Midsummer Murder (15 page)

At lunchtime, Lindy wandered toward the student dining hall. She didn’t really want to face any of the family at lunch. In fact, she and Biddy had decided to begin having their meals in the annex dining room that would be opening for the weekend.

The sun was shining, but it was not so humid as the day before, and clusters of students were having their lunch on the lawn or at the picnic tables beneath the trees.

Lindy passed down the line of food and took a sandwich and a glass of iced tea. The sandwiches were freshly made and the tea was brewed, not instant. Chi-Chi’s doing, she was sure. It was amazing how much one woman could accomplish. Chi-Chi had been totally involved with the guest quarters in the annex. Except for brief appearances like the one that morning, no one had seen her except at a distance, ordering squads of waiters and directing deliveries. She must have really trained her staff here well, because there was no falling off in the quality of food given to the campers even in her absence.

Lindy saw several of the Ash dancers sitting in a group in the sun.

She walked over to them.

“Have a seat, Lindelicious,” said Rebo. He was lying on the ground, his head in Juan’s lap. “Nothing like dining al fresco. Watch out for the anthill.”

Lindy moved away from the line of red ants. Eric scooted over to make room for her.

Mieko snatched a carton of yogurt away, just as Eric’s hand hit the dirt where it had been. Lindy sat down, molded a place for her glass in the ground, and opened her sandwich.

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Shelley Freydont

“How was your class this morning?” she asked Rebo.

“A little dance and a whole lot of talking.” Rebo pushed Juan’s knee aside to see her better. “They were so logy during the warmup, I made the mistake of asking what was wrong. Did I get an earful.” Rebo’s eyes rolled upward and he batted his lashes. “Maybe I’ve missed my calling. Once they got going, they didn’t stop. Pretty soon we were all sitting on the floor like some New Age therapy session.”

“Feelings—” crooned Eric in a falsetto.

“Yikes. I thought Dr. Addison was talking with them,” said Lindy.

“No offense, Lindelicate, but sometimes it’s easier to talk to some one nearer your own age. Especially with the things they talked about.

Honey, it made me feel out of the loop.”

He took a bite out of a peach. Juice dripped down his chin. Juan wiped it away with his finger.

“And who appointed you slave of the day?” asked Lindy.

Juan grinned. “I make him pay.”

Lindy smiled, but she suddenly felt uncomfortable. In light of the implications Sheriff Grappel was making, should she suggest they be more discreet? She pushed the thought aside. How could she even allow herself to be influenced by a man like the sheriff? She couldn’t care less what he thought about them. And yet . . .

Rebo was looking at her with a faint question on his face. “So don’t you want the skinny?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “They needed to work through their grief, right?”

“Grief, schmief, there’s not a whole hell of a lot of grief being felt over Larry Cleveland. Seems this kid was a real piece.” Rebo sat up, crossed his legs and leaned on his elbows. “Don’t get me wrong, there are a few that are upset. That started the discussion. Then it comes out that this kid had dirt on just about everybody in camp.

He must have been spying on them constantly. I’m surprised he had time left over to learn any steps. Half of them had lost all their money to him, not to mention care packages, jewelry, books, just about anything they had.”

“Didn’t the counselors or Robert have an idea of what was going on?”

Rebo gave an exaggerated shrug. “They’re into
daaaance.
I don’t think they have a clue what kids are like these days. Larry was also 96

Midsummer Murder

getting it on with boocoodles of campers—girls, too.” Rebo shrugged again. “Go figure.”

“Some men like women.” Mieko’s uninflected statement stopped him for a second.

“Oh—right.” He grinned at her. “I like you, but it makes Juan jealous.”

Juan rolled over and rubbed his cheek against Mieko’s bare arm. “I like you, too.”

“Bonehead.” She shoved him away.

Rebo clapped his palm to his forehead. “Lordy mercy, Lindescriminate, I never thought that
I’d
be giving
your
safe-sex lecture.” He whipped his bandanna from his head and leaned forward.

“Do you see any gray hairs?”

There was no hair. Rebo shaved his head. “Only a five o’clock shadow,” she said.

“Maybe I should grow it out,” he said patting his skull.

“You always say that people
are
being safer about sex.”

“Well, they will be now. I scared the shit out of them. Do you think I should grow it out?” He turned the top of his head to Mieko.

She groaned and fell back on the ground.

“It’s so hard to believe,” said Lindy. “He was so young.”

“You’re talking like a mother, Lindecorum. He was seventeen.”

“A child.”

Rebo laughed. “No babe in the woods, but a babe from all accounts.”

“Have they told all this to the sheriff?”

He shook his head. “They might not share the same feelings about Larry Cleveland, but the one thing they agree on is the sheriff. He won’t be getting any cooperation from them.”

“The man is vindictive and dangerous,” said Lindy. She felt distinctly uncomfortable. “Maybe we shouldn’t give him any ammunition.” She narrowed her eyes at Rebo.

“Lost me, doll face.”

“What I mean is . . .” What did she mean? Should they put on an act for some jerk that didn’t deserve their attention? Was that playing into prejudices and fears or was it being smart?

Mieko sat up. “She means you should keep a low profile.”

“Oh, right.” Rebo looked confused. Then Lindy saw the comprehension dawn on him. “Oh no. I’m not crawling back into the closet because 97

Shelley Freydont

of some redneck, homophobic, two-inch needle-dicked hillbilly.

Nuh-uh. Forget it.”

“I’m not saying you should crawl anywhere.” But wasn’t that just what she was trying to say? “You don’t know what’s going on with Sheriff Grappel.”

“We have an idea,” said Eric.

“He’s been trying to find out who Larry’s lover was,” said Rebo.

“And did anybody tell him?”

“Hell no. They’re too numerous to mention.”

Lindy took a breath, deliberating whether to let them in on what she knew. They had never failed her in the past. “Grappel is trying to implicate Robert. And then make this a suicide, because Larry was so ashamed of what happened. The town wants the camp for development.

They’re only looking for an excuse to discredit the Eastons.”

“Robert?” Rebo guffawed, then looked at Juan, then Eric. “No way.” They both shook their heads. “No,” he said again, this time more slowly. “I don’t think so. None of them mentioned him, and, believe me, they mentioned everything else.”

“You don’t think they would keep that from you because they thought you might tell? They could be protecting Robert.” Why was she even asking this question? Robert was obviously in love with his wife. But what about all those sex offenders whose wives never knew?

“I know what you’re thinking: camp counselors, Little League coaches, Boy Scout leaders, but . . .” He didn’t sound convincing.

Lindy could practically hear him thinking.

“Maybe he was pushed by a jealous lover.” They all stared at Mieko. “It’s a possibility.”

“Yeah,” said Rebo.

“Hell, why can’t they just say he fell down the damn hill?” asked Juan. “That’s probably what happened.”

“It probably is,” said Lindy. “But that’s hard to prove. It would be easier to find someone to blame.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean it was a male lover,” said Mieko. “A girl could have pushed him just as easily.”

“Yeah,” agreed Juan, his eyes brightening. “There’s a perfect example.”

He pointed behind them. Andrea and Paul were sitting on a bench under the trees. Paul’s arm was around her waist. His hands were busy.

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Midsummer Murder

They waited for Juan to continue.

“I’m not saying this would happen, but just say—Andrea dumps Peter for Paul—”

“She didn’t dump him,” said Mieko. Her eyes were mere slits.

Lindy looked down. Her elbows were pressed close to her side. Mieko wasn’t liking this scenario.

“I didn’t say she did, I’m just hypothesizing. Say she did or something.

Anyway, Paul’s standing by the edge of a cliff. Peter could be walking by and poof, over he goes. But it could just as easily be Andrea, say if Paul pissed her off or she had a change of heart, or something. She walks right up and poof. If Paul were close enough to the edge, it wouldn’t really take too much strength to . . .”

“Poof,” they said in unison.

Juan grinned. “Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re right,” said Lindy. “I’m living proof that it doesn’t take a great amount of strength to push someone into oblivion. But that was a terrible example.” A year ago, Andrea had been madly in love with Peter. They weren’t really suited and after a few months, the affair had died a natural death. If only the same could be said for Larry Cleveland.

“Well, see what you can find out,” said Lindy. She wadded up her sandwich wrapper, retrieved her empty glass, and stood up. “Oh, what about this boy—Connie?”

Rebo nodded.

“Him, too?”

Rebo nodded again. “He wasn’t in class today; the others are worried about him. He’s taking it pretty hard. He didn’t have many friends. Extremely shy.” Rebo winced. “A perfect candidate for jealousy.”

* * *

That afternoon, the first call came in. A worried father who had read of Larry’s death in the newspaper that morning. Was the camp safe? Why were the police investigating? Was there anything to worry about?

The call had been handled by the switchboard operator. The next one, she transferred to the house. Sandiman came with the news.

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Shelley Freydont

Parents were panicking and the press demanded answers. At 1:30, two girls were taken away by their parents. Marguerite stood on the steps of the mansion and waved goodbye. The girls waved out the back window, the tears streaming down their faces. By two o’clock, the main gates had been locked to prevent press cars from choking the driveway.

On her way to the student rehearsal, Lindy saw Stu talking to one reporter who had managed to sneak in before the iron gates had closed. “The family will be issuing a statement,” was all she heard.

Lindy sat in the dark theater, half watching the ballet students.

There were two empty places in the line of the
corps de ballet
. There were no understudies to fill the spots.

“We will leave the spaaces,” said Madame Flick. “Keep to your own positions.” She shook her head as she walked back up the aisle.

Several minutes later, Biddy sat down in the seat next to Lindy.

“Ellis has gone up to the highway to give a statement to the reporters.”

“Ellis? They would have done better to send Sandiman. Why didn’t Marguerite go? She’s by far the best spokesperson for the camp.”

“She wanted to, but Ellis put his foot down, and Stu backed him up.” Biddy sighed heavily. “Stu was coaching him on what to say when I left.”

Ellis was a dear, but Lindy wondered if he would be up to handling the reporters’ questions. Marguerite should have gone. She would have been able to handle the press and the parents. But was she really too sick? The idea was frightening.

Could things get any worse?

100

Nine

A few minutes later things got worse. They changed over from the ballet to
There is a Time
. The dancers took their places, forming the opening circle.

Madame Flick was talking to the modern teacher, Victor Slaton, who was in charge of the rehearsal, while Robert rested from his night in jail. They looked up at the stage. There was a gap in the circle.

Someone was missing.

“Places,” Victor yelled.

The dancers in the circle turned to look at him. They
were
in their places.

The teacher looked around the house. No latecomer was rushing to the stage.

“Who belongs there?” He pointed to the gap in the circle.

The dancers to each side of the empty position looked at each other.

“Connie Phillips.”

“Well, where is he?”

Shoulders shrugged.

“Anybody seen Connie?” asked Victor. The dancers on stage shook their heads. Victor turned to the rows of seats. No one had seen him.

“Lenny, go look for him.”

Lenny got up from where he was sitting in the audience.

“No, not you,” said Madame Flick. “You don’t have shoes on.” She motioned to one of the girls on the crew. “Go loook for him, pleease.”

The girl ran up the aisle and out the front door.

The music started. They danced the first section without the missing boy.

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Shelley Freydont

The piece ended and there was still no Connie. The girl came rushing back into the theater.

Victor and Madame Flick looked at her expectantly. She shook her head.

“I looked in the dorm, in the dining room, the studios, even down some of the trails. He’s not anywhere.”

“He must be somewhere,” said Victor. He turned to the group of dancers waiting to rehearse their bows. “Doesn’t anybody have an idea of where he is?”

“He was real upset,” said one.

“He wasn’t at class this morning.”

“Not at breakfast, either.”

Lindy walked down the aisle until she was standing next to the two teachers. She felt a tight wad of panic in her gut.

“That’s all we need,” Victor said. “Could he have left with the Morrisons this morning?”

“The people who were driving away with the two girls? I only saw the girls in the back seat,” said Lindy.

“We’d better inform Robert and Ms. Marguerite,” said Victor. “He’s probably off being self-indulgent somewhere. It’s the age, you know.

Those hormones. Everything seems like the end of the world.”

For Larry Cleveland it was the end of the world, thought Lindy.