Authors: Cynthia DeFelice

Death at Devil's Bridge (8 page)

BOOK: Death at Devil's Bridge

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Jeff and I walked glumly out of the police station. I could feel the warmth of the asphalt parking lot through the soles of my sneakers, which were still wet from being in the ocean. The heat felt good. I'd been shivering in the chief's air-conditioned office, partly because it was cold but mostly because I was nervous and scared.

I kicked at a loose stone and said, “He knows we know something.”

“Yeah, but he doesn't know
what
we know.”

“I was kind of waiting for you to talk first,” I ventured.

“I couldn't. I was totally freaking out!”

“Me, too! Jeff, we could get into real trouble for this! You can't lie to the police in a murder investigation!” I could hear something close to panic in my voice, but I didn't care if Jeff knew how scared I was.

“We didn't really lie.”

“Oh, come off it, Jeff. Acting like we don't know anything when we do is the same as lying!”

“But, like you said, the kid probably drowned. So it's not a murder investigation. I don't even know why I said that about Donny doing something to Maddox. I was justâI don't know, everything was happening so fast.”

I could feel myself beginning to settle down, now that we were out from under Chief Widdiss's probing gaze. Jeff, too, was losing his edgy look.

“Okay,” he said, “so we
are
trying to protect somebody. But only because telling about the car could make them suspect that Donny did something worse.”

“Right,” I said. Out in the warm July sunshine, the idea that Donny had done anything to Cameron Maddox, let alone murder him, was just plain silly. “They'll do a whatchamacallitâan autopsyâand find out Maddox drowned, and it'll all be over.”

“So there's no need to rat on Donny in the meantime,” Jeff said.

“Right.”

We didn't say anything for a while. Suddenly I felt very, very tired. “Well, I guess that's it for now. I'm going home,” I said.

Mom and I were pretty quiet during dinner that night. Before she left work, word came in that Cameron Maddox's parents had definitely identified the body as their son's.

I swallowed and asked, “Do they know how he died?”

“The medical examiner is coming over from Bourne tomorrow morning. I suspect they'll find he drowned, but I suppose they'll be checking for evidence of drugs or alcohol, or anything that would explain why.”

We spent the next couple of hours sitting together in the living room, staring at the television, but I don't think either one of us could have said what it was we watched. I went up to bed around eleven, but it was a long time before I fell asleep. My mind was zooming around like a remote-control airplane with a lunatic at the controls. I kept telling myself that what Jeff and I had done wasn't so bad.

But I couldn't hear Pop's voice agreeing with me.

Sixteen

I continued to feel restless all the next morning, and I wished I had a charter with Chick to keep my mind occupied. Jeff was mowing lawns, so I just hung around the house. After lunch, Mom called to see how I was doing, and I asked her if Cameron Maddox's autopsy results were in.

“Yes,” she said. “They found both alcohol and drugs in his system.”

“So it was an accident,” I said with relief. “He drowned.”

“Well, he drowned, yes. But Chief Widdiss still hasn't ruled out the possibility that it wasn't entirely accidental.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, trying to sound calm.

“I understand there's a wound on his head that looks suspicious.”

“Couldn't he have hit it on a rock or something?”

“Apparently it doesn't look like that. Cameron Maddox was mixed up with selling drugs, Ben. When you get involved with that kind of thing, you put yourself in danger.”

“So they think one of his customers
killed
him?”

“Ben, all I know is that his death is still under investigation.”

When we hung up, I felt more agitated than ever. By a quarter to four, I was so happy to have something to do that I sped to the beach parking lot to meet Donny. He was waiting in the Tomahawk, and I could tell as soon as I slid into the seat next to him that something was wrong.

Donny, usually so cool and smooth, looked rattled. There was no lazy smile, no joking around. “What happened yesterday when you went to the cops?” he asked abruptly.

“Huh?” I said. “What do you mean?”

“What did you tell the cops?” he asked impatiently.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Nothing about you, anyway. We found that kidâ”

Donny interrupted me. “I know. I heard. But you didn't say anything about me? My name didn't even come up?”

“No,” I said. “Honest.”

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Why are the cops coming around asking me questions, then?” he asked. But he seemed to be
asking himself, not me, so I didn't say anything. “Manning didn't talk, either, right?”

“No way,” I said. “We were together the whole time. They wanted to know about finding the body, and what we knew about Cameron Maddox. Nothing about you.” There was a pause, and I said, “What are they asking you about, anyway? The car?”

“No,” Donny said, looking distracted, not really paying attention to me. “I don't think they know about that.”

“What, then?” Normally, I probably wouldn't have had the nerve to pump Donny so hard for information, but he wasn't acting normal, and I was curious. “The stuff you stole?”

Donny shook his head.

I lowered my voice, even though there was no one anywhere close. “Are they asking you about what happened to Cameron Maddox?”

“No,” he answered, angrily this time. “Why would they do that?”

I shrugged.

Donny didn't push it. I could tell his mind was on something else. He spoke again, more to himself than to me. “Maybe I should call off deliveries this afternoon.” He thought for a minute, then frowned and said, “Ray wouldn't like it, butâ”

“Ray?” I said. “Who's Ray?”

Donny looked startled, as if he hadn't realized he'd been speaking out loud.

“Who's Ray?” I repeated. “And why would he care if I did my delivery or not?” The more I thought about this, the more puzzled I became. “I thought nobody knew about this except you, me, and Jeff.”

From the window of the Tomahawk, we could see Jeff riding up the hill toward us. Donny turned to me and said urgently, “Forget Ray. He's nobody. And don't say anything to Manning.”

Things were getting stranger by the minute. All of a sudden I was Donny's number one buddy, and Jeff was on the outs.

Jeff pulled up on his bike, calling, “Hi, guys. What's up?”

I could feel Donny still staring at me. Jeff looked back and forth from Donny s face to mine. We must have appeared pretty serious, because Jeff lifted an eyebrow at me questioningly. I shrugged and waited for Donny to speak first.

“You got deliveries for us today or what?” Jeff asked, looking baffled.

“Yeah,” Donny said at last, in the tone of someone who had finally made up his mind. But he didn't seem thrilled about his decision. He reached
into the glove compartment and took out two envelopes identical to the ones he'd given us on the two previous days. He handed one to me and one to Jeff.

“More mail? I thought we were going to be delivering different kinds of stuff,” I said. “These packages all look the same.”

Donny swore irritably. “Daggett,” he said, “what'd I tell you before? Now, are you gonna do the job, or ask a bunch of stupid questions?”

Stung by this remark, which seemed unfair and unpartnerlike, I took the envelope from his hand and got out of the car. I was about to get on my bike and ride away without a backward glance, to let Donny know how ticked off I was, when I remembered I didn't know where I was going. So much for a dramatic exit.

I turned around to face him and waited for him to tell me the directions. Then I sat astride my bike while Jeff received his, and we rode off together.

“What's bugging him?” Jeff asked.

“I don't know,” I said. I was nervous about Donny seeing us talking, afraid he'd think I was telling Jeff about Ray, At the same time I really wanted to tell Jeff. Something strange was going on. And there was definitely something Donny wasn't telling us about our little delivery business.

“Listen,” I said. “Let's meet at my house after we make these deliveries, okay? And don't tell Donny.”

Jeff gave me an odd look, but we were at the corner where we had to go separate ways. “I can't,” he said. “I've got to go someplace with my parents.”

“Then call me later, okay? And just act like nothing's up when you go back to Donny's.”

I pedaled to the turnoff Donny had described, and headed down another sandy dirt lane. I was supposed to follow the red arrow at the fork, then turn at a hand-painted sign saying, PRIVATE WAY, NO BEACH ACCESS, and go to the third driveway after that.

I glanced behind me: no one in sight. There was no sign of anyone ahead, either. There was nothing but the smell of sun-baked dirt and the monotonous droning of insects in the undergrowth. I got off my bike and pushed it through the bushes that grew on both sides of the lane, sat down on a rock in a little clearing, and stared at the envelope in my hand.

Yes, something strange was going on. Donny was acting very weird. It was odd that all we'd been given to deliver were envelopes, all the same size, about the same weight, and, come to think of it, all with a little bulge at the bottom that indicated there was something more in them than just papers. From what Donny had said, I'd expected to be delivering sacks of groceries;
or packets of mail containing people's letters, magazines, and newspapers; or maybe supplies from the drug store, shampoo and suntan lotion, Band-Aids, stuff like that.

But for three days in a row, I'd been carrying the same tightly sealed manila envelope. Donny hadn't told us the whole truth about our partnership, I was sure. And we'd been too dumbâtoo flattered by Donny's attention and too greedy for the moneyâto think it through.

But now my mind was flooded with questions. And I was filled with anger at Donny. He couldn't tell me what to do and what not to do, what I could say to Jeff and what I couldn't. He couldn't just blow me off, couldn't just say, “Forget Ray. He's nobody,” and expect me, the dumb little kid, to reply, “Okay, Donny, whatever you say.”

I was mad at myself, too, because I
had
been acting like a dumb little kid. But that didn't mean I had to keep it up. I meant to find the answers to my questions, and soon.

There was one little mystery, however, that I could solve right then and there. The one sitting in my lap.

My hands were trembling slightly as I slid my index finger under the tape and ran it the width of the envelope. I had to pinch the wings of the little metal fastener up underneath the tape to free the flap. Then all I had to do was look inside.

I could feel my heart starting to hammer in my chest. Part of me wanted to stick the tape back down and deliver the envelope as I'd done before. It was a crime to read other people's mail; what if that was all this was? How would I explain that I had opened it?

Looking at what I had done, I realized I
was
going to have to explain. There was no way I'd be able to get the tape to stick again and lie as smoothly as it had before. The damage was done. I might as well look.

I reached my hand inside the envelope, grasped the bulge at the bottom, and pulled out another envelope. Well, not an envelope, exactly, but a little bag. A little plastic bag just like the one Nicki had had with her on the boat.

One sniff and I knew exactly what it was.

The strange thing was, I wasn't really surprised. I guess I had known before, right from the beginning, that there was something suspect about our delivery service. I just hadn't wanted to think about it. I'd wanted to believe Donny, and to believe that it made perfect sense to deliver a package and be paid fifteen dollars.

“Easiest money you'll ever make,” Donny had said, and I'd let him convince me because I wanted him to.

I felt like flinging the package into the bushes and leaving it there. I wanted to bike back home and pretend all of this hadn't happened, and never have to see Donny again. But I couldn't.

I had no idea how much the baggie in my hand was worth, but Donny was making enough of a profit to pay me fifteen dollars just to deliver it. And this Ray person who was going to be mad if Donny called off the deliveries, he had to be getting something out of it, too.

I imagined myself throwing the pot away and returning empty-handed. Donny would want his money. What would he do if he didn't get it?

“When you get involved with that kind of thing, you put yourself in danger,” Mom had told me just that morning. I shivered, though I was drenched with sweat.

Cameron Maddox had been mixed up with selling drugs.

Cameron Maddox was dead.

BOOK: Death at Devil's Bridge

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