Pool Party

by Linda Cargill

  “Great! Just great! There’s a lunatic murderer on the loose, and I’ve got ghosts after me, too. Just fantastic!”

  At least one good thing had come of Ruth’s disappearance. Her father had given up his apartment down the street and moved into the tiny downstairs apartment with her mother. They more than hinted that they’d like her to consider taking an upstairs bedroom while they got reacquainted.

  “Why don’t you take the tower bedroom now that nobody’s using it?” her mother suggested. “It’ll give you a lot more room. I told the maid to make it up before she left.”

  The doll was sitting in the chair staring at her when she entered. Sharon never could find out who moved that doll around the house. The doll could hardly move on its own unless the old ladies were right. She wasn’t even going to consider nonsense like that!

  Sharon stayed out of the tower room as long as she could. She even did her homework in the lobby. But finally she had to go to bed. She fortified herself with a Coke left over from the party yesterday.

  Sharon suddenly felt very sleepy and conked out almost as soon as she lay down. But once again it seemed that no sooner had she fallen asleep than she heard a voice speaking. It wasn’t the lady’s voice, the one that she was used to hearing at night. This voice was different. In fact, it was a voice she’d heard from somewhere. She’d heard it just last night.

  It was Ruth’s.

  Sharon woke and sat up in bed groggily. She was definitely awake. It was no dream. But she kept hearing Ruth’s voice as clearly as if Ruth were standing beside her.

  Then that voice stopped. She heard another. It was Donna, the head cheerleader who’d disappeared from the first pool party! Her body had just been found in a shallow grave. But Donna chatted on.

  Was that Elaine? Who could mistake Elaine’s voice anywhere? Sharon used to hear it over the loudspeaker in the mornings. Elaine had been the president of the senior class. But she’d been killed.

  Now she was hearing Marge. Marge had a great voice. She had been the head of the drama club and had always starred in every play. Her voice could carry for miles.

  Only Marge was dead. Marge couldn’t play the lead role anymore.

  Sharon put her hands over her ears. She leaped out of bed and fumbled for the switch. Garish yellow light flooded the room. Sharon blinked. The voices were coming from the doll which was now sitting in the chair underneath the window.

  Sharon grabbed the doll and pounded it against the wall, crying, “Stop it! Stop it! Do you hear me? Stop it!” The doll’s wax head finally cracked all around the mouth and across the forehead in one long, jagged, forked scar. The doll finally stopped talking.

  Suddenly Sharon’s bedroom door burst open. There was Irene in her floor-length silk nightgown. Sue stood beside her in her PJs. Behind them were Angel and Vicki. They looked as if they’d all been having a slumber party—a party to which Sharon hadn’t been invited.

  “Sharon, what is it?” asked Irene. This was as close to looking upset as Sharon had ever seen her.

  “It’s the doll. I heard voices—they sounded like Donna, Elaine, Marge, and Ruth.”

  “But they’re dead!” said Angel.

  “At least we think Ruth’s dead, too,” added Vicki.

  The voices of the dead. The chorus of the dead. What else could you call it? Oh, how could she explain?

  Irene raised her eyebrows. Sue’s jaw dropped. Angel gasped and looked as if she were about to faint. Vicki stepped closer for a better look. “Sharon, where did you get that?” asked Irene.

  Sharon glanced down at the cracked face of the doll. Her eyes traveled farther down to the doll’s arm. There was Ruth’s golden snake bracelet with the double heads and a clasp where the two snake heads met. The ruby fangs interlocked. There was no mistaking it. They’d all been admiring it yesterday.

  “We’re too late,” said Vicki.

  “You can say that again!” said Sue.

  They were all staring at her as if they thought she was guilty. They thought she had something to do with Ruth’s disappearance.

  They thought Sharon was the murderer.

  Chapter 11

  Not long after the missing girls were found in shallow graves in the thick live oak woods in Fort Clinch State Park, Ruth turned up. She, too, had been buried in another shallow grave on the park grounds.

  The local newspaper headlines had turned vicious. They read:

  Murderer and Accomplice Unmasked!—

  Four Down, How Many to Go?

  The paper pointed out that Dan and Sharon were both rather poor while each of the victims had been rich and popular. Each of the murdered girls had owned and had been wearing valuable gold jewelry, which, in each case, had been stolen and had ended up in Sharon’s bedroom, either under her mattress or on her doll. Obviously Sharon had stolen it, but she’d had the aid of her boyfriend. Even the papers conceded that Sharon hadn’t been able to murder the girls and bury the bodies all by herself.

  The police asked Sharon’s mother to drive her down to the police station so they could interrogate her. They questioned Sharon closely, especially about the most recent murder, while her mother sat in the waiting room and dabbed her eyes with Kleenex.

  “The lights at the pool were out for about sixty seconds. Isn’t that right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Wasn’t that your previous statement?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did you know that the girl was going to be murdered unless you planned it?”

  “I didn’t plan it. I was trying desperately to prevent it. I even called Dan.”

  “Why?”

  “All the weird stuff that had been happening—the doll, the handkerchief, the knife. It seemed to spell trouble. That’s all.”

  Sharon could now speak about the knife. The police had searched her room and uncovered it. As far as the police were concerned, it was just more incriminating evidence.

  It didn’t seem to do any good to tell the police her side of the story. Nobody believed that Sharon had just found the knife after Irene tossed it into the pool. The police thought she was trying to put the crimes on Irene—whom the police had never bothered to question.

  “Very interesting about the doll,” one of the officers said. “In every instance you were the last one to handle it, weren’t you?”

  “I guess so.” Sharon shrugged.

  No matter what she said the police turned it around to incriminate her. She supposed once they’d latched onto a suspect they were reluctant to investigate other possibilities. That made everything easier for them—much more neat and coldly efficient.

  Then the policeman started an even worse line of questioning. “How did you get Ruth out of the pool after you knocked her unconscious? Did somebody help you? You had only seconds before the lights came back on. The body must have been loaded into a vehicle and driven away without wasting a single second. That means the murder must have been perfectly planned. Cooperate with us. Things will go easier for you.”

  Sharon gripped the armrests of her chair. “I didn’t do anything! Won’t you please believe me? Someone’s trying to frame me!”

  The police merely told her to expect further questioning, not to leave town, and sent her home with her mother.

  Sharon really wanted to see Dan. He seemed to know so much about what was going on. But her parents simply wouldn’t hear of it. Every time she suggested it, they frowned and gave her stiff lectures. They forbade her to call him on the phone and even monitored her calls.

  “You could at least talk to Irene, Angel, or Vicki,” her mother said. “I don’t understand you, Sharon. You seem to be headed for real trouble.”

  How could she tell her mother that those girls wouldn’t do her any good either? They were all suspects in her mind. Talking to them would only make things worse. So she was really all alone.

  “You ought to tell the police that Dan made you do whatever you did,” Phil said.

  “Really, Sharon,
Phil’s only trying to help you.” Her mother scolded. “You ought to be glad for a true friend like him. He’s stuck with us through this whole mixed-up thing.”

  “Dan’s the kind of friend you don’t need.” Phil insisted. “Maybe you didn’t do anything yourself. Maybe you’re protectin’ him, but don’t let him drag you down.”

  Sharon stomped her foot. “Can’t you get it through your heads? I didn’t do anything wrong! Dan didn’t either!”

  Phil rolled those blue eyes of his and gave her parents sympathetic looks. They could only shake their heads and sigh at what they thought was their daughter’s terrible stubbornness. Her father patted Phil on the back and told him to stick with it. He was sure his daughter would come around.

  Sharon felt like she was surrounded by enemies. Day and night her mother, her father, the police, and Phil hounded her trying to get her to confess. Even Irene, Vicki, Angel, and Sue gave her the eye and looked as if they would be willing to hear a confession whenever they passed her in the halls.

  All during dinner her parents glared at her in stony silence. Her mother sometimes broke down under the strain. Her father took her mother in his arms and comforted her. At least the situation was improving their relationship if nothing else.

  Her father drove Sharon to school. The whole while she listened to him lecture her about her future—her college and job prospects. He insisted that she couldn’t afford a police record. He pounded the steering wheel.

  “Your mother was right about me all along.” He even managed to look contrite. “I was spending too much time flying around the world on business. I wasn’t spending enough time with you. Look what’s happened!”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Dad. I don’t have anything more to do with this mess than you do.”

  Her father slammed on the brakes. He was livid. “I don’t know where you think this stubbornness is getting you, young lady! If you weren’t seventeen years old, I’d turn you over my knee and spank you.”

  Phil was always stopping by the school for lunch. She was handed from one jailer to another. Phil put his arm around her shoulders and pretended to talk about other matters. But he’d always zero in on the murders. He assured her that he loved her no matter what she’d done.

  “At least Dan doesn’t follow me around like a bloodhound day and night sniffing me over like I’m some criminal,” she said.

  “Sharon, I’m trying to be patient with you,” he said.

  “Don’t act so noble. Do me a favor. Lose me!” Then she stormed off to class, hoping he wouldn’t be there when she was finished. But he always was.

  Her father frequently sent Phil to pick her up after school. They couldn’t even trust her to walk home for fear she’d communicate with Dan or someone else connected with the crimes.

  Then when she got home and hoped for at least a few moments of privacy, the police were waiting for her in their squad car with flashing red and blue lights. They asked if she was ready to talk yet. While her mother made her a snack, they sat across from her at the kitchen table and glared.

  “Officers, would you like coffee?” her mother asked nervously.

  “That would be nice, ma’am,” one of the officers replied.

  But Sharon couldn’t eat or drink a thing until they left. She counted the minutes until she could go to her room and slam the door.

  Then it started happening in school, too. The teacher was in the middle of a lecture. Sharon was listening and taking notes. A secretary knocked on the door and whispered to the teacher. The teacher frowned and stared at Sharon. Sharon shrank down in her seat, wishing she could disappear. The teacher said, “Sharon, you’re wanted in the office.”

  When she got to her feet and started out of the room, the teacher interrupted. “Take your books. You won’t be back before the end of the class period.”

  In the office policemen were waiting, complete with badges and uniforms. She kept on thinking they’d produce the handcuffs pretty soon, but they always wanted just to talk to her some more.

  They kept on urging her to tell the truth. Everybody said that—her parents, the police, Phil, Irene, Angel, Vicki, and Sue. But she was telling the truth! The problem was no one believed her! Should she lie to make everybody happy?

  She longed for somebody to believe her. But she knew in her heart there really was only one other person—Dan.

  Dan seemed to be at school most days, though still pretty much shadowed by an officer. She didn’t dare walk up to him and say anything, though everyone was expecting her to.

  She wasn’t the only one who wanted to talk. Dan often stared at her. Sometimes he even moved his lips or signaled, though she looked quickly away because she was afraid someone else might notice.

  Maybe Dan felt as out of it as she did. Maybe he felt worse because people had been after him longer. Even if they thought she was in on the murder scheme, they thought Dan had wielded the knife and the shovel.

  She’d carried a flip phone in her purse ever since the kids had disappeared from the first pool party. Her father had sent it to her for protection even before he’d arrived back in town. It had an automatic button for 911. Lots of kids had gotten portable phones in case the killer was still stalking about town. She wondered if Dan had one, too.

  She tried to notice if one of his pockets was bulging. Sharon even peeked into his locker. She’d seen other kids talking on phones between classes. She glanced in his direction to see if he was ever on the phone.

  Then one day she saw him standing outside the school, leaning against the building, talking on a portable phone. Two policemen were positioned not far away. She could overhear only snippets of his conversation without making herself conspicuous. He was talking to his parents, letting them know what time he would be home.

  After that afternoon, she tried to find out what his number was. She didn’t have the nerve to phone Dan’s parents or—heaven forbid!—ask another classmate.

  After several days, Sharon was getting pretty desperate. If she didn’t talk to Dan pretty soon she was just going to burst. Finally she spotted him at lunch and got in line behind him as inconspicuously as possible.

  She tore off a piece of paper from a notepad and scrawled a note: Dan—what’s your cell phone number? Then she tapped him on the arm.

  Dan didn’t even turn around. He handed his number back to her.

  By now she had memorized Dan’s schedule. But she couldn’t very well call him in the middle of class. He rushed between classes and so did she. After school the police escorted him home. It seemed as if only one time was left—lunch.

  She sat by herself on one side of the cafeteria and watched carefully for Dan. She even got her phone out to give him a hint. Dan was no dummy.

  As soon as he left the cafeteria line, he spotted her. But instead of coming over and sitting with her—which would immediately make everyone stare at them—he took a seat by himself on the opposite side of the cafeteria.

  When she was sure he was alone, she got up her courage and dialed his number. He picked it up in the middle of the first ring.

  “Dan, it’s so good to be able to talk to you again!” She hunched her shoulders over and talked very low. Even now she was afraid someone would overhear her.

  “You said it! I—I thought maybe you were mad at me for what happened at the last pool party.”

  She looked around as if the walls had ears.

  “I’ve got a lot more to say to you than this. But do you really think this is the right place?” Dan asked.

  “I can’t possibly see you out of school, and I can’t call you in class.”

  There was a pause. She could almost hear Dan thinking. “When’s your study hall?”

  “Fourth period, the split period right before and after lunch.”

  “Meet me out in the woods behind the athletic field tomorrow. Bring your lunch. We can eat together.”

  Maybe she hadn’t heard right. “Dan, what about the police? You can’t shake them that easily. T
hey’re not gonna let you sneak off into the woods!”

  “They stand at the front door of the building all day. They expect me to stay in school until it’s over. They don’t know whether I’m in study hall, the library, the cafeteria, or in classes. If I sneak out the back door, I might just make it.”

  She didn’t want to get him into more trouble with the police. But there wasn’t any other way. She was desperate. “All right. I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

  The next afternoon Sharon arrived at the woods first. Dan wasn’t there. She kept waiting and watching. She even searched around. Had she been stood up? Had he decided it was too much of a risk? But just as she was headed out of the woods, she ran right into Dan.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I had to wait until the coast was clear.”

  They spread out their lunch things in silence. Then they ate without saying a word, glancing at each other from time to time as if they were still in the school cafeteria and had to be careful or somebody might see them.

  The peanut butter and jelly formed a tight little ball in her throat. She took a sip of root beer, but it was sticking there. She couldn’t take the silence and suspense anymore. She blurted out, “Who murdered Donna, Elaine, Marge, and Ruth? What do they want? Are there going to be more murders?”

  “Why do you think I know?” He put his own unfinished sandwich down and wrapped it back up in its Baggie.

  “You seemed to have even stronger suspicions than I did about the second pool party. I thought something might go wrong. You knew it would. You led the police to the Ocean House just minutes after the murder occurred.”

  “You think I’m the murderer then?”

  “No.”

  He flashed her the ghost of a smile. “I wish the police thought like you. They’re still not sure whether I did it or not. They want to know how I knew ahead of time, too.”

  “Yeah, they’ve asked me the same thing again and again. I guess we’re sort of in the same boat. But there’s one more thing I want to know, Dan.”

  “Shoot.”

  “How about Phil? You warned me about him. Do you still think he did it?”