, Aunt Mary, but do you think we could eat early tonight? I’m meeting Andy and Pol earlier than usual. We’ve got some things to take care of.”

  “Of course, Simon. Why don’t you set the table now?” She smiled mischievously. “And we’ll use paper plates, something your uncle Raymond doesn’t approve of.” Her face took on an anxious expression. “I hope you don’t mind my making the hot dogs on the stove. Your uncle always does the barbecuing and I’m afraid to handle the grill.”

  I opened my mouth to offer to start the grill, then closed it. “Stovetop franks will be fine, Aunt Mary.” And faster, too.

  We sat down to dinner twenty minutes later. For the first time since I’d moved to Buckley, I felt totally at ease in my aunt and uncle’s home. Aunt Mary surprised me by talking up a storm about her childhood.

  “I met Raymond when I was your age—fifteen,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes. “It was springtime. May, to be exact. Our two churches got together to have a dance for all the young folk.”

  “Are you from Buckley?” I asked.

  “From Chatham Falls. That’s west of here, about ten miles away.”

  “Melissa Gordon was from Chatham Falls,” I said.

  Aunt Mary shook her head. “Poor child. May she rest in peace.”

  I remained silent, hoping she’d say more. Finally, she shook her head again, and added, “I know her mother. Knew her when we were young. She’s my friend Cynthia’s baby sister. I can’t imagine what she must be suffering.”

  Suffering caused by her husband. Did Aunt Mary know her husband had killed the little girl? She had to know. I wondered if Aunt Mary was suddenly so chatty because my uncle had told her to soften me up. Make me more vulnerable. More malleable. Well, two could play that game. I decided it was time I started asking questions.

  “Why didn’t you and Uncle Raymond have children?”

  Aunt Mary’s eyes misted over, and she gave me a sad smile. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. I had certain difficulties when we first married.” She sighed. “I overcame them a few years later, bu
t then Raymond took sick. He grew weaker and weaker. For a while we had an aide coming to the house every day.” She smiled at Simon. “At last, he began to get well. Then he brought you home and got an entirely new lease on life.”

  “I bet,” I mumbled.

  Aunt Mary patted my arm. “No, really. I know he’s caught up in his business dealings and doesn’t always know how to treat a teenaged boy who’s practically a young man, but his heart’s in the right place.”

  I couldn’t bear to hear another word. I bolted from the table and dropped my dishes in the sink. “Thanks, Aunt Mary. Dinner was great. Gotta go.”

  “But you didn’t have dessert!” she exclaimed. “I bought an apple tart for you in the bakery.”

  “I’ll eat it when I get home.” I bent down to kiss her cheek. “Bye, Aunt Mary. See you later.”

  Is she for real? I wondered as I jogged toward the elementary school. Could she be that naïve and totally clueless regarding Raymond’s crimes? I remembered how sad she’d looked the other day, how I’d sensed she was feeling bad for me.

  Unless she was her husband’s accomplice! Maybe Aunt Mary’s job was to convince me she was harmless so I wouldn’t be on my guard when she helped spring a trap. Was Raymond planning a transformation for Aunt Mary, too? Or was he leaving her behind?

  It was seven o’clock when I got to the school yard. Though I didn’t expect the twins to arrive until eight—if they showed up that evening—I wasn’t taking any chances. Four boys were playing a fast game of basketball on the court a good five hundred feet away. I sat down on the steps leading to one of the side entrances and dialed the last number I’d been given.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice. It sounded like Aunt Grace’s voice, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “Aunt Grace?”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Simon.”

  “Finally!” she said, relief and laughter spilling over the line. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you for months. I was at my wits’ end.”

  “I didn’t have access to my computer or my phone until yesterday.” I hesitated, then asked, “This is Aunt Grace, right?”

  “Of course it’s me, Simon. I’m so glad to be speaking to you.”