Pup Fiction

by Laurien Berenson

  I glanced at the screen before answering. It was Davey. He shouldn’t have been using his phone in the middle of a camp day. I quickly lifted the device to my ear.

  “What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you,” he said.

  “Okay.” That didn’t sound too bad. “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because I’m not allowed to have my phone out of my locker.”

  “I know that,” I said. “Where are you? It’s lunchtime. Don’t you eat lunch with the campers?”

  “Usually yes. But today everything’s crazy.”

  The dishes could wait. I pulled over a chair and sat down. “Crazy how? What’s going on?”

  “There was a fire—”

  I shot back up to my feet. Faith startled and did the same. That made Bud jump up too. The small dog began to bark.

  I quickly shushed him and said, “When? Where? Is everyone all right?”

  “Yeah, everyone’s okay. It was in the kitchen. A stove caught fire or something. Pretty much everyone was outside or in the other building when it happened. But Brian—he’s the head counselor—saw smoke and went to investigate.”

  “Did he call nine-one-one?”

  “Right away,” Davey told me. “By the time the fire trucks got here, Ms. Grace and Mia had already put the blaze out with fire extinguishers. I guess it wasn’t real big.”

  “Okay.” Suddenly my legs felt weak. I sat back down. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Could the firemen tell how it got started?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Nobody’s telling us anything.” I could tell Davey was frowning about that. “Ms. Grace just gathered everybody up and told us we were going to have a picnic outside under the trees. If we hadn’t seen the fire trucks come roaring up the driveway, we wouldn’t even have realized anything was wrong.”

  “What about the campers? Were they upset?”

  “Not that I could tell. They’re just little kids, you know? They all thought it was exciting.”

  Kevin would, I thought. He loved fire trucks.

  “Something’s wrong,” said Davey. “Things are happening here that don’t make sense. I got Courtney to cover for me so I could go talk to Ms. Grace. She said everything’s fine, and that I was overreacting. But I’m not.”

  I didn’t think so, either. Davey was usually pretty level-headed. If he was disturbed, there was a reason.

  “Is there anything else I should know about?” I asked him.

  “First thing yesterday morning, I went into the locker room to stash my gear. When I walked in, every single locker was wide open.”

  “So?”

  “The last thing the counselors are supposed to do before we leave is make sure all the benches and the shelves are clear, and that the doors are closed up tight. And I know we did.”

  “Yesterday was Monday,” I said. “Maybe a cleaning crew came in over the weekend?”

  “Maybe.” Davey didn’t sound convinced. “But that’s not all. Something else happened.”

  Faith came over and laid her head across my lap. I buried my fingers in her thick coat. Her warm presence always made me feel better.

  “Tara showed it to me,” he continued. “She’s one of the counselors with the Angel Fish group. Someone had written on a blackboard in one of the classrooms. It said, ‘Watch out. You’re next.’ ”

  Holy crap. Abruptly, I straightened in my seat. Faith lifted her head and gave me a reproachful look. I deserved that.

  “Did Tara know who wrote it?” I asked Davey.

  “No. Neither one of us had any idea. She showed it to Ms. Grace too.”

  “What did Emily say?”

  “Nothing much.” Davey sounded frustrated. “She just erased the blackboard right away and told us to go on with our day.”

  I didn’t like the sound of any of this.

  “How come I’m just hearing about this stuff now?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say something yesterday when you got home?”

  “Because Ms. Grace said it wasn’t a big deal and I wanted to believe her. And she’s my boss, so I’m supposed to do what she tells me. Plus . . .”

  I waited a beat for him to continue. He didn’t.

  “Plus, what?” I asked.

  “No offense, but I didn’t want you to overreact either.”

  Okay, maybe I would have done that. But now there’d been a fire. Which meant it was definitely time for someone to react. Davey must have felt the same way or he wouldn’t have snuck away to call me.

  “Where’s Ms. Grace now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe in her office? She’s always around somewhere when camp’s in session. Do you want me to find her for you?”

  “No, I don’t want you involved. Go back to wherever you’re supposed to be. I’ll drop by this afternoon and have a chat with her.”

  “You’re not going to make her mad, are you?”

  “Of course not.” I crossed my fingers beneath Faith’s chin.

  “Because this is my first real job, and I don’t want you to get me fired.”

  “I don’t want that either,” I said firmly.

  Let’s hope it didn’t come to that.

  * * *

  I put down the phone, then stuck my head in Sam’s office. The dishes could wait. Finding out what was going on at Graceland camp couldn’t.

  “I’m going out,” I told him.

  “Fine.” Sam barely looked up. He was engrossed in something on his computer screen.

  “The dogs are here with you.”

  “Fine,” he said again.

  “I’m going to buy exploding fireworks for the boys,” I said, just to see what would happen.

  “Whatever you think is best,” Sam replied.

  Apparently I didn’t have to worry about being missed.

  Faith watched me pick up my purse and car keys. She followed me to the door that led to the garage.

  I crouched down to rub the sides of her muzzle with my thumbs. “Sorry, but you can’t come with me this time.”

  I’ll be good!

  “I know you will,” I agreed. “You’re always good. But you’ll be better off here. Keep an eye on Bud for me.”

  Faith sighed with resignation. Nobody enjoyed that assignment.

  When I arrived at Graceland camp, all the doors to the smaller building—where the lunchroom and kitchen were located—were standing open. I could hear the sound of kids playing out back in the pool and on the playground. A faint smell of smoke hung in the air.

  The small building also held Emily’s office, so I headed that way. I was pretty sure I’d find her somewhere inside. I was almost there when one of the Dalmatian puppies came flying out through the open doorway. My ankle twisted as I jumped quickly to one side, narrowly avoiding a collision. I hopped for a step or two, then put my foot down gently. Thankfully, it held.

  “Hey, sorry about that!” A teenage boy burst through the doorway behind the puppy.

  He was tall, and skinny, with gangly limbs and ears that were too big for his head. His red hair was matched by a shading of peach fuzz on his upper lip. I was betting he hoped that made him look older. It didn’t.

  The boy looked familiar, and after a moment, I realized why. He was Brian, the counselor to whom Mia had directed Davey on opening day.

  “No problem,” I said. The Dalmatian had gone running past me. Now she was headed toward the covered walkway. I hoped she’d cross it to get to the back of the buildings. “I thought those puppies always traveled in threes.”

  “Usually, they do.” Brian smiled. “But that’s Poppy, the renegade. Sometimes she likes to go off and do her own thing.”

  I gave him extra credit for being able to tell the members of the spotted trio apart. “You’re Brian, right?”

  “That’s right.” He sounded surprised that I knew his name. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m Melanie Travis, Davey and Kevin’s mother. I’m looking for Ms. Grace.”

  “She’s insid
e. But this isn’t really a good time. Ms. Grace is a little . . . umm . . . busy right now.”

  “I can imagine. I heard you had some excitement here earlier.”

  “It was nothing,” Brian said quickly. “Just a little accident. But everything’s fine now.”

  I sincerely doubted that. A fire, even a small one, could do plenty of damage in no time.

  “You were the first one to see the smoke,” I said. Better to leave Davey’s name out of it. “Do you know how the fire got started?”

  “No idea.” Brian shook his head. “Once I realized there was a problem, I immediately went back outside and called for help. There was no time to waste. These buildings are really old, and they’re made of wood. Luckily, Ms. Grace keeps a fire extinguisher in every room.”

  “She and Mia must have gotten the fire under control pretty quickly.”

  “They did. By the time the firemen got here, it was already out. Mia told me it was mostly contained in one spot. There’s an old cast-iron stove in the kitchen that nobody ever uses. She thinks the fire started in the oven.”

  “Of a stove that nobody uses?” I said. “That seems odd.”

  “I agree. But I’m just glad that nobody got hurt.” Brian moved past me. “If you don’t mind . . .”

  “No, go ahead.” I waved him by. “Sorry to hold you up.”

  I waited until Brian had followed the same route the Dalmatian puppy had taken, crossing under the walkway to disappear behind the other building. Then I turned and went inside.

  Emily might not think this was a good time to talk, but I didn’t plan on giving her a choice.

  Chapter 9

  I walked to the end of the building’s center hallway and found Emily in the kitchen. She was up on a low stepladder scrubbing smoke stains off the wall behind a big, black stove. I had no idea if she heard me enter the room, but she didn’t turn around or acknowledge my presence.

  “Want some help?” I asked.

  Emily’s hands stilled. She rolled her shoulders from side to side. I was betting her arms hurt. And the wall still looked pretty bad.

  She glanced back at me. “I should have known it would be you.”

  “I’ve had more pleasant greetings,” I said. “Any particular reason you were expecting me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Emily turned around. “Maybe because whenever there’s trouble, you always seem to be right in the middle of it.”

  “Not this time,” I pointed out. “I didn’t arrive until after the fact. I’ll help you clean that up if you want. Although I think it would probably be easier just to repaint the wall.”

  “You could be right.” She grimaced, then looked back at her handiwork. “I’ve been working for half an hour, and it hardly looks any better than when I started.”

  “At least the smell is mostly gone,” I said. All the windows in the room were open. A nice breeze had created a cross draft. “That’s something.”

  Emily looked at me balefully. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I hadn’t been. But maybe Emily wasn’t in a glass-half-full kind of mood at the moment. In her place, maybe I wouldn’t be either.

  “Listen,” I said. “Can we talk?”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “I mean sit down and have a conversation. You know, like adults.”

  “That sounds ominous.” When I didn’t correct her, Emily tossed her scrub brush into a bucket of soapy water that was sitting on top of the old, cast-iron stove. “I guess I’m ready to take a break, anyway.”

  She hopped off the step stool and crossed the kitchen to an industrial-sized refrigerator. Emily opened the door and took a look inside. “Is it too early for beer?”

  I peered over her shoulder. “You keep beer in a nursery school refrigerator?”

  “No.” She sighed. “That was just wishful thinking. I can offer you iced tea, fruit punch, lemonade, or ginger ale.”

  We both settled on lemonade, poured into tall glasses from an ice-cold pitcher. The drink was super sweet. I guessed that was how the kids liked it.

  “Let’s go sit in my office,” Emily said. “That way, I don’t have to stare at this mess while we talk.”

  Last time I was in her office, Emily had taken a seat behind the desk. This time, she and I sat down in two upholstered chairs that faced each other across a low table. She had to lift a batch of file folders off one of the chairs to make room. Emily plopped the folders on the table and dropped onto the cushioned seat with another sigh.

  “Some morning,” she said, taking a long cold drink of lemonade.

  “Some week,” I replied.

  She gazed at me over the rim of her glass. “That too. First week of school, first week of camp . . . there’s always an adjustment period.”

  I stared at Emily across the tabletop. The things that had been happening here weren’t part of any normal adjustment period. She had to know that.

  “Emily, what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Seriously? Did she really have to ask?

  “Ever since camp opened, there’s been crazy stuff happening here almost every day,” I said.

  “That’s not true.” Emily offered the protest without much conviction.

  “How did this morning’s fire get started?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. It was an accident.”

  “How did your ex-husband’s truck end up in the pond?”

  Emily opened her mouth to speak. Then she shut it again.

  “I know,” I said. “Another accident, right?”

  Her head dipped in a small nod.

  “What about Poppy, Posey, and Pansy?”

  Emily looked up in surprise. “What about them?”

  “How did they get loose from their pen last week?”

  “Umm, it was . . .”

  I set my glass down on the table with a thump. That got her attention.

  “Don’t try to tell me that was an accident too,” I said.

  Emily ran her own business. She dealt with dozens of small children every day. But I’d never seen her flustered before. Now she was very close to losing her cool. She also looked bewildered.

  “I guess I am having a run of bad luck,” she said slowly.

  “Bad luck?” I repeated.

  “Surely you don’t think that all those things are connected?”

  “I don’t know how you can not think that,” I replied.

  She stopped to consider. Then she frowned. “I guess I didn’t put it all together like you did.”

  Either that or she hadn’t wanted to think about the fact that she had a real problem.

  “I see a pattern emerging,” I said. “Maybe you hadn’t noticed, or maybe you’re willfully ignoring it. But either way, I can’t overlook the fact that the children—your campers—are being put at risk.”

  “I would never—” Emily snapped.

  “What? Expose the kids to a runaway truck? Or a kitchen fire?” I narrowed my gaze. “Has it occurred to you they’re not the only ones at risk? If this keeps up, you could lose your whole business. Everything you’ve worked so hard to build could be gone, and your reputation along with it.”

  “But nobody’s gotten hurt . . .” Emily stammered.

  “Not yet,” I retorted. “But it looks to me like the threat level of the incidents is increasing. So I’m going to ask again, and I hope this time you will give me a truthful answer. What the hell is going on?”

  Emily moaned, then leaned down and buried her face in her hands. I gave her a minute to think about everything I’d said. She drew in several deep, shuddering breaths. When she finally lifted her head, her cheeks were pale, and her jaw was set in a rigid line.

  “I don’t know,” Emily said bleakly. Before I could protest, she raised a hand to stop me. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “You must have thought about it.”

  “Honestly? I’ve tried not to. Because none of it makes any sense.”

>   I agreed with her about that. “You told Davey he was overreacting.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to apologize to him for that.”

  “He told me there was a message written on one of the classroom blackboards.”

  Emily squirmed in her seat. “I wouldn’t call it a message exactly.”

  I lifted a brow. “A warning, then?”

  “No, not that either. I thought maybe some of the counselors had been playing around. Maybe trying to scare one another. You know what teenagers are like.”

  Sure I did. And most of the teenagers I knew tried to stay out of classrooms.

  “Had they ever done anything like that before?” I asked her.

  “No,” Emily replied in a small voice. “But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t start.”

  “I don’t think denial is the best way to deal with this.”

  “Neither is browbeating me,” she shot back. “I can’t explain to you what I don’t understand myself.”

  “I get that,” I said. “So rather than acting like adversaries, maybe we should talk this out together and see if we can come up with any ideas.”

  I’d hoped Emily would agree. Instead she remained silent.

  “I’m not blaming you,” I told her. “But whatever is going on needs to stop. Otherwise, I’m going to have to decide whether or not it’s safe for Davey and Kevin to remain in this environment. And I’m going to recommend that you shut down the camp until you get things figured out.”

  “You know that’s not an option,” Emily snapped.

  I didn’t know any such thing.

  “Yes, there have been a few unexplained incidents,” she said. “But no one has been hurt. Not even close. In fact, the campers have enjoyed the excitement.”

  “Right.” I frowned. “Like that’s a good thing. So now we’re allowing the judgment of six-year-olds to guide our reactions?”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” I said. “I have no idea what you’re thinking, because you refuse to talk about it.”

  “You have no right to lecture me.” Emily lifted her glass and drained the rest of the lemonade. I suspected she was about to bring our conversation to a close.