Making Waves (40 page)

Taking her place on the porch of the pavilion beside Captain Andrews and Colonel Reed, Lake Manawa’s chief proprietor, Marguerite adjusted her new wide-brimmed straw hat. Lilly insisted only her best would do for such a special occasion. Marguerite just hoped the plume, the lacy ribbon, and the clusters of silk flowers didn’t block anyone’s view, as Mark claimed it would.

From her vantage point, Marguerite surveyed the spectators. Thousands lined the shore. In the last rays of sunlight, she spotted her parents and Mark a few yards from the base of the stairs.

“Excited?” Captain Andrews asked.

“I’m about to burst.” She clasped her hands together to still them.

He grinned, his dimples matching his son’s. “Trip said the two of you worked things out.”

“We did.”

“Good. My son was so grumpy he made me look like a circus clown. You’re good for him.”

“I think I’m the one who’s been blessed.”

“Deuce,” Colonel Reed interrupted, “I think it’s time to begin.”

Captain Andrews patted her arm and stepped closer to the porch railing to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he bellowed into a megaphone. The crowd quieted. “On behalf of the Yacht Club Association, welcome to the 1895 Water Carnival.”

His voice rose over the din. “This event couldn’t have occurred without the financial contributions of Colonel Reed, the Manhattan Beach Company, and the Electric Motor Company.” He waited until the applause died down to continue. “In addition to these fine benefactors, I personally wish to thank my son Trip Andrews for spearheading this event, and Marguerite Westing for assisting him. They make a good team.” He nodded toward her. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we give you the crowning glory of the Water Carnival. We hope it will both thrill and delight you. Please enjoy.”

The crowd erupted in cheers. Colonel Reed raised a pistol in the air and fired three shots, signaling the start. One by one, the forty participating boats, which had taken their positions on the lake between the beach and Coney Island, began to sparkle on the dark water. A hush fell over the crowd as the Chinese lanterns on each boat were ignited in turn.

The report of firecrackers shattered the silence and echoed over the surface of the lake. Marguerite gasped as Roman candles shot into the air and exploded in brilliant arrays of red, blue, yellow, and green in the ebony sky. Back and forth, the two forts “fired” their weapons. The choreographed boats moved in the water, shooting off their own Catherine wheel fireworks at precise moments, creating spiraling displays against the jet-black sky.

Marguerite clapped her hands in delight. She turned to Captain Andrews. “You must be very proud of Trip.”

“You and I both know I could never have masterminded this display. And he couldn’t have done it without you.”

“It’s so spectacular I can hardly breathe.”

Suddenly a rocket shot from the north end of the lake directly toward the
Endeavor
. The rocket hit the half-raised sail and the cloth burst into flames.

Terror gripped Marguerite’s heart, and a strangled cry escaped her lips. She pressed her fist to her mouth. “Lord, please no. Not Trip’s boat.”

“Cut the sail away!” Heart thundering, Trip scrambled toward the mast, hung on to it with one hand, and started slicing the ropes holding it in place with his other. Harry whacked at the other end. The flaming fabric broke loose. “Swing the boom out over the water!”

Harry released the halyard and gave the boom a solid kick. The fully engulfed sail slipped from the mast and fell half onto the boat’s rope safety line and half into the water. Lloyd and Max kicked it the rest of the way. The piece of silk sank silently into the lake.

“Trip!” Harry shouted.

He jerked around to see flames shooting from the boom. Fear pumped through Trip’s veins. In minutes his ship would be ablaze.

“Here!” Harry tossed Trip the axe.

Trip caught the center of the handle. Then, balanced precariously, he began chopping at the solid pine. The others attempted to douse the flames with buckets of water hauled from the lake. Perspiration trailed down Trip’s back, trickling beneath the waistband of his pants. He paused to wipe the sweat stinging his eyes with the back of his arm. The rockets continued to flare around them.

Flames licked at his targeted chopping area. Seconds mattered. Lungs burning, he raised the axe and sent it crashing down.

The boom cracked. Harry yanked the mainsheet free and the engulfed piece of timber dropped into the lake with a horrendous hiss.

27

Despite Captain Andrews’s firm grip on her elbow, Marguerite found her legs so rubbery they threatened to give way. She released the breath she’d been holding as the boom fell into the water.

“What happened?” Marguerite asked Trip’s father.

“He had to cut the boom away or the ship would’ve burned.”

She grabbed hold of the porch rail. The climax of the program – the exploding of both forts in a spectacular array of fireworks – occurred, but she could scarcely look at them. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause and zealous cheers. They believed the burning boat was part of the show!

“How did that happen?” Marguerite gasped. “The rocket. Where did it come from?”

The older man glanced down the beach and rubbed a hand over his chin. “From the shore, I think.”

“There weren’t supposed to be any mortars on the shore.” Marguerite recalled the diagram of the placements just as clearly as she would a chart of the constellations. Mortars were set at the two forts – the stationary one on Coney Island and the floating battery. A few were on each of the large ships, but she recalled that Trip insisted none come from the shore because of the danger involved to both the crowd and the boats.

She tried to remember the trajectory. Doing a quick bit of geometry, she figured that from the angle at which the rocket struck, it had to have been shot from shore, most likely from the icehouse area.

Where she’d last seen Roger heading.

Her breath caught.

Roger’s threats replayed in her mind. Surely even he wouldn’t go as far as to try to destroy Trip’s ship.

Or would he?

With the carnival over, Marguerite accepted the thanks and congratulations from those around her and slipped away. If she hurried, she’d be able to check out her theory and be back at Louie’s in time to meet Trip for a celebratory dinner.

Moving through the dispersing crowd, she followed the boardwalk past the Yacht Club and boat shop to the end. She snagged a Chinese lantern from one of the trees and slipped the paper covering off the small kerosene lamp contained inside. With the aid of its thin light, she found the footpath winding through the trees toward the icehouses.

Dew-dampened grass clung to her silk skirt. This area lacked a sandy beach, so she walked along the edge of the lake, searching for any sign of a rocket having been shot off. The smell of gunpowder, heavy in the humid night air, kept her from following the scent of anything set off in the immediate area.

Approaching the pair of large icehouses, she turned the lantern’s wick up. Trip had told her that tons of ice blocks were harvested in the winter and stored in the two structures for use by the lake’s restaurants and saloons as well as the surrounding community. Nothing seemed amiss around the first icehouse, but in the narrow alley between the two, a box caught her eye when she held her lantern aloft.

Steeling herself, she ventured between the buildings, knelt by the wooden crate, and set her lantern down. Prying off the loose lid with a stick, she found the box filled with Roman candles. A discarded mortar remained stuck in the ground beside it. She yanked the tube free and held it to her nose. The unmistakable scent of gunpowder, which Mark always claimed smelled like a mix of chalk and burnt paper, wafted toward her.

Oars slapped the water at the beach. She startled and dropped the metal tube into the crate. After turning down the lamp’s wick as far as she dared, she hid it behind the crate’s lid. Who was out there? Besides the floating battery the men had kept there for the carnival, the only vessel that used this dock was the barge that delivered ice around the lake. Perhaps one of the participants had decided to moor his boat there.

She pressed herself against an icehouse wall. Was the boat coming or going? She heard two distinct voices. The rowboat scraped as they hauled it onto the rocky shore.

“Too bad Andrews’s boat didn’t sink. Are you going to try again?” a man asked in a thick Southern accent.

“I think I made my point.”

The second voice hit her like a medicine ball to the stomach. Roger! She sucked in her breath.

“No one steals something that belongs to me, Clyde.”

She nearly bolted. He was talking about her! She racked her brain for a Southerner named Clyde at the lake. Clyde Stone? The gambling hall owner? He was friends with Roger?

Clyde chuckled. “Are you still going to try to get that girl to marry you?”

“She will. I guarantee it. I’m a man who always gets what he wants. Just because my first plan didn’t work doesn’t mean this second one won’t. I think Andrews got the picture of what’s at stake.”

Two plans? Roger had shot off the rocket at Trip’s boat, but what other plan had been thwarted?

“As long as my name stays out of it,” Clyde growled. “I have to admit that first idea of yours was a stroke of genius. We made a formidable team taking her old man’s money.”

She gasped.

“Only because your gaming establishment is so reputable.” Roger laughed. “All I had to do was introduce Westing to the delights of the faro table. When I saw how easily he got hooked, I decided to use it to my advantage. I still can’t believe that he kept going there night after night.”

“Like taking candy from a baby.”

“But you were the one who made sure he lost. How’d you manage it?”

“Faro’s harder to rig than the roulette wheels.” His boots scuffed against one of the rocks leading to the icehouses. “But crooked faro banks look just like legit ones. Helps to have a good dealer too, but it cost me to keep him on the sly. Remember our deal. I keep all the winnings. You aren’t going back on that even though you didn’t get the girl, are you?”

“I haven’t gotten her
yet
.”

“By the way,” Clyde drawled, “what happened with her? I thought you said she’d have to accept your proposal if her father was penniless.”

“Trip Andrews happened.” Roger’s voice sounded mere yards away. “And after tonight, he’ll get the idea she isn’t worth it. He won’t risk his precious sailboat again – even for her. When he’s gone, she’ll need my strong arms to comfort her.”

“And if he doesn’t take this warning to back away?”

“That nice boat of his will be missing more than a sail.”

Bile rose in Marguerite’s throat and her stomach roiled. Roger had stolen her father’s money to get her, and now he intended to hurt Trip’s
Endeavor
. She covered her pounding heart with her hand.

A rodent scurried over her shoe. She jumped and clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

“Did you hear that?” Clyde asked, stepping closer. “I heard something in the alley.”

“Probably a coon.”

“Either way, why don’t you grab that box of fireworks you left in there so we can leave? The last thing I need is to get caught. The sheriff is breathing down my neck as it is.”

“Good idea.” A branch cracked under Roger’s foot. He was close. Much too close.

She inched down the alley, wiggling down the length of the wall of the icehouse. Like the lapping waves, two thoughts pounded over and over in her head.
Escape. Warn Trip. Escape.
Warn Trip
.

Roger stepped into the alley with the box of fireworks in hand, his rounded shoulders still noticeable against the moonlit sky.

Her heart hammered so loudly in her ears she was certain he could hear it. A few more yards and she could run for the trees.

A twig snapped beneath the heel of her shoe.

He set down the box and looked up. “Who’s there?”

She bolted for cover in the wooded area.

In stoic silence, Trip and his crew brought the crippled
Endeavor
back to the boat shop’s dock. He glanced at his vessel and relief washed over him. A new boom and fresh sail and she’d be good as new. An expensive accident, but at least no one was harmed and his ship remained intact.