Born Under a Blond Sign

by V. J. Chambers

  Still nothing.

  I turned away from the building, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Hmm. I really thought someone would be here. It’s practically summer.”

  “But it’s not summer yet,” said Brigit. “I mean, didn’t I say when I couldn’t get an answer on the phone that—”

  “Do not say, ‘I told you so.’ I will beat you.”

  She snorted. “You couldn’t take me.”

  I turned to her. “I most certainly could. I took on Derek O’Shaunessy all by myself.”

  “If by ‘took on’ you mean that you curled up in a ball while he kicked you, then sure.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Not that we should be joking about this,” she said, “because that freaked me out when Derek hurt you. Freaked me out a lot.”

  The door to the camp office opened and a man poked his head out. “Can I help you?”

  I held out my hand. “Hi there. Ivy Stern. This is my associate Brigit Johansen. We want to ask you a few questions.”

  “Questions? About what?”

  “Well, about some campers that used to attend the camp about, oh, six or seven years back.”

  “I might be able to help you,” he said. “I wasn’t the director back then, but I was a camp counselor. This is about Preston, isn’t it?”

  “It might be,” I said. “I’m mostly interested in a friendship between two boys, Duke Campbell and Gilbert Pike. And I know that they had a bit of a falling out the year after Preston drowned.”

  “Duke and Gilbert, of course,” he said. “This is because of the shooting, then.”

  “Well, in a way, I suppose,” I said.

  “Are you with the police?”

  “I’m looking into the matter privately.” It was my typical way not to give too much information unless necessary.

  “Well, you’re in luck, because I happened to be those boys’ counselor the year of the drowning,” he said. “All three of them. So, what do you want to know?”

  “Did the drowning seem to affect Duke’s and Gilbert’s friendship?”

  “Well, it happened right at the end of the summer. All of the boys were in the senior high camp, which was the last group of kids each year. There wasn’t a lot of time afterward to assess, but I think it’s fair to say that it affected everyone and everyone’s friendship. Duke and Gilbert were always thick as thieves. They did everything together, and they were quite close. But they also had a group of other friends that had sort of attached to the both of them. They were the ringleaders, so to speak. And Preston was very obviously not part of that group. He was, in fact, not part of any group. He was an outsider. A complete outsider.”

  “Yes, I understand that he was picked on.”

  “All the time,” he said. “It was a terrible job as counselor, let me tell you. Because I deeply wanted to save that poor kid somehow, but I also had nine other boys that were my responsibility. I couldn’t force them to like him, and I knew that, but I thought that I could at least force them not to tease him or pull pranks on him. I punished that kind of thing pretty severely at the beginning of the summer, hoping to put a lid on it. But it didn’t work. The boys just got more secretive about it. And the punishment seemed to egg them on, make the pranking almost institutionalized. Poor Preston didn’t have any recourse. If he tattled, they retaliated even worse, so he mostly bore it quietly. Preston wasn’t really the kind of kid who liked camp, if you know what I mean. He was bookish and pudgy. He hated the outdoors. He hated physical activity. He… didn’t belong.”

  “He was lonely then.”

  “He must have been,” he said. “Truth be told, and I’m ashamed of this, but at times, I didn’t like him either. I would have been happy enough if he’d just left camp for good. But his parents had dumped him there every year, and there wasn’t anywhere for him to go.”

  “So, how did it happen? How did he drown?”

  “No one knows. He seems to have gone down to the lake at midnight and taken off all of his clothes. They found them folded neatly on the dock the next morning. Then he got into the water, and he never got back out again.”

  “I talked to another camper from back then who said that he wouldn’t have been surprised if Preston’s death was a suicide.”

  “I don’t know about that. I guess it is curious that he went swimming alone without his clothes late at night. And right after it happened, there may have been some chattering from the boys to that effect. They may have thought that he killed himself. But I don’t think so. I think it was an accident. He was a lonely kid, but he wasn’t suicidal, at least I don’t think so.”

  “If the other kids thought that he’d killed himself, did they feel partly responsible?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said, “but everyone sure as heck felt bad, let me tell you. All those boys who had teased him—and Duke and Gilbert really led the pack—were just torn up. They didn’t cry or anything. They were fourteen-year-old boys. But they were listless afterward. Everyone was basically destroyed. Crazy sad about it. Now, the girls at camp, they were the ones who were crying. Sobbing like it was the end of the world. And that’s ridiculous, of course, because they never paid any attention to him before he drowned.”

  “Girls? There were girls at the camp?” There hadn’t been any in the picture I’d seen.

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “That side of the lake is the girls’ side. The other side is the boys’ side. We did a lot of co-ed activities, though, boys and girls together. They had a lot of fun with each other. But it wasn’t fun after Preston’s death. It was just misery. There was one girl. She was just over the top with the crying. Brenda, I think her name was. Bren? Last name was Peterson.”

  “Bryn Peterson?” I said. “She went to this camp?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “She went here for years and years. And she came back after she was sixteen to be a counselor for the little kids, too. But I’ll never forget the way she was crying about that Preston kid. Just sobbing and sobbing.”

  “Did this Bryn have anything to do with Gilbert?”

  “Well, not that I know of,” he said. “But I didn’t know everything that went on with the kids. Pardon me for asking, but what exactly does all of this have to do with that shooting?”

  “I’m interested in Gilbert Pike, that’s all.”

  “Well, when I knew Gilbert, he was a nice boy,” he said. “Not that it matters, but I never would have expected him to do something like that. Didn’t seem the type, you know.”

  I nodded. Yeah, I knew, all right.

  * * *

  “Why are we stopping at this pawn shop?” asked Brigit.

  It was a bit of a drive back from the camp, and I didn’t think she appreciated making too many stops. But she’d like this one, I was fairly sure.

  “Wait here,” I told her.

  “Wait?” she said. “You’re stopping at a pawn shop, and then you’re just going to disappear and leave me in the car?”

  “Yup,” I said. I got out of the car and shut the door.

  Brigit glared at me through the windshield.

  I turned and walked into the shop. It was actually lucky that we’d come right by here. Otherwise, I was going to have to drive out here myself. Now, of course, I had to hope that the item I was looking for hadn’t been sold already.

  The pawn shop looked like a yard sale had exploded. There were all kinds of things lining its shelves and walls, from stereo equipment to television sets to musical instruments.

  I peered at the jewelry case, looking down at each of the pieces displayed. I didn’t see what I was looking for.

  “Can I help you?” The person working the store was a woman wearing a red scarf.

  “I hope so,” I said. “I’m looking for a Cross and Flame ring. The previous owner said that she sold it to your shop, and I’m just hoping that you haven’t sold it yet.”

  “Oh yes,” she said.

  “Oh yes, you’ve sold it?”

  “No.” Sh
e smiled. “Oh, yes, we have it. It’s over here.” She pointed to another jewelry case. “Right there.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “I’ll take it.”

  After buying the ring, I headed back to the parking lot where Brigit was waiting in the car. I slid inside, clutching a little paper bag that contained the ring.

  Brigit was still annoyed with me. “What the hell, Ivy? Why are we here? Why couldn’t I go in? Does this have to do with a case?”

  I handed her the paper bag. “This is for you.”

  She knitted her brows together. “What is it?”

  “Look inside.”

  She overturned the bag and a little black ring box fell onto her palm. “Um, you’re asking me to marry you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Open the stupid box, Brigit.”

  She did. She stared at it. She still didn’t get it.

  “It’s Kent’s ring,” I said. “Kent Mercer? Or aren’t you dating him anymore?”

  “Oh!” Understanding flooded her features. “Oh, that’s great. I’m so glad you found the ring. He’s going to be so pleased.”

  I started the car. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you, Ivy. I’m sorry I was being difficult earlier. But you could have explained yourself, you know. I mean, you could have just told me why we were here.”

  “Maybe, but I couldn’t be sure the ring was even here.”

  “So, if it hadn’t been, you would have just left me completely in the dark? I swear to God, Ivy, sometimes you are really annoying. I could smack you.”

  I reached over and turned on the radio. I turned up the volume until the sounds of classic rock drowned out her voice.

  * * *

  “You haven’t been around in ages,” said Crane. “What gives?”

  “Well,” I said, “I got a dog.”

  “A dog?” he said.

  We were at The Remington. It was early evening. I’d come by for happy hour because I hadn’t been here in a long time, and this was my second home. I missed being at The Remington, and I missed seeing all my friends.

  “Also, I moved,” I told Crane. And then I launched into a long story all about Kitty and the dog and Kitty’s dying and my going after the dog and then getting the new house.

  Crane finished an entire gin and tonic while I was going.

  When I was finally done, he just shook his head. “I don’t believe you moved,” he said. Then, “I need to get another drink.”

  I was still nursing my first High Life. I was trying (probably in vain) to not drink too much so that I wouldn’t have a crazy hangover in the morning. I was getting used to waking up without them, and it was really nice. I watched Crane at the bar getting his drink. The truth was that I wanted to tell him about Miles, but I didn’t quite know how. I knew that Miles didn’t much like Crane, and I didn’t know if things would be weird now that Miles and I were together. I wanted Crane to be happy for me, but I was afraid he wouldn’t really approve.

  Crane came back. “How’s the case?”

  “It’s going,” I said. “We’re looking into a fraternity on campus. Could be a connection there.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “Yeah.” I took a small sip of my drink.

  “You planning on drinking that beer for the next eighteen years or something?”

  I looked at the bottle, gauging my progress. I was less than halfway done. I shrugged. “I’m just taking it slow tonight is all. The past few days, I haven’t been drinking so much every night, and it’s been kind of nice.”

  “Right. Because of the dog.”

  I nodded.

  Crane sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Do I look like I’m stupid, Ivy?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

  “This is exactly what you did that time you tried to be in a relationship with that architect. You disappeared from the bar and you didn’t come back until you couldn’t take it anymore, at which point you cheated on him, and he left you. So, spill. Who are you dating?”

  I picked at the High Life label. “Wow, I’m that obvious, huh?”

  “I’m not trying to rain on your parade.” His tone was softer. “That architect wasn’t right for you. This time it’ll be different, I’m sure.” He gave me a smile. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

  I took a drink. A long drink. I set down my bottle. “Miles.”

  Crane was visibly surprised.

  “I know,” I said. “It didn’t work before, so why would I think that it would now?”

  “I wasn’t going to say that,” said Crane.

  “What were you going to say, then?”

  “I was only going to wish you both well.” He took a drink, dipping down his face so that I couldn’t see his expression.

  “You were not,” I said. “You don’t like him.”

  He set down his glass. “I like him fine. He doesn’t like me. Dude’s very possessive of your pussy, which is kind of funny, considering he’s not very interested in doing anything with it himself.”

  “Hey, can we not talk about my anatomy in those terms in public, please?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t mind it when I say it in bed.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s then. And besides—”

  “Besides, you and Miles are going to be super faithful to each other, so I won’t be getting anywhere near your bed ever again, right?”

  I drew back. “Are you jealous?”

  “No!” Crane sloshed his drink from gesturing so ferociously. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ivy. You know I love you. But I love you as my friend. That’s it. I don’t want that from you. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want you to stop sleeping with other guys. I don’t want you… to change.”

  We were both quiet.

  “But,” he said finally, “I guess everyone changes sometimes.”

  “Sometimes change is good,” I said.

  “Yeah.” He took a drink.

  “And it’s not good for me to get drunk all the time and sleep with all those co-eds. They’re too young for me. It’s embarrassing.”

  “So, you’re just going to stop?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  “And how is that fair? How can he ask you to do that when he won’t even sleep with you at all?”

  “Well, he’s going to.”

  “Oh, he is? Is he doing it now?”

  I drank the rest of my High Life all in one gulp.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Crane.

  “We’re working up to it,” I said. “This is none of your business.”

  “Right.” Crane studied his knuckles. “You don’t want me to talk about your ‘anatomy’ or comment on your sex life. But that’s who we are, Ivy. We’re friends. We talk about this stuff. If all of that changes, we won’t be close the way we are anymore.”

  “We can be.”

  “You think Miles is going to like that? You think he’s going to trust you? You don’t think he’s going to turn into a jealous ass if you try to leave the house?”

  “He’ll trust me,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I wish you were happy for me, but I guess you can’t be.”

  “Whatever, Ivy, that’s bullshit,” he said. “But sure, let’s celebrate. I’ll get you another drink, okay?”

  “I don’t need another—”

  But he was already up from the table, walking back to the bar.

  I sighed, slumping down in my chair. Well, that hadn’t gone well, had it?

  I looked around the bar, trying not to think about the whole exchange. Crane wasn’t right. Miles wouldn’t keep me from going out of the house. He wouldn’t stop me from seeing Crane. I wouldn’t let him do those things, because I wasn’t the kind of woman who let a man control her. Not even a man like Miles. It wasn’t going to be like that. I was going to want to stay home with Miles, because everything was going to be perfect between us, and there was no reason to think otherwise.

  Wait
a second.

  Over there in the corner?

  That was Duke fucking Campbell out at the bar with two of his frat friends. They were drinking beer and laughing.

  I got up and made a beeline across the bar to him.

  “Duke,” I said.

  He looked up at me. “What are you doing here?”

  “This is my bar,” I said. “I’m here all the time. So you’re on my turf, and we’re going to talk.”

  “What?” he said. “No way. I’m not talking to you.”

  “We’re going to talk,” I said. “We’re going to talk about this secret that you and Gilbert shared, and about who the hell Bryn Peterson is and why you have Gilbert’s back about her, and about why you and Gilbert weren’t friends after Preston Michaels died.”

  Duke’s face was growing steadily whiter and whiter. He gulped. “Yeah, okay.” He turned to the other guys at the table. “Get out of here for a while.”

  They shot me annoyed looks, but they did as they were told and left the table.

  I sat down.

  “I don’t know what you think you know,” said Duke, “but you’ve got no proof.”

  “No proof that you killed Gilbert and those five other kids to cover up the fact he was your target? No, I can’t prove it. Not yet. But—”

  “Wait. What the fuck are you talking about?” said Duke. “I didn’t kill Gilbert. That’s crazy.”

  “You were at the party that day.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Gilbert did that. Everyone knows Gilbert did that.”

  “Really?”

  He looked around the bar, his eyes flitting from place to place as if he was looking for an exit.

  “Why did you hate Gilbert?” I said. “Why weren’t you friends anymore?”

  He turned back to me. “I didn’t hate him. I didn’t want him dead. You know, maybe I was a little relieved when I found out he was gone, but that’s not the same thing.”

  “Sounds like the same thing to me.”

  “No,” he said. “No, it’s just that sometimes, he would get in touch with me, and he had this weird idea that we should come clean about what happened with Preston, but I told him that was a shitty idea.”

  “What did happen with Preston?”

  He paled even more. “You don’t know? I thought you knew.”