Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11) Read online

  I glanced down at him. “Not possible. I barely hit him.” I hurriedly leaned down and felt for a pulse, then noticed his chest rising rhythmically. “He’ll be okay.”

  “He’ll kill you if he sees you.” She locked eyes with me. She was serious.

  “Okay, let’s get the heck out of here. Do you want to talk to the police? I know Officer Lawson and he can help you.”

  We started toward the door, and I grabbed a water container, exchanging it with the empty one. I followed her out.

  “No.” She shushed me when we reached the kitchen. “No cops. They’ll fire me. And I need this summer job. I can’t afford my tuition if I don’t earn it.”

  I stared at her. “You need it that badly?”

  She dropped her eyes. “I can usually fight him off.”

  “What would have happened if I hadn’t come along just when I did?” I felt like I was playing the role of my father, talking to her like an adult. But I had to. How could she put up with such treatment?

  She didn’t speak.

  “Has he done this with other girls?” I pushed. “With Willy?”

  She avoided my eyes.

  “Willy’s only a kid. Thirteen years old,” I said. “You really should tell someone.”

  The chef beckoned Yvonne with snapping fingers and called her over to deliver a cheese platter to some hungry guests. “Vite, vite!” he said. “No dawdling, Mademoiselle.”

  I watched for a few disbelieving minutes, then pushed the tray back out to the tables where a dozen people queued waiting for water.

  Somehow, I temporarily shelved my thoughts about Yvonne and focused on helping the volunteers.

  ***

  The rest of the afternoon went quickly, with more and more volunteers showing up to search for Monique and droves of hungry and tired good souls coming back from their woodland treks.

  It had started to rain, which made the search much harder. People were quietly grumbling about the mud and mosquitoes. A few local Red Cross volunteers had set up a station on the far side of the ballroom, offering free plastic slickers, blankets, and first aid.

  Mr. LaFontaine had not appeared since I clocked him with the push broom. I figured he was likely in his room nursing a headache and maybe even his pride.

  Mrs. LaFontaine, however, remained at her post, accepting the occasional cup of coffee from Willy with a brave smile. Pierre sat with her, holding her hand and giving her a hug every once in a while. But I wondered why he wasn’t out there looking for his sister. Sure, I hated the way Monique had acted, but I didn’t want her to be dead. Nobody deserved that.

  At almost three-thirty, Mrs. LaFontaine rose and started down our long line of end-to-end tables. Pierre followed her.

  Willy stiffened when he approached and busied herself with the coffee pot behind her.

  “Hello, Mrs. LaFontaine,” I said. “I’m Gus LeGarde from Loon Harbor, next door.”

  She glanced up at me with somewhat vacant eyes. It seemed she couldn’t quite pretend everything was okay any more. “Hello. Thank you for helping.”

  The way she said it reminded me of how people respond at funerals. They stand brave and try to give a little smile, and say, “Thank you for coming.” But you know all they want is for the horrid affair to be over so they can go mourn in private without a gazillion people gawking at them.

  I remembered, because last year at the funeral of Mrs. Brown’s husband—who had horribly died in our very own driveway—I’d practiced my own response over and over again. I’d said, “So sorry for your loss,” and heard almost every single other person in the line say the same thing.

  But what could you say? What could you do? The person was dead and gone and nothing you said would make that better.

  I drew myself back to the present.

  “I really hope they find her soon,” I said honestly.

  She took my hand in her cold fingers. “Thank you, young man.”

  “Let’s go,” Pierre rolled his eyes behind her.

  When she didn’t release my hand, he said, “Mother. Do you want water or coffee? And there are donuts down at the end.”

  She shushed him with a sharp glance. “Don’t be rude, Pierre. I'm talking to this nice young man.”

  “From Loon Harbor, that dorky old fishing camp that we’re gonna put under,” he laughed. It was as if he just couldn’t control the nastiness that rolled from his mouth.

  Swiftly, she spun and slapped his face. “Stop it. You are insufferable. This child is volunteering to help us. What are you doing?” Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Why are you just sitting around when your poor sister is in terrible danger?” Her voice rose out of control. “Out there in the cold rain now? Maybe even DEAD?” She screeched the last few words and shoved him away from her when he tried to apologize.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No! You go get your slicker and you go out with the next team. You should be searching for her, and now you have embarrassed me in front of all these good people.”

  His face drained of color. He wasn’t used to being told what to do on his own turf, it seemed, even by his own mother.

  “Yeah. Okay, fine. I was just trying to stay by your side.”

  “Liar. You’re lazy and inexcusable. Get out of my sight.” She spat the words quietly, but I heard them.

  Willy filled a coffee cup and offered it to Mrs. LaFontaine when she suddenly pulled herself together and continued down the line.

  “Thank you, dear Willy.” With a start, as if she hadn’t noticed it the whole time, she gasped at Willy’s eye. “Oh my goodness. What in the world happened to you?”

  In face of the kind inquiry, something strange happened to Willy. A tear rolled out of her good eye. Her face crumpled. “Nothing,” she wept. She turned and ran away, sobbing hard.

  Chapter 22

  I stood at the table and continued to help folks who streamed into the lodge. Elsbeth followed Willy out back, and Siegfried and I doubled up on our stations. At three-thirty, the burgeoning search crowds had not slowed down. New folks showed up from nearby counties in buses now, and many returned from the wet search needing hot coffee and rest. I was getting nervous. How would we get back to help my grandfather with the dinner shift, but not let down all these good people?

  It’s funny the way things happen sometimes. I had just lifted my watch to check it nervously for the tenth time in ten minutes when a familiar voice called to me.

  “Gus?” My grandmother Odette stood in a dripping black oilskin slicker, her blue eyes filled with love. “Honey. Mrs. LaFontaine called and told us what you and the other kids have been doing today. I am so proud of you.” She pulled back her hood and reached out to take my hand. “Look at you. Helping out without anyone having to ask.”

  “Hi, Gram. I hope you guys weren’t worried about us.”

  “Only when it started to pour and we couldn’t find you. Mrs. LaFontaine had the kindness to call and let us know where you three were so we wouldn’t worry.”

  I glanced over to Mrs. LaFontaine who raised a hand to wave to me from her table. She looked ready to drop.

  “What should we do?” I asked, passing cups of water to two men who sidled up to me.

  “I’ve got William and Betsy in the car. They’re coming in just behind me to take over for you. You and the twins are coming home with me. And your mother and father have offered to help with the dinner shift.” It was then I noticed she carried three raincoats in her hand. My yellow slicker and the twins’ jackets dripped onto the floor.

  “What about the boat?” I said, looking toward the shore. “I have to get it home.”

  She frowned. “Where is it, honey? Down in the cove?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  With a brief hesitation and a glance at me, she made up her mind. “I’ll drive the twins home. You go down and carefully get the boat back. Be sure to bail it first if you need to. Stick close to shore.”

  I spotted Elsbeth and Willy re
turning from the back room. Willy seemed more composed now, and walked with her arm through Elsbeth’s.

  “Okay,” I said, still watching the girls. I whispered urgently, “Our friend Willy needs a rest, too, Gram. She’s been through heck and back.” I pointed over to the Red Cross Table where her Aunt Carmen had just arrived with more supply boxes under her arm. She gave me a friendly wave and nod.

  My grandmother glanced her way. “Is that her mother, Gus?”

  “No, her parents are dead. That’s her Aunt Carmen. She’s great.”

  “Can she care for the girl?”

  “Sure,” I said. “But they’ve had Carmen running ragged today. I can’t see it stopping. And with Willy’s brother being questioned in the disappearance today, and told not to leave the area…and with her black eye, and all the craziness around here…I just wish she could come with us for a little while.” I was embarrassed at how the words ran from my mouth, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Let me have a word with her aunt.” Without hesitating, my grandmother turned and quickly approached Carmen. They shook hands, spoke animatedly, and to my surprise, after a few head nods and more talking, my grandmother leaned over to give her a quick hug.

  “Okay. It’s settled. We’re having Willy join us tonight for supper. She can stay with your grandfather and me overnight as a guest. Carmen agrees the poor girl is ready to drop and could use a break from all this.”

  I felt a warm glow of affection surge through me. My grandmother was the best.

  “Thanks, Gram.” I gratefully accepted the raincoat from her and spotted William and Betsy hurrying toward the table. Carmen had come over to give Willy her approval for the visit and was hugging her goodbye, throwing a Red Cross slicker over her niece’s shoulders.

  “Okay. I’ll corral the twins and see you back home shortly. You come up to the kitchen so we can feed you. Then I want you in bed early, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, shrugging into my coat.

  I greeted William, showed him the ropes quickly, and waved to the twins and Willy, ducking out the back door into the pouring rain to head down to shore.

  Wet pine needles covered the sandy ground and puddles abounded everywhere. I tried to avoid them but it was tough. It was even harder not to slip on the wet tree roots that glistened on the path to the cove. The rain pattered hard against my slicker, almost blowing sideways now. I squinted my eyes against it and forged onward. My sneakers were soaked by the time I reached the cove.

  To my surprise, a figure walked ahead of me, heading for the campfire. Was it one of the searchers? A policeman? It seemed an odd place for them to be looking, since the whole camp had been completely combed by the authorities already several times, as I’d heard.

  There was something peculiar about the way the figure hunched over, and I realized when the wind suddenly died down there was a strange sound coming from him, too.

  Whoever he was, he was sobbing.

  It was a young man’s roughened voice, erupting in uncontrollable crying that burst from him as if he’d held it in for his whole life. I stopped for a second when he did, then realized I had to get going again. I had to get home.

  He wore a black slicker and faced the water, doubled over with agony, shoulders heaving, voice splitting the wet sky.

  I tried to sneak around him toward my boat, but he whirled on me when he heard me.

  “You!” he screamed. “What are you doing here? Following me?”

  I faced the deranged face of Pierre LaFontaine.

  Gone was the highbrow haughtiness, the confident jabbing expression from his eyes. His face was ravaged, his eyes puffy.

  “I’m sorry. I just have to get my boat home,” I said, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t scare me, you stupid kid.” With a sudden movement, he shoved me to the ground.

  The breath was knocked out of me in a big whoosh and I stared up at him with wide eyes. Huffing, I said, “Why’d you do that? Gheez.” I got myself up and busied myself untying the rope. There was a little water in the bottom of the boat, so I used my old tin tobacco can to bail it out.

  “If you tell anybody,” he leered toward me, “I’ll kill you.”

  “Tell them what?” I asked, truly confused.

  “That you saw me crying,” he screamed. “That I’m not searching for my sister down here.”

  “Oh, that,” I said as if I were unconcerned with his bizarre behavior. “No problem. I just figured you needed a private moment to let it out. She is your sister, and you must be awfully worried about her.”

  He looked at me with a sort of renewed respect, a transient sense of awe. I knew it wouldn’t last long, but sometimes when I tried to act like an adult, I got results. I figured this was the time.

  “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expected home.” I dragged the boat into the lake, got it into the water as fast as I could, and pushed away from shore with the oar. “Hope you find her soon, Pierre.”

  He watched me leave in silence, his mouth open and hands hanging loosely by his sides.

  I lowered the motor, pulled the slippery starter cord, and headed back to Wee Castle.

  Chapter 23

  When I arrived at the Wee Castle dock five minutes later, my father was waiting for me. “Come on, son. Bring her into this bay.” In the driving rain, he helped me secure the rocking boat, then reached down to help me up.

  I took his strong hand and jumped onto the slippery planks. “Thanks, Dad.”

  The rain streamed down our slickers and we hurried inside. I shook myself like a wet dog on the porch, slid out of the raincoat and hung it on the chair outside the door so it could drip a little before I needed it again. My father did the same and we tumbled into the dry warmth of the cabin.

  “I started a fire,” he said, tossing me a towel. “Come on, sit down for a minute. I’ll hunt you up some dry clothes.”

  “Okay, Dad. But don’t you have to help Gramps now?”

  “Five minutes won’t make a difference. And I was told to take you up with me. Gramps wants you kids to eat in the kitchen tonight while we do the shift. We all want to keep an eye on you.”

  Shadow came out of my bedroom, stretching and wagging his tail. I called him over. “So. You slept all afternoon, huh, boy?”

  He licked my hands and cheeks, sniffing me all over to get the new scents I had acquired from The Seven Whistles. I stroked his ears and kissed his head, loving the way he snuffled his beagle snout into me.

  “Here you go, son.” He looked down in dismay at my sneakers. “Oh, brother. What are we gonna do about those?”

  “I think I might have my old pair in the closet from last summer,” I said. “They’re probably a little tight, and they have that hole in the top. But they’re dry.”

  He laughed. “Good idea.”

  Aside from the rain beating on the tin roof, it seemed too quiet. “Where’s Mum?” I asked, glancing around.

  “Already up in the dining hall. She’s waitressing tonight to fill in for Betsy.”

  After a pause, I turned my eyes to his. “They haven’t found her yet, Dad.” I couldn’t help but blurt it out. Much as I disliked Monique, I still didn’t want her to be dead.

  He glanced down at me, ruffling my hair. “Your grandmother told me,” he said. “But they will. Everything will be okay.”

  “You think so?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Don’t you worry anymore about it, sport. And listen, we’re real proud of how you pitched in today.”

  “But?” I sensed it coming.

  “Well, we were a bit worried when we didn’t find you around the camp. The boat was gone. It was raining. There’s a potential um, kidnapper out there. You should have asked permission to leave the grounds, son.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I realized that after we’d started to help. I’m sorry, Dad. Next time I will.”

  “Mrs. Marggrander had an episode. A slight one. You know what I mean, right?”


  I felt blood drain from my face. “Oh, no.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, because ten minutes later The Seven Whistles called. Said you were there. Said you were safe.”

  “Phew.” I started to breathe again. “So, she’s all right?”

  “Yes. But it was a close one.”

  “Was Mr. Marggrander mad?” I worried about punishments for the twins. They were usually swift and severe.

  “He seemed okay. I don’t think he was angry.” Leaning down, he took my hand. “But frankly, your mother and I were worried, too.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. Really.”

  “We figured since you had the boat out you would have turned right around to come home during the rain. We worried about you being capsized, or stuck on an island or something. I almost took another boat out to look for you.”

  I hadn’t thought about all the concern I’d caused and felt awful. “I won’t do that again. I’ll tell you everywhere we’re going from now on.”

  He leaned down to hug me, and held me longer than usual. “Good boy,” he whispered. “Now, get changed and let’s get up to the kitchen.”

  I followed his instructions, hurriedly pulled on my dry clothes, found my old sneakers, and was ready in five minutes. “Let’s go,” I said.

  We ducked back out into the rain and walked side by side up over the shore path, up the sandy hill, and into the kitchen.

  ***

  The twins and Willy were already seated at the black and white enamel table with big bowls of clam chowder steaming before them. I waved to them, received a flurry of greetings and hand waves, and then ran to my mother, who met me halfway.

  “Gus!” she cried, kissing my cheeks in front of everyone. “Honey, I was worried about you.”

  I tried to ignore the humiliation of the public display of affection and nodded against her chest while she held me tight, rubbing her hands on my back. “Sorry, Mum.” I figured I might be apologizing for a while tonight.

  She lifted my face to search my eyes. “Are you okay, honey?”

  “Sure,” I said with a little false brightness. “I’m fine.”