Death at Devil's Bridge (7 page)

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Authors: Cynthia DeFelice

BOOK: Death at Devil's Bridge
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After agreeing to meet at the West Basin parking lot around four o'clock the next day, Jeff and I biked home. We decided that if there was time after we'd made our deliveries, we'd go to the beach and try out the new plane.
“See you,” I called, turning off at my house. I could feel the grin on my face and the significant bulge of sixty-five dollars in my pocket.
It was going to be a great summer after all.
The next morning, Chick greeted me with the words, “Ben, I hope you got a good night's sleep. We have a tough day ahead.”
I groaned. “What does that mean?”
“We've got four guys, all meat fishermen.”
I must have looked puzzled, because he explained. “They're going to want to catch and keep as many fish as they possibly can, and not release
anything
. They'll want to fill up their coolers with fillets, so they can go home and show off all the fish they caught, and tell themselves it was worth the price of the charter 'cause they're feeding their families. The only problem is, no matter how many fish we catch, they'll think it should have been more.”
“Oh, boy,” I said. “So what do you want me to do?”
“The main thing is to get the fish in fast and be ready to catch another one. These guys aren't going to want to play the fish, or enjoy the fight.”
“Okay,” I said. “But it kind of takes the fun out of it, don't you think?”
“I know, but this is their day, so we'll try to do it their way. I'll need you to keep a churn line going, and to keep the hooks baited.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” I said. “One good thing, I guess: it won't be boring.”
Chick laughed. “Oh, no,” he said. “I can promise you that.”
We were right, it wasn't boring. But I didn't look forward to fishing like that again. It became a day-long competition among the guys as to who had the most fish. I understand a contest. I always entered the annual island-wide fishing derby with everyone trying to catch the biggest fish and win. Well, everyone except for me in last year's derby, when I caught what was probably the winning fish and let it go. Anyway, I loved fishing and took it really seriously. But it was supposed to be fun. These guys were just serious.
Chick and I turned to each other after they left and smiled tiredly.
“All I can say is, I hope they actually eat all those fish I cleaned,” I said. “And did you notice? No tip.”
“I should have warned you not to expect one,” Chick answered. “Not from those guys. But, listen, have you given any thought to working some more? I've got tomorrow off, but I'm booked for three days after that.”
“Sure.” I pretended it was no big deal, but I was really happy that Chick wanted me back.
“Good,” Chick said, grinning and putting his arm around my shoulders. “You've been doing a great job, Ben. Your dad would be proud.”
I never knew when it would happen, and it always took me by surprise. For some reason, at the mention of Pop, my eyes got all blurry with a sudden rush of tears. I didn't bother to turn away or pull the cap of my hat lower so Chick wouldn't see me cry. Chick understood how grief can sneak up and pull the rug out from under a person. His wife had had cancer and died about a month after Pop did.
“Yep,” Chick went on, “we ran into some tricky situations the past few days. Jack would have liked the way you handled yourself.”
Ordinarily Chick's praise would have made me feel great, but my insides felt uneasy. I'd been in a couple of tricky situations during the past few days that Chick didn't know about, and I was pretty sure Pop wouldn't have been proud at all of how I'd handled them. It was something I'd been trying hard not to think about. I reached up and roughly wiped the tears away, trying to brush away my disturbing thoughts, as well.
“Thanks, Chick,” I managed to mumble.
“So you want to sign up for three more days?” he asked.
“Definitely,” I said.
“Good. Same time Wednesday, then. Have a good day off, partner.”
At that moment, Donny drove into the lot, music blasting as usual from the open windows of the Tomahawk.
My other partner
, I thought, feeling like a regular business tycoon.
I said good-bye to Chick and started walking toward the car. As I drew close enough to see Donny's face through the windshield, he shook his head slightly and waved me away, with a nod in Chick's direction.
I was confused for a minute, then figured out that Donny didn't want Chick to see me meeting him. It seemed to me Donny was going a little overboard with the secrecy thing, but I busied myself near my bike, fiddling with the shift knob, until Chick drove away.
Jeff showed up then, and Donny gave us two more envelopes to deliver. I was surprised that they looked pretty much like the ones from the day before. Were we going to deliver only mail? Anticipating the possibility of carrying something larger, such as groceries, I had dug my old basket out of the garage and put it on the handlebars of my bike. It looked as if I wasn't going to need it, at least not today.
My delivery was pretty close by, up a dirt road off the Moshup Trail. “This won't take long,” I said to Jeff. “We'll have time to fly the plane when we're done.”
“Mine will take a little longer, so I'll call you when I get home.”
“Great. Let's go.”
We raced each other up to where I had to turn off and Jeff kept going straight. Everything went pretty much as it had the day before, except this time it was a teenage guy who came to the door and took the envelope.
I pedaled as fast as I could back to Donny's to collect my money. As he handed me three fives, I caught a glimpse of a lot of other bills. “Tomorrow I'll meet you at the beach parking lot on the circle,” he said.
“How come?” I asked.
“Just a precaution. Somebody might get wise to us if we keep meeting at the same place,” Donny said casually.
I thought about how he hadn't wanted Chick to see us together that afternoon. “Okay,” I said. Donny was making such a big deal about keeping our business secret. Maybe he was simply enjoying acting like a spy in a movie or something. I left, eager to meet Jeff and fly the plane.
When I got home, I called Mom at work. “Is it okay if I go to Philbin Beach with Jeff to fly his new plane?”
“What about dinner?”
“Could we eat a little later than usual? Like seven?”
“I don't see why not.”
“Great. Thanks. Hey, guess what? I have tomorrow off and then Chick wants me to work for the next three days.”
“That's wonderful, Ben.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “Jeff and I might even be able to get a boat before the end of the summer.”
“That would take an awful lot of money.” I could hear the doubt in her voice.
“If I keep getting big tips, who knows?” I said in a deliberate attempt to get Mom thinking I was making more than I really was working for Chick. I was a little surprised by how easy it was to lie to her, now that I'd gotten started.
Again that uneasy feeling squiggled through me, but I tried to ignore it. I wasn't doing anything wrong, really. As Donny said, I just had to keep quiet so nobody could steal our business.
Mom laughed. “Maybe I should quit here and work charters, too, Mr. Moneybags.”
As soon as Mom and I hung up, Jeff called, and we agreed to meet at the entrance to Philbin Beach. After hiding our bikes in a tangle of beach plums, we began walking up the beach past our secret cave in the clay cliffs toward a wide, open spot where we could launch the plane.
We neared the rocky point of Devil's Bridge, got the plane, the battery, and fuel ready, and were about to start to crank 'er up when something caught my eye.
“Look!” I said, pointing. A group of gulls was hovering excitedly over the water, their shrill, raucous cries making a racket that carried over the boom of the surf. Jeff and I had fished together enough times that I didn't have to say any more. When birds acted like that, it meant there was food around. Often, it meant that fish were feeding right under them, and they were hoping for scraps. Even though we didn't have rods with us, we had to take a look.
We both shielded our eyes from the sun, trying to catch a glimpse of a fin or tail beneath the screeching flock.
“There can't be fish there,” I said after a minute. “The water's not deep enough.”
“But there's something,” said Jeff. “You see it?”
“Yeah,” I said, squinting even harder. “Right near that big rock.”
“Trash, probably,” said Jeff.
“But how come the gulls are so excited?” I wondered.
“Cause they love garbage,” Jeff answered.
“Yeah, but, wait a second…” I looked again. “What the—”
I couldn't have seen what I thought I'd seen. But there it was again. I began running toward the water.
I don't know how long I stood there staring, with the water sloshing over the tops of my sneakers. Overhead the gulls screamed, outraged at my intrusion. Jeff pulled up next to me, panting hard.
“Oh, God. No way. Oh, God,” he said. “It's that kid, isn't it?”
I was sure Jeff was right. There were shreds of a green T-shirt and what looked like faded khaki shorts. Strands of light brown hair waved about like seaweed in the shallow water.
I continued to stare, frozen in horrified fascination, vaguely aware of Jeff breathing heavily beside me, and of my own blood pounding in my head. Then, in a voice edged with panic, Jeff whispered, “Daggett, let's get out of here.”
Our eyes met. Jeff's were wide, and his face looked gray beneath the brown of his skin. Without another word, we turned away from the body in the water and bolted for our bikes.
We pedaled up the road, ditched our bikes in the town parking lot, and ran straight into the police station. Jeff's Uncle Cully was the sergeant at the desk. He smiled when he saw us and was about to say something, then looked closer at our faces and began to frown. “You boys look pretty shook up,” he said. “What's the problem?”
I wanted to answer him, but something about the kindness and concern in his voice and the normal, safe, everyday surroundings of the room made the horror of what I'd seen seem even worse. I tried to talk, but instead began to cry—big, gulping sobs.
Any other time, I'd have been embarrassed, but I was too distraught to care. Besides, Jeff was crying, too. Cully, his face creased with worry, handed us tissues. Then he led us to an office in the back of the station and sat us down.
Jeff and I looked at each other. He said, “You tell, Ben. You saw it first.”
“There's a body,” I said. “A person. I mean, it was a person. Now it's—it's—” I remembered the waving strands of sandy brown hair, and the room began to spin.
Cully waited until I collected myself. “Where, Ben?”
“In the water. Almost up on the beach at Devil's Bridge.”
“Did you move it or touch it?” Cully asked.
“No way,” said Jeff, looking horrified.
“Good,” said Cully. “Could you tell anything about the person? For instance, whether it was male or female?”
“It's that kid,” I said. “The one who disappeared.” But suddenly I wasn't sure. The body had been so weird and swollen, and the gulls had already been picking at it. I shuddered. It could have been anybody wearing shorts and a T-shirt, maybe even a girl with short brown hair. “I mean, we thought it was, anyway,” I said uncertainly.
Jeff said, “Is it, Uncle Cully?”
“I don't know yet, Jeff,” Cully answered. He stood up. “We'll have more questions for you boys, but right now I'm going to go talk to the chief. Will you be all right here for a minute?”
Jeff and I nodded.
“I'll call over to Town Hall and tell your mother you're here,” Cully said to me as he left the room.
In what seemed like just a few seconds, Mom came flying into the police station from her office next door. “Ben!” she gasped, sitting down beside me and holding my face between her hands. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I said. I twisted my head and broke free. “I'm fine now. Really.”
“Thank goodness.” Turning to Jeff, she asked, “How about you?”
“I'm okay, Mrs. Daggett.”
“You poor boys,” Mom said. “What a terrible thing for you to see.” Her voice drifted off as Cully and Chief Widdiss walked into the room.
The chief acknowledged us each in turn. “Hello, Kate. Ben, Jeff.” His face, which usually reflected his cheerful good nature, was serious. “The sergeant is going to meet the state police down at the beach to recover the body. You say it's right in near shore at Devil's Bridge?”
Jeff and I nodded.
“The tide's coming in, Cully, and with this wind direction, you shouldn't have any trouble.”
“Right, Chief.”
“There's birds,” I said, and my voice came out all croaky. I cleared my throat and added, “Gulls.”
Cully grimaced, and I felt sorry for him, having to go down there. I was really glad the chief hadn't asked Jeff and me to go back. I thought about the search party that had found my father washed up on Cuttyhunk Island
after the hurricane, and how awful it had been when Mom and I were told that Pop was truly dead.
I sneaked a look at Mom's face, and knew she was remembering the same thing. Somebody, somewhere was waiting for word about this person, and Mom and I knew what it was like to get that kind of news. I thought about Cameron Maddox's parents. Maybe they were rude, the way Pete and Barry had said they were, but if this turned out to be their son, I felt really, really sorry for them.
“Uncle Cully?” said Jeff. “Could you get my plane and stuff while you're down there? After we found the—the body, we just ran.”
“Sure, Jeff,” said Cully. “Don't worry, I'll get it.”
Cully and Chief Widdiss excused themselves for a minute and left the room. Mom looked at me with a little line of worry between her eyebrows. “Are you sure you're going to be okay, Ben? Chief Widdiss would understand if you're not up to answering his questions right now.”
“No, I'm okay, Mom. Honest,” I said.
She leaned over to give me a hug, and when she pulled away, I saw tears in her eyes. I didn't know if they were for me, or Pop, or the poor dead person, or his family, and figured they were probably for us all. I hoped she'd go before I started crying again, and she did, giving my hand a little squeeze on the way out and saying, “I'll head home, then, and start dinner.”
When she was gone, Jeff and I looked at each other. I wondered if I looked as spooked as he did. “Ben,” he whispered. “It's him, right? The Maddox kid?”
“It has to be, don't you think?”
Jeff whispered again, urgently, “Will they be able to tell what happened to him?”
I stared dumbly at him. Wasn't it obvious? “He drowned.”
Jeff swallowed, looked nervously back over his shoulder, and said, “What if he didn't?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What if Donny—” Jeff stopped, his eyes wide and scared looking.
Then I understood. Jeff was afraid that Donny had harmed more than Cameron Maddox's car.
“Will they be able to tell?” Jeff looked at me anxiously.
“Jeff!” I said. “Donny didn't—he wouldn't. You don't really think he
killed
the kid, do you?” The idea was preposterous.
“No.” He hesitated. “I mean—No. But, Ben, he was mad at him and he
did
mess with the car, and if we tell, they're going to suspect him of messing with Maddox, too.”
“But, wait. Maddox probably drowned, like I said. There's no reason for anybody to suspect Donny of murder.”
“All I'm saying is, we've got to keep our mouths shut about the car. Act like we don't know anything.”
We were quiet for a minute. The muffled voices of Cully and the chief grew louder as they approached.
“Just because Donny sank the car—” I began.
“Shhhhh!” Jeff just about jumped out of his seat. He looked at me, panic stricken. “
Don't tell!
”
Before I had a chance to answer, Chief Widdiss came back into the room. “Are you boys feeling better?”
Jeff and I both lied, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. I'm sorry you had to be the ones to find the body,” the chief went on. “It's not a pleasant experience, I know.”
That's for sure
, I thought.
“I need to ask you just a few questions, and then you can go on home. You were walking from the Philbin Beach parking lot up toward Devil's Bridge, is that right?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you came upon the body?”
“Well, we saw the birds first.” I explained everything that had happened, ending with how we ran back to our bikes and came straight to the police station.
“Was anyone else at the beach? Did other people come over to see what you had found?”
“I didn't see anybody else.” I looked at Jeff. “Did you?”
“I think there were some people farther up the beach sunbathing,” Jeff said. “But nobody came over.”
“And you didn't touch the body?”
“No.”
“So, as far as you know, no one touched the body and no one else saw it except the two of you?”
We nodded.
“Good. Now, boys, I don't know if the body you found is Cameron Maddox's or not, but I'm betting it is. We'll know for sure pretty soon.” The chief leaned across his desk and looked at us intently. “We've been hearing a lot of stories about this Maddox kid, about what he was doing here and what might have happened to him. We're trying to get to the bottom of it, and I wonder if you boys might have heard anything that could be helpful to us.”
The silence stretched on and on. Afraid to look at Jeff, I kept my eyes straight ahead, which unfortunately meant I was gazing right into Chief Widdiss's face. His eyes moved back and forth from Jeff to me. The frown line in his forehead deepened as the silence grew.
Say something, Jeff
, I urged. But Jeff didn't say a word. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.
“After he disappeared, I heard down at the dock that he might have been selling drugs,” I said.
The chief's expression remained calm and interested. He didn't say anything.
After a while, Jeff spoke. “I heard his parents are pretty mad. They think somebody from here did something to him.”
“Why would they think that?” the chief asked, almost as if he were talking to himself.
Jeff shrugged.
The chief turned to me. “Any ideas, Ben?”
“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. I could feel my face flaming bright red. Never before had I wanted so badly to disappear.
Chief Widdiss looked at Jeff then and said, “You didn't hear anything else from any of the older kids?”
“No,” said Jeff, looking at his hands, which were squirming in his lap. His lie was just as obvious as my own.
There was another long silence. Chief Widdiss sighed and said, “If this body you found turns out to be Cameron Maddox's, and if it turns out that he did, in fact, meet with some sort of foul play, it will be a very serious matter. Do you realize that? We could be talking about a murder.”
Jeff and I both nodded.
“If you know something that might help us in our investigation of such a serious matter, you must not withhold that information, do you understand?”
I swallowed hard and nodded again.
The chief sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his stomach. “I've known you two since you were knee-high,” he said. “I know you're good boys. And sometimes good boys get themselves in a fix. They know something, or maybe just suspect something, about someone else, and they don't want to say anything about it. They want to protect a friend, or they don't want to ‘rat' on him. Maybe they're even afraid of what will happen if they do.”
The chief paused and looked from Jeff to me. “I want you to know that you don't need to be afraid. If you give me information, no one will know
you were the ones to give it. You don't have to worry about falsely accusing someone, either. If something you heard turns out to be just a rumor, we'll find that out. You can't hurt anyone by telling what you know. But you can hurt yourselves, and maybe some innocent people, by keeping silent.”
But keeping silent was what we did. I didn't know what I would have done if Jeff hadn't been there. I'd probably have told. I
wanted
to tell. It was scary to sit in the police station across from Chief Widdiss and
not
tell. Besides, I'd always liked the chief, and I wanted him to like me.
But Jeff and I were in this together. When Jeff didn't speak up, I felt as though I couldn't, either.
The chief must have seen in my face something of the struggle that was going on in my mind. He leaned forward again and said, “You can go now, boys. You know where I am if you decide you have something to tell me.”
Jeff and I got up in a hurry. As we were walking out the door, the chief added quietly, “And I think you do.”

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