Mosquitoes of Summer (7 page)

“What are those … interests?” asked Hannah, very curious about Malone. There was something about Bill that she did not fully trust. She just couldn’t put her finger on exactly what that was.

“Oh, this and that,” said Bill. “I like to dabble in history and research, and this place offers some interesting potential. Take that wreck down at Arrowhead for instance. Where did it come from? What mysteries does it hold? If those planks of wood could talk, I bet they would have many stories to tell. Do you girls have any special stories? Maybe I can use them in my research.”

“What are you researching?” asked Hannah.

“Island shipwrecks. A most interesting topic, in my opinion. Did you know that many of the sailors who died during shipwrecks are now buried in PEI’s local cemeteries? Those graves hold many secrets. It would be interesting to know something about them. After all, those men sailed on boats that went down and only the dead know what was hidden away in cargo holds. Maybe the Arrowhead wreck held a few secrets of its own.”

“What kind of secrets?” asked Emily in a hushed voice. Shrugging his shoulders, Bill said “Don’t know, but I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

“Most of those shipwrecks were really only fishing boats,” said Lucy. “Not much of a story there.”

“Of course,” replied Malone, an enigmatic smile on his face

Hannah did not like where this conversation was going. Just who was Mr. Bill Malone, and why was he really there? He seemed to be fishing for information. “We went to visit the wreck too, but didn’t find anything mysterious about it.”

“Really?”

Unconvinced, Bill stared down at the girls. He was actually an old man, maybe about 70 years old. He was dressed casually, in faded and baggy blue jeans and a white Nike t-shirt. The silence stretched, with no one saying another word. Finally, Emily broke in and asked him how he did with his fishing.

“My fishing?” He looked momentarily confused but then quickly got back on track. “Oh yes, the fishing I did this afternoon. I had no luck. I guess they didn’t like my bait.” He glanced away from the girls, and looked towards the house. “I see the police are done looking around inside the house. I think they’ll want to speak to me too.” He started to walk off but stopped suddenly and turned to face them again.

“I wouldn’t play around that wreck too much if I were you. It might be dangerous. You never know what can happen with these old things. Sharp nails and stuff like that. I think it would be much safer if you forgot all about the wreck … for your own good.”

The girls watched Malone walk off and then ran to the tree house near the woodshed, climbing up onto the small platform.

“What was that all about?” demanded Hannah, clearly upset by Bill’s last words.

“That sounded like a threat!” said Lucy. “For some reason he doesn’t want us snooping around the old boat. I think he’s afraid we’ll discover something.”

“Do you think he was the stranger that Wayne saw the night the wreck washed in?” asked Hannah.

“I don’t know.” Lucy shook her head slowly, thinking. “He said he left the area before the storm came in. He could be lying about that, but we can’t prove it. All he would have to do is hide out without anyone seeing him. And Wayne never saw his face.”

“Mr. Wayne also said the man he saw the night of the storm had dark hair, but that could have been due to the rain,” said Hannah. “It was also dark, so who knows what the stranger’s real hair colour was. Grey can easily look dark when it’s wet.”

“Do you think he knows about the knife?” asked Emily. “Maybe it’s his!”

Hannah and Lucy looked stunned. The knife! Maybe that’s what the burglar was looking for. He probably thought that Lucy had the knife hidden in her room and came looking for it. In fact, Hannah still had it in her backpack. But why the interest? Could it be that someone actually saw them find it? They never really paid much attention to the other people down at the beach. Maybe they should have been more careful, but who would have thought they were in danger.

“His story about the burglary sounded phony to me,” intoned Hannah. She started ticking off her fingers. “First of all, he couldn’t describe the burglar. If Malone was really in the driveway and saw the guy running away, he should have had a clear view. After all, it’s the middle of the afternoon, with lots of light out. He was not that far away from the ‘supposed’ burglar.

“Secondly, why was the back door broken? Your parents don’t lock it so anyone could go in. It seems like someone wanted to make it look like a real burglary. Why?

“And third, for someone who came from a fishing expedition, where was his gear?”

The three friends exchanged puzzled looks. Deep in thought, they sat high up in the old maple, watching the house from their platform. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves and warm sunshine dappled the girls’ faces. “I think we need to keep an eye on Mr. Malone.”

CHAPTER NINE

JACK JACK

The Crazy Squirrel came back!

“Daaaadd!!!!!!” The camper swayed erratically. Whacking noises beat an unusual rhythm. The tent’s soft side walls shook with each whack.

“Hannah, what’s wrong?” yelled Dad from the roof of the house. He was desperately trying to reach the ladder. Strong winds were wreaking havoc with anything and everything that was not securely tied down, including the rickety wooden ladder which kept on angling away from the house.

The camper door slammed open and Hannah bounded outside, arms waving wildly above her head. “The Crazy Squirrel is back! He’s running around inside the camper, mad as hell!”

“Oh … My … God! Dad!!!! Hannah said a bad word,” yelled Emily, face planting in the grass in front of the camper, completely missing the first step down. Bad habit, that face planting, thought Hannah, not even remotely trying to suppress her giggles.

“Hah! That’s what happens when you don’t mind your own business,” Hannah shot back. Picking herself up while sticking her tongue out at Hannah, Emily quickly made her way to the side of the house. The ladder was now barely gripping the corner ledge of the house’s roof.

“Emily, push the ladder back towards the window,” advised Dad. “I’ll come down and see about the squirrel, but I doubt it’s the same one.”

“It’s definitely the Crazy Squirrel. Same scar and same stumpy tail. And he is NOT pleased. But go see for yourself. By the way, what were you doing up on the roof?”

“I had to patch the chimney area with tar where the rain was coming in,” explained Dad. “We need to get this house as dry as possible so that those black water beetles don’t come in anymore. They love the dark and the damp. But they freak your mother out, and she hates to hear them flying around at night.”

Shuddering at the thought, Emily heartily agreed with Mom for a change. Quite simply put, they were disgusting. And at night they flew in her hair and climbed into her clothes that were lying on the floor. Yuck! Now she
had
to put her clothes in the laundry hamper. Talk about slave labour. “Go get him Dad!” Although out loud she voiced total confidence in her dad, in truth she was not sure who would actually win, squirrel or man.

Wiping his black and sticky hands on his pants, Dad warily made his way to the open camper door. He slowly peeked inside. Suddenly he pulled back and slammed the door!

“Unbelievable! He’s staring right at me.”

The Crazy Squirrel set up such a racket, squeaking and chirping, making a loud clicking noise. As soon as it saw Dad it pounced on the screen window of Hannah’s bed, and scrambled outside through a newly chewed hole on the other side of the tent. Sure enough, Emily was right. As the neurotic rodent glanced back for a last look, Dad saw the scar. Then the stumpy tail disappeared through the hole.

“I can’t believe he came back,” said Dad, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s just not possible. I dumped him far away.”

“The cat came back, the very next day,” chanted Hannah under her breath. She thought the whole thing hilarious. As Dad opened the door again, Crazy Squirrel came bouncing over the roof of the camper, hopping closer and closer towards his sworn enemy. More squeaks and trills could be heard in the nearby branches of the spruce as other squirrels joined in on the excitement.

Battle stations! Human attack plans were drawn up. Squirrel territories were invaded. Chases ensued. It was pure and utter chaos.

“This is war,” bellowed Dad as he shook his fist at the brown fur balls frantically running around him. He marched quickly back into the house. A minute later he emerged with the red cooler, cork and string in hand. A bag of peanuts bulged from his pants pocket.

Throughout the morning, squirrels were trapped and forcibly removed to greener pastures many more kilometers away than the Darnley Golf Course. In the end, Dad managed to entice six squirrels into his homemade trap, including the Crazy Squirrel. They were transported, one at a time, to Sea View, located about 8 kilometers away. All this activity used up half a tank of gas. Was it worth it? You bet!

“That should do it,” he nodded with satisfaction. “Got the Crazy Squirrel, and five more to boot. They were insurance, just in case any of them decided to follow in Crazy’s footsteps. Unlike the Acadian deportation of the 1700s, the tree rats got what they deserved.”

Hannah thought it was more about revenge than anything else. No squirrel was going to beat her dad.

The remainder of the day passed quietly. It was a hazy lazy kind of afternoon. The gusting wind turned into a gentle breeze. Across the road from the Blue Lobster, tall yellow rye grass swayed slowly, flirting with the butterflies that hovered above. Hannah watched as small bees gathered pollen from the wild rose bushes that bordered the front porch. Emily bugged Mr. Bean, trying to entice him to wake up from the afternoon nap he was taking in his cage. He was strategically positioned under a red beach umbrella, enjoying the warm weather, head tucked back under his wing, stubbornly ignoring all poking and prodding.

“Hi! My name’s Jack, but my friends call me Jack Jack.”

Surprised at the sudden intrusion, Hannah jumped off the stairs where she had been sitting, quietly reading her Hardy Boys book. She came face to face with a blond-haired blue-eyed boy about her age. Emily came dashing up from the side of the house to critically inspect the strange boy.

“You’ve got freckles,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yup, and they get worse in the summer,” agreed Jack. “I read somewhere that you can get rid of them by rubbing lemon juice over the spots. So I gave it a shot. Made no difference that I could see, but my ma said I smelled as good as her clean laundry. That’s me, fresh lemony scent Jack Jack.”

He had a big smile plastered across his face as he continued to gaze at the girls, and then the Bean. He did a double-take. Where was the bird’s head?!

“Where are you from?” asked Emily. Hannah hung back, a bit shy. She usually let her sister break the ice first, and then made friends when she was sure they didn’t bite. Sometimes Emily had her uses, thought Hannah. Guess everyone needed to have a use in life, even the Bozo.

“I’m visiting my grandparents. They live just down the field in the back of your house,” said Jack, pointing behind Hannah to George and Helen’s small white house. “I usually come down from Summerside to stay here during the hot weather. Grandpa told me he cuts the grass at your place and said I should introduce myself. So here I am. Want to go visit a cemetery?”

“What?” choked Hannah, unexpectedly uttering her first word since Jack came on the scene. “What are you talking about?” She stared at Jack, unsure if he was the type of person who would turn into a werewolf on a full moon. A cemetery, of all things! Although … he certainly had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“There’s a really cool cemetery in French River that not many tourists know about,” said Jack, bending towards Hannah in his eagerness to convince the unwilling. “Grandpa’s going to visit my uncle Fred after supper. He lives down near the harbour and he can take us with him. The cemetery is not far from there. It might be a bit dark by the time we get there, but I can borrow a big flashlight. Grandpa’s got one of those that he claims gives off a million candle lights worth of brightness.”

“My dad bought one that has two million candles,” boasted Emily. “He’s a flashlight junkie. The bigger, the better. He has a whole bunch of them. And going to this cemetery, especially in the dark, is just plain crazy. Only stupid people would even think of doing that.”

“What’s so special about this place?” interrupted Hannah, still wondering what Jack was all about. She also noticed his sudden odd behaviour. Jack kept looking around as if a ghost or something was eavesdropping on his conversation. He also looked a bit nervous, constantly licking his lips. It was a change from his jovial introduction. Emily, in the meantime, took three steps back and away from Jack, eying him with much skepticism.

“You know how ships used to sink in the sea in the old days because of the wild storms?” he whispered conspiratorially. “Well, there are a whole lot of shipwrecks scattered around there. Where do you think the bodies disappeared to? I’ll tell you! They got washed up on our beaches. The locals who found them didn’t want to go far to bury the bodies so they planted them nearby. My cemetery is one of the burial grounds people used for the sailors who died during the Yankee Gale. Guess what it’s called?”

Silence.

“Yankee Hill Pioneer Cemetery. Original, huh?”

Jack paused for effect, expecting screams. Better yet, maybe Hannah would fall into his arms and ask for his protection. That would be great. She was really pretty, with her long dark hair. What a smile. And she had freckles too. Dark skin and freckles. Imagine that.

Silence.

Jack laughed. Girls! They were afraid of their own shadow. No one of the female persuasion had ever taken him up on his offer. Not that he was disappointed much. Graveyards were not exactly his thing either. He much preferred playing a good game of Mission Impossible on his Nintendo. But he also liked showing off, and most of the girls thought he was really brave for even suggesting such a thing. And he definitely wanted to impress his new neighbour.