He tossed me a benevolent smile. “Sure, kid. But it has to be later. Maybe I can go after dinner tonight. Wanna take the boat out?”
“Okay. Maybe we’ll catch a pickerel. That would be neat.”
“Maybe,” he said, shifting the ice to a more comfortable position. “Hey. Will you open that ice box for me?”
I hopped up the steps of the nearest cabin and lifted the lid on the green wooden box, quickly grabbing the ice pick so the giant block of ice wouldn’t bury it. “There you go.”
He lowered the ice with a grunt and closed the lid.
I stabbed the pick into the top of the box, adding another tiny hole to the well-pitted top cover. “Done.”
“Want to help with the next one?” he asked, ruffling my hair.
Sometimes William could be really nice, and I reveled in the all-too-rare occurrence. “Sure.” I walked beside him up the hill; opening doors and helping him deliver ice to all fifteen cabins.
When we’d finished, he chipped off a few pieces of ice from the last block and handed me one. I was hot and sweaty, and it tasted great.
We sucked on our ice and wandered down to the living room porch, where two old timers in plaid shorts and madras shirts played Ping-Pong.
“Nice job, Mr. Andrews,” I said with a smile.
He nodded, focusing on the game too much to respond with his eyes. “Thanks, kid.”
His opponent grinned and snorted a laugh. “Ha! You think he’s gonna beat me? Think again, boy.”
“You’re a good match for him, Mr. Sanderson. I’m not worried about you.”
William and I exchanged a conspiratorial glance and skirted around them to settle on the glider.
“Phew. I’m pooped,” he said.
“Me, too.”
The lake was flat black and glassy this morning, shaded by a few clouds that had drifted in. I copied his stance, leaning my head back onto my laced hands and stretching out my legs.
He closed his eyes for a while, then sat up and leaned forward. “Guess I’d better get back to it.”
“What’s next?”
“Chopping wood for the fall.”
“Egads. Honestly?”
“Yeah. I have a pile to finish before dinner.”
“They do work you hard, William.”
“Yeah. But soon I’ll be eighteen and I can join the Marines. I figure this slave labor is getting me ready for my basic training. And I need to pass those physicals with flying colors, so it’s all good.”
“That’s true,” I said. “And you’re making a little money on the side, right?”
“Right. Socking it all away for a car this fall. Got my eye on a candy red Mustang.”
He rose, stretched his back, and suddenly grabbed me around the neck, rubbing his knuckles on my head. “Noogies for the nerd,” he said with a brash laugh.
I twisted out of his arms, rubbing my scalp. “Geez, William. You know I hate that.”
“Sorry kid,” he guffawed with a goofy sound. “I just love it too much. Can’t help myself.” He threw his arms high in the air. “Can you blame me?”
I shook my head begrudgingly. “I guess not.”
“See you after supper to cast a few lines together?”
“Okay. Can I bring the twins?”
He frowned. “Hmm. I guess so. But you know Elsbeth doesn’t really like to fish when the bats are out.”
I nodded. “Good point. Maybe it should just be you and me tonight.”
“Deal. See you around seven?”
“Okay.”
I hopped up and trotted down the trail toward Wee Castle. The twins lounged on their porch, feet up and books on their laps. With a surreptitious chuckle, I looked closer and noticed they were both asleep. Noiselessly, I passed them and wandered back to my cabin.
Willy was waiting for me, hiding down by the shore in the bushes. She frantically waved me over, her face awash in fear. “Gus! Over here.”
Chapter 17
I scurried down the bank to the shore where she crouched on a boulder. “Hey, Willy. I didn’t expect to see you until this afternoon.”
She pulled me closer, her one good eye wider than I’d ever seen it. “Oh, mon Dieu. You won’t believe this.”
“What? What’s wrong?” I half-expected her to say we’d been spotted last night and that the LaFontaines were about to call and report us. A shiver of fear ran through me. “Don’t keep me waiting. Spill it.”
She lowered her voice, pulling me closer. “Monique’s missing.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean, missing?”
“Diable,” she sputtered. “What do you think I mean? She’s not in her room. She didn’t come back from the ball last night. She didn’t show up for breakfast.”
Stunned, I stared at her. “Holy mackerel.”
“Oui! Her mother went looking for her first, then came and got me and made me help her search the camp this morning.”
“Whoa.” I hadn’t met Monique’s mother yet, but pictured her to be as imposing and awful as Mr. LaFontaine.
“Oui. She made me pound on every guest’s room, especially those with the boys who danced with Monique last night.”
“What was she thinking?”
Willy rolled her eyes. She was definitely more mature than me in some thought processes, and it took me a few minutes to get it.
“Oh. You mean she thought Monique spent the night with one of the boys?”
“She was afraid she’d find her daughter in a compromising position that would make the family suffer terrible shame.”
“But she’s only thirteen. Why would she ever do anything stupid like that?”
Again the eyes rolled. “Oh, Gus. You really are innocent. She’s already had a situation down in Baton Rouge with an older boy. I mean, she ran away with him for three whole days. Rumor was she’d slept with the boy. Her mother made her get a pregnancy test. It was scandalous, hushed up, but those of us in the house knew exactly what had happened.”
“Wow.” I just stared at Willy. “I never knew any girls in my class who did that. I mean, there are a few who are supposedly the ‘bad girls’ who kiss guys and make out really easily. But not what you’re implying.”
“Oh, she’s a bad girl, all right.” Willy sighed. “The police have gone over the whole campsite. Now they’re bringing in more officers. I heard something about blood being found on a rock in the back.”
“Blood? Her blood?”
“I don’t know.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. The enormity of the situation floored me. “What do you think happened, Willy?”
She shook her head. “None of the camp boys or guests are missing. They all said she left the ball just after midnight and they didn’t see her again.”
“Did she leave with anyone special?” I asked.
“Oh, mon Dieu! That is the very bad part.”
I waited.
“She asked Bosco to walk her to her room in case any ‘critters’ were out. She hates wildlife and loves to make him her personal body guard against raccoons or black bear.”
“Bosco was the last one to see her?” I felt my insides drop. “Oh, man. That’s not good. Not good at all.”
She glanced sideways at me. “C’est vrai.”
“What did he say?”
“I couldn’t talk with him. The policemen are still questioning him in the back of their cruiser.”
“Oh no.” I took her hand.
“Gus? What shall I do? What if they accuse him of something dreadful that he’d never do in a million years?”
I felt helpless. Bosco was a colored man. They always accused the colored men of something they didn’t do. Just like in To Kill a Mockingbird.
“I don’t know, Willy. I just don’t know.”
I pulled her to me and let her cry it out. Finally, trembling, she drew back. “I must get back. Can you guys come to the cove after lunch again? S'il vous plaît?”
“Of course. We’ll be there.
Count on it.”
I watched her scramble over the path back toward The Seven Whistles, my heart heavy and my mind spinning out of control.
Chapter 18
That afternoon we took the boat to the cove immediately after lunch to find Willy. She was waiting for us, crouched beside the cold campfire with her head in her hands. Elsbeth jumped out of the boat before we even beached the thing, sloshing through the water to her friend.
“Oh, Willy! Are you okay? What is happening?” she gushed, hugging the girl to her chest, then holding her at arm’s length to study her face. “Oh, mein Gott, your eye looks terrible.”
“It is not good.” She sat down on the beach and heaved a sigh. “Not good at all.”
“How can we help?” Siegfried asked.
She gulped back tears, turning toward him. “There’s nothing you can do.”
I crouched beside her. “There must be something.”
Elsbeth nodded, sitting beside her. “Maybe we can investigate. Snoop around. Ask questions of the kids in your camp. Stuff like that.”
Willy shrugged. “Mon Dieu, I don’t know. It’s crawling with policemen. They’re everywhere now.”
As if to emphasize her words, a uniformed cop stepped out of the woods. I recognized him as the officer who’d helped us two summers back when a murderer tried to kill me by burning me in an old shed while I was tied to a bed frame.
“Miss DuPont?” he asked.
She stood, her legs visibly shaking. “Yes?”
“We’re ready to ask you more questions.”
She nodded. “Okay. These are my friends from the camp next door. Gus, Siegfried, and Elsbeth. This is Officer Lawson.”
“We already know each other, Miss DuPont.” He tipped his hat. “We’re heading over to Loon Harbor later today to question you folks, too. We’re hoping one of you saw something that might help our investigation.”
I gave a brief wave. “Of course, we’ll help however we can, Officer Lawson. But I don’t think—”
“Please don’t try to anticipate our questions, son. We might ask you something that seems totally inconsequential to you, but could give us the break we need.”
Siegfried nodded wisely. “That is true, Gus.”
“Okay,” I said. “Is it okay for us to hang out with Willy, to come over here to visit?”
He frowned. “Right now we’re searching for evidence and we’ve got all the guests on lockdown. We’re combing the whole campsite and the woods beyond. It would be best if you stay away for a few days until we give the all-clear.”
Elsbeth slid her arm into Willy’s. “Officer? Can Willy come to our house?”
Lawson thought about it. “After we’re done with her this afternoon, sure. I think it would be good for her to have a break.”
I knew he meant that her brother was being questioned. Maybe even detained.
“Okay,” I said, heading back to the boat. “Come over when you can, Willy. We’ll take good care of you.”
We putt-putted away from the cove and I automatically headed for Moosehead Island without asking the twins. I needed to go somewhere to think, and to talk with them about what was happening.
We’d have to figure out some way to help Bosco and Willy survive this. And I was still worried about my parents finding out we’d been over there last night. It could come up in the questioning if Willy mentioned we were with her last night. Heck, we might even be needed for her alibi. What if they accused her of hurting Monique? The girl had been outwardly horrid to Willy in public many times. Everyone knew about it. And I’d wager everyone would wag their tongues about how awful she’d been to the “poor little colored girl.”
I started to feel worse the more I thought about it.
Following Sig’s silent signals to the beach, I let the craft slide up onto the sand, bringing the prop out of the water as usual so it wouldn’t get sand in it or worse, so the blades wouldn’t break off.
“Let’s sit over here,” I suggested. “We’ve gotta talk about this.”
Siegfried’s serious expression let me know he’d probably been analyzing the whole thing since we left. “Ja. Naturlich.”
Elsbeth looked dazed and crestfallen. “Why would they accuse Willy’s brother of hurting Monique, Gus?”
“I have no idea, Elsbeth.”
We sat on the old bleached log and listened for a few minutes to crickets chirping on the island.
Siegfried straightened. “I have many questions,” he said. “But first of all, let us talk about motive.”
I liked his straightforward approach. “Good idea. They always mention motive on Perry Mason.”
“Right. Who had a reason to harm—or maybe even murder—Monique?” he asked.
“Usually they say it’s money. But I think we can rule out money as a motive,” I asked. “Monique is only thirteen years old. And her brother is older, so if there was a question about inheritance, he would probably be the first on the list to get it, with no reason to get her out of the way.”
Elsbeth scoffed. “That’s so silly. Her parents are still alive.”
“Ja,” Siegfried said. “But you never know. We must be thorough.”
“I know who wants her dead,” Elsbeth said. “That’s easy.”
We both stared at her.
“Everyone who ever worked for her. She is a horrible person. She treats Willy, her brother, and her aunt terribly. They all must hate her.”
“Granted,” Siegfried said. “But that’s not what we want the police to hear. It means they could all be suspects.”
“Ja,” Elsbeth said with a frown. “I know. But it’s true.”
“They are the obvious choices,” I said. “Along with every other servant or worker Monique has ever hurt.” I stood and paced. “But what about a rejected boyfriend? Willy mentioned a scandal from last year where Monique went off with an older boy. The family went bonkers over it.”
Elsbeth looked doubtful. “But he is in Baton Rouge, oder?”
“Right,” I said. “But what if he got mad at her family and still wanted to see her? Like an obsessed stalker kind of guy? What if he followed her up here and tried to take her away again?”
“And she resisted?” Siegfried said. “And he struggled with her and accidentally knocked her head against the bloody rock.”
I nodded. “It’s possible.”
“What about the other boys she teased all the time? The ones right in her camp?”
“You mean Bosco?” I asked.
“No, we already covered him. I mean the white boys. Guests who were always panting around her. Willy told me about that.”
“Hmm. Maybe she teased or tempted them last night? Met up with someone secretly after pretending to go back to her room? Pushed him too far?”
“Could be,” Elsbeth said. “I vote for that one.”
“What about the peeper?” I said. “We have no idea who he is, or if he might be lurking around many camps. He could be some creep who’s camping in the nearby woods. Some tramp who just got off the train. Maybe he saw her coming back from the party last night. Watched her. Waited for her. And took her.” I shuddered at the thought. But I knew murderers existed. I’d met one two summers ago here on Great Pond when a willowy blond girl named Sharon Adamski had suddenly disappeared.
Siegfried nodded. “Ah. I didn’t think of that one yet.”
Elsbeth hugged herself. “Suddenly I don’t feel so safe, guys.” She looked around the island, jumping when a bullfrog croaked.
“You’re safe,” I said, sliding an arm around her shaking shoulders. “We’re with you.”
Siegfried glanced across the lake toward The Seven Whistles, where even now we could see red police car lights flashing from the camp. “I’m worried about Willy’s brother. He is the most obvious suspect. He saw her last. She openly ridiculed him. And she often invited him alone into her company.”
“I know. And the main problem is his color and status. They always suspect the colored people o
f crimes, no matter whether it’s warranted or not. Even if they suspected a white boy, they might first go for the colored boy.”
“Why?” Elsbeth asked. “It’s so stupid.”
“I know,” I said. “But my father said this world still has plenty of prejudiced people in it, even up here in the North.”
“Really?” Elsbeth said. “I just don’t understand. We had Abraham Lincoln. We have Martin Luther King. We had John F. Kennedy. How could anyone be prejudiced in this day and age?”
“I know.” I squeezed her shoulders. “It’s impossible to understand. But it’s true.”
Siegfried shaded his eyes, gazing across the lake. “Willy might be done now. We should go back to Loon Harbor to see if we can help her.”
“Good idea,” I said. “It’s almost three o’clock.”
We headed back to camp, docked and tied up, and trotted up to the Wee Castle porch where we waited to see if Willy would show up.
She never arrived, and the dinner shift was fast approaching, so we gave up our vigil and promised to try again in the evening.
Chapter 19
It was at four o’clock that afternoon when all hell broke loose in Loon Harbor. Four cop cars swooped into the upper parking lot. I’d been sitting on the Dining Room porch steps waiting for my shift to start when my grandmother trotted out of the office and put a hand to her heart.
“Oh, my Lord. What in the world is happening?” She straightened, standing tall, and waited for Officer Lawson to approach her.
“Mrs. LeGarde?” He tipped his hat in her direction. “I’m real sorry to bother you, Ma’am. But we’ve got a child gone missing from your neighbor’s camp down the way.”
My grandmother drew in a sharp breath. “What? A child?”
“Yes, Ma’am. From The Seven Whistles.”
My grandfather appeared at a run, untying his white kitchen apron and tossing it to the railing. “Who’s gone missing?” he asked, slightly out of breath.
I watched the whole thing from my position beneath them on the steps, eyes darting back and forth between the adults.
“Girl named Monique. Thirteen. Owner’s daughter.”
My grandmother piped up. “What about that peeper who was looking in our guests’ bedroom window? You never caught him, Officer.”
Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11) Page 8
