Little Boy Blues (12 page)

Vince glowered.

I said, “No one here mentioned that to me.”

“Why the hell should they?” Vince said, raising his voice.

“Gee, maybe because I made a journey of over a thousand miles supposedly to help out. Then I learn his family keeps secrets that might shed light on Jimmy’s disappearance. Then Vince gets in a snit if I ask questions. It all makes so much sense.”

“Secrets?” Alvin said.

“Allie should have had the brains not to bring her here. She’s a first-class...”

“But what do you mean by secrets?” Alvin said. “Shut up, Allie.”

“I want to know. What kind of secrets is Camilla talking about?” Alvin said.

“All I have to do is step out of the house, and I discover things no one is talking about here. Issues relevant to this
investigation,” I said.

A lesser woman might have felt threatened by the way Vince leaned forward. “Nobody asked for your help. We all remember the harm done to Allie during your previous so-called investigations. We don’t need you here.”

“That’s enough, Vince,” Tracy said. “Camilla’s right.”

“What were you going to say, Vince? A first-class...?” I said.

Tracy kept on. “We really should tell the truth.”

“The truth is Jimmy is a sweet, damaged kid who wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Vince said.

“I don’t believe I mentioned anything about hurting anyone.”

“Let it go, Camilla,” Alvin sniffed.

Vince paced. “That’s all in the past. No point in dragging every little thing up. It will only hurt Ma.”

“What will hurt me?” Mrs. Ferguson said from the door.

“Talking about Jimmy, Ma.”

“Don’t be foolish. How could it hurt me to talk about our Jimmy?”

The kitchen was getting crowded again. “I thought all you people were out combing the hills,” I said.

“Ma’s right,” Tracy said. “We should tell the truth.”

“Of course, I raised my children to tell the truth.”

Tracy said. “There’s no reason to keep Camilla in the dark.”

Mrs. Ferguson said. “In the dark about what?”

Tracy and Vince and Alvin exchanged looks. They did furtive well. A cop would arrest them on grounds they had to be guilty of something.

I stuck in my two cents. “Exactly. What am I in the dark about?”

Vince stared at the tiles. Alvin squinted at the handles on the cupboard doors. Tracy examined her bitten nails.
I said, “Well?”

Tracy stepped toward her mother. “You know, Ma,” she said.

“What are you talking about, Tracy? I am mystified.”

“I’m talking about Honey.”

Vince slammed his fist into the cupboard door. Mrs. Ferguson slumped into the nearest chair. If I hadn’t jumped forward to catch her, she might have kept sliding onto the floor.

“We will never talk about that,” she said.

Well, we were on to something, but I had no idea what. Who was Honey? A person? A place? A snack? The name sure had a powerful effect. The family sat, white-faced, chiselled and intransigent.

Vince ate a couple of Cape Breton pork pies. Tracy got up and made a sandwich. Mrs. Ferguson nibbled a shortbread. Alvin sipped a cup of black tea out of a china cup.

I went for the weakest link. “Alvin. You look pale.”

Of course, Alvin would look pale with a sunburn. I know it and he knows it and he knows I know it.

“Time to get the roses into your cheeks, my lad. Nothing like a brisk walk to get the bloom of health back.”

His eyes bulged behind the cat’s-eye glasses.

“Beautiful day,” I said. “Let’s not stay here upsetting each other. I am sorry. We should head off and get some exercise.”

“Exercise?” he said.

“Yes! Tracy, do you have any of those posters left? I used all mine up, and we have lots of territory to cover yet.” Silly question, because boxes of posters were stacked by the back door. The challenge would be finding a telephone pole not already smothered with Jimmy’s picture.

“Chop, chop,” I said.

Tracy came to my aid. “Plenty more. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No no no no. It’s more efficient if we split up. They need you on one of the search teams. Alvin can help me. He’ll know the best places.”

Gussie wanted to come too.

• • •

“I know exactly what you’re up to,” Alvin said.

“But it doesn’t matter if you know what I’m up to. I’m up to it, and you’re going to play along.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Keeping stupid secrets that impede the search for Jimmy?”

“You don’t know, Camilla.”

“I do know. I know the police reacted differently from the typical no-show. And I know they are aware of something else with Jimmy. And I want to find out what it is.”

“It’s not important.”

“Listen, I think it is important. Too bad I managed to burn my bridges with my one police contact here, and that cost us. And that’s because you people didn’t fill me in on the background properly.”

“You’re always burning your bridges with the police. You can’t blame that on us.” Alvin’s eyes gleamed.

He looked better already. I could see my mistake. All that kindness and tender loving care had exactly the wrong effect on him. He didn’t need namby-pamby poor lovely boy shit. He thrives on conflict.

I said, “I can blame it on the whole crowd of you. You are playing me for a fool.”

I couldn’t hear exactly what he said, and perhaps that was best.

“Here’s the key thing,” I said. “Ray Deveau told me he
couldn’t answer my questions about Jimmy because of the confidentiality provisions of the Young Offenders Act.”

Alvin didn’t meet my eyes. No surprise.

I said, “The YOA. That tells me something, Alvin.”

“It was a mistake. Nothing of consequence.”

“Whatever Jimmy did, it was something.”

Alvin turned and stapled a poster onto a fence. “But it wasn’t true.” Now we were getting someplace. “That’s what Ma gets so upset about. It was such a disgusting lie. But everybody believed it anyway.”

“Look. I’ve been pretty tolerant, Alvin. But I’m at the end of my patience. If you don’t tell me what it is, I’m in the Buick heading back to Ottawa.”

“Yeah, right, Camilla. Like you’d quit.”

I drew myself up. “It could happen.”

“You don’t have to issue your ridiculous puffed-up threats. I’ll tell you.”

“As long as it’s in this calendar year.”

“Honey is a girl. Jimmy had a big crush on her.”

“Keep talking.”

Alvin waved his skinny arms. “Well, that’s it. No big deal. But, Lord thundering Jesus, you would have thought it was the crime of the century.”

“What was?”

“This isn’t easy for me, Camilla.”

Gussie whimpered in sympathy.

“Try anyway.”

“I don’t know the whole story. We weren’t allowed to discuss it.”

I understand not discussing unpleasant matters. I come from the same kind of family. “Okay. Tell me what you know.”

“Honey was one of those special girls. Popular. Really smart.
Beautiful. Talented. Always winning awards. Always getting her picture in the paper. You know the type.”

I knew, all right. Everyone remembers people like that from their high school class. Thinking about them annoyed me. “Go on.”

“When she’d come home from college, Jimmy used to follow her around. He thought she was wonderful.”

I waited. After I while, I gave him a nudge. “And?”

“Don’t snap, Camilla.”

“Sorry, Alvin. But if you want to help your brother, you are going to have to put your emotions on hold and give me some information. When this is over, you can be as upset as you want. But now, cough it up. And don’t leave anything out.”

He blinked. “One day she was attacked.”

It was my turn to blink. “Attacked?” The picture of the beautiful boy in the First Communion picture flashed through my mind. “What kind of an attack?”

Alvin shrugged.

“A sexual assault?”

“Supposed to be. That’s what everyone in town was saying.”

“Rumours. They spread like the flu.”

“The cops came to talk to Jimmy.”

“Okay. Did they question him about a sexual assault?”

“I don’t know. They took him in to the station. Ma and Vince went later. I was away that weekend. Afterwards, no one in the family would talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“I guess I get too upset.”

“And why
is
that, Alvin?”

He shrugged his bony shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s been that way ever since Jimmy and I were kids. Maybe because he almost died because of me.” Behind the cat’s-eye glasses, his
eyes filled with tears.

“Cut that out, Alvin. You were a child. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Jimmy’s brain-damaged. Yes, I can blame myself. That was my fault. And so is this.”

“That’s ridiculous, Alvin. You were in Ottawa when Jimmy disappeared.”

“Doesn’t matter. His whole life is my fault.”

“That’s crazy. How can it be?”

“Because I should have stayed here and looked after him. I shouldn’t have moved away. If I hadn’t gone away, I would have been here. I would have spent time with him. He probably wouldn’t have been by himself on that day.”

“Talk sense, Alvin. Even if you lived here, you wouldn’t have been with Jimmy every minute. Who would have thought anything could happen to him on the boardwalk? Who would be prepared for that?”

Alvin wasn’t paying attention. “It was the same thing with Honey. I was in Halifax. I should have been here then too. This is the third time.”

“Stop punishing yourself. Let’s get back to this assault situation. When was this supposed to have happened?”

“It was, let me think, eight years ago, I guess.”

“So Jimmy was thirteen.”

“Right.”

“And Honey was?”

“I don’t know. Nineteen, probably.”

“Somehow it doesn’t jibe with what people say about Jimmy.”

“I know.”

“So let’s see if I understand. This was the first time in Jimmy’s entire life he’d ever been in any trouble?”

“Well, not the first time.”

“What? Not the first time?” I felt like a particularly thick-headed parrot. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he had little scraps, but nothing to worry about.”

“What kind of things? And tell the truth and don’t leave anything out. It’s time you started to level with me, Alvin.”

He nodded. “The other things were nothing. Like you said. He tried smoking behind the garage. Sneaking a couple of bottles of Vince’s Moosehead. Coming home late.”

Exactly the kind of things I had suggested to an outraged clutch of Fergusons. “That’s it? Big deal.”

“Ma and Vince were worried about him. Father Blaise was too.”

“Oh, bullshit,” I said. “I did all those things and more, Alvin. You probably did too.”

“No, I didn’t, actually.”

“Back to our main feature. Why did the police talk to Jimmy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did this Honey accuse him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who would know?”

“Ma, I guess, but she’s not going to talk about it. I suppose you could ask Vince.”

“Yeah, right. What about Tracy?”

“Tracy’s like me. They didn’t tell her much. Jimmy and I and Tracy were always the little kids and the others were the big kids.”

“Frances Ann?”

“She was away at university.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Vince. He gets pissed off at me for breathing, so prepare for some fireworks.”

“Don’t let him push you around.”

“Whatever we find out can only help Jimmy.”

Alvin was quiet. Perhaps we were sharing the same thought. What if what we learned didn’t help Jimmy at all? What if it made things worse?

“Vince will be okay,” Alvin said.

“You’re a brave person, Alvin.”

Hard to know which of the two of us was most surprised by that.

“No, I’m not. I’m a disgusting coward.”

“Stop it. I’ve seen what you do in a crisis.” I grabbed him by the skinny shoulders and shook. His earrings jingled.

Several people stopped on the street and stared.”Leave that poor boy alone,” a tiny lady with blue hair said.

I ignored them. “Since you’re already upset, Alvin, why not answer a few more questions. How can I reach Honey?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t live in Sydney any more.”

Vince says he’ll talk to you later. But not in the house.”

I rolled my eyes. “Forgive me. Is everyone always this dramatic here?”

“That’s the Fergusons. Not calm and sensible like the MacPhees.”

Touché. That was another glimpse of the old Alvin. “Fine. Vince can pick the spot.”

Vince wasn’t home, so I was going to be cooling my jets for a while. It seemed like the perfect time to touch base next door. I could see Mrs. Parnell and find out what she’d picked up. Gussie trotted along for the walk.

“Ms. MacPhee. What a relief to see you,” Mrs. Parnell was in her glory, sitting in a rocking chair with a full tumbler and a fresh Benson and Hedges.

“And can I get you something to drink now, dear?” Donald Donnie brandished a bottle of Captain Morgan’s Dark in a meaningful way.

I shook my head. I needed my wits to deal with Vince.

“How is young Ferguson?”

“Almost back to his normal weird self.”

“Wonderful. And word on the brother?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah. And yet young Ferguson is coping.”

“Seems to be.”

“Don’t be fooled, Ms. MacPhee. He’s probably going through the motions. I’ve seen it many times before.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. P. He seems to be getting a bit of his old spark back. I think he’s glad to be here.” Although I hadn’t seen a mouthful of food actually enter Alvin’s emaciated body.

“Perhaps. Don’t let your guard down. You don’t know what might trigger an episode.”

“Okay. I remember the postcards.”

“Postcards?” Loretta said. Her eyes bugged out behind her glasses.

I looked at Mrs. P. She said: “Jimmy used to send postcards to young Ferguson. He became most agitated when we mentioned them. Related to the shell-shock, obviously.”

I was glad I didn’t have a drink, because I would have dropped it when Loretta shrieked. “Postcards! I guess so. Did you hear that, Dad? Didn’t those boys love their postcards?”