by JoAnna Carl
Then I looked directly at Jackson. “Listen. I did not make this whole thing up.”
“I admit that if it were anyone else, I might think you had. It’s a crazy story.” I started to speak, but he stopped me with a gesture. “But guys who’ve worked with you before say you’ve always been a solid witness. And your uncle called and vouched for you.”
“Hogan?” I was touched.
“I’m sure you’re telling the story as accurately as you can. But it’s nutty. Some of the guys . . .”
He shrugged and stood up. “If you think of anything else, give me a ring.” He gave me a business card with his private number in the lower right-hand corner; then he left.
And he left me upset. What a mess. My husband was mad at me over the way I’d handled the whole thing, and the cops thought I’d made it up.
But I was the victim. The victim. The one who had been threatened. How could I convince them of that?
I wondered if a good cry would help matters. But just then Joe called and said my van was ready to pick up. He’d had it towed to a place with Sunday service. Whenever I could get free, he’d drive me into Holland to get it. I decided that right that moment was as good a time as any, since I was so thoroughly distracted that I might as well quit trying to pretend I was working.
It takes half an hour to drive from Warner Pier to Holland, and that driving time was as quiet as any thirty minutes I’ve ever spent. Not a word was said by either Joe or me.
There’s nothing wrong with silence between two people who like each other. A companionable silence often falls between Joe and me. We can spend a whole evening together without saying much. Reading, listening to music—we both love jazz—even balancing the checkbook or doing some other chore. But that wasn’t the kind of silence we faced that day.
We were simply so unhappy with each other that we couldn’t even fight about it.
Joe finally spoke on the outskirts of Holland. “Do you want to get lunch at Russ’s?”
“They’re closed on Sunday,” I said.
“I forgot it was Sunday,” Joe said. “We’ll have to fight the after-church crowd everyplace.”
We went to some fast-food place and ate silently. Joe ordered onion rings, and I didn’t even ask him for a couple. I love onion rings, but I can’t eat a whole order.
It was a relief to pick up my car with its two new tires and head home by myself.
On the trip I still felt like crying, but instead I resolutely analyzed my problems.
First, the state police thought my story of being chased—and chasing the chaser—was so unlikely that there were apparently people on the force who thought I made the whole thing up.
Second, my husband was so angry because I had chased the sex fiend or whoever had hidden in the backseat of my van that he had used the word “stupid.”
Third, Lieutenant Jackson’s arrival had completely sidetracked my effort to find out about the mysterious Phin Vandercamp.
By the time I hit the north edge of Warner Pier I had decided what to do. I couldn’t do anything about changing Jackson’s mind. And I was still too unhappy with Joe to tell him how deeply he had hurt me. But I could go by Aunt Nettie’s and quiz her about Phin Vandercamp.
Luckily, my route to Aunt Nettie’s took me by the high school, and I spotted Julie’s white limo parked in a visitor’s spot. I checked the time and realized that the Pier-O-Ettes were there for their daily session with the high school vocal coach. I wheeled the van into the spot next to the limo.
I was afraid that the school would be locked up, but the front door was open, and I walked on down to the vocal music room. When I peeked in, I realized a few current students were listening to the practice, too. I slid into a seat in the back row.
Then I spent a delightful half hour listening to old songs. Aunt Nettie and her pals were practicing a medley of sixties hits—“(I Love You) More Today than Yesterday,” “The LocoMotion,” and “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini.” I knew they were also singing some songs from the thirties and forties, their parents’ music, but apparently they were concentrating on the things from their own youth for that practice session.
In each number Kathy Street was the lead singer. It was amazing how such a shy person could belt it out when she sang. The high school students and I all applauded when the Pier-O-Ettes ended up with a spirited version of “Harper Valley P.T.A.”
They all did their signature pirouettes and took bows. Then each gave a deep sigh and the comments began. “We made it!” “Why did we say we’d do this?” But they all looked happy.
After they left the stage, Aunt Nettie walked back to greet me, giving me a hug and whispering in my ear, “I hope you’re all right, Lee.”
“I’m fine, and I’ve got the van back. I need to talk to you.”
“Can we talk in the ladies’ room? That’s where I’m headed.”
I followed her down the hall. Since school was not in session, the restroom was empty. I waited until Aunt Nettie was washing her hands.
“What did you want to talk about, Lee?”
“Phin Vandercamp.”
Aunt Nettie stared at me. “Why on earth do you want to know about him?”
“Because he was not only engaged to Julie; he was also assistant manager at the Castle. You hadn’t told me that. Yet the six of you gals, plus Shep and Charlie, talked about the old days at the Castle for hours, and his name never came up.”
“Why should it?”
“Because I’ve finally deduced that there was some sort of brouhaha on the day before Dan Rice shot himself—or didn’t shoot himself—and Phin was involved.”
“Lee, that’s all dead and buried! It should be forgotten.”
“But Mrs. Rice never forgot. For forty years she kept telling people her husband had been killed in an accident. She fought the cops. She fought the insurance company. She called Joe and told him she had new evidence. She even told me that the Pier-O-Ettes knew something. And now she’s been killed! Murdered! What if all that long-ago stuff had something to do with her death?”
“It didn’t! I’m sure it didn’t. It was just unhappy events that we’d all like to forget!”
We stared at each other. It was as major a confrontation as Aunt Nettie and I had ever had.
Oh gee! First I’d had a major fight with my husband. Now I was having one with my aunt, an aunt who was closer to me than my mother.
The silence between us grew. Then Aunt Nettie took a deep breath. I thought she was going to speak.
But before any words came out, an unexpected sound made us both whirl.
A toilet flushed.
Then the door to the farthest stall swung open, and Kathy Street came walking out.
“It’s all right, Nettie,” she said. “I can tell Lee about my affair with Phin. It’s the only affair Margo ever let me have.”
Chapter 19
Aunt Nettie gave a deep sigh. “Check the other stalls first,” she said. “Heaven knows who else is in here.”
While Kathy washed her hands, massaging them as if the high school’s liquid soap had come from some exclusive salon, I tried the door to each stall, then looked inside. “No one there.”
Kathy patted her hands dry, looking at them with deep concentration. The high school’s rough paper towels might have been made of the finest linen. I noticed she wore an antique ring. Her slacks and shirt, as usual, were the same color of blue as the outfit Margo had on, but her shirt was trimmed with ruffles, and Margo’s had been strictly tailored.
Once her hands were dry enough to suit her, Kathy smiled at me. “Margo said I shouldn’t talk about this, but all the Pier-O-Ettes knew I was in love with Phin. He was always nice to me. He never made fun of me. He didn’t have too much to say, you know. He was quiet. Shy. He didn’t do wild things like so many of the Warner Pier boys did. He did his work. He didn’t cut up or drink. I always knew he liked me. But he was engaged to Julie.”
She smiled a beautiful,
sweet smile. “Then they broke up. It happened the night Mr. Rice died. Julie told all of us about it backstage the night of the contest. She said she didn’t want to talk about why, but it had been her idea. She was angry with Phin. And after the show was over, I thought—well, I thought that if Phin wasn’t going to marry Julie, maybe he would be interested in me.
“And he was! I went into the office, where he was always working late at night. And he was so discouraged. I just felt terrible for him. I sat down by his desk and told him so. I told him that Julie had treated him badly, and that I was sorry. I told him I loved him, even if she didn’t.”
Kathy beamed. “And it turned out he had really loved me all along! I was the reason for his breakup with Julie!”
“Oh, Kathy!” Aunt Nettie’s voice was dismayed. “I didn’t know he told you that.”
“Yes, Phin said he’d always cared about me, but he had been all mixed up with Julie. She bossed him something awful, you know. But now he was free to love me. Me! Anyway, he kissed me. It was lovely.”
Tears arose in Aunt Nettie’s eyes. She took Kathy’s hand.
But Kathy turned to me. “Phin and I became lovers, you know. Right there! We just couldn’t wait.”
I gulped back a few tears, too. I nodded. Poor Kathy! Phin had seen his chance, the jerk, and had taken advantage of her innocence.
Then Kathy’s face crumbled. “But that awful Mr. Rice came in! He ruined everything.”
At that point Kathy, Aunt Nettie, and I were all three tearing up. “Mr. Rice l-l-laughed at us,” Kathy said. “He made fun of us. He was terrible!
“And the worst part was, he wouldn’t let me put my clothes on!”
“What!” I yelped out the word.
Kathy nodded. “He said I was skinny and ugly. But he still wanted to look at me. He wouldn’t let me get dressed.”
I was horrified. But Aunt Nettie didn’t look surprised. I realized she must have heard this part of the story long ago.
“He made me cry. And he took pictures of me! And then he laughed.”
“What about Phin?” I said.
“Oh, Phin tried to act like it was all a joke. But I didn’t think it was funny.”
“I guess not,” I said.
“Anyway, finally Mr. Rice went away, and Phin left, and I got dressed, and I went home. And Margo found out what happened. I tried not to tell her, but she made me. I was afraid she’d be angry or that she’d tell Mama. And she was mad. But she wasn’t mad at me. She was mad at Phin. And at Mr. Rice. She said she was going to get even with him.”
“With him?”
“With both of them. With Mr. Rice and Phin. Because they laughed at me.”
Margo had said she was going to get even with Mr. Rice.
The words chilled me, of course. Dan Rice had died that same night, and no one had ever figured out if he’d killed himself or if someone had killed him or if he had died in some sort of accident. What had Margo done to get even with him? I hesitated to ask Kathy that question.
Just then the door to the hall opened, and Margo came in. “Kathy? What’s going on?”
Kathy looked scared, and Aunt Nettie patted her hand again. “We were just talking,” she said. “Are you two coming back over to the house now?”
“I’ll stop at the Superette and buy some wine,” Margo said. “If that would go with dinner.”
“Tonight is strictly informal. We’re going to have brats and beans.”
“A back-to-Michigan menu! I’ll get some beer, then. And a bottle of red wine.”
“That would be nice, Margo.”
Margo left, motioning for Kathy to follow her. Kathy obeyed.
I turned to Aunt Nettie, but she shook her head. “This isn’t a good place to discuss anything. Can you drive me home? We can talk on the way.”
“Sure.” We said no more until we were in the van. Then I burst out angrily. “If I had that Phin guy here, there would be another murder. I just don’t think Kathy is capable of consenting to sex.”
“It wouldn’t be rape in a court of law, Lee. She was eighteen. She certainly didn’t understand the implications of a sexual relationship, but Phin didn’t use coercion. Luckily, they didn’t actually have sex.”
“They didn’t?”
“Apparently Dan Rice interrupted them before the actual act. Kathy was so innocent—and so ignorant—that she didn’t have a chance against Phin.”
“You called Phin a manipulator. He must have been an expert.”
“Oh, yes. He manipulated Julie all through high school. He was one of these ‘poor me, I’m going to go eat worms’ people. Always felt sorry for himself. Always made other people feel that they’d done something mean to him.”
“But to use that technique on poor Kathy—that was despicable.”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
“Did all the Pier-O-Ettes know about this?”
Aunt Nettie nodded. “Margo got us together about midnight that night and told us what had happened.”
“Why did she do that?”
“Because she was serious about getting even with Phin and Dan Rice, and she needed our help.”
“Oh gee! What did Margo come up with?”
A rather sly smile crept over Aunt Nettie’s face. “We all helped her. All but Kathy. Even Julie came along.”
“What happened?”
“Margo snitched a pistol from her grandfather.”
“A pistol! She shot Rice?”
“No, Lee. She did not. She just got hold of a pistol. And I got one from my father.”
“Aunt Nettie!”
“Lots of people who live in the country or in small towns have a pistol. You know that. Ruby got one that was her dad’s. Hazel had her brother’s twenty-two. Julie was in charge of the camera.”
“Camera! You took pictures?”
“We certainly did. Dan Rice took pictures. We went to Mr. Rice’s office when he and Phin were there, about two o’clock, after the place closed. We held them at gunpoint. And we made them strip off their clothes.”
“But, Aunt Nettie—frankly, I’d think Dan Rice might have enjoyed that.”
“He didn’t enjoy the part where Margo fired a bullet to show she wasn’t kidding.”
“Fired a bullet!”
“Yes, she fired a bullet. After that Phin and Dan Rice both believed we meant business. Which was a lucky thing.” Aunt Nettie laughed. “Because it was the only bullet we brought along.”
“All those guns were unloaded?”
“Certainly. We weren’t going to take the chance of actually hurting anybody.”
“So you threatened them with unloaded guns, made the two of them take off their clothes, then took pictures of them.” I considered it all. “Frankly, Aunt Nettie, that sounds pretty tame by today’s standards, with stupid teenagers sending sexy pictures of themselves to one another’s phones.”
“This was forty-five years ago, Lee. In those days girls at slumber parties still had big discussions about whether you should take your nightgown off on your wedding night. Doctors were just beginning to be willing to talk to brides about birth control before the honeymoon. Besides, Warner Pier was no larger then than it is now.”
“You mean you threatened to show the pictures around town?”
“Worse than that! We threatened to show them to Mrs. Rice. And to tell her why we took them.”
“Ouch! So were you all responsible for dumping the clothes over the side of the deck?”
“We certainly were.” Aunt Nettie’s chin was firm. “We were all so furious at what Phin and Mr. Rice had done to Kathy—well, they were lucky that we didn’t have live ammunition in those pistols we lifted from home.”
“Have I got this straight? Kathy fell for Phin, and the two of them were doing some heavy petting in the office . . .”
“The green room.”
“The green room of the Castle. Mr. Rice caught them, and he deliberately humiliated Kathy by taking pictures of her an
d by not allowing her to put her clothes on. Phin also laughed at her.”
Aunt Nettie nodded, and I went on.
“Margo vowed revenge on both men, particularly Mr. Rice. So all of you armed yourselves—”
“With unloaded guns.”
“Then you forced the two of them to disrobe, and you took pictures, threatening to show them to Mrs. Rice. Their clothes were bundled into a garbage bag, weighed down with a steam iron, and thrown off the deck into the Warner River.”
“Yes. That’s what happened.” Aunt Nettie giggled. “We could have gotten into a whole lot of trouble, but we thought Mr. Rice wouldn’t dare report the whole thing.”
“But he committed suicide that same night. Or somebody shot him.”
“Lee, I’ve never been able to see any connection between what we did and his death.”
I sighed. “I certainly understand why you did it.”
“What else could we do? We simply couldn’t let him bully and humiliate Kathy like that—and get away with it! If we’d waited as long as morning, one of those awful guys would have told the story. It would have been all over Warner Pier in a minute. Kathy would have been ruined forever.”
“I guess you could have reported Dan Rice to the police.”
“Not in a town the size of Warner Pier! The whole point was to conceal Kathy’s humiliation. If we’d reported—well, Phin would have been embarrassed, but he would have made everybody think he was a victim. Mr. Rice might have gotten in some trouble, but Kathy’s mom wouldn’t have pressed charges against him. Probably the police of those days would have thought it was funny.”
I considered that as I turned the corner into Aunt Nettie’s street. It had been an odd situation. And she was right; Kathy and Margo’s mom would probably have been most interested in avoiding gossip, not sending Dan Rice to court.
“I guess vigilante action was your only recourse,” I said.
“I’ve never regretted doing it.”
“I understand. My only problem is that for all these years you’ve added to the mystery of what really happened to Mr. Rice. Mrs. Rice had all those lawsuits and everything. Knowing this background might have helped the authorities figure out how he was killed.”