Young Whit and the Shroud of Secrecy

by Phil Lollar

  Emmy nodded. “Oh! And you said something about bending light through a prism or something.”

  “Right. So I took your advice. We were talking about the phrases you asked him to translate—”

  “You mean the ones you told me to ask him to translate.”

  Johnny shrugged, “Yeah. Anyway, I admitted that they were from me, and of course he already knew, because he knows everything. But . . . that led into a bigger discussion about other, more important things—”

  “What things?”

  “Don’t interrupt. So . . . when I asked him about trick-or-treating, my father, the unbendable object, appeared to actually bend when he saw that tonight was just a small thing compared to the big thing that bent his . . . well . . . light. Refraction! Great idea, Emmy!”

  She stared at him blankly. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  Johnny sighed and then laughed. “Nothing! Let’s go trick-or-treating before Fiona changes my dad’s mind!”

  Chapter Ten

  Johnny and Emmy stopped at a few houses on the way to Professor Mangle’s, where they would join forces with Steve and Paul. The first house handed out apples, drawing a frown from Emmy.

  “Problem?” he asked as they walked away.

  “Yeah!” she replied with a scowl. “The whole point of trick-or-treating is to get candy, not fruit!”

  “Then you probably wanna stay away from my place,” Johnny joked.

  The next two houses were better. The first gave them each a few pieces of taffy, and the second handed out peppermint sticks. There were more homes where they could have stopped, but Johnny felt they had gotten a late start and hurried them along toward the Mangle house instead.

  “So who are these boys, anyway?” Emmy asked as they hiked past the Granville House grounds, weaving through an assortment of costumed pirates, ghosts, a few Charlie Chaplin Little Tramps, and one kid dressed like King Kong.

  “Some fellas I met in the woods a few days back,” Johnny replied. “Steve and his younger brother, Paul. They’re really nice.” He stopped them suddenly and turned to her. “Uh, I should warn you, though, Steve is in a wheelchair.”

  “Why?”

  “He has some illness. I don’t know what it is. So we may have to help push him around.”

  Emmy nodded. “That’s okay.”

  A short while later, they arrived at the Mangle home, a tan American Foursquare–style home with dormer windows and a small porch about two blocks from the fence line of Granville House. In fact, it was just down the street from the break in the fence where Milo Knox had parked his car when he kidnapped them, after they had told him about the location of the Confederate gold. Rosebushes lined the front of the house, their blooms all spent for the year. A porch swing swayed lazily in a gentle evening breeze.

  A ramp covered the steps, and Johnny and Emmy walked up it to the front door. Several moths flitted about the porch light, unconcerned by their presence.

  Johnny tapped the door knocker twice, and within a few seconds the front door opened. A woman of slight build stood on the other side. Her red hair was elaborately coiffed, and she wore a gray, floral-patterned dress and high heels and was smoking a cigarette. Benny Goodman played in the background on the radio.

  “Aren’t you going to say it?” the woman asked hoarsely.

  Johnny wasn’t sure what she meant. “Ma’am?”

  “I believe ‘trick or treat’ is the usual phrase,” she clarified.

  “Oh, actually we’re looking for Steve and Paul. I’m John Whittaker, and this is Emmy Capello. Professor Mangle said I should stop by and we could all trick-or-treat together.”

  “I see,” she said. “My husband did say something about that. Wait a moment, please.” She turned and called for the boys, who hollered back that they were just about ready.

  Johnny and Emmy stood outside awkwardly. Mrs. Mangle turned back and studied him, taking a puff of the cigarette. She looked at him so long without saying anything that he began to feel uncomfortable. Finally, she exhaled a small cloud of smoke and said, “You appear to be glowing. Are you supposed to be a clown?”

  “No, ma’am. Moses. Coming down from the mountain.”

  She looked confused.

  “The Bible says he was radiant—glowing.”

  “Oh.” She turned to Emmy. “And how about you, young lady?” the woman asked Emmy.

  “I’m Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. And . . . where’s Mc—uh, Toto?” she asked Johnny.

  “Sniffing around in the trees.”

  Another awkward pause hung in the air until Johnny finally remembered something. “Ma’am, Professor Mangle promised to load our pillowcases up when we came by.” He smiled hopefully and held out his pillowcase, elbowing Emmy in the process. She quickly held out hers as well.

  The woman scowled at them. “Oh, he did, did he? Well, he’s not here at the moment, so the normal dole will have to do.” She dropped one piece of hard candy into each mostly empty pillowcase.

  Emmy looked in her case, sneered, and was just about to say something when Johnny cut her off. “Thank you, ma’am.” Emmy glared at him, and he frowned at her and jerked his head toward the woman. “Yes,” Emmy said oh-so-sweetly, “Thank you ever so much.”

  Finally, Paul and Steve arrived at the door, Paul pushing Steve in the wheelchair. Paul was dressed in cowboy gear, complete with hat, vest, chaps, and bandana. His six-shooters were at his side, and a tin star adorned his vest. The only thing betraying his costume were the Keds sneakers on his feet—and the fact that he’d had to use a marker to draw eyebrows back on his face. He also used it to draw a mustache on his upper lip. Johnny gave Steve the once-over and said, “Where’s your costume?”

  “I’ve got it on!” Steve insisted. “Can’t ya tell? I’m Clark Gable—so handsome I make the women swoooon.” He grinned mischievously.

  Johnny chortled.

  “More like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland,” Emmy scoffed.

  “She’s gonna fit right in,” said Steve.

  Johnny introduced Emmy to the boys, and then, after promises to Mrs. Mangle that they would be home before it got too late, the group departed.

  They quickly made their way back into the more populated section of town, which wasn’t much more crowded. Provenance consisted of a drugstore; a small grocery store; a church; a post office; a barber who also served as an emergency dentist; a diner; a one-man newspaper, The Provenance Standard; the town hall; a public library; a sheriff station with two deputies (one part-time); Brookhaven Public School; and about 970 residents in town, with several hundred more living in the surrounding hills, farms, and forests.

  In some respect, the area hadn’t recovered fully from the Civil War. Now, adding to the problem, many businesses had failed since the beginning of the Great Depression, resulting in multiple families migrating to what they hoped would be greener pastures. Those who stayed had found work in one of the factories or mills in Durham or Raleigh—or had tried to. But that too was short-lived. Many of the larger businesses had shut their doors in the years that had followed as well.

  That being the case, it didn’t take a great deal of time to canvas most of the residences in town. Fully half the houses were unlit, a signal that those within either didn’t observe the holiday or couldn’t pay their utility bill, which meant they also couldn’t afford any treats. Either way, the rambunctious kids of the area were happy, for those who welcomed the costumed peddlers supplied them with treats, and those who didn’t would awaken tomorrow to discover that their windows had been egged or soaped over.

  Johnny didn’t observe that tradition. He had promised his father he wouldn’t cause mischief. He also didn’t want to get into trouble and draw more attention to himself. Steve and Paul, on the other hand, brought six eggs and a bar of soap along with them. Steve couldn’t actually carry out the “tricks”—he didn’t have enough strength—but Paul did. He also had a good arm.

  As they rounded onto
Hyde Street, they almost literally ran into Wilson Knox and Arty Moore, Johnny and Emmy’s nemeses in the Confederate gold mystery. Both Wilson and Arty were obnoxious bullies before the conclusion of the mystery took them down a notch or two. But now that Johnny and Emmy’s celebrity was starting to fade, Wilson and Arty were slowly returning to their old selves. Both were bigger than Johnny, but they were wary of him since they knew he was proficient in karate and had taught Emmy a few moves as well. That didn’t stop their mouths from flapping, however.

  “Well, look who it is,” said Wilson, “Sherlock the hero and his sidekick, Watkins!”

  “Yeah, Watkins!” Arty echoed.

  “That’s ‘Watson,’ you dunce,” Emmy said with a scowl.

  Arty frowned, but Wilson chuckled. “Like it matters,” Wilson replied. “So what are you supposed to be, Whittaker, a giant, furry, glowing pickle?”

  Arty roared, “Pickle!”

  Johnny sighed and said, “No, I’m Moses, when he came down from the mountain after receiving the Ten Commandments.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Wilson nodded, smirking, “’cause he was supposed to be radiant, right?”

  Johnny and Emmy looked at each other, blinked, and then looked back at Wilson. “You got that?” asked Emmy.

  “You know the Bible?” asked Johnny.

  “Course I did, and course I do!” he said indignantly to each of them in turn. “Well, some of it at least.”

  Emmy shook her head. “Well, I have to say, you certainly are full of surprises, Wilson.”

  “Oh, Wilson Knox is a lot deeper than you could possibly know,” he said, cocking his head to one side flirtatiously, a simper curling his lips.

  Emmy suddenly looked very uncomfortable, as if she had just bitten into something really bitter. Johnny thought he might really turn green . . . from nausea.

  “Hey, now,” Arty said, “this kid’s got the right idea!” He pushed past Emmy and blocked Steve’s wheelchair. “Dressin’ up like a cripple, you probably took in a big haul! Lessee!” He grabbed Steve’s pillowcase off his lap and peered inside.

  “Hey!” Steve yelped.

  Paul gulped and stepped back.

  Johnny sprang forward. “Give it back, Arty!” he demanded.

  “Easy now! I jist wanted to see whether your friend here got any good stuff!” He jostled the sack. “Sure feels hefty!”

  “Now, Arty!”

  “Okay, okay!” The bruiser smirked and tossed the bag back on Steve’s lap. “I’m gonna try your outfit next year, kid!”

  “It’s not an outfit, you pinhead!” Emmy exclaimed.

  Arty looked at each of their faces, confused. “You mean he’s really—?” He stopped, swallowed hard, and turned back to Steve. “I didn’t mean nuthin’—”

  “Just go!” Johnny barked, jaw clenched.

  Wilson grabbed Arty’s arm. “C’mon, let’s get outta here,” Wilson urged. He pulled Arty away, and they both walked down the street.

  Emmy shook with rage. Johnny turned to Steve, concerned. “Don’t pay him any mind,” Johnny said. “He tries to act big by making others feel small.”

  Steve shrugged, waving it off. “It’s no big deal. You gotta admit, I do have more candy than the rest of you. Works every year.” He smiled, but Johnny could see sadness in his eyes. “They’re a coupla charmers, aren’t they?” Steve added.

  “Wilson Knox is a wet sock,” Emmy said. “And that Arty! What a muttonhead! Those two make me so angry!”

  “The bigger one seemed kinda sweet on you,” said Steve with a grin.

  Emmy spun on him. “What? Don’t make me puke!”

  Steve laughed, Johnny snickered, and even Paul grinned. A smile slowly broke across Emmy’s face. Soon they were all laughing as they moved down the block toward the next row of houses.

  When their laughter subsided, Steve looked at Johnny and Emmy and said, “So, you gonna ask me?”

  “Ask you what?” said Johnny.

  “Why I can’t walk.”

  Johnny and Emmy exchanged glances, and Johnny shrugged.

  “Oh, come on,” Steve said, “I know you want to.”

  “So . . . why can’t you walk?” Emmy asked softly.

  “I’ve never walked.”

  Emmy’s jaw dropped. “Never? Not even as a baby?”

  Paul chimed in. “That’s how they found out what he has.”

  “What do you have?” Johnny asked.

  “Muscular dystrophy,” Steve answered evenly, tossing a piece of candy corn in his mouth.

  “I’ve never even heard of it,” Emmy said, leaning back. “Is it a disease?”

  “I’m not contagious, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Steve said.

  “I’m not worried at all,” Emmy said.

  Steve looked at her skeptically, then smiled. “You two are the only ones in town who haven’t avoided me or who only want to know about what’s wrong with me and if it’s catching. That’s one reason I took to you when we met down at the river,” he said to Johnny. “You didn’t bring it up at all.”

  “To be honest, it never crossed my mind,” Johnny said.

  They walked by one dark house, then another.

  “I really didn’t think you were,” Emmy said in a small voice. “Contagious, I mean. I just wondered whether the doctors could cure it.”

  Steve searched for a different confection and pulled out a stick of Black Jack gum, which he unwrapped and popped in his mouth. “I better eat as much of this as I can before I get home. My mom’ll only let us have a few pieces a day,” he said, chewing.

  “There’s no cure,” Steve finally answered. “My muscles will just get weaker and weaker. I’ll have more trouble breathing and—if some other sickness like pneumonia doesn’t take me—my heart will eventually . . . give out.”

  No one said anything for a long moment. Steve reached back into his sack and fished out another stick of Black Jack. “Gum?” he offered.

  “But why?” Emmy asked.

  “’Cause it’s a good chew!”

  “No! I mean why are your heart and lungs affected by the disease?”

  “Your lungs and heart are muscles, too, Emmy,” Johnny said quietly. Emmy took the gum Steve held up, unwrapped it, placed it in her mouth, and started chewing. They all walked on in silence. Johnny certainly didn’t know what to say that Steve probably hadn’t heard a million times before.

  By the time they made the circuit and rounded onto Brewster Lane, everyone’s pillowcase was about half-full. They would have been even fuller, but all four of them had eaten enough to make their stomachs more than a little queasy.

  They headed back toward Steve and Paul’s home, past the water tower and the old Granville place. Johnny observed the water tower that had played such an important role during his first few weeks in town. It was dark, but when he looked hard, he could just make out his unfinished experiment to reenergize an old car battery via lightning—the wires still dangled from the top of the tower. He still thought it was an idea worth pursuing, but he certainly didn’t want to deal with his father’s ire again.

  According to Deputy Miller, who had helped him off the tower, the old Granville House and the property next to the tower had been abandoned for years. The grounds were thick with overgrown vegetation and old statuary and surrounded by a concrete and wrought iron fence. Though set back a ways from the road, the house itself was still visible from the street, a looming, imposing structure with dozens of broken windows and in desperate need of a new coat of paint.

  Part of the mystery of the Confederate gold took place on those grounds, and though the closest Johnny had gotten to the house was a nest of trees called Lover’s Circle, he loved the architecture of the place, from its multiple spires to its ornate gables and eaves hanging over the wraparound porch. It seemed like a building you could explore inside forever and always find a new surprise.

  Then he saw it. It was brief, but unmistakably there.

  A light. Inside, on what must b
e the third floor. He saw it flicker through the dormer window. A candle? A small flashlight?

  “Did you guys see that?” he asked.

  Emmy had. “Yeah! Some kids must be goofing off in there! Probably Wilson and Arty.”

  Johnny shook his head. “After what happened to Arty last time, I doubt he’ll ever come back here.”

  “Why? What happened?” asked Paul.

  “It’s not important,” Johnny answered.

  A big grin broke across Steve’s face. “Let’s sneak up there and scare ’em!”

  “Dad told us to play out of that stace,” Paul admonished, pushing the wheelchair a bit faster as though trying to break the invisible gravitational pull of the temptation.

  “Hold it!” Steve commanded. The wheelchair came to a halt. “Dad doesn’t want us exploring in there ’cause he has no imagination. But it’s perfect! Johnny, if you pulled that mop off your head and lost the Ten Commandments, you’d be a textbook ghost! We could scare the pants off of ’em!”

  It took a bit of convincing, but the kids agreed to go along with the prank. Only McDuff refused. No matter how much they coaxed, he stayed put.

  “He’s the only one of us with any sense,” said Emmy.

  They left the pup behind and made their way to the house as deftly as possible. Johnny removed his hair mop, set down his staff and tablets at the front gate, and they crept to the porch of the mansion. Johnny began to mount the stairs when Steve urgently whispered, “Wait!”

  Johnny stopped. “What?”

  “I’m coming too! It was my idea. Besides, I can make bat sounds with my cheeks!” He demonstrated, fluttering his jowls rapidly.

  Everybody stifled a laugh, though Emmy snorted.

  “That’s great!” Johnny whispered. “Paul, grab one side of the wheelchair while I get the other. Emmy, steady the back!”

  Paul lamented softly, “Oooo, I’m gonna get in mo such trouble for this.”

  On a count of three they lifted, and within seconds they were all on the porch. Emmy pushed Steve, and Paul let her. “At least I can deny that much,” he muttered.