Mosquitoes of Summer (14 page)

Four days after the Albertan man was swept out to sea, local fishermen found his battered body lodged between some rocks, not far from Northport. Locals say a great Blue Heron silently stood guard in the shallow waters, a few feet from the body, only to fly away once the solemn scene came to its tragic end.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NORTH RUSTICO

The next evening the four friends huddled in Lucy’s tree house, heatedly discussing the latest events. Every now and then Lucy, Hannah and Jack threw blistering looks at Emily. They were sure she had let the cat out of the bag and now Malone was on to them.

“How could you be so stupid?” argued Hannah. “Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?”

Emily was outraged. She was forced to listen to her sister rant and rave at her all evening long after getting off the boat and she was now a mite fed up. “It just slipped out before I could stop myself. Those numbers could be longitude and latitude. We never thought of that did we? So
I
am the one who figured it out.
I
cracked the case, and this is how you treat me!”

With a mighty huff, Emily stamped her feet and crossed her arms (and her eyes), trying to intimidate everyone with her withering looks of rage.

“Besides, Mr. Malone was nice to me on the boat,” she pouted, lips almost reaching her nose. “He gave me candy.”

“Yeah, that’s all you need – more sugar!” Hannah snapped back. “And who said Malone was being nice to you? He was probably just trying to get more information from that mouth of yours. The candy was a bribe. And you fell for it!

“Let’s see that paper y’all are fighting about.” Jack held out is hand, waiting to be given the delicate film of white paper. “Who’s got it?”

The kids had taken turns keeping the paper safe. It was Lucy’s turn to be its protector. From out of her blue knapsack Lucy pulled out a tattered copy of
Treasure Island
. The paper was tucked in between pages 92 and 93.

“The bozo brain might have a point,” said Jack, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “These numbers do look like map directions. Hannah, you’re the one who brought up the idea in the first place on the boat when you started talking about your ‘cool’ pirate book. Emily just so happened to be smart enough to make the connection between what you said and what we found.”

“Let me see,” snapped Hannah, reaching for the piece of paper. Excitedly, the numbers were carefully passed around, and Emily was the last one left holding the paper. There was much excited buzzing and thoughtful speculation as to the coordinates’ location.

“Mr. Simpson has a nautical map up on his kitchen wall,” said Lucy as she jumped to her feet. “Let’s go take a look at it. And if we can’t make heads or tails of this, we can always ask him if he has any idea where the numbers could point to. Come on, let’s go.”

As Jack clambered down the ladder he paused and looked up at Emily. “Are you coming?”

“I think I’ll rest here for a while,” she sniffed. “My arm is beginning to ache a bit.”

“How will you get down by yourself?” wondered Jack.

“The same way I came up.” Another sniff. “One step at a time, and with the help of the rope.”

“Okay Tarzan, have it your way.” Jack jumped down from the last few rungs of the ladder and ran to catch up with the others. Still seething about Emily’s indiscretion, Hannah was relieved to see her sister decided to remain behind.

The trio sprinted down Wharf Road towards Simpson’s bright yellow house. They promptly collapsed on the porch steps, out of breath. Jack looked up at the house. It was a one-storey clapboard building, with shiny blue shutters framing the large picture windows in the front. The white porch ran the front length of the cheery house, and the deck railings were draped with thick ship ropes and decorated with multi-coloured buoys. He liked it.

“Before we knock on the door, who’s got the paper with the numbers?” Jack looked expectantly at the girls.

“OOOOHHH! We forgot the paper,” wailed Hannah, slapping a hand to her forehead. “I think Emily had it last. We have to go back and get it. Jack?”

“Don’t look at me,” he said as he stumbled backed down the steps. “We were
all
super geniuses and that means we all go back. Together. Got it?”

Reluctantly, the girls shuffled back after Jack and headed down the road towards the Buzzel House at a much slower pace than before.

“Emily!”

“Emily! Emily?” a chorus of cries rose from the three frustrated junior detectives as they moved towards the tree house. It was empty! Lucy’s mom poked her head around the corner of the garage as the noisy trio approached the maple.

“Emily went out for a bit,” Alice explained. “She said that she was taking a walk over to Mr. Malone’s house. I think she mentioned something about fixing things so that you’ll be happy with her again.”

“And you let her go?” shrieked Lucy. “What if she gets lost, or … or … hurt?”

“Be serious Lucy girl,” scolded her mom. “Mr. Malone is just down the road from us, and she’ll be perfectly safe with him.”

Her mother barely had time to finish her sentence before the kids ran off towards Malone’s house. As they reached his long and winding driveway, they heard the sudden roar of his flatbed pickup coming from the back of the house.

And then Hannah heard it: a faint voice yelling out Malone’s name. It was Emily!

“He’s going somewhere,” said Jack as he sprinted up the driveway.

“And he’s taking Emily with him,” wailed Hannah. “She’s been kidnapped! I’m sure of it. We must hurry.”

As soon as they rounded the last bend in the drive, the idling rusty green pickup came into view. The driver’s side door stood ajar, but Malone was nowhere to be seen.

“Quick, hop in,” whispered Jack as he climbed into the flatbed of the pickup. “This is our chance to see what he’s up to. I saw Malone just as he went back inside.” Lucy was reluctant to follow, but after a rough shove from Hannah, she too was safely on board and hunkered down in the back corner. “We’ll pull this tarp over us, and Malone will never even suspect we’re here. Help me out.”

Hannah almost gagged from the offensive smell that suddenly enveloped them. “This tarp is full of fish crap. Yuck. I think I’m going to throw up.”

Seconds later the truck rocked a bit as Malone climbed into the driver’s seat and backed out down the driveway. They were soon on the main road, and traveling at what seemed an alarming speed. The tarp made a tremendous amount of noise as it was whipped by the wind. The kids had a hard time trying to keep it from flying away. Jostled by an extremely bumpy ride, they remained quiet. Doubt slowly crept in, and all three friends wondered if this was such a bright idea.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, Hannah noticed that the truck was slowing down. After turning off, the truck bumped its way along what felt like a dirt road. Hannah decided to risk a peek from under the tarp. Sure enough, they were bouncing along a deeply rutted and water-logged path that was winding its way through waist-high sea grass.

“We’re at a beach,” she whispered, turning back to Jack and Lucy.

Jack was nodding. “Yeah, I heard the waves. Do you recognize the beach?”

Before Hannah could answer, the truck suddenly lurched to an abrupt stop and the kids tumbled on top of each other. Hannah heard Malone’s door creak open and then close with a thud. The noise was repeated on the other side. Much to Hannah’s dismay, there was no word from Emily. Perhaps she was unconscious, knocked out by Malone. Hannah was worried. She had to admit, she was beginning to panic, and she valiantly fought back the fear.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hannah heard a door slam shut off in the distance. Aside from the continuous rumble of the surf and the occasional cry of the gulls, no other noise could be heard. She cautiously peeked out. There was absolutely no one in sight! Eagerly pushing back the stinky tarp, Hannah motioned for the others to get out of the truck. Gulping in huge breaths of fresh salt air, the three surveyed the landscape.

To the left was a small sandy beach littered with rocks and garbage. A lonely lifeguard tower lay on its side, abandoned for the night. Straight ahead was an old causeway, huge jagged boulders piled up high on the sides. Immense squares of concrete slabs lay broken across the break wall.

This was beginning to look familiar, thought Hannah. And then she saw it. There, to the far right and down the road from them, stood the white and red lighthouse. Although it was far in the distance and the waning light cast confusing shadows, Hannah could make out the lobster trap graveyard that lay in front of the lighthouse. Every year her parents made it a point of posing Hannah and her sister in front of these broken traps for a picture.

“North Rustico!” burst out Lucy. “This is where we came with your mom last year, isn’t it?”

“And we bought all that yummy fudge from the nice old man,” finished Hannah. “I love this place. His daughter sells her homemade fudge right out of that small camper over there. I can still taste the chocolate fudge.”

“And how about that carrot and lemon flavour!” Lucy licked her lips.

“Excuse me, but can we get on with our rescue mission?” cut in Jack impatiently.

“Oh, right! Now where could Malone have gone off too?” asked Lucy, looking around.

“That’s strange,” said Hannah. “But take a look at the lighthouse. There’s a light on inside.

“Of course there is! That’s why we call it a light-house!!!” Jack was clearly agitated just standing around. He was a man of action!

“No silly,” Hannah shook her head as she started down the road towards the lighthouse. “I don’t mean the beacon on top. Look at the bottom window. There’s someone in there.”

“So? There’s nothing strange about that,” said Jack as he caught up with Hannah.

“It’s strange when you know that the lighthouse is always closed to the public, and no one’s been living in there since it became automated in 1965. When we came here last year the old man we bought the fudge from told us to go check out the lighthouse. It was lucky timing because a couple of workers opened it up to do some repair work. They let us in and we got to have a look around.”

“Maybe it’s people working on it again,” suggested Jack, looking up at the white wooden structure. A bright red band circled the top of the lighthouse, near the lantern deck. As the kids came closer, Jack noted the lobster traps. “I guess the traps that get washed up on the beach after a storm get tossed into this pile. Over the years it just keeps getting bigger. It’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?”

Just as they reached the edge of the graveyard, they heard voices arguing, and then a door swung open with a bang. Ducking among the piled-up traps, Jack, Lucy and Hannah gazed up at the source of the noise. A small shape slowly approached the railings of the lighthouse’s lantern deck. As the beacon of light revolved back around, a pale face was momentarily lit up – Emily! Seconds later she disappeared. Hannah stood up. Suddenly a large crash shattered the quiet evening, and an indistinct roar erupted from within the lighthouse. From inside came a sharp but brief scream.

“Oh my god, it’s Emily!” Hannah yelled and impulsively ran towards the lighthouse door. Lucy and Jack sprinted after her. Hannah violently yanked open the heavy front door and leaped inside, closely followed by her two loyal friends.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RESCUE

Malone looked about him and saw three furious faces staring back at him, arms raised in karate-like poses.

“WHERE IS MY SISTER YOU CREEP?” bellowed Hannah. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!”

“Hi, Hannah!” Emily came bounding down the steep lighthouse stairs at an ‘Emily speed.’ Before reaching the last two steps she leapt into the air and landed at her sister’s feet. “You’ll never guess what we did. Wanna guess? Come on, guess!”

There was stunned silence, three mouths agape.

“You’re not dead?” squeaked Hannah.

“Nope!”

“You weren’t kidnapped?” squeaked Lucy.

“Course not!”

“You found the treasure?” squeaked Jack. “Without us?”

“Treasure?” asked a bewildered Malone, still holding a menacing sledgehammer. “There’s no treasure, at least not in the sense of pirate loot and all them things. Although that would make for a great story, I imagine. Is that what you were on about all this time? I’ll be darned! I’m sure sorry to disappoint you, but this is a treasure of a different sort, and it’s all mine. No one else can make a claim to it. Trust me!”

“Trust you?” sputtered Lucy. “You’ve been working hard to keep us from finding out what you’ve been doing. You even broke into our house looking for your knife. It was yours, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, that was a mistake,” admitted Malone. “A low point in my life. I’m real sorry for that but I panicked. I couldn’t let you four spoil things for me. I didn’t want you getting close to the truth, and I knew eventually you would figure out that it was my knife. I was afraid that with you looking for clues the same way I was would have destroyed a vital clue that I’ve been looking for all my life.”

Hannah looked at the dilapidated main room. “The numbers were map coordinates that led to this place, am I right?” She gave Malone a hard look and refused to back down from his unwavering stare.

“Aaaagggh! I guess there’s no sense in hiding things any more,” he started reluctantly. “It’s a long story, and a mite complicated, but after all the work the four of you have put into this adventure of yours you deserve to hear the truth I guess. I myself did not know the whole story until I started putting together all the information I have been gathering for years. Those letters that your friend Simpson gave me, together with the journal –”

“You’re losing us,” Jack said, straightening up from his fighter’s crouch.

“When I was a young boy I grew up hearing all sorts of stories about this amazing inheritance that should have come to our family. But the proof of our claim was lost at sea when my super-great grandfather’s boat went down in the Yankee Gale. I was six years old the first time I heard the story,” sighed Malone.

“Ever since then I’ve been waiting for his boat to wash up. It’s why I became a nautical historian. It gave me a chance to examine all the wrecks and artifacts that have washed up on our shores. I even got my diving certification so that I could explore the wrecks that remained below the waves. I knew approximately where his boat went down, so I concentrated on this area in particular.”