The Man in the Net (23 page)

“I’m here,” he announced.

“Hi, Leroy.”

“And I’m late and I know it’s bad to be late but I went to get Timmie. I went first to Timmie’s house to have us come together and he can’t come. His mother says so. She talked to me. She said he was in because he had a fever because he got over-excited yesterday. So he’s in bed.” He lowered long lashes and then raised them again. “So he can’t come and she says I’m to go to see him at tea-time, at five o’clock, because he’ll be better then and I’ll cheer him up, she says.” He held out the package. “And I’ve brought this for you. It’s a sandwich with peanut butter and jelly and cottage cheese and … I made it. I brought it for you.”

For a moment John’s heart sank, but only for a moment. It was better this way, of course it was. The unstable Timmie and all the ethical problems surrounding him could now be shelved. Leroy could do it when he went to visit Timmie at five. He could tell the tale of the box with the jewels and the typewriter ribbon to Timmie in front of Gordon. Or, better still… The excitement was back. The little plaques on the bracelet! The story could be that the children hadn’t taken the jewels, but they’d broken the bracelet by mistake and each had kept a plaque to play with. Leroy could be taking Timmie his plaque. If Gordon Moreland saw Leroy handling one of the little plaques with its tell-tale L or N or D, he would instantly demand to know where Leroy had found it. The story could be told without Timmie having to be present at all.

That was it. The box with the substitute tape, Leroy as the carrier of the bait, and Vickie …

“Leroy, you didn’t see Mrs. Carey this morning, did you?”

“Yes, she was up. She came in the kitchen. She saw me making the sandwich.”

“Did she say if she was going out today?”

“She said what was I doing and I said I was going out in the woods and she said, What energy, Leroy. I’m not going to move a muscle. I’m going to sit and read all day. That’s what she said. That …”

There it was then. Vickie as the witness.

The trap.

Soon Buck was back with the tape, reporting that the new trooper on duty at the house hadn’t seen him. They went to the cave and in a few minutes Emily and Angel returned, each of them carrying a brown paper sack of provisions. Angel, subdued and silent, went straight to the dolls and, disapprovingly dusting them off and arranging Louise’s skirt, replaced them on the orange crate and sat down beside them.

Now that John knew exactly what had to be done, it was easy to organize the children. He checked the numbers of the tubes he needed, wrote them on a slip of paper, gave Buck the money and sent him off with Leroy to thumb a ride into Pittsfield.

“Just hand in the paper and say your father sent you, Buck.”

After the boys had gone, he took the tape out of the red leather box, with Emily eagerly watching him, and put it in his pocket. He rewound, as effectively as he could, the tangled tape Buck had brought, substituted it in the box for the Mendelssohn, and then, twisting the five little plaques from the bracelet, slipped them into his pocket too. While he was working, he decided that it would be more convincing for Linda’s fake cache to be somewhere outside the Fisher house. Behind the wooden steps at the back which led to the screen porch. That would do.

He had chosen Emily to set the trap and explained exactly what she had to do—to hide the box behind the Fishers’ porch steps, then to find some way into the house itself and to check that the electric light had not been turned off.

Having solemnly repeated his instructions, she took the box and slipped away out of the cave.

While the other children were there Angel had paid him no attention, but the moment they were alone she left the dolls and came tentatively over to him.

“You’re not mad with me, are you?”

“No, Angel. I’m not mad.”

“I’m not really the head of the game, am I? It’s Emily, isn’t it?”

“You can be the head too if you want to be.”

“Can I? Can I?” Her face broke into a broad smile.

“Can I do something then? Like the others? All the others are doing something.”

“You can keep me company. You can come out and sit by the creek and wait for the others to come back.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

They went out together and sat on a rock by the creek. The sun was slanting down through the trees now in wide yellow shafts. Angel nuzzled up to him.

“I do love you. I do.”

“I’m glad.”

“And I didn’t tell and I don’t really mind about you throwing Louise and Mickey and Cow in the dirt.”

“I’m sorry, Angel.”

With his new sense of achievement he could feel affection even for Angel. He smiled down at the small cozening face which even now at its sunniest still managed to look affected.

“John, dear.”

“Yes, Angel.”

“Could I bring Louise and Mickey and Cow out? Could they sit in the sunshine too?”

“Why, sure.”

She scrambled up and ran away toward the cave. The boys should be back by noon, he thought. He would coach Leroy and then—when? At four—he’d send Emily with a message to Vickie asking her to meet him at the Fishers’. He’d slip up there through the woods with the recorder and wait for her. Then Leroy could go off to the Morelands’ to spring the trap. It would still be light, of course, but, working through the children, it would be impossible to make it any later. It didn’t really matter. No one was likely to see him stealing through the woods.

His thoughts were snapped by the realization that Angel hadn’t returned. He jumped up and ran back to the cave.

He wriggled inside. Angel wasn’t there; neither were the dolls.

Anxiety tilting over into panic, he squeezed out of the cave again and, brushing through the hemlocks, started to run back to the creek. As he ran he caught a glimpse of Angel, clutching the dolls, disappearing into the pine trees beyond the creek.

His heart pounding, he dashed across the brook after her. Beyond the pines there was only the overgrown slope between him and the trooper at the house. But that couldn’t matter. He ran to the pines and through them without any attempt to conceal himself. Angel was only a few yards ahead of him, running stumpily up the slope toward the house.

In a couple of seconds he caught up with her, but, before he could grab her, she let out a piercing scream. He swept her up off the ground, slipping his hand over her mouth. The dolls fell, scattering over the weeds. With her struggling in his arm, he ran back through the pines and over the brook and soon, panting and sweating, he had her back in the cave again.

A few minutes later, when he was still trying to subdue her, Emily came back.

“It’s all right and the lights are on. I left a window open and I did everything …”

“Emily, Angel tried to get away with the dolls. I caught her on the slope up to the house, but she screamed. The trooper must have heard, and the dolls are there.”

“You let her do it? I told you. I warned you.”

“Quick, Emily. Get the dolls and, if the trooper’s there, tell him something, anything …”

“Yes, quick.”

She disappeared and in about ten minutes she was back with the dolls.

“It’s all right. I’ve got them.” She threw them contemptuously down on the floor and Angel screamed. “And the trooper, he was there. He was standing looking at the dolls and he said, ‘What’s all this?’ And I said Angel and me had fought about the dolls and it’s all right. He believed me.”

At twelve-thirty the boys came back with the tubes. John fitted them into the recorder. It was, he told himself, going to be all right after all. Even Angel, sulking with the dolls on her bed in the corner, an admitted Enemy in their midst, didn’t matter anymore. .She could be kept here until it was all over. They ate lunch and afterwards he coached Leroy. The situation was so flexible that he would have to depend on Leroy for details, but he drilled him in the essentials. Emily insisted that she should be the one to stay and guard Angel, so Buck was to be sent for Vickie. John briefed him and exactly at four sent him off. A few minutes later he picked up the recorder.

“Okay, Emily. You’ll take care of Angel. And. Leroy, you know what to do. Leave here at four-thirty by Emily’s watch; that will get you to the Morelands’ by five. And if it’s Mrs. Moreland who comes to the door and not Mr. Moreland, tell her you have a special message for Mr. Moreland from the Careys.”

“To say to come fishing tomorrow.”

“That’s right. And, when he comes and you give him the message, that’s when you bring out the plaque and play with it. Be sure he sees it. Have it right there in your hand … Okay?”

“Okay.” Leroy smiled down in shy pride at the little gleaming plaque with an L on it in his palm. “Gee, it’s the most important, isn’t it? It’s the biggest part of all.”

“Yes, Leroy.”

“Gee!”

John stood looking at the children. It was all right, wasn’t it? He hadn’t forgotten anything? He hadn’t given them anything to do that was beyond their capabilities?

Pushing the recorder ahead of him, he slipped out through the hole.

As he started through the woods, the inevitable doubts began to invade him. Had he cut the timing too fine? The Careys’ house was nearer the Fishers’ than the Morelands’. Vickie should be there at least half an hour before Gordon, even if Gordon were to come right away. No, the timing was all right. He would be able to play the tape to Vickie first. That in itself would be almost enough, but when later they caught Gordon red-handed …

It took him longer than he had expected to curve up through the woods to the back of the Fishers’. When he reached it, the lawn was unmowed and the house from behind looked already deserted as if the Fishers had been away for years. He went straight to the porch steps and, dropping down, peered behind them. Yes, the box was there. It was the back window on the right of the living-room which Emily had left cracked. He found it almost a third open from the bottom and it pushed up easily. As he scrambled into the living-room, his excitement soared to a peak. Vickie wouldn’t be here yet, but he would play the tape. The front windows of the house looked out directly on to the dirt road. He was dangerously exposing himself. Anyone passing would hear the music. But that would have to be risked. It wouldn’t be for long.

He put the recorder down on the Fishers’ baby grand piano and plugged it into the wall socket. The excitement fluttering in his stomach like birds’ wings, he took the tape out of his pocket, fitted it on to the machine and flicked the player switch. The tubes lit up; the tape whirred.

But no sound came.

He cursed under his breath. The tubes had to be all right. Then—what? The amplifier? He pulled out the plug, lifted the machine down on to the floor and started to examine it with growing tension. Perhaps the fall had broken a connection. He’d need a screwdriver. Somewhere the Fishers must have a screwdriver.

He got up and hurried into the kitchen, controlling his agitation. Where did they keep their tools? He pulled out drawers, opened cabinets. There was nothing. He ran down into the cellar. Finally in a cabinet in a corner he found a tool chest. He took a screwdriver and pliers and ran back to the living-room.

He glanced at his watch. It was five-fifteen already. Vickie would be arriving any minute. Well, it couldn’t be helped. If he couldn’t get it ready in time … He started to work feverishly. Tension made his fingers clumsy. As he disassembled the machine he was constantly looking at his watch. Five-twenty-five. Five-thirty. Leroy had set the trap at the Morelands’ half an hour ago. What had happened to Buck and Vickie? What if Vickie had changed her mind after talking to Leroy and had gone out after all… ? Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Why hadn’t he made sure of Vickie beforehand? Without a witness the trap would have no validity at all.

What if Gordon arrived first?

At twenty to six he located the trouble. With an hysterical deftness born of panic he repaired the connection and started to reassemble the machine. Now his plan seemed to him to make no sense at all. What if Vickie had lost faith in him and was an enemy too? And, even if she did come, where should they stand so that they could see Gordon and he couldn’t see them? That was all right. Behind the curtains, in the rear window. From there there was an uninterrupted view of the porch steps. But …

It was a quarter to six. Something must have gone wrong with Vickie. There was no doubt at all about it now. Something …

From a long way off in the woods behind the house he heard a sound. It came again. Wasn’t it a man’s shout? He ran to the window. Yes, he could hear it distinctly. Somewhere off to the right, near his own house, a man shouted. Another man shouted back,

The village again? Steve and the villagers? The dream?

“Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton …”

He heard the thud of running feet and, just as he ducked behind the curtain, saw Leroy coming around the side of the house.

“Mr. Hamilton.”

He showed himself at the window. Leroy dashed up, panting, his face taut with distress.

“Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Hamilton, it’s all gone wrong.” He started to scramble up to the window. John caught his arms and swung him into the room. Leroy was panting:

“I went. I went like you said. And Mrs. Moreland opened the door, but before I could say that about my message, she said, ‘Come in, come in. We’re all here and we’re giving a party’, and she took me into the living-room and Timmie was there with them and they were all there, Mr. Carey and Mrs. Carey and Mr. and Mrs. Carey’s mother and father. They were all there, drinking tea. And I had the little gold thing in my hand like you said and I didn’t know what to do but I figured I had to say what you said, so I went up to Timmie and Mr. Moreland was right there and I gave Timmie the gold thing and I said it was for him and we’d found the box under the Fishers’ porch steps with the jewels and the typewriter thing and they were all listening and Timmie took the gold thing and he was terribly excited and he said, ‘Did you really find it or is it part of the game?’ And then he said, all excited, ‘I did my bit of the game. I stayed home and I never did tell. Just like John said .. .’ And Mr. Moreland swung around and said, ‘John? Did you say John? What is this?’ And Timmie got scared. And …”