Devil's Pawn

by Levinson, Marilyn

  We are?

  Lucinda laughed. “That’s right. Come over now and I’ll show you what I’ve found.”

  ***

  When we were seated side by side on Lucinda’s sitting room sofa, she held up a small plastic bag. Inside was a round piece of metal with a hole in the center. It was the size of a dime. “You see this?” she demanded.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, hoping she hadn’t lost her marbles.

  “Now, I want you to go into the hall, get on your hands and knees, and search for a small nail-like item—kind of like the post of an earring, the part that goes through the earlobe.”

  I stared at her. She had lost her marbles.

  “Or a tie tack,” she went on, ignoring my expression. “Actually, it’s part of a pin. I remember pulling on his jacket and hearing it fall on the tile. The pin must have broken into two parts.”

  I felt a surge of excitement. “You’re talking about your assailant. Craig!”

  Lucinda grinned, looking like a cat that had just taken its last lick of a bowl of cream. “If you say so. The post-like part should have his fingerprints on it, so when you find it, you’ll have to scoop it up with a piece of cardboard.” She winked. “I saw that on TV.”

  I returned her grin. For the first time in days, in months, I felt optimistic. Finally, we’d have actual proof to support my story. I examined the part of the pin in the plastic bag.

  “This is a Shady Hill Day Camp pin! Every camper and counselor gets one. We’re supposed to wear it every day but no one does.” I chuckled. “No one but Craig, that is.”

  I dropped to my knees and examined every inch of the small hall. The missing piece of the pin was nowhere to be found.

  “It’s not here,” I grumbled.

  “Are you sure? I’ll get you a magnifying glass. I have one somewhere in the house.”

  “I don’t need a magnifying glass,” I said as I crawled into the sitting room. “I’ve twenty-twenty vision. If it’s here, I’ll find it.”

  “Of course it’s here. Did you check the closet?”

  “No.”

  “Look inside the closet.”

  Lucinda’s hall closet was dark and musty. Umbrellas, boots, and galoshes covered the floor.

  “It’s not here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure!” I peered up at my aunt hovering over me. “Sit down. I’ll tell you when I find it.”

  “I just want to help,” she complained as she hobbled back to the sofa.

  Something glittered under the end table at the entrance to the sitting room. “I see it! At least, I think it’s the piece you mean.”

  “Don’t touch it! Don’t touch it!”

  “Why do you think I’m moving the table?” I scooped it up with the piece of cardboard she handed me. “Where’s that plastic bag?”

  “Coming right up!” Lucinda answered.

  I dropped the post-like part in the bag that already held the round piece of the pin. “I wonder if Craig knows he left this one behind.”

  Lucinda’s eyes widened in fear. “Do you think he’ll come back for it?”

  “Probably not,” I said, mainly to calm her down. “Besides, even if he realizes it’s gone, he won’t necessarily remember that it came off when he hit you.”

  Lucinda gripped my arm. “I’m frightened, Simon. I couldn’t survive another attack. It’s time we called the police.”

  I bit my lip as I thought. “I suppose you’re right,” I finally said.

  She studied my face. “You don’t want to.”

  “I’m worried about challenging Raymond. He’s evil, Lucinda, and he’s clever. He knows every legal loophole there is. And what he doesn’t know, his lawyer does.”

  “But we have evidence now.”

  I sighed. “It may not be enough. I’ll call the police and find out if Sergeant Baker’s on duty. I spoke to him in the hospital. If I explain it’s the same case, they might send him.”

  “Good idea.”

  I reached for the phone and dialed 911. As I waited to be connected to the local precinct, I told myself I was doing the right thing. Lucinda needed protection.

  The dispatcher said that Sergeant Baker was on duty and would get to Lucinda Davenport’s house within the hour.

  “Who else do you want to call?” Lucinda asked.

  “What makes you think I want to call anyone else?”

  She laughed. “The way you’re gripping the phone. Besides, that knock on my head hasn’t taken away all my ESP.”

  “I want to call a lawyer I know. I want him here when we talk to Sergeant Baker.”

  “And afterward, you want to tell him everything.”

  I nodded. “Someone should know what Raymond’s been up to.”

  “Go and call him. He’ll be home.”

  I gave a start. “The lawyer? But you don’t even know who he is.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I know what I know. Call him. Set it all up. I’m going to bed. Wake me when the show starts.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Aunt Lucinda and I sat facing Sergeant Baker and Chuck Bayard in the sitting room. The two men had pulled up kitchen chairs. I handed the bagged evidence to the policeman and explained how I knew it belonged to Craig Averil.

  The officer studied the pin through the plastic, then fixed his eyes on me. I blinked twice but held his gaze. I refused to glance away. Finally, he turned to Lucinda.

  “Do you agree with what your nephew just told me, Ms. Davenport?”

  Lucinda shrugged and huddled into herself. She looked frail and not much bigger than Lucy. She’s not up for this. We should have left it for tomorrow.

  She spoke softly. “I remember grabbing his jacket and the pin falling to the floor. Today I noticed it on the floor—broken. Simon found the back of it.”

  Sergeant Baker nodded. “Your nephew here is certain your assailant is Craig Averil. Did you recognize him, Ms. Davenport?”

  “I don’t know any Craig Averil,” she snapped. “At least, I haven’t set eyes on him in years. If Simon says that’s who it was, I’ve no reason to disbelieve him.”

  Sergeant Baker nodded and jotted down something in his notepad. He looked up and directed his next question to me.

  “What makes you so certain Mr. Averil attacked your great-aunt? I bet plenty of people have these pins. I bet you have one.”

  I felt the blood rush to my ears. “I do have a pin like that, but you can check the one in the Baggie for fingerprints. I was careful not to touch it.”

  “You haven’t answered my question—a question you said you couldn’t answer Thursday night at the hospital.”

  Chuck was about to speak, but Lucinda got in there first. “I don’t like your tone, young man! This is no way to treat an old woman who’s been bonked on the head and her young nephew who’s trying to help you find a criminal!”

  The officer cleared his throat. “Sorry, ma’am. Simon, why do you insist it’s Mr. Averil who attacked your aunt the other evening?”

  There was no avoiding it now. I drew a deep breath. “Because I overheard him telling my uncle what he’d done. That’s how I knew to come here that night.”

  “Your uncle being—?”

  “Raymond Davenport. I live with him and his wife, Mary. Craig came to visit my uncle Thursday evening.”

  The officer looked perplexed. “And why would Mr. Averil come to your uncle’s home and confess to a crime he’d just committed?”

  “That’s speculation,” Chuck put in quickly. “How could Simon know why Craig Averil did what he did?”

  Sergeant Baker cast an irritated glance at Chuck. “Relax, counselor. Court’s not in session. I’m simply trying to get an understanding of what happened and why.” He turned to me. “Do you know why Mr. Averil told your uncle he’d assaulted Ms. Lucinda—if, in fact, that’s what he did?”

  Here goes nothing. I felt like I was being shot out of a cannon and would land God knew where. “Be
cause Craig works for my uncle.” I suddenly remembered a police procedural TV show I used to watch. “I bet if you checked their bank statements you’d find the financial connection that proves I’m right.”

  Sergeant Baker found that funny. When he finished laughing, he said, “You still haven’t explained what I asked.”

  I shrugged. “My uncle wants to build condos on land the local kids use as ball fields. He’s acting as though he owns the land, but the truth is, it belongs to all Davenports.”

  “I’m opposed to the condos,” Lucinda said. She yawned. “My nephew Raymond will go to any extreme to get what he wants.”

  “Then you think he’s behind this?” Sergeant Baker asked.

  “I’m sure he is. Now I’d like to go back to bed. I can hardly hold up my head.”

  I stood. “I’ll help my aunt to her bedroom.”

  When I returned to the sitting room, Chuck and Sergeant Baker were conversing in low voices. They fell silent as I approached.

  “If you’ve nothing to add, I’ll be going,” the policeman said.

  I’ve plenty to add, but not yet. Aloud, I asked, “Are you going to arrest Craig?”

  “I’ll talk to him and to your uncle.”

  I shuddered, thinking how that was going to play out. “They’ll deny it, of course.”

  Sergeant Baker picked up on my concern. “Mr. Davenport’s your guardian. If you’re worried he’ll mistreat you after he learns of your accusation, maybe you’d be better off staying with friends for a while. Or I could arrange for you to go to a Safe House.”

  I gave a bark of laughter. “Don’t worry, Sergeant Baker. My uncle won’t hurt me—at least not too badly. You can be sure of that.”

  For the first time that evening, the officer looked shocked.

  “If the man’s abusing you in any way—”

  I shook my head. “He isn’t.” Not in any believable way, he’s not. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “I worry when a minor tells me he can take care of himself.”

  “My aunt Mary’s okay,” I said. “And my uncle’s practically bedridden.”

  Sergeant Baker didn’t look convinced. “Promise you’ll call the station if you need my help. Any time, day or night.”

  Touched, I said I would. I saw Sergeant Baker out and returned to the sitting room. I gave Chuck a half smile as I sat down. “Now for the complete version.”

  I started with the death of my parents and talked a full hour. Chuck listened in rapt attention. When I was done, he shook his head.

  “Incredible! That’s the wildest story I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  Is he calling me a liar? “You believe me.”

  Chuck grimaced. “I’d like to. I think you’re a great kid and you’ve been through more than any kid should have to endure, but all this—about the murders and your uncle wanting to take over your body. It sounds like science fiction.”

  I covered my face with my hands. If I couldn’t convince Chuck, who liked me, I’d never convince another adult that I was telling the truth about Raymond.

  “If only you could give me a shred of evidence,” Chuck urged. “Something I can see.”

  “I did that when I gave the camp pin to Sergeant Baker.”

  “Think!” Chuck ordered.

  He’s on my side, but having trouble wrapping his mind around all the woo-woo stuff. What can I tell him? What can I prove?

  I had it. “Go into the kitchen,” I told Chuck, “and whisper something.”

  “What should I whisper?” Chuck asked, already on his way.

  “I don’t care. Anything. Just whisper it, then come back here.”

  Chuck returned to the sitting room a minute later.

  “You said you’re sorry, but you’ll have to leave soon because you have a date.”

  Chuck’s face lit up. “Right! You heard it all the way from the kitchen?”

  I nodded. “I have especially keen hearing. Which is how I heard Craig tell my uncle he’d hit Lucinda and left her for dead, and why I ran here.” I drew a deep breath. “I can see in the dark. I can tell you’re getting excited, but since I can’t read your mind, I can’t say about what. These are Davenport traits. My uncle has other talents, none of them good.”

  I held my breath while Chuck’s mind digested what I’d told him.

  “All right. I believe you, though for your sake, I was hoping it wasn’t true. I always figured those tales about your family were just—stories.”

  “You’ve heard stories?”

  Chuck smiled. “Sure. Remember, I grew up in Buckley. The Davenports have always had an unsavory reputation. One of your relatives killed his wife, but the jury failed to convict him.” He laughed. “According to my grandfather, Randolph Davenport spooked the jurors. They were too afraid of his curse to convict him of murder.

  “Years ago there was talk of suspicious deaths, even among family members. Tales of how some Davenports killed innocent people to keep themselves alive. No proof of any of this, but for years any unexplained death was laid at a Davenport’s doorstep. As I said, that was many years ago.”

  “Does everyone in town know these stories?”

  “Probably not. As I said, they’re old stories involving old Buckley families.”

  “Do people suspect that my uncle’s been killing these girls?”

  “I doubt it. We’ve had a large influx of new people moving into town. For example, your friends, Andy and Pol, moved here eight years ago, and they know Raymond Davenport as a pillar of the community. He’s been voted Buckley’s Citizen of the Year three times. Who would suspect him of killing young girls to prolong his life?”

  I grimaced. “And we’ve no way of proving that he did.”

  “Sad to say, you’re right. But right now I’m more concerned about you, Simon. I can’t say if he has the power or the ability to take over your body, but I don’t like to think of what might happen to you when he tries it.”

  “Don’t worry about me! I’m getting out of here!”

  “Where are you going?”

  The million dollar question. “I’m not sure, but I can’t stay in Buckley. I want you to know what’s been happening so you can tell the police about it when I’m gone. Unless you’re worried they’ll lock you in the loony bin.”

  “I’d like you to let me decide when’s the best time to tell the police all this.”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “The police need hard evidence in order to charge your uncle with a crime.”

  “I’ve no proof of what he’s done. As for taking over my body—they’ll laugh and tell me to stop reading Stephen King.”

  Chuck nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  He left shortly after, having extracted my promise that I wouldn’t leave Buckley without talking to him first. I punched in Lucy’s phone number and got the message I’d expected—her phone had been disconnected. I looked in on Lucinda. She was sound asleep, breathing normally. There was nothing for me to do but head back to the lion’s den.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I WAS ABOUT TO UNLOCK the front door when my phone rang. Lucy! I yanked it from my pocket and dropped to the front step.

  “Hello?”

  “Simon, this is your aunt Grace.”

  “Aunt Grace.” Thoughts ricocheted inside my head. Was she calling to ream me out again? Or maybe she’d changed her mind about letting me go with them to England.

  “Lucy’s gone! He’s taken her!”

  My heart leaped to my throat. “Who did?”

  “You know who! And it’s your fault! You led them straight to Lucy!”

  I gasped. Raymond must have put a trace on my phone! How stupid I’d been, thinking I could outwit my uncle! My body trembled as questions and self-recriminations blitzed my brain. I tried to speak, but my thoughts were too jumbled to emerge in coherent sentences. Calm down! I swallowed and tamped down my terror as best I could.

  “What happened? When?”


  Aunt Grace sounded as frantic as I felt. “Not ten minutes ago I heard knocking on the door. I told Lucy to go into the bedroom. Someone started to work on the locks. A minute later two men rushed into our apartment. Big men. They pushed past me and headed for the bedroom.” Her voice trembled as she continued. “They found Lucy cowering in the closet. One snatched her up like a bundle of wash and took her away.” Aunt Grace gave a loud wail, “And I stood there doing nothing. I did nothing to stop them.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Of course. I told them who was responsible. No matter how I explained things, they thought I was embroiled in some kind of custody battle. They promised to investigate my charges against Raymond Davenport.” She made a disparaging sound. “They probably think I’m a raving lunatic.”

  “I’ve been out all day, Aunt Grace. I’ll talk to Raymond and make him tell me what he’s done with Lucy.”

  I heard sobbing, then Aunt Grace exclaimed, “Don’t bother, Simon! You’re probably in cahoots with him.”

  I felt the blood drain from my head. “I am not! What an awful thing to say!”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. You visit Lucy and suddenly she’s kidnapped. Your uncle’s evil. He’s corrupted you, too.”

  “He hasn’t!” I insisted, even as I wondered if she was right. All those Raymond memories and feelings. Had my uncle managed to change me so that I wasn’t aware of what I’d become? Had I gone to visit Lucy knowing all the while I was being followed? That Raymond was tracing my phone calls?

  Of course not! I couldn’t live with myself if this were true.

  “I love Lucy!” I shouted. “She’s the only family I have. When all this is over, we’re going to be together.”

  “My sister asked me to keep Lucy safe and I failed,” Aunt Grace said. “God knows what that monster wants with her. She’s only a little girl.”

  My blood froze at the thought of what my uncle wanted with Lucy. “I’m going to save her,” I declared with more force than I felt.

  “Call me as soon as you know anything.” She rattled off a number.

  “I will, Aunt Grace. I’m sorry.”

  She hung up. I squeezed my eyes shut. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t waste my energy on emotions. I had to act. Now. While there was still a chance to save my sister’s life.