Facing the Hunchback of Notre Dame (12 page)

Walter sighed. “Wouldn’t you know it? And somehow I got the job of informing him about some family matters.” He leaned forward as if to share a secret with her, “I’m only fourteen, yet I’m the sanest one in the bunch, I can tell you that.”

She leaned against the doorframe and said, “That doesn’t surprise me. He was sure an odd one. Hardly ever here. Almost every night around ten o’clock, he’d head out the door with a big satchel over his shoulder or a box of junk under his arm.” She pointed in the direction from which Walter had just come. “And he always went thataway.”

Back to his lab, thought Walter.

“So I take it he no longer lives here?”

“Kicked him out.”

“Was he your —” Walter leaned forward again and turned on the charm “— boyfriend?”

She laughed and, despite her distrustful appearance, the sound was pleasant and clear.

Maybe she just needs to laugh more, thought Walter.

“Definitely not! He was just a boarder here. And he was three months behind on his rent, too.”

“Was there, perhaps, a circle painted on the floor of his bedroom?”

“How did you—”

“Family crest,” Walter said quickly. Please, dear God, let her believe that miserable explanation.

“Ah,” she nodded, “you’re English.”

“Yes, ma’am. I am. Right, then. Well, thank you very much, Miss …” Walter held out his hand.

She took it and gave it a shake. “Fanny. Just call me Fanny.”

“Thanks again ever so much, Fanny,” he said with a courtly little bow. He hoped she might think:
It’s a shame more young people aren’t like him nowadays. If they were, I’d have hope for the future
.

“He’s moved, but she said he used to come this way every night,” Walter told Linus and Ophelia once he’d rejoined them.

“So enchanted circle number two clearly wasn’t there,” said Ophelia.

“Yes, it was. But apparently if he can make a second circle, then he can make a third one as well.”

“Improving upon the design as he goes,” said Linus. The man’s a genius. And mad. But he’s a genius still.

They headed back toward the bookshop.

“What do we do now?” asked Ophelia.

Walter stopped to scratch his ankle. “We go get a decent cup of tea and put on our thinking caps. Maybe Father Lou will help us. He used to be involved with a rather unsavory segment of society.”

“And Cato Grubbs certainly fits that description,” said Ophelia, remembering his plan to steal Esmeralda’s necklace. She didn’t like Esmeralda, but the Gypsy woman didn’t deserve to have her only prized possession snatched from around her neck. But that tambourine she danced around with was another matter.

Ophelia hated folk songs.

T
he Bard River was running high, no doubt about it. If it rose another foot, the basement of All Souls, as well as the first floor of the manse, would be a muddy mess when the waters finally abated (decreased).

The riverbank could be seen from Father Lou’s kitchen, where they all sat wondering about their friend Quasimodo. Father Lou set the teapot and mugs on the kitchen table and told the young people to help themselves.

“So you’ve lost Quasi,” he said.

“Yes!” Ophelia heard herself wail. She hated it when people talked like that. “It’s horrible,” she said more calmly. “And we have only —” she looked at the kitchen clock, “twenty-one hours left to find him.”

“Does he know what will happen to him if he doesn’t get back to the circle on time?”

The three shook their heads simultaneously. Ophelia shuddered and explained. It was terrible to even think of it, let alone talk about it.

Father Lou tightened the band on his white ponytail. “In my experience with finding the more unsavory elements of society, people don’t usually move up when they get kicked out of a place. So don’t look for Cato in a nicer neighborhood. You’re going to have to go over to the east end of town. And I’m going with you. Let me go change clothes first.”

“Wow,” whispered Ophelia, “Is it that rough over there? Oh, man.”

Excitement tripped along Walter’s nerves.

Tea is fine
, thought Linus,
but are we ever going to grab some lunch? It’s two o’clock!

They stepped outside.

“No rain,” said Ophelia. “Hopefully the dam will hold.”

“It’s still raining further upriver, so don’t let this beautiful day fool you,” warned Father Lou, now dressed in biker boots, jeans, and an old blue T-shirt.

Walter took out a pack of gum and offered a piece to everyone.

“It just depends on how old the dam is,” said Linus, who knew all too well how so many of the structures that we take for granted are in desperate need of repair. I shall forego the details or you might never get in a car again.

Father Lou pointed beyond Paris Park and said, “The worst part of all this is that the place most likely to be destroyed by a flood is that summer camp on the other side of the park.”

Linus knew of it—a camp for disabled and terminally ill children. If a flash flood came through and whisked away those kids, the level of tragedy would be higher than most people could bear to think about.

“Has anybody warned them?” Linus asked.

“Not that I know of. Let’s go there first.”

They turned right and headed up Rickshaw Street.

Walter picked up a stick and flipped it end over end, catching it as he walked along. “Most likely the dam won’t burst. If we weren’t worried about it then, yes, it most certainly would.”

Father Lou laughed. “It will or it won’t, Walter. I doubt our attitude has anything to do with it.”

“I don’t know,” Linus said. “The only reason Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier was because he was the first pilot who really thought he could do it. There was nothing different about the plane he used or anything.”

Ophelia looked at her brother in surprise. “That’s more words than you usually say in an entire day.”

“I’m hungry,” Linus changed the subject.

“We’ll get some lunch after we find Quasi,” she said.

Exactly what Linus didn’t want to hear.

The Bard River Camp for Kids had been in operation since 1933. A collection of dark brown wooden buildings, the camp was spread out on about three acres of land. Shade trees stood around the cabins and the lodge. A swimming pool glistened in the sunlight.

As Father Lou and the three teens walked into the lodge, across the room they saw a wall of windows overlooking the rushing river. Several children rolled by them in their wheelchairs, others wore leg braces; some sported bald heads — an unfortunate result of their cancer treatments. In short, they all faced challenges that most of us do not. Yet the volume of their laughter disguised the seriousness of their conditions.

A young man looked up from where he sat playing a board game with three children. He walked over and introduced himself, “I’m Eric, the camp director. Can I help you folks?”

Father Lou asked if he knew about the dam.

Eric, eager and obviously good with kids since he seemed like a big kid himself, nodded. “Yes, we heard about it. But the weatherman says the rain has stopped for good, so I think we’ll be all right. I appreciate you coming by, though.”

“All right, then,” said Father Lou, handing the young man his business card. “Call me if you need anything or, God forbid—”

“Mr. Eric!” a child called from a nearby table where several girls were doing a craft.

“Thanks for coming by,” said Eric. “Gotta go.”

As they walked down the drive, Walter commented, “Eric didn’t seem too worried.”

“Does the camp have an evacuation plan?” asked Ophelia.

“I don’t know,” said Father Lou, “but at least we tried.”

Twenty minutes later they stood in the middle of the infamous (famous for being bad) east end of town. Linus gazed around, wondering what the neighborhood looked like when freshly built homes waited to be inhabited and people held a little more hope in their hearts. Most of the homes were single-story ones with small yards surrounded by chain-link fences that sagged with age. And apparently only a few people had ever heard of a lawn mower.
At least a third of the houses were boarded up, and it seemed ten degrees hotter over here.

Somebody was grilling close-by. As Linus inhaled the delicious aroma, his stomach growled. He felt a little guilty that right now he’d rather find a hamburger than Quasi.

Ophelia pulled out the old photograph of Cato and handed it to Father Lou. “This is the only picture we have of him.”

He examined it. “That’s some fancy dude right there.”

“That’s good,” said Ophelia. “He’ll be easily recognizable to people.”

Walter snorted at her optimism.

Father Lou laughed and turned to him, “Exactly, Walter.”

“Huh?” asked Linus.

“No matter how distinct Cato Grubbs looks, people in this part of town won’t be willing to say much.”

“Precisely,” said Walter.

Ophelia sighed. “I guess we have a lot to learn about this stuff.”

“Seems so.” Father Lou looked up and down the street and then pointed to a steeple. “But here’s where we have the advantage: Mutual respect of the clergy. Let’s go.”

Now Walter might have chuckled at the twins’ obvious clue-lessness about the less-than-savory element of society, but he was a touch envious that they’d never have to know the things that he did.

The steeple grew from the roof of a small church called East End Assemblies of God.

“This should be interesting,” said Father Lou. “These folks are a heck of lot less reserved than we Episcopalians are.”

Linus wanted to laugh at that mental image.
Yeah, Father Lou’s problem is his shyness and his tendency to clam up around people
, Linus thought.

Soon enough, the church secretary showed them into Pastor Bob Campbell’s office. Pastor Bob stood at Linus’s height, had perfectly combed hair, and wore a well-cut suit. To be truthful, he looked like a stockbroker. The pastors introduced themselves and joked about how, judging by their clothing, they should probably switch churches.

Father Lou pulled out the photo of Cato. “We’re looking for
someone. And I won’t lie to you, Bob, he’s not a nice person. But we need to find him. He’s believed to be with someone very important to us, and let’s just say his intent toward our friend isn’t good.”

Pastor Bob raised his eyebrows. “Oh my! Well, let’s have a look.”

Father Lou placed the photo in Bob’s hand.

“Oh my!” Bob said again.

“Do you know where he is?” asked Ophelia hopefully.

“No. But that suit sure is ridiculous!”

“Drat,” Ophelia said. “We were hoping you’d know him.”

“I moved here just a couple of weeks ago,” he said as he turned toward the office door. “Molly! Can you come in here for a second?”

The middle-aged secretary returned to the pastor’s office. She had tomato-red hair, and she was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a shirt she must have purchased when her midsection wasn’t quite so apparent (exposed).

Bob handed Molly the picture and asked, “Have you ever seen this guy?”

She handed it right back to him. “Yeah, just a couple of hours ago. He was in Fischer’s Market down the street buying a jar of mayo and some cans of tuna. I was behind him in the checkout line.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Ophelia asked.

“Not exactly. But I think he might be on Crane Street. I’ve seen him round that corner a few times.”

“Thank you,” said Father Lou. “We appreciate the help.”

“Anytime,” Pastor Bob said with an easy wave as Molly shot him a look of disbelief. “Always here to lend a hand.”

Back out on the sidewalk, Father Lou turned to his three companions. “Man, that guy has a lot to learn about this neighborhood.”

“Molly will make sure he does,” said Walter.

Father Lou retucked his T-shirt into the waistband of his jeans. “Well? Shall we keep hoofing it?”

“Absolutely,” Walter said.

“Of course!” Ophelia was getting into the spirit of things now.

Great
, thought Linus.
Could we at least stop someplace so I can buy a candy bar?

A
pparently the candy bar would have to wait.

“That’s the place.” Ophelia pointed to a narrow, one-story shack, where the rooms appear to be lined up single file. In some places this type of home is called a “shotgun shack” due to the fact that you could shoot a gun inside the front door and the ammunition would go clear through the house and right out the back door—provided that door was standing open. If not, then I suppose a new back door would be in order, wouldn’t it?

“Cato seems to leave peeling paint behind him wherever he goes,” Walter commented as he reached out and picked off a large flake of pink paint with his fingernail. “How do we know this is it?”

“That.” Ophelia pointed toward a windowsill where a Roman dagger sat in plain sight. “It looks just like the one we found in the basement.”

Walter scratched an itch on the back of his head. “I don’t know why, but I figured you could bring something back with you from Book World just once. Or can you go in again with a different copy of the same book?”

Ophelia shrugged. “Maybe you get another chance with a different enchanted circle.”

“Or maybe it’s some other Roman’s dagger,” Linus snapped. “Can we get on with this?”

“Well, aren’t we testy?” said Ophelia.

“Have at it.” Father Lou motioned toward the front door.

Walter stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

The hair on the back of Walter’s neck stood up like a porcupine’s quills. Approaching a strange house on Bovary was one thing, but here? He knew a rough part of town when he saw it. After all, he’d just moved away from the rough part of town back home.

Walter knocked on the mud-colored door (he didn’t like this house one bit) and waited. He knocked again. Still nothing. He shrugged in the direction of the others who were waiting on the sidewalk two doors down.