Midsummer Murder (27 page)

“Not Connie, too.”

“I’m afraid so. It seems Larry had his hands in everybody’s pants.

God, how sordid.”

“So it all comes down to two options, so far,” said Biddy.

“Two?”

“Sex or real estate.”

Lindy opened her hands in a question. “Whooo could aaask for anything more?”

“So why is Bill here?”

“Not a clue. He’s worse than usual this time. About as communicative as one of those faces on Mount Rushmore.”

“It must be bad.”

“I think you’re right.”

* * *

Lindy crept over and gave him a kiss.

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“Uumm,” he said.

“How was the morning?”

He opened one eye. “Grueling and dirty. Come here.” He reached out one hand.

“I’m dusty and icky.”

“I don’t mind.”

They missed lunch and most of the afternoon. Glen headed back to the shower.

When Lindy stepped out of the shower, Glen was already dressed.

“I think I’ll wait for you in the bar. Maybe they have something to snack on.” He gave her a lascivious look.

“Just remember we’re dining with the Eastons tonight.”

“Will do.” He grabbed his jacket and shut the door behind him.

* * *

“Don’t forget our date.”

“I won’t.”

“Bring some better shoes.” He looked down at her four-inch stilettos.

“I stashed my Nike’s in the downstairs closet.”

“Good. See you then.”

“Have you seen Glen?”

“He’s in the bar with the boyfriend wannabe.”

“With Bill?”

“Yup.

“Doing what?” She couldn’t imagine them actually trying to carry on a conversation.

“Last time I looked they were pissing on the chair legs.”

“What?”

He stretched his mouth into a broad grin and champed his teeth down. “Claiming their territory.”

She left him at a run. They were sitting at a table with Stu, Glen looking self-assured and Bill decidedly unhappy. Was it because of her or was something else bothering him?

Bill looked relieved when he saw her, then his face cleared of expression. He was beginning to really piss her off.

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“Good evening, Stu.” She ignored Bill.

“You look lovely, my dear. Shall I get you a drink? Marguerite says to come over whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

Glen and Stu got up.

“Coming, Bill?” asked Stu.

“I’ll be over later,” said Bill.

They left him idly turning his wineglass on the table.

180

Fifteen

The good news at dinner was that Robert was awake, lucid, and would recover. Chi-Chi had finally been allowed to see him, accompanied by a policeman, while another stood on duty outside the door.

The rest of the news was bad.

Robert denied having tried to kill himself, didn’t remember taking anything besides his normal dose of Benadryl, and insisted that he never used the computer. He became agitated at the suggestion he had killed Larry Cleveland and had to be sedated.

The sheriff, of course, had not believed him and was holding him on suspicion of murder. If he had any real evidence, he was not saying, a departure from his normal habit of verbosity.

Chi-Chi had returned to her duties at the annex with a ferocity that struck fear in her employees.

Lindy sat between Jeremy and Glen at the table. Across from her Biddy was flanked by Bill and Stu. Ellis and Marguerite sat in their usual places. Biddy concentrated on Stu, Glen talked with Ellis.

Lindy had nothing to say to Jeremy or Bill, and she didn’t want to risk catching their attention if she talked with Marguerite; she held a quiet communion with her plate. Conversation, what little there was of it, was polarized at each end of the table: Jeremy, Bill and Marguerite and Stu, Glen and Ellis, with Biddy and Lindy the noman’s land between them.

It was with relief and anticipation that Lindy finally pushed her chair back and followed the others to the library for coffee. Bill and Marguerite took their coffees off to the side and spoke in low tones, leaning toward each other in an attitude that said they were not to be interrupted.

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Lindy went to stand by Ellis who was alone by the unlit fireplace. He looked like he needed cheering up. She smiled at him; it was the best she could do. There was nothing to say that could make any of them feel better. The worst had happened. Whether Robert was really guilty or not, the reputation of the camp would be seriously jeopardized.

Ellis finally looked at her with that look of slight confusion she had seen several times before. She found herself wondering if, perhaps, he was becoming just a bit senile.

“Why is he avoiding me, what have I done?” He was looking not at Lindy, but across the room. “We used to be such good friends.” Ellis murmured the words. Lindy followed his gaze across the room to where Stu and Jeremy stood by the book shelves.

She stifled her irritation. Another lover’s quarrel, and at a time like this.

She was thinking of some platitude to cover her consternation, when Glen joined them. He was beginning to get on her nerves, too.

At first it was nice to be the center of her husband’s attention for a change, but after two days, his hovering was becoming annoying and his presence was interfering with her ability to find out what had happened to Larry Cleveland and why.

Now, on top of everything else, she had to figure out a way to ditch him for the next few hours in order to set an ambush for Connie. She felt ridiculous and guilty, but most of all impatient.

She gave Biddy a nod. Biddy rose from the sofa and carried her coffee toward them. As soon as she arrived, Lindy said, “I think I’ll go check on Annie.”

“I’ll go, too,” said Glen and made ready to follow her. She widened her eyes at Biddy, who immediately asked him what a par was.

“Good night, Marguerite,” said Lindy.

“Good night, my dear.”

Bill looked at Lindy curiously.

“On second thought, I’ll just stay here for a while,” said Glen, beetling his eyes at Bill. Lindy made her escape.

* * *

Midsummer Murder

Lindy cared, it would keep both of them out of her way. She stashed her heels in the shrubbery and laced up her running shoes. She wouldn’t take time to change. Her black cocktail dress would be prefect nighttime camouflage.

Rebo was waiting at the path. With an amused look at her outfit, he disappeared into the woods. Lindy followed.

Creeping as stealthily as two lumbering bears, they made their way toward the cave until Rebo stopped her with a sharp movement of his hand.

“He’s here.”

Lindy could only take his word for it. The night was pitch-black.

Rebo slipped into the crevice dragging her with him. The yellow light of the lantern assaulted her eyes making it impossible for her to see.

Her vision came into focus just in time to see a raised stick crash down on Rebo’s head and Rebo fall to the ground.

“Stop!” she cried. “We’re friends.” About as original as “Halt, who goes there,” but it seemed to work. Connie Phillips, arm raised for another blow, backed up. Rebo moaned and the boy threw himself past Lindy toward the opening.

He landed on the rock floor, spread eagle, letting out a sharp cry.

Rebo held on to one ankle.

“You little shit. We’re trying to help you,” he said.

But Connie had curled into a ball, his arms covering his head.

Rebo transferred his grip to the boy’s armpits and hauled him up. He carried the fetal Connie over to the sleeping bag and dropped him unceremoniously onto it.

Lindy winced. The thin layer of Qualofil wasn’t much protection from the hard ground. Connie yelped when his butt made contact.

“Look, kid, we don’t want to hurt you.” Sargeant Friday from
Dragnet
. Lindy would have laughed if Connie hadn’t looked so petrified.

She knelt down beside him. He was shivering. She placed a motherly hand on his shoulder. He flinched away. She suppressed her impatience.

Good cop, bad cop, she coached herself. “It’s all right,” she said in her most soothing voice. “We want to help.” She felt him relax a little, then look cautiously at Rebo.

“I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?” Connie whispered.

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“Got it in one, amigo.” Rebo squatted down on his haunches. “You want to tell us what this is all about?”

Connie shook his head vigorously.

Rebo stood up.

“Okay, okay.” Connie cowered against Lindy’s knees.

“Just start at the beginning,” she said.

“I don’t know where the beginning is.” Tears welled up in Connie’s eyes. “Shit.” He wiped them away.

“Why did you run away?” prompted Rebo.

“ ’Cause Larry got killed and nobody cared. They just put in his understudy, like he had sprained his ankle or something.” Connie wiped his eyes again. His hands left a raccoon mask of mud across his face.

“It may seem like that to you, Connie, but people do care,” said Lindy. “They’re trying to find out what happened. And you can help them.”

Connie shook his head again.

“Just get to the point, my man.” Rebo flexed his shoulders. It was a ludicrous gesture, but it unleashed Connie’s tongue.

“They’re trying to make it out that Larry killed himself. He would never.” He took a breath. “He loved himself too much.”

Rebo caught Lindy’s eye. “What do you think happened to Larry?”

“They killed him. And they’re going to kill me, too.”

“Who?” Rebo and Lindy both spoke at once. He had caught them completely off guard.

Connie lunged across the sleeping bag. Rebo’s large hand brought him up sharp.

“Tell us—we want to help you. Don’t tell us—you can tell it to the sheriff.”

Connie shook his head again.

“Stop doing that or you’re gonna knock yourself out,” Rebo said shrilly, dropping out of character.

Connie stopped, then stared up at Rebo, rhythmically blinking his eyes. Rebo threw up his hands and started to walk away.

“Nobody much liked him.” Lindy had to lean forward to hear his words. “I did, though. He used to bring kids here. Sometimes he brought me.”

“Did you ever come here with anyone else?” asked Lindy.

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Connie’s eyes widened. “No. Only Larry could bring people here.

And nobody could tell. Robert would have sent us home.” “Robert didn’t know about this place?” Connie started to shake his head, then looked up at Rebo and stopped. “No.” He switched his troubled eyes to Lindy. “Did they call my mom and dad?”

“They’re still trying to reach them.”

“They’ll kill me if they find out I’m . . . you know . . . gay.”

If I were your parents,
thought Lindy,
I’d kill you if I found out you were
having sex of any persuasion.
She pushed the thought aside as another thought took its place. His parents would “kill” him. Isn’t that what he meant when he said “they” would kill him? Was it just a teenage expression? She asked him.

“No.” His eyes never left Lindy’s, seeking comfort there, comfort that should have been given by his own mother. “I mean really kill.

Me and Larry were sneaking down here one night and we heard these voices up above us on the path. I was really scared, but Larry told me to come inside and wait for him.” Connie paused and Lindy carefully moved to the floor to sit beside him.

“I thought for sure we were going to get caught, but when Larry finally came back, he just laughed and said it was no problem. He had that smile on his face. You know, the one he got when he had just found out something that he could use.”

“Did he tell you what it was about?” Rebo’s voice sent Connie scuttling close to Lindy. She put her arm around him.

“No.”

Larry must have overheard something that he shouldn’t have, and he must have recognized the voices or seen who it was. He was planning to use it against them. Blackmail. But it had backfired.

Someone who wasn’t afraid of Larry. Some one who was willing to kill a boy in order to cover up—a relationship? A plan? Someone who was stronger than he was. Could Robert have pushed him over the cliff?

He was much smaller than the teenager, but adrenaline had been known to give people enormous strength.

“Connie,” she said softly. “The police are saying that Robert seduced Larry and then killed him in order to keep it secret.”

Connie tried to push her away. “No way. Robert never did any of those kind of things. None of the teachers here did.” He started to cry in earnest now, not bothering to wipe away the tears that 185

Shelley Freydont

coursed down his cheeks. “Not Robert. It was whoever was on the path that night. And now they want to kill me, too. But I don’t know anything.”

“Robert is in the hospital,” said Lindy, strengthening her grip on the boy. “The police think he tried to commit suicide because of what he had done.”

A pained cry erupted from the boy. He threw his head backward into Lindy’s shoulder. She held on.

“He couldn’t have been here that night. We waited until he checked the dorm. He always did that after the counselors went to bed. We hid in the bushes until we saw him go into the bungalow and turn out the lights. He couldn’t have made it to the path before us.”

Lindy felt her own breath release and realized that she hadn’t breathed for several seconds.

Connie’s arms were suddenly around her, shoulders shaking with his sobs. An inconsolable boy, alone. She rocked him gently until his breathing steadied and the trembling had subsided.

She looked up to Rebo. He stood over them, feet spread, arms akimbo, a quizzical expression on his face.

“What should we do?”

“Keep him away from the sheriff. I’m beginning to get some nasty ideas about him.”