Strawberry Summer (9 page)

Immediately after breakfast, Chris slipped away, back to the cabin to change into one of the sundresses she’d brought, an outfit that wouldn’t identify her at all with Camp Pinewood. And Susan headed for the lake, a bit apprehensive about her very first attempt at teaching swimming. Or, more accurately, at
not
teaching swimming, since she had no intention of leading a group of eight-year-olds into the lake, trying to keep an eye on all twenty of them at once.

The campers were already waiting for her, wearing their bathing suits and clutching their towels. Fortunately, Chris had reminded her to put on
her
bathing suit, underneath her jeans and T-shirt. She was so nervous that she might have forgotten otherwise.

“Hey, Chris, how come you’re not wearing your bathing suit today?” asked one little girl, with freckles and red hair braided into two pigtails.

In response, Susan pulled off her T-shirt to reveal one of Chris’s kelly-green tank suits.

“You never did
that
before.” The little girl looked troubled. “Aren’t we going into the water today?”

“As a matter of fact, I came up with an idea for something different for us to do this morning.”

The campers looked doubtful. Obviously, most of them considered their morning dip in the lake one of the high points of the day. She realized that her plan to discuss water safety—while on dry land—was not going to go over as well as she’d hoped.

Susan could feel herself floundering. How was she going to keep these water babies entertained for an hour? Having them stay right next to Lake Majestic yet not letting them go in seemed like a sort of punishment.

“
I
know!” She was suddenly inspired. “What we’re going to do today is take turns giving a swimming exhibition. One at a time, I’d like you to jump into the water and then show the rest of us how well you can swim. You know, what you’ve learned so far this year. Everyone else will be sitting on the dock, watching. They’ll be your audience. It’s like putting on a show, in a way.”

While she felt uneasy about keeping an eye on twenty kids in the water, she could certainly deal with one at a time. Even
her
lifeguarding skills were strong enough for that.

“So, what do you think, kids?”

“Yippeee!” cried the little girl with the braids. “Just like the counselors’ variety show last night! We can all take turns being the star!”

“Oh, boy! I can show everyone how well I can float!” chirped another.

“And
I
can show everyone how well I can
dive!
My brother taught me how, last summer!”

The campers buzzed happily as they thought up ways to show off their newly acquired swimming skills and tried to come up with special effects to embellish their “acts.”

Relieved, Susan thanked her lucky stars that she was fairly good at thinking on her feet.

She only hoped her twin sister, no doubt already poking around behind the Okie-Dokie Inn, was doing half as well.

The walk from Camp Pinewood to the Okie-Dokie
Inn was longer than Chris remembered it being. The night before, as the pickup cruised along the main road, it seemed as if it were only a mile or so away. But as she trudged along that morning, the sun growing hotter and hotter with each step, she found herself wondering how she could have miscalculated by so much.

She was also worried about whether her twin would be able to hold down the fort all morning.

That’s the
least
of your worries, she told herself firmly as she tromped along the shoulder of the road, watching her beige leather sandals and her toes becoming coated with a thin film of dust. Sooz will be fine. She always was before.

No, it was not Susan’s mission that she should be concerned about, she knew. It was her
own
mission.

Now that she was headed for the Okie-Dokie, dressed in a lavender sundress that she hoped would make her look like just another one of the locals, rather than a representative of Camp Pinewood, it occurred to her that she still wasn’t sure of what she intended to do once she got there. She mainly planned to investigate that long flat building behind the tavern, the one both twins had noticed last night.
And
the place where she was certain she’d seen a man in a white shirt walking.

But as she continued her hike, she had to admit that she was already less enthusiastic than she’d been the night before. She was afraid that she would learn very little. That what was supposed to be the first step in her “sleuthing” would turn out to be nothing more than a dead end.

Finally, after crossing over a grassy patch at a bend in the road, the Inn came into view. She was relieved that she had finally reached her destination—but at the same time, the butterflies in her stomach reminded her how nervous she was about this little expedition.

In the morning light, the Okie-Dokie Inn looked even more dilapidated than it had the night before. Its roof sagged slightly, its white shingles badly needed painting, and its small windows, now dark, reminded Chris of blank, staring eyes.

But it wasn’t the Okie-Dokie itself that she was interested in. It was the office building behind it, half-hidden by the tavern. As Chris neared it, she instinctively moved slowly, being careful to stay in the shadows. She found a lookout at the side of the Inn, between the back “porch” and a huge green metal dumpster. Fortunately, no one was around.

The Inn was all closed up, as she suspected it would be for a few hours yet.

From her carefully chosen hideout, Chris had a good view of the offices and the parking lot. There were already several cars parked there, but no one was around. She decided that walking by each doorway would be safe enough, since there was nobody there even to notice her, much less to wonder what she was doing there. She stood up straight, clutched at her shoulder bag, and confidently strode out from the shadows, toward the walkway that ran the length of the building.

The first door was plainly marked with two placards: “Dr. Silver, D.D.S.” and “Dr. Morgan, D.D.S.” Two dentists’ offices. Chris frowned, then walked by. Unless Camp Pine wood’s prowler was a dentist, chances were slim that this was the place to which he had retreated last night. Besides, she was certain that the man who had been illuminated by the headlights of Alan’s pickup truck had been heading down the other way.

The second door had a bigger sign. “Taylor Temps,” it read. “Temporary Typing Services. By the Hour, By the Day.”

There, that was a relief. If anyone happened to ask her what she was doing, lurking about, she could always say she was looking for Taylor Temps. To find out about a job. A
summer
job. She smiled to herself over the fact that she would, in a way, be telling the truth.

That offered her an alibi—but it didn’t help her investigation any. She was beginning to get discouraged. Maybe walking over here like this, just to read the names on the doors, was nothing more than a waste of time. Still, she was determined to continue. She had come this far, and she wasn’t about to turn back now.

Doorways three and four offered little of interest, Chris was chagrined to discover. One was an accountant’s office; the other, a lawyer’s. Again, she wondered if either of them belonged to the mystery man. But even if one did, there was little she could learn by loitering outside their entrances.

She was surprised to see that there was a fifth doorway, tucked away at the very end of the building. She hadn’t noticed it before. That could well have been where the man was headed last night.... She crossed her fingers.

Before she could reach the door, Chris had to pass by a large window, one that no doubt opened onto the front office or waiting room. She hoped that anyone in there would be too busy to notice her—especially since she fully intended to peer inside to see whatever she could see.

She strode by assuredly—but not too quickly. Her eyes were glued to the room inside, as if she expected to find there exactly what she was looking for—whatever
that
was. So she couldn’t help being disappointed when all she saw was a receptionist, behind a desk, talking on the telephone.

Well, what did you expect? she thought.

She was about to give up and go back to Camp Pinewood when she noticed the sign on the door down at the end of the building. It read, ‘‘Lake Majestic Realty Company.”

Suddenly, something clicked inside her head.

Realty ... real estate ... property ... land. A company whose business was buying and selling land. Near Lake Majestic. Large pieces of land, perhaps ... like that occupied by Camp Pinewood. And this establishment was in the same direction the man she spotted the night before had been headed.

It was a longshot, she knew. But still, she had a hunch she had found the right place.

Chris’s heart was pounding. If this
was
the right place, what should she do? She couldn’t very well barge in and demand to know what was going on. Ask them why they were so interested in Camp Pinewood. Why their employees were prowling around its grounds at night. And perhaps even why they were bothering to play little tricks—like stealing chairs or hiding cartons of supplies or letting all the boats drift out onto the lake. No, being so direct would get her nowhere.

But then ... what
should
she do? Chris retreated to the side of the building, out of sight of the line of windows and doors that faced the main road. She needed a minute to think, to decide what she should do. She wondered if it was getting late. The sun seemed to be getting so much higher in the sky, yet she couldn’t have been away from camp for
that
long.

It was cool at the side of the building, as that section was cast in shadow. She leaned against the cool brick wall, glad for the chance to rest, to get out of the hot sun, if only for a few seconds. But her mind was racing.

If only Susan were here! she thought mournfully. She always came up with good ideas. Maybe she could telephone her, tell her what she’d discovered, explain what her hunch was....

And then Chris became aware of something she hadn’t noticed before: the soft buzz of voices. The sound was coming from the back of the building, she realized. Stealthily she crept along the wall, until she came to the corner. Sure enough, the back of the building was lined with small windows, one for each of the five offices. And they were all high enough so that anyone could stand underneath, without being seen ... and listen.

Chris followed the sound of the voices, growing more and more excited. Sure enough, they were corning from the back office of the Lake Majestic Realty Company. The window was wide open, and the people who were speaking seemed to be standing or sitting right in front of it.

“I think we finally managed to do it!” a male voice was saying, loudly and triumphantly. “You should have seen the looks on those kids’ faces when they found out their evening was ruined! Hiding all those chairs in the woods was a real brainstorm, Tom!”

“Yeah, well, the kids’ reactions don’t matter one bit,” another man replied, his tone sour. “What we need is for their
parents
to get mad.”

“Well, I’m sure they will. If what happened last night doesn’t do it, just wait until you see the little scheme I planned for this morning! I think I’ve really outdone myself this time! The parents will be dragging their kids out of Camp Pine wood so fast that the little darlings won’t even know what hit ‘em!”

“Good work, Pete. Hopefully, all this will mean lots of complaints, irate parents demanding their money back ... and financial problems for the Reeds. The slow but sure demise of Camp Pinewood. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to get that land away from them.”

“Not for a price we can afford, anyway,” agreed the first man, Pete.

His associate laughed wickedly. “Oh, we could
afford
it, Pete. It’s simply that we don’t want to have to
pay
it! Not if we can get that land away from them for peanuts.”

“Right, Tom! By next week, we’ll have the Reeds thinking we’re doing them a favor by taking that property off their hands. In fact, I can hardly wait to see the looks of gratitude on their faces at the public land auction next Wednesday!”

Chris was dumbfounded. So
that
was what was going on! These evil men had been sabotaging Camp Pinewood so they could force the Reeds out—and buy their land at a low, and unfair, price! She stayed very still, anxious to hear more. She only hoped that her pounding heart wouldn’t give her away.

“Ahhh, just wait until you see the condominiums we’re going to build on that spot, Pete!” the second man, Tom, was saying. “You and I will be millionaires by next summer. How many apartments do you think we can crowd onto those few acres, anyway? And don’t forget: the more we can fit, the richer we’ll be!”

Just then a door opened. The clacking sound of high heels told Chris that a third person—a woman—had just come into the room.

“Good news, gentlemen!” she said jubilantly. “I just talked to Betty, over at Town Hall. Jake Reed called the Office of Land and Zoning this morning, just a few minutes ago. He’s putting Camp Pinewood up for public auction next week!”

Oh, no! Chris groaned to herself, even as she heard Tom and Pete and the woman congratulating one another and laughing over their success. I just hope it’s not too late....

“All right, now. Everybody back to work. Pete, Doris, we’ve all got things to do before next Wednesday’s land auction.” That was Tom, who was apparently the boss. “I, for one, am going to start calling some architects. The planning of Waterfront Condominiums, the real estate development project that’s going to make us all rich, has now officially begun!”

It was all Chris could do to keep from running back to Camp Pinewood. She was still afraid of being seen, though—by Tom or Pete or anyone else who worked at the Lake Majestic Realty Company. They
were
dangerous people; Alan had been right. But he had had no idea of
how
dangerous they were—or in what ways.