Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11)

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  In what seemed like hours, but was probably only ten more minutes, four boats chugged into view. I spotted my father’s boat in the lead, and then saw Mr. Baker right beside him. The other two followed closely behind.

  “Can you see anything?” Mrs. Marggrander cried. She sounded hysterical and my insides twisted when I heard that tone. Usually it meant something huge was brewing and a breakdown wasn’t far away.

  My grandfather shushed everyone. “Quiet, please.”

  It was then that I saw him. Siegfried lay on his back in the boat with my father, his long blond hair soaked and bloodied. He wasn’t moving.

  A flurry of action surrounded the StarCraft when it pulled into the berth. Mr. Marggrander leapt inside to lift his son into his arms. Mrs. Marggrander collapsed on the dock into my mother’s embrace. My grandfather held Siegfried’s feet while his father supported his shoulders and they set him down on the rough planks, sliding a life vest under his head and draping two blankets over him.

  The scream of an ambulance came from above, and voices shouted out, mixing together in a wild amalgam of fear and questions.

  “What happened?”

  “Is he okay?”

  “What was he doing out there all alone?”

  Finally, Mr. Baker held up a hand. “I hit him with my boat,” he said in a wrenching voice. “I didn’t expect a swimmer out that far. I couldn’t see a thing in the sun. I was blinded. And then I heard a yell and a thump.” His face crumpled, but he pulled it together. “He started to sink. I dove in to get him and dragged him back up to the boat.”

  “Is he breathing?” my father asked.

  Gramps nodded. “Yes. He’s breathing. But he’s not conscious.” He looked around for me. “Gus? Run up and meet the ambulance crew and bring them back down here. We probably shouldn’t move him more until they’ve secured his neck.”

  “Yes, sir.” I leapt to my feet and flew up the hill, and I didn’t notice the tears streaming down my face until I reached the swing, where I waited for the ambulance to turn into the parking area.

  When they screeched into the driveway in front of me, I waved my arms wildly. “He’s down there,” I said, pointing to the dock.

  In seconds, they’d unloaded a stretcher and medical bags. Two men with crew cuts looked to me for direction. “We’ll follow you, son.”

  I hurried down the path, turning to answer when they asked me questions.

  “What happened, pal?”

  “My friend got hit by a boat. He was swimming out deep.”

  “Male?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Age?”

  I swallowed hard. “Twelve.”

  “Name?”

  “Siegfried Marggrander.”

  They digested the information while hurrying down the hill after me, and then carried the stretcher over the dock, stopping at Siegfried’s still form.

  “Move aside, everyone.” The taller of the two men gently shooed everyone back to shore. “We need room to work. Only the parents can stay.”

  I heard them calling Siegfried’s name, trying to rouse him. They put a collar around his neck and patted his face, then opened his eyes and studied them with a penlight. Phrases like “unresponsive,” “head damage,” and “possible internal bleeding,” and “let’s get him to the ER, pronto,” floated in the air.

  They loaded Sig onto the stretcher and whisked him past his mother and sister, who both reached for him, screaming his name. I tried to follow them up the hill, watching my white-faced friend being trundled past me.

  Out of nowhere, my father appeared, pinning me to him.

  I struggled. “Siegfried!” I cried.

  “Shh,” my father said. “You can’t go with him. Let them do their job, son.”

  I turned to him with disbelief. “But he’s my best friend,” I sobbed.

  “I know, son.” He crushed me to his chest. “I know.”

  Chapter 29

  To my surprise, Willy showed up at the crack of dawn outside my bedroom window the next morning. She knocked on the side of my window until I woke up and climbed out to join her on the porch, where the loud tremolo of the early morning loons echoed across the lake.

  Taking my arm, she drew me to the rocks by the shore where we wouldn’t be heard. “I heard there was an accident. A boy. Mon Dieu, Gus.” Her face twisted in worry. “Is it Siegfried?”

  I’d somehow forgotten about the horror of the previous evening in the sweet salvation of tender dreams. But now it all came flooding back and pain seeped from my heart into the rest of my being.

  “Yes,” I said with a wobbly voice. “It is Sig. There was a boating accident. Mr. Baker hit him with his boat while he was swimming out—way too far—and it was sunset, so he couldn’t see him.”

  “Oh, no.” Her eyes filled with tears and she collapsed against me. “Not Siegfried, too.” She let loose one big shivery sob. “First my brother is accused of a crime he didn’t do and is carried off to jail. And now my special friend is killed.”

  I spun toward her. “No! He’s not dead. He’s unconscious. They were doing surgery on his brain all night. He had blood inside his skull from the impact. And now they are going to have to wait to see how he does. My mom said she’d take us up there later today if they’d allow visitors, but we have to wait and see. If he’s in the ICU, we can’t go in.”

  Her expression changed from desperate hopelessness to surprise to outright relief. “Oh, merde! I thought he died. He’s alive?” She stood and danced. “He’s alive!”

  I caught her enthusiasm and stood with her, holding her hands.

  “Is Elsbeth okay? Oh, my poor friend, she must be such a wreck.” She glanced toward their cabin.

  “She and her folks are still up at the hospital. They’re staying close to his side.”

  I touched her hand. “Are you and your aunt okay? You must be going through a lot over there, too.”

  Her face started to crumple, but she bucked up and drew herself tall. “Most of the camp workers know Bosco was set up. They’re all talking about it. We aren’t dumb. We know when we’re being used as a fall guy.”

  “What’s the next step?”

  “My brother is having a public defender assigned to him.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Je ne sais pas. Usually they’re the guys who do it for free, but they aren’t always the best lawyers around. Rich people hire all the good ones, you know?”

  I had an idea. “Willy? Is there a way we could use your voodoo rituals to cast a good spell? To make something happen? Like the real kidnapper or peeper gets found? Or like Sig wakes up? Can we try something? Anything? To make this better?”

  “Maybe.” Her brow furrowed. “Let me do some research on spells. Maybe there is something we could do—just the three of us.”

  My alarm clock shocked me by ringing inside my room. I gave her a quick hug and slid back inside to turn it off. “Time for me to get up to the kitchen. I’d better get cracking. With Siegfried in the hospital and Elsbeth up there with Sig, my grandfather’s gonna need me more than ever.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “Aunt Carmen is taking this awfully hard. I told her I’d take her shift this morning.”

  We both exchanged soulful glances and promised to reconvene after the lunch shift to exchange news about Bosco and Siegfried. I watched her creep away through the trail as quietly as she’d arrived.

  ***

  Somehow, we managed to get through breakfast. The room buzzed with talk about “that poor German boy,” and speculated about what happened. I kept my head down, didn’t say a word, and hurried from table to table with glasses of juice and laden plates. Betsy had returned to her post, so most of the serving went to her, but it was still a crazy dance of madness to get everyone fed, clear all the dishes, clean off the tables and floors, and dry the last piece of silverware.

  Rumor had it that there were no new clues about Monique and that the search areas were being extended. Police blocks were
going up on all major thoroughfares and Monique’s picture was being shown on television and on posters all over Maine.

  What I didn’t understand was why they’d do this kind of manhunt if they really thought they had the culprit—Bosco—behind bars?

  Maybe they had to cover all bases in case they were wrong. Maybe Bosco did have a believable alibi. Maybe they actually believed him.

  I prayed it was so.

  ***

  At one o’clock Willy appeared at the kitchen screen door, beckoning me outside. I wiped my wrinkled fingers on a dishtowel, hugged my grandfather, and joined her outside.

  “Any word?” she asked. “I’ve been so worried about him.”

  I shook my head. “My grandmother’s about to call the hospital. Let’s go down to the office and listen.”

  We linked arms and hurried along the white clapboard building with dark red shutters, stopping at the office.

  I motioned to the steps. “Let’s sit here for now.”

  Inside, my grandmother’s voice sounded strong and commanding. “Yes. This is Odette LeGarde from Loon Harbor Resorts. One of our guests was brought up last night and I need to check on his progress. He has friends here who are quite worried.” She paused for a moment. “That’s right. His name is Siegfried Marggrander.”

  We exchanged a nervous glance.

  “Ay yah. He’s twelve. His parents and sister are there with him.” She snorted a frustrated sound. “Well, if you can’t tell me, at least put me on the phone with Mr. Klaus Marggrander.”

  We waited while she waited, tapping her pencil on the desk. “Klaus? Oh, good. I’m glad they found you. How’s our boy?”

  Silence while she listened.

  “I see. And they can’t say more about prognosis? Well, please tell Brigit and Elsbeth we are thinking of you all. We’d like to come up to show support, even if we can’t see him. What do you think?” She listened for a few minutes, nodding her head.

  “Ay yah. Okay. I’ll bring Willy and Gus up to keep Elsbeth company, and I know Gloria wants to come, too, to help your wife. Would that be okay? In about a half hour?”

  She finished her conversation and hung up, then called us inside. “I suspect you heard all that?”

  I nodded. “Except how he’s doing, Gram. We didn’t hear that.”

  She took a deep breath. “It’s not all good news, I’m afraid. He’s out of surgery and is stable. But he’s still comatose. They can’t judge how much this may have affected his mind or body until he wakes up. It could be hours, days, or months, they said. Impossible to predict.”

  Willy’s eyes filled with tears. “But he will wake up, won’t he Mrs. LeGarde?”

  She reached over to squeeze Willy’s hands. “I sure hope so, honey. Meanwhile, let me call your aunt and get permission to bring you with us to the hospital.”

  She picked up the phone again and chatted gently with Carmen before replacing the receiver on the cradle. “Okay, we’re all set.”

  My mother appeared at the door. “Odette? Are we cleared to go up to Waterville?”

  “We are. I’m driving the Buick, so let’s get a move on. Come on, chop chop!”

  We jumped at her instructions and hurried inside the big black monster sitting beside her cabin. She tossed a quick wave to my grandfather, settled behind the wheel, and tooled out of the driveway with no waste of time. As she’d predicted, a half hour later we reached the Waterville hospital, parked, and were already walking inside.

  “Now, children,” my mother said. She’d just spoken with the lady at the desk. Taking both our hands, she led us to the elevators. “Siegfried is in a special post operative room where they can keep a close eye on him. You won’t be able to visit him today, but you can see Elsbeth and stay with her in the waiting area. She will need your support more than ever today.”

  I saw a sympathetic expression cross her face for Willy, who I figured she knew also needed extra care. “Well, we all have our problems, of course. We want to support you, too, Willy. It must be so hard for you.”

  Willy straightened her shoulders. “Yes, Ma’am. But my brother is innocent and we’re getting a public defender. I have to trust in the system. Trust that justice will be done, n’est-ce pas?”

  I wasn’t sure if Willy really believed this, but it sounded like the idea gave her courage, anyway.

  “That’s an excellent attitude, my dear.” She leaned down to hug her. “You are an exceptional young woman.”

  Willy loosed a shy smile. “Thank you, Mrs. LeGarde.”

  We got off on the second floor and headed for an area marked “family waiting room,” searching the crowd for Elsbeth and her parents.

  Chapter 30

  I’d been in hospitals before, including this very waiting room in Waterville, Maine. It was just two years ago that my mother had lost a baby by miscarriage, and I’ll never forget how scared I was after finding her in a pool of blood in her bed. She’d been whisked away by my father to the ER, but back at Loon Harbor, we were in the dark and couldn’t find out what happened. A violent storm had knocked out all phone lines, and my grandfather and I had driven through the pouring rain to the hospital to find out about my mother’s condition.

  When I sat beside my grieving father, he’d started to say, “We lost—” but then couldn’t finish his sentence. I thought he was about to say, “We lost your mother, son.” And I’d gone all crazy inside, thinking my mother was dead. What he’d actually been about to say was “We lost the baby,” which was also terribly sad, but not as awful as what I’d imagined. I don’t think I was ever the same after that.

  I’d also been in the hospital that same summer when Frank Adamski tried to burn me up in a remote shack in the woods. Had it not been for Siegfried’s unusual intuition and my father’s strong arms, he would have succeeded. Sometimes I can still smell the singed hair on my arms.

  Siegfried.

  My mind wandered to my best friend.

  How could this have happened to him? Why had he felt the need to prove himself to a sister who already loved him?

  Sure, they could be at loggerheads sometimes. They fought like regular siblings did. But to do something so foolish? I still couldn’t believe he’d tried to swim across the lake.

  I had a feeling that it had to do with his super genius brain that was always a little bit removed from typical kids, from “normal.” He’d always been brilliant, was bored to death in the early years, and finally, when he’d found his track to accelerate, he’d been right at home.

  But many of the kids at school weren’t very nice to him. Some of the worst bullies were downright nasty. I suspected that deep inside it might have taken its toll.

  What will happen now?

  My tumultuous reverie was interrupted by the sound of Elsbeth’s voice.

  “Gus! Willy!” She stumbled toward us, her face awash in grief, eyes streaming tears. “Oh, mein Gott. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  My grandmother joined Mr. and Mrs. Marggrander, who beckoned her to a far corner to talk. That didn’t look good to me, but I had to focus on Elsbeth now.

  I rushed my words as I held her against me. “Are you okay?”

  Willy put an arm around her shoulders, too, and we stood together in a three-way hug.

  “I’m so sorry, Elsbeth,” Willy whispered, stroking her hair gently.

  After a long time, we parted and Willy took her hands, leading her to the quieter seats in the corner. “Venez-vous. Come, sit with us.”

  Elsbeth hiccupped and wiped her cheeks. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s been so awful, guys.”

  I couldn’t wait any longer. “What’s happening with Sig?”

  She pointed down the hallway. “He came out of that post op room. They’re putting him in a special place to watch him closely. It’s called the Intensive Care Unit.”

  “The ICU,” I said. That’s where kids can’t go, right?”

  She nodded somberly. “Right. Only my parents can go in, one at a time.”


  “Drat.” I sighed. I really needed to see my friend. “What did they say about him?”

  She took a deep breath. “His surgery went well. It was long; touch and go for a while. At one point, they thought they’d lost him. But somehow, he was revived.”

  My blood froze. “What?”

  “Ja. And the strange thing is, I felt him come to me. I knew he was in the room with me. But I prayed so hard for him to be okay, and he went back to his body.”

  “It’s the twin thing, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Of course. We have been bonded together since we were in my mother’s tummy. There is nothing that can tear us apart.” She broke out in a fresh wave of weeping.

  We comforted her while she collected herself, and she continued.

  “They say he may be brain damaged now. If he wakes up—and that is not certain—they say he may not remember anything. He might not be able to talk or walk. He might have to learn those things all over again.”

  “If he wakes up?” I repeated. “What does that mean? He has to wake up, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s in a coma. They say sometimes people don’t wake up for weeks. Months. Years.”

  “Never?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Sometimes.”

  Willy took control. “Non. I refuse to believe such nonsense. He will wake up. He will come back to us. And when they let us into his room, we will stay by his side until he does.”

  I warmed to her attitude. “Yes. And Willy’s gonna find some special spells we can do to help, right?”

  Willy’s eyes actually shone. “Gus is right. I have been researching in my aunt’s spell books. I have several we are going to try. One to find Monique. One to reveal the true peeper. And one to save Siegfried.”

  Elsbeth threw her arms around Willy’s neck. “Oh, Willy. I wish we could keep you forever.”

  “Keep me?” Willy loosed a deep, melodic laugh that made me envision the beautiful woman she’d someday become. “Well, me, too. But come fall, I have to return to the Bayou.”