Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11)

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  I shrugged. “Okay. But if the twins find out, I will be teased for the rest of my entire life.”

  “We won’t tell.” My father drew me in for a bear hug. “It’s a promise, sport. Nobody will know.”

  I climbed up onto the big bed with returning feelings of safety and comfort. I hadn’t awakened from a bad dream and climbed in with my folks in many years. But it felt good to snuggle down between them even if I was thirteen. Sometimes, being close to family really helps. And this was one of those times.

  “I’m calling Lawson first thing. Now let’s try to get some sleep, okay?”

  “Okay, Dad,” I mumbled, feeling the tug of sleep returning in spite of the excitement. “Night.”

  Shadow immediately jumped to my feet, circled three times, and flopped into a tight ball with nose tucked in tail. I wasn’t sure about my parents, but I fell asleep in minutes with my father’s protective hand on my shoulder.

  Chapter 26

  Officer Lawson and two other policemen spent the morning taping off the property beneath the window, examining the area, and asking questions. Across the way, the twins watched curiously from their porch. When my father told Mr. Marggrander about the incident outside my mother’s window last night, their father instructed them both not to leave the cabin.

  Shadow and I lurked and listened to the progress of the investigation the whole time, trying to stay as close as possible without being underfoot.

  From the bedroom window I watched one of the men pouring what looked like cement into a muddy footprint. “What’s that for?” I asked.

  The gray-haired officer glanced up in surprise. “So we can find a match, sonny.”

  “Oh. I think I saw that on Dragnet,” I said.

  He chuckled. “You probably did. I love that show.”

  “Where will you look?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure the guy ran toward The Seven Whistles.”

  “That’s where we’re headed.” He poked at the white gunk until it was dry, and then carefully lifted it from the soil, placing it in a cloth bag. “There we go. Perfect. Looks like a size eleven to me.”

  Officer Lawson returned to our cabin, shaking hands with my father. “Okay, we’re heading out. We’ll be back with a report if we find anything.”

  I said, “Did you find fingerprints on the flashlight, Officer?”

  He glanced down at me. “My man said it was clean. Must have been handled by someone wearing gloves.”

  My face fell. “Oh, drat. I thought maybe we’d catch him that way.”

  “Don’t give up hope, son. We’ve got an excellent boot print.”

  I nodded and said goodbye as they marched back up the hill with their prize.

  The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. I paced across the porch with Shadow by my side, then walked to the end of the dock and back a hundred times, glancing over toward The Seven Whistles, and constantly wondered how Willy was doing up at my grandparents’ cabin. With the only phone on the premises being in the office, there was no way to contact her unless someone walked up there in person. And I wasn’t allowed off the porch until we heard back from Lawson.

  My mother made us tuna sandwiches, which we chewed slowly and deliberately in silence. I polished off a small bag of potato chips and scarfed down two Twinkies for dessert. After my third glass of milk, I leaned back in my seat. “Will he ever come back? Geez. It’s taking forever.”

  My mother stood to clear the table. “We just have to be patient, honey. Let’s hope they found a match.”

  My father grimaced. “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

  A knock came at the door and I raced to answer it.

  Officer Lawson stood on the porch with his hat in his hand. “Hello, Gus. May I come inside?” He ruffled my hair as he walked past me, and then sat down at the kitchen table with my parents. I lingered in the doorway, but nobody seemed to take notice.

  “We got him,” he said simply.

  My parents heaved collective sighs of relief.

  I joined them and sat beside my father. “Honest? You got him?”

  He nodded slowly. “We did. We found the muddy boots on his back porch and a nylon stocking mask hidden under his mattress.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “Who is it? Do we know him?”

  Lawson shrugged. “I’m not sure. But you know his sister.”

  I felt the world tilt. “What?”

  “The peeper is one of the camp boys. Goes by the name Bosco. You know him?”

  I just stared at him, then blurted out in an uncontrolled rush, “It can’t be.”

  “I’m afraid it is. We’ve arrested him on suspicion in the disappearance of Monique LaFontaine. We think this is all related. He’s a stalker, peeper, and we believe maybe something went wrong the other night after the ball. He was the last one to see her alive.”

  I slumped in my chair. Willy and her Aunt Carmen would be destroyed by the news. And I didn’t—couldn’t—believe he was that kind of kid.

  My inner sense of righteousness roared into life. Something was terribly wrong with this scenario. Bosco was a good boy. A nice boy. He couldn’t be the one.

  Somehow, I’d have to help prove him innocent.

  Lawson finished up his conversation, excused himself, and walked slowly up the hill.

  My mother stood and loosed a relieved sigh. “Well. I guess I won’t need to make those curtains after all.”

  My father nodded. “Gus. You’re off the hook. You can go play around the camp with the twins. But don’t leave the grounds unless we give you permission, okay?”

  “Okay. I won’t.” I got up and ran as fast as I could to the twins’ cabin, filling them in as we ran up the hill to find Willy.

  This was not going to be easy, and I prayed to God to help us get her through it.

  ***

  Willy sat in my grandparents’ living room, tears streaming down her face. “It is impossible,” she cried. “Bosco would never do such a thing.”

  Elsbeth cried along with her, her empathy at max capacity. She hugged her sideways. “I know, Willy. Your brother is a good boy.”

  “He is,” Willy said emphatically. “He’s too tired after his long day of work to be traipsing around the woods and peeking in windows. What the police said is just incroyable.”

  Siegfried tented his fingers and looked solemnly from Willy to me and back again. “It’s very easy to plant evidence, to send someone looking in the wrong direction.”

  I turned to him. “Wow. You’re right. Anyone could have taken Bosco’s boots off the porch, worn them to protect himself from being identified, and then, after he was spotted last night, he could have stuck the nylon mask under the mattress the next morning to protect himself, you know? Probably when Bosco was working around the camp. The cabin would be empty.”

  Willy looked hopeful. “Do you think the police will understand that? Think of that?”

  Siegfried looked dubious. “I don’t know. People are crying out for someone to blame right now, and it might just be too easy to take your brother as the patsy and move forward with it.”

  “I could testify that he was in our cabin all night,” she said with a hopeful smile. “And my Aunt can do the same thing.”

  Sig nodded. “That could help. Of course, you are family, so they might not believe you.”

  Willy sighed, hiccupping a few silent tears. “And we are the help. They never believe the help.”

  I sighed and sat back. “Does anyone have a feeling about who might be the real criminal?”

  They looked at me with blank expressions. I had my own suspicions, but it was just based on my dislike of someone. I couldn’t say anything yet.

  My grandmother had gone over to the office to call Carmen, and returned a few minutes later. “Okay, let’s get you back to your aunt, Willy. She’s going to need you, honey, and you’ll need her, too.”

  Willy rose. “I want to thank you for your hospitality,” she said in a trembling voice.

  My grandmo
ther hugged her tightly. “Oh, honey. It’s the least we could do. I’m so sorry for what happened.”

  Willy nodded, wiped her cheeks, and waved goodbye to us. “See you later, guys.”

  We said our goodbyes, watching her plod with her head bent behind my grandmother as they slid into the car and rolled out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 27

  Elsbeth, Siegfried, and I spent the next day digging into our chores, helping out with the lunch and dinner shifts, and collectively worrying about Willy. Rumors whipped around the camp about Bosco and the “bad element” that had come up from Louisiana with the new camp and their “questionable” help.

  It made me so mad to hear people gossiping about someone they’d never even met. It seemed so easy for them to accept what the police said, without any doubts or speculation.

  It was a done deal.

  Bosco DuPont was the peeper, and he’d probably murdered the poor LaFontaine girl, too. It was clear as day.

  He’d been the last to see her.

  He’d walked her to her cabin.

  She’d disappeared immediately thereafter.

  So he was guilty.

  I wondered about the poor boy, sitting in prison all alone. Since his aunt and sister had no car, how would they visit him? I tried asking my parents if they’d help Willy visit him, but they’d shaken their heads firmly. My father said, “He’s accused of some very serious crimes, son. We need to let the police do their work.”

  After dinner, we’d sat in a gloomy silence at the picnic table on the porch, overlooking the calm lake. I pushed the last of the peas around on my plate and sighed.

  “Honey? What’s wrong?” my mother said.

  My father turned his eyes from the setting sun. “He doesn’t believe that boy is guilty, Gloria. Can’t you tell?”

  I looked at him in surprise. “That’s right, Dad. I know Bosco didn’t do it.”

  My mother raised one eyebrow. “Sweetie? How do you know that?”

  I pushed back from the table, rocking on my chair legs. “I just do. He’s a good kid. He works hard. He doesn’t seem like that kind of a person.”

  “But the evidence—” my mother said.

  “It could have been planted, Mum. Really easily.”

  They exchanged thoughtful glances, and my father responded first. “True. I didn’t think of that.”

  I spoke fast, glad they were listening. “It would be so easy, guys. Whoever really is the peeper could have worn Bosco’s boots that he always keeps on the porch. And later, they could have sneaked in to plant the mask under his mattress.”

  “I suppose it’s—” my father said.

  “Of course it is. If you knew you were spotted, if you wanted to protect yourself, you’d pick the best possible person—one everyone would easily suspect. He’s a Negro. He’s got nobody to protect him. And everyone just believes it without even thinking twice.” My voice shook and I felt tears threatening to spill.

  My father looked at me with renewed interest. “Hmm.”

  I continued. “It’s just like Tom Robinson in To Kill a Mockingbird, Dad.” My eyes searched his, seeking confirmation. “I know he’s a good person inside. Someone wants him out of the way to save himself.”

  My mother put a hand on mine. “Oh, honey.”

  “And you know what else? Those LaFontaines treat Bosco like dirt. Like a real slave. They treat Willy like that, too. It’s awful.”

  I could see my father’s brain was working in new directions now, although my mother seemed to just be pacifying me. I was about to go on some more when I heard the sound of heated arguing coming from the next dock over. Immediately, I knew it was the twins.

  “Oh, crap. Now what’s wrong?” I stood and walked to the railing.

  “Don’t say ‘crap,’ honey,” my mother said gently.

  “Can I go see what’s wrong?” I asked. I usually brought my dishes inside to help, but wondered if she’d let me off the hook this time.

  “Go ahead, sweetie.” She gave me a tender smile. “Find out what’s going on over there.”

  I thanked her and hopped down the porch steps, racing toward the twins, whose voices now escalated to the point of turning a few heads on shore. The two rarely argued, and frankly, it scared me to hear Elsbeth’s shrieks and Siegfried’s answering cries. Worse, they were yelling mostly in German, so I could barely pick out what they were saying.

  “Guys!” I shouted, pelting up the dock as fast as I could. I reached the end to find them red-faced. Elsbeth’s face was covered in tears, and Siegfried was stripping off his shirt.

  “I can do it,” he said with fury. “And I will prove it to you.”

  “No,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I am strong, and I’m going to show you I’m not just a nerd who loves math problems.”

  “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t mean you were weak. I just meant you spend too much time with the books,” she said, her anger waning.

  “I’m going to prove it to you,” he said. He promptly dove into the lake and started to stroke away toward the setting sun.

  I caught her arm and turned her toward me. “What the heck is going on?”

  She looked as if she hadn’t even seen me until that moment, and then began to cry anew. “Oh, Gus. We had a big fight. My Mama went a little crazy tonight, and Papa got mad. He yelled at us. And we started to yell at each other.” She hiccupped a sob, shading her eyes as she followed her brother’s progress across the lake. “And now, he wants to prove he can do it.”

  “Do what?” Fear bubbled in my stomach.

  “He says he can swim to Moosehead Island and back again.”

  “What?” The blood drained from my face. “No way. The only one who’s done that was Andy McGregor in 1952. It’s on a plaque in the living room.”

  “I know. That’s what gave him the idea.”

  We turned to watch him slice through the flat water, growing smaller and smaller as he drew across the lake. The sun glinted golden on the surface now, causing blinding reflections that hid Sig from our view.

  The sound of a motorboat joined our nervous breathing.

  Elsbeth reached for my hand, squeezing my fingers tightly.

  We watched. And waited.

  Ten minutes passed, and then a horrified yell exploded in eerie echoes across the lake. It was a man’s voice, shouting for help.

  “What happened?” Elsbeth screeched. “Where’s my brother?” Her hands flew to her mouth.

  The shouting continued, and suddenly heavy footfalls sounded. My father flew down the Wee Castle dock and jumped into the StarCraft, starting up the motor. He shouted as he passed the end of our dock. “Someone’s in trouble, Gus. Go get your grandfather. Get help.”

  Chapter 28

  Heart galloping, I pounded up the hill toward my grandparents’ cabin. Two at a time, I took the wooden steps, scrambled across the porch, and burst through the screen door.

  They sat in their usual chairs, working on two giant lobsters. Empty pieces of shell sat neatly in bowls, and the air was filled with the scent of melted butter. My grandmother’s usual green Narragansett beer bottle stood on the side table, drops of moisture pricked on its surface. On any other day this would have been a comforting scene. But not today.

  Before I could catch my breath, Gramps was out of his seat. “Gus?” He grabbed my shoulders and peered into my face. “What is it, boy?” His face rolled with waves of concern.

  I leaned forward, huffing and trying to get the words out. “They need…help down at the docks. Dad…sent me.”

  “What happened, boy?”

  “I’m not sure. Siegfried’s out there. He’s trying to swim to Moosehead Island and back again. And just now, we heard a man’s voice calling for help. Dad took your boat to see what’s going on.” Trembling, I fell against his chest. “I’m afraid for Siegfried, Gramps. What if he’s hurt? What if he’s in trouble?”

  My grandmother hopped up and slid into her
shoes. “I’m going to the office to call the ambulance and lake rescue team.” She disappeared in a flash.

  My grandfather took my hand. “Come on. Let’s grab the first aid kit and some blankets.”

  From his bedroom closet, he thrust two woolen blankets into my arms. Seconds later, he located a white box with a red cross on it under the bathroom sink. “There. Now let’s move.”

  We jogged down the hill to the living room, hurried across the porch and boardwalk, and then jumped onto the shore trail that led to Wee Castle. A huge crowd had gathered on the shore. Every single guest had somehow already heard about the emergency and waited in hushed groups, squinting into the strong setting sun. It was impossible to see anything in the bright yellow glare.

  The Marggranders were outside, too, standing at the end of the Wee Castle dock with my mother and Elsbeth, who still sobbed uncontrollably.

  Two more groups of men had started up their boats and roared into the distance.

  My grandfather went straight to the Marggranders and began to comfort them.

  I headed for Elsbeth, reached her side in seconds, and drew her to me, holding her while she cried on my shoulder.

  “Oh, Gus,” she said, shaking uncontrollably. “I just know it’s Siegfried. Something’s very wrong, I feel it inside.”

  I believed her. The twin connection had always been strong between my two best friends and her feelings did not bode well.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s sit over here.” I led her gently to the other end of the dock where she wouldn’t hear whatever the adults were saying. I figured it might scare her worse.

  Shadow had escaped from the cabin and stood on the shore, howling as if he were baying at the moon.

  This, also, did not sit well with me. He never did that. Never.

  I called him over to us and he trotted to me, tail low. His eyes looked worried, the way only a beagle’s eyes can do. Little wrinkles formed over them where his eyebrows would have been, and he snuffled against me, whimpering.

  We sat side by side on the dock with Shadow stretched between us across our laps. Elsbeth had quieted down a bit, and Shadow continued to whimper. He needed to be close, and I let him snuggle right into me. It made me feel better, too.