I couldn’t hear exactly what he said, and perhaps that was best.
“Here’s the key thing,” I said. “Ray Deveau told me he couldn’t answer my questions about Jimmy because of the confidentiality provisions of the Young Offenders Act.”
Alvin didn’t meet my eyes. No surprise.
I said, “The YOA. That tells me something, Alvin.”
“It was a mistake. Nothing of consequence.”
“Whatever Jimmy did, it was something.”
Alvin turned and stapled a poster onto a fence. “But it wasn’t true.” Now we were getting someplace. “That’s what Ma gets so upset about. It was such a disgusting lie. But everybody believed it anyway.”
“Look. I’ve been pretty tolerant, Alvin. But I’m at the end of my patience. If you don’t tell me what it is, I’m in the Buick heading back to Ottawa.”
“Yeah, right, Camilla. Like you’d quit.”
I drew myself up. “It could happen.”
“You don’t have to issue your ridiculous puffed-up threats. I’ll tell you.”
“As long as it’s in this calendar year.”
“Honey is a girl. Jimmy had a big crush on her.”
“Keep talking.”
Alvin waved his skinny arms. “Well, that’s it. No big deal. But, Lord thundering Jesus, you would have thought it was the crime of the century.”
“What was?”
“This isn’t easy for me, Camilla.”
Gussie whimpered in sympathy.
“Try anyway.”
“I don’t know the whole story. We weren’t allowed to discuss it.”
I understand not discussing unpleasant matters. I come from the same kind of family. “Okay. Tell me what you know.”
“Honey was one of those special girls. Popular. Really smart. Beautiful. Talented. Always winning awards. Always getting her picture in the paper. You know the type.”
I knew, all right. Everyone remembers people like that from their high school class. Thinking about them annoyed me. “Go on.”
“When she’d come home from college, Jimmy used to follow her around. He thought she was wonderful.”
I waited. After I while, I gave him a nudge. “And?”
“Don’t snap, Camilla.”
“Sorry, Alvin. But if you want to help your brother, you are going to have to put your emotions on hold and give me some information. When this is over, you can be as upset as you want. But now, cough it up. And don’t leave anything out.”
He blinked. “One day she was attacked.”
It was my turn to blink. “Attacked?” The picture of the beautiful boy in the First Communion picture flashed through my mind. “What kind of an attack?”
Alvin shrugged.
“A sexual assault?”
“Supposed to be. That’s what everyone in town was saying.”
“Rumours. They spread like the flu.”
“The cops came to talk to Jimmy.”
“Okay. Did they question him about a sexual assault?”
“I don’t know. They took him in to the station. Ma and Vince went later. I was away that weekend. Afterwards, no one in the family would talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“I guess I get too upset.”
“And why is that, Alvin?”
He shrugged his bony shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s been that way ever since Jimmy and I were kids. Maybe because he almost died because of me.” Behind the cat’s-eye glasses, his eyes filled with tears.
“Cut that out, Alvin. You were a child. You can’t blame yourself.”
“Jimmy’s brain-damaged. Yes, I can blame myself. That was my fault. And so is this.”
“That’s ridiculous, Alvin. You were in Ottawa when Jimmy disappeared.”
“Doesn’t matter. His whole life is my fault.”
“That’s crazy. How can it be?”
“Because I should have stayed here and looked after him. I shouldn’t have moved away. If I hadn’t gone away, I would have been here. I would have spent time with him. He probably wouldn’t have been by himself on that day.”
“Talk sense, Alvin. Even if you lived here, you wouldn’t have been with Jimmy every minute. Who would have thought anything could happen to him on the boardwalk? Who would be prepared for that?”
Alvin wasn’t paying attention. “It was the same thing with Honey. I was in Halifax. I should have been here then too. This is the third time.”
“Stop punishing yourself. Let’s get back to this assault situation. When was this supposed to have happened?”
“It was, let me think, eight years ago, I guess.”
“So Jimmy was thirteen.”
“Right.”
“And Honey was?”
“I don’t know. Nineteen, probably.”
“Somehow it doesn’t jibe with what people say about Jimmy.”
“I know.”
“So let’s see if I understand. This was the first time in Jimmy’s entire life he’d ever been in any trouble?”
“Well, not the first time.”
“What? Not the first time?” I felt like a particularly thick-headed parrot. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means he had little scraps, but nothing to worry about.”
“What kind of things? And tell the truth and don’t leave anything out. It’s time you started to level with me, Alvin.”
He nodded. “The other things were nothing. Like you said. He tried smoking behind the garage. Sneaking a couple of bottles of Vince’s Moosehead. Coming home late.”
Exactly the kind of things I had suggested to an outraged clutch of Fergusons. “That’s it? Big deal.”
“Ma and Vince were worried about him. Father Blaise was too.”
“Oh, bullshit,” I said. “I did all those things and more, Alvin. You probably did too.”
“No, I didn’t, actually.”
“Back to our main feature. Why did the police talk to Jimmy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did this Honey accuse him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who would know?”
“Ma, I guess, but she’s not going to talk about it. I suppose you could ask Vince.”
“Yeah, right. What about Tracy?”
“Tracy’s like me. They didn’t tell her much. Jimmy and I and Tracy were always the little kids and the others were the big kids.”
“Frances Ann?”
“She was away at university.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to Vince. He gets pissed off at me for breathing, so prepare for some fireworks.”
“Don’t let him push you around.”
“Whatever we find out can only help Jimmy.”
Alvin was quiet. Perhaps we were sharing the same thought. What if what we learned didn’t help Jimmy at all? What if it made things worse?
“Vince will be okay,” Alvin said.
“You’re a brave person, Alvin.”
Hard to know which of the two of us was most surprised by that.
“No, I’m not. I’m a disgusting coward.”
“Stop it. I’ve seen what you do in a crisis.” I grabbed him by the skinny shoulders and shook. His earrings jingled.
Several people stopped on the street and stared.”Leave that poor boy alone,” a tiny lady with blue hair said.
I ignored them. “Since you’re already upset, Alvin, why not answer a few more questions. How can I reach Honey?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t live in Sydney any more.”
Twelve
Vince says he’ll talk to you later. But not in the house.”
I rolled my eyes. “Forgive me. Is everyone always this dramatic here?”
“That’s the Fergusons. Not calm and sensible like the MacPhees.”
Touché. That was another glimpse of the old Alvin. “Fine. Vince can pick the spot.”
Vince wasn’t home, so I was going to be cooling my jets for a while. It seemed like the perfect tim
e to touch base next door. I could see Mrs. Parnell and find out what she’d picked up. Gussie trotted along for the walk.
“Ms. MacPhee. What a relief to see you,” Mrs. Parnell was in her glory, sitting in a rocking chair with a full tumbler and a fresh Benson and Hedges.
“And can I get you something to drink now, dear?” Donald Donnie brandished a bottle of Captain Morgan’s Dark in a meaningful way.
I shook my head. I needed my wits to deal with Vince.
“How is young Ferguson?”
“Almost back to his normal weird self.”
“Wonderful. And word on the brother?”
“Nothing.”
“Ah. And yet young Ferguson is coping.”
“Seems to be.”
“Don’t be fooled, Ms. MacPhee. He’s probably going through the motions. I’ve seen it many times before.”
“I don’t know, Mrs. P. He seems to be getting a bit of his old spark back. I think he’s glad to be here.” Although I hadn’t seen a mouthful of food actually enter Alvin’s emaciated body.
“Perhaps. Don’t let your guard down. You don’t know what might trigger an episode.”
“Okay. I remember the postcards.”
“Postcards?” Loretta said. Her eyes bugged out behind her glasses.
I looked at Mrs. P. She said: “Jimmy used to send postcards to young Ferguson. He became most agitated when we mentioned them. Related to the shell-shock, obviously.”
I was glad I didn’t have a drink, because I would have dropped it when Loretta shrieked. “Postcards! I guess so. Did you hear that, Dad? Didn’t those boys love their postcards?”
“Indeed, they sure did. That Jimmy used to wait for the mail every day. He’d grab that postcard and hightail it into the house, wouldn’t he, Mum?”
“Indeed he would. It was so sweet and sad to see him waiting by the mailbox.”
“Who were the postcards from? Pen pals?”
“Pen pals!” Loretta screamed. “They were from Allie, in Ottawa.”
“Indeed,” Donald Donnie said. “Of course they were, Mum.”
“But I didn’t realize Jimmy could read all that well.”
“Well, maybe he couldn’t read his way right through the encyclopedia, but he could manage well enough, couldn’t he, Dad? Always reading comic books.”
I didn’t mention that comic books had pictures in them as well as words. “That’s great.”
“Indeed, of course, Allie used to print neatly for him and make things easy.”
“Jimmy brought them over here?” Loretta and Donald Donnie exchanged looks that could only be described as shifty. I decided to push. “Did he?”
“Well, what else could he do? Right, Dad?”
“Indeed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he didn’t want them to see the postcards.”
“You mean the Fergusons?”
“Indeed, who else? You know what they’re like.”
This didn’t seem like any kind of an answer.
“Could you clarify, Loretta?” Mrs. Parnell said.
“I guess it was last year. Vincent was going on about Allie’s cards putting ideas into Jimmy’s head, wasn’t he, Dad?”
Mrs. Parnell and I stared at each other.
“I can’t imagine Alvin sending postcards if his family didn’t want him to. His mother was on the phone to him all the time. She certainly would have reminded him,” I said.
“They probably never told him to stop. But Jimmy was worried about it.”
“Indeed. Loretta overheard Vince telling Tracy that Allie’s postcards gave Jimmy ideas.”
“Wouldn’t want Jimmy to have ideas,” I said.
“So Jimmy always got the mail first, and he picked up the cards and no one in the family saw them. Isn’t that right, Dad?”
“Indeed, seems to be the way.”
I said, “So it might have looked like the postcards from Alvin had stopped. But Jimmy picked them up and hid them. Is that it?”
“Well, we don’t know for sure. We never asked. But whenever he couldn’t read a word, he brought the card here for us.”
“And yet you didn’t mention this to the Fergusons?”
“Why should we? We’ve always been fond of Allie, and if Jimmy wanted to come over here to show us his postcards, what was the harm in it? Those cards couldn’t have been more innocent, could they, Dad?”
“Indeed, Mum. No one told us they didn’t want Jimmy reading Allie’s cards.”
Loretta said, “Those postcards were so much fun. Allie has a way with words. He’d tell Jimmy what was going on in Ottawa, big things, exciting things, festivals and art galleries and all about his job and his little apartment in Hull. Sometimes, he’d make up stories, and sometimes he’d tell him about his adventures, all kinds of stuff, even you. I loved to read them, myself.”
“Indeed, they meant a lot to Jimmy,” Donald Donnie said.
“They gave him a view of a world he’d never know about otherwise.”
“Alvin kept Jimmy’s postcards too,” I said thoughtfully.“So they were obviously very important to him.”
• • •
After the postcard chat with Donald Donnie and Loretta, I had one less reason to look forward to talking to Vince Ferguson. Even though I had another serious question. When I arrived back at the Fergusons’, Vince’s car was still not in the driveway.
“Alvin,” I said, full of false good humour. “Since Vince is not back yet, why don’t we toddle off for another walk.”
“We already had a walk. I want to join the search parties.”
“Lots of time for that. Let’s build on our momentum.”
Mrs. Ferguson stuck her head in through the door. “That’s a good idea, Allie.”
Alvin gave me a poisonous look. He was still sulking when the door slammed behind us.
“Would you like to hear my plan?” I asked.
“I suppose I will anyway, whether I want to or not.”
“Glad to have the old Alvin in the land of the living,” I said.
I heard no comment from either the old or the new Alvin, so I kept talking. “Let’s go visit Jimmy’s friends. Retrace his steps on the last day he was seen.”
Alvin stared at me. I leaned forward and looked as mean as I could. “If you want to help him, you’re going to have to stop feeling sorry for yourself. When we get him back, you can collapse, but I’ll be back in Ottawa living my own life, and I won’t have to look at you.”
“Nice try, Camilla. But you won’t be winning the bitch of the year award with that little effort.”
“I’ll get worse. I’m practising.”
“Don’t...”
“No, you don’t. Don’t interrupt. Don’t be sarcastic. Don’t be negative. Here’s the plan. We will retrace Jimmy’s steps and see what we find.”
“The police have already done that. They’ve spoken to all his friends.”
“So what? The police don’t know him like you do.” I made sure I used the present tense. “And anyway, they are stretched. They had a hit and run the same night, and they must be investigating that too.”
“My family has talked to the police.”
“Big deal. How many crimes has your family solved, Alvin?”
A slight smile hovered on his thin lips. “Not many.”
“That’s right.”
“Unlike us.”
“Exactly. And I’ve had it with sitting around doing nothing. Time to kick a little butt, Alvin.”
“Got my shitkickers on,” he said.
• • •
First stop was in the North end of town, a small, blue, two-story dwelling with a crooked front porch. The home of Thomas Young. Thomas turned out to be tiny and anxious. I couldn’t tell how old he might be, somewhere between twenty and thirty, I guessed. Gussie was very glad to see Thomas. It was hard to hear over the tail thumping on the porch floor boards.
“Hi, Allie,” Thomas said. “Did you find Jimmy
?”
So maybe the kicking wouldn’t start here.
Alvin swallowed. “No. Not yet.”
“But maybe you can help us,” I said.
It looked as though we wouldn’t get asked in. Fine. I’m not crazy about the smell of cabbage.
Thomas occupied the exact centre of a sway-backed sofa on the porch. He sat, twisting his small hands. I perched on the railing. Alvin slumped on the stairs.
“I hope you find Jimmy soon.”
“So do I, Thomas. My name is Camilla.” Thomas nodded gravely. “Alvin and I thought you might be able to help us.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“But maybe if we can ask you some questions, it might help.”
A doughy, white-haired woman in a baseball cap stuck her head out the door. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s Camilla, Gran,” Thomas said.
“And who the Jesus is Camilla when she’s at home?”
I stood up and stuck out my hand. “Camilla MacPhee. I’m a lawyer.”
She narrowed her black little eyes. “Lawyer? Get the frig off my property before I take the broom to ya.”
“Aw, Gran, don’t say that,” Thomas said. “She’s nice.”
“Take the broom to me? What for?”
“I said, get the frig out of here.” She reached behind the door and picked up what looked more like a mop than a broom, but it hardly seemed like the time to quibble over semantics.
Alvin stood up. The little misery actually laughed out loud. “Camilla only looks bad, Mrs. Young. But she’s harmless in small doses.”
“Thank you, Alvin,” I said with dignity, considering I was staring into the business end of a mop.
“That you, Allie? Well, look at him, Thomas. Big city boy, now, aren’t ya?”
“That’s me.”
“Home to see what you can do for your ma.”
“That’s right.”
“You always were a good boy, weren’t ya, Allie, no matter what anybody says.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Young.”
“So what’s going on with her, then? Lawyer, me arse.” She indicated me with a sharp nod of her head.
“That’s my boss. She wants to find out what happened to Jimmy.”
“Here from Ottawa, is she? Well, isn’t that something.”
“We’re talking to Thomas about what Jimmy did on Canada Day.”
“And you think you might find out something useful from our Thomas? Good luck to you.”
Little Boy Blues Page 10