The Castle on Deadman's Island (13 page)

“Will you be coming with us?” Mrs. Lonsberg asked Crescent.

“Yes, please,” Crescent said. “I'll have to come back again tomorrow, though. I have a job now – helping Mrs. Ruff in the castle.”

This declaration surprised everyone.

“A job here!” Neil exclaimed.

“A job helping Mrs. Ruff!” Graham exclaimed.

“A job in the castle!” Daniel exclaimed.

“Really, dear,” Mrs. Lonsberg said, “this is very sudden. But, of course, we'll be happy to bring you back again tomorrow.”

What's this job all about? Neil wondered, as he
began ferrying the Lonsbergs, Charlie, and Crescent to the launch in the little dinghy. He managed to arrange it so that Crescent was the last to go. “So, what's up?” he asked, as soon as she stepped into the dinghy.

“I had a chance to talk to Mrs. Ruff while we were waiting for the sergeant to finish the interviews,” Crescent said. “He'd told her that Grimsby and Snyder agreed to come tomorrow, and she was saying how she hated it when they were there – all the extra work and the service they demanded, especially Mrs. Snyder, who's coming too. So I said I was looking for a summer job and asked if she'd be interested in a helper while they were here. She liked that idea. ‘If they want service, let them pay for it,' she said.”

Neil stopped rowing and let the dinghy drift. “I didn't know you were even looking for a job.”

Crescent smiled. “I wasn't. But I know that you and Graham are really worried about his aunt, and I am too – something's terribly wrong here. You can't risk being seen on the island when Grimsby and Snyder are there – they know you, but they don't know me. So I can be there, helping Mrs. Ruff and watching what they're up to. A spy on the inside, you might say.”

“Gosh, you're way ahead of me,” Neil said. He gazed at her with a mixture of admiration and concern. “But those guys are dangerous. I don't like it-it's risky.”

Crescent touched his hand where it rested on the oar. “Don't worry, sweetie. I'll be in a perfect position to do a little eavesdropping without arousing their suspicion. I want to learn the truth as much as you and Graham.”

Then they were at the launch, and Crescent was climbing aboard. Charlie hauled up the anchor and cranked the engine. Neil waved as the launch sped away.

“She called me sweetie,” he kept saying, as he rowed back to shore. And he'd been worried about Daniel moving in on him….

There was, however, one cloud on his horizon. Crescent was embarking on a tricky mission, and Neil wasn't sure she realized the extent of the danger. Grimsby worried him the most – he was the ruthless one, the one who'd engineered both of Graham's near “accidents.” And the frustrating part was, he'd be stuck at the campsite on Lovesick, unable to help her as long as Grimsby and Snyder were there.

He watched the launch disappear around the point and gave Crescent one last wave. Then Graham and Daniel got in the dinghy with him, and he rowed over to the campsite on Lovesick to spend the night.

Crescent smoothed the quilted bedspread and stood back to admire the four-poster bed she had just finished making. She'd never seen anything like it before – the intricately carved and polished bedposts, the embroidered velvet side curtains, the array of plump pillows.

It was apparent that the elaborate bed, the matching night tables and dressers, the antique pigeonhole desk, and the other furnishings in the Snyders' bed room were the pick of the castle. Crescent wasn't surprised. From what she'd heard from Mrs. Ruff, Barbara
Snyder made it known that only the best was good enough for her.

That morning, Mrs. Ruff had informed Crescent that the Snyders were taking the morning sun down on the dock and that this was a good time for her to make up their bedroom. It suited Crescent fine – it was just the sort of opportunity she'd been hoping for.

After making the bed, Crescent went straight to the desk – feeling guilty for snooping, but telling herself that this was a necessary part of discovering the truth. Her search of the pigeonholes revealed only shopping lists, invitations, and a few personal letters. The drawers below were jammed with original drawings of the castle, so old they were turning yellow. Nothing of interest there.

Turning to one of the dressers, she was intent on searching through the drawers when she heard voices in the hall. Crescent froze.

The door burst open and a woman in purple shorts and a halter top came in and flung herself into a chair. Her blonde hair and long tanned legs gave an initial impression of youthful glamour, despite the lines around her mouth and eyes.

“It's too hot down there in the sun,” she complained to her husband, who followed her in.

Mr. Snyder was a handsome man, with silver gray hair and a golfer's tan. In his bathing suit, however, he
looked like he'd been assembled out of mismatched parts – his face and forearms nicely tanned, his chest and stomach sickly white, his legs half and half.

“I do wish you'd tell that lazy clod, Leonard, to put out the sun umbrellas every morning,” Mrs. Snyder continued. For the first time she noticed Crescent, who'd quietly shut the dresser drawer and picked up her duster.

Crescent had seen the Snyders from a distance at the Kingsport Yacht Club, but they showed no sign of recognizing her.

“Leave that and bring us a pitcher of ice water,” Mrs. Snyder ordered. “And shut the door behind you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Crescent said. She was going to have to swallow her pride if she was to play this part well.

“Country girl,” she heard Mrs. Snyder say contemptuously, as she closed the door. “She doesn't know enough to leave without being told.”

She's probably put out because I didn't curtsy, like some lady-in-waiting
,
Crescent thought. She purposely lingered in the hall outside the bedroom door. There was no trouble hearing Mrs. Snyder's voice, even through the solid oak.

“I hope you're not going to get cold feet at the last minute again, Carson,” Crescent heard her say.

She was unable to catch Mr. Snyder's murmured reply.

“Of course it's necessary,” Mrs. Snyder said. “Considering everything you did for the major, he should have left you all of the castle, not a mere one-third. So let's get on with it.”

More indistinguishable murmurs from Carson Snyder followed, then the strident voice of Mrs. Snyder again. “No! No more putting it off, Carson. If it's to be done, it must be done quickly.”

Crescent heard footsteps coming up the main staircase. She wanted to stay by the door, but now the footsteps were in the hall. She moved briskly away just as a man rounded the corner. Short and stocky, he wore an ugly green sports coat and a gray fedora – a strange outfit for a summer place, Crescent thought. She began dusting the pictures in the hall, and he passed without seeming to notice her, as if she were part of the furniture. She assumed he was the infamous Mr. Grimsby the man Neil had told her about.

Looking back, she saw him pause by the Snyders' door and raise his hand to knock. He appeared to change his mind and, instead, stood listening for a moment. Then, with a smirk, he continued along the hall to his own room.

“How long will the Snyders and Mr. Grimsby be here?” Crescent asked. She was peeling potatoes in
the kitchen, while Mrs. Ruff mixed the ingredients for a cake.

“Ha,
I wish I knew,” Mrs. Ruff grumbled, beating more vigorously, as if it were them in the bowl. “Sergeant Simpson said he wanted to question them today about the tunnel and the skeleton – not that there's anything they can tell him, if you ask me. But, this morning, the sergeant sent a message that he would be tied up all day with the search for the escaped POWs. They still haven't found them.”

“At least they found my boat,” Crescent said.

With
Discovery
back and undamaged, Crescent had gotten up at first light and sailed to Deadman's Island to start her new job. Rather than making the long sail back and forth every day, she'd asked Mrs. Ruff if she could stay and sleep on her boat.

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Ruff said. “Better than being in the castle at night, at the beck and call of Mrs. High-and-Mighty Put your boat in the boathouse, where you'll be safer.” She grunted with the effort of stirring the stiffening batter. “With Miss Stone not here, I suppose either the Snyders or that Grimsby will be using the castle off and on all summer.”

“Or both together?” Crescent said.

“Maybe. Considering the way they used to quarrel, I must say I'm surprised at how well they seem to be
getting along this time. ‘They fought like cats and dogs when they were here before,' I said to Leonard. ‘Not now, though.'”

Crescent dropped a peeled potato into a pot of water and took another out of the basket. She thought back to the Snyders' conversation she'd heard earlier and Grimsby listening at their door. Something was going on between them. Mrs. Ruff thought Grimsby and the Snyders were getting along, but it could all be pretense. Crescent had a feeling they were circling each other warily, neither trusting the other.

She wished she could talk to Neil and Graham about it, but they didn't dare show their faces as long as Grimsby and Snyder were there – they would be sure to be recognized. She was on her own, unless she could find an opportunity to slip away and make the short sail over to their campsite on Lovesick Island.

As the day wore on, however, Mrs. Ruff kept her too busy. And just as she was finishing all the chores she'd been given, Mrs. Ruff sent her into the dining room to polish the silverware.

“Mrs. High-and-Mighty wants to use the sterling silver for dinner,” Mrs. Ruff said. “Silver plate isn't good enough for her. Next thing, she'll be wanting to use the Crown Derby dishes and the good crystal glasses for her breakfast.”

Crescent sighed and set to work with the silver polish.

Later, she had an early supper at the kitchen table with Mrs. Ruff and Leonard. The Snyders and Grimsby were having drinks on the terrace, after which Mrs. Ruff would serve them dinner and leave. “You can go up and turn down their beds now, and then you're through for the day,” she told Crescent.

In the Snyders' room, Crescent turned down the bed and plumped up the pillows. Then she did Grimsby's room. Through the window, she heard laughter and the clink of glasses on the terrace below. Now was the time to search his room for clues.

She went through the desk, but found nothing useful. The dresser drawers were stuffed with clothes – Hawaiian shirts in blaring colors, loud ties, and diamond socks. It was in his underwear drawer that she found the folded piece of paper, carefully tucked into a red-and-white undershirt.

She unfolded it.
Meet me in the tower tonight at twelve,
it said.

Now
that
is interesting, she thought. Who is meeting who in the tower? And why?

She put the paper back, straightened up the drawer, and then headed for the boathouse. There was still
an hour or two of daylight. Just time for a quick trip to Lovesick Island to let Neil and Graham know this latest development. Then she would scout out the tower and find a hiding place before midnight. Some thing was about to happen, and Crescent was determined to find out what.

“I just hope she doesn't take any chances,” Neil said. He'd been fidgeting all day, ever since the Lonsbergs came by in Charlie's boat, en route to another day's fishing. They had dropped off groceries for the boys and brought the news that
Discovery
had been found and Crescent had sailed it to Deadman's Island that morning to start her new job.

Now it was evening, and they were sitting around the campfire – Neil, Graham, and Daniel – roasting the marshmallows they'd found among the groceries, using sharpened sticks.

“Don't worry about Crescent,” Daniel said, blowing on his marshmallow, which had caught fire and was rapidly turning black. “She's one smart cookie.”

“I know she is,” Neil said, annoyed. Did Daniel think he could tell him anything about Crescent? He wanted to tell him off, too, for referring to Crescent as a cookie, but what was the use – that was the way the guy talked. “But you don't know Grimsby He's dangerous.”

“I wonder,” Graham put in, “if Grimsby's really the one to worry about.”

Neil looked up sharply. “What do you mean? It was Grimsby who tried to run you down in the first place. And when that didn't work, he tried to bean you from the third floor with a flowerpot. If anybody did your aunt in, it was most likely him.”

“Agreed, but was it Grimsby who masterminded the whole thing?”

“I doubt it was Snyder,” Neil said. “He seems to be the kind who just goes along with somebody else's plan.”

“Exactly. So that leaves one other.”

“Like I said – Grimsby.”

Graham shook his head. “Who has the motivation? That's the key.”

“From what you told me,” Daniel said, “neither of those two guys dig having to share the castle with your
aunt. That's motivation to get rid of her right there.”

“Ah,
yes,” Graham agreed, “but who, as you put it, ‘digs' sharing the castle the least?” When all he got was blank looks, he answered his own question. “Mrs. Ruff said something interesting the first day we came here. She was telling Crescent about Grimsby and Snyder and what a hard time they give her. ‘But the worst of the lot is Mrs. Snyder,' Mrs. Ruff said, and I particularly remember her next remark: ‘Thinks she should have the castle all to herself, and wants her husband to get it for her.'”

“Mrs. Snyder!” Neil said. “You think
she's
behind all this?”

Graham nodded. “Lady Macbeth herself. Remember the play Neil?”

“Yes, but not as well as you,” Neil said. “You were in it.” Graham had had a walk-on part as one of the castle attendants in the school production.