The Clue in the Trees: An Enchantment Lake Mystery Read online

  The weirdest part of it was that there had been no repercussions. There’d been no mention of it in the news, no police questioning, only a comment by a girl in English class. How strange was that? In one way, Francie would like to ask Theo all this stuff, but in another way, maybe she didn’t want to know. So she was trying her hardest to avoid him right now.

  Francie looked up in time to see a girl from the field trip—she recognized her as the tall blonde who’d volunteered at the dig site that summer—begin reading the part of Antigone. She was putting a lot into it.

  “I think I could really do a good job with this part, Mr. Redburn,” the girl said after he cut her off.

  “Uh-huh,” he said.

  “I mean, I feel like it’s kind of made for me.”

  “Okay, Phoebe,” he said. “I’ll take everything into consideration.”

  The next actor stepped up onto the stage and Francie drifted back to her dilemma. On top of everything else there was the issue that she had wondered long and hard about: her mother. Who had she been and why wouldn’t anyone tell her anything about her? It had certainly occurred to Francie that perhaps the reason was that her mother had done some unspeakable thing—murder, for instance. So it wasn’t an enormous leap to imagine that her son might have followed in her footsteps.

  Francie heard her name called and she walked onto the stage, opened to the page mentioned, and let the whirlwind in her mind go silent while she immersed herself in the words of the play. Even though they had been written more than two thousand years ago, these lines still resonated with universal human grief and suffering.

  “They say that he’s to be left unburied and unwept,” she began, reading the part of Antigone speaking of her slain brother. “His body must lie in the fields, a sweet treasure for birds to feed on to their heart’s content. That is what they say, and the noble Creon is coming to proclaim it publicly and the penalty—stoning to death in the public square!” Francie lost herself in the rhythm and cadence of the lines, the rise and fall of sound, but when she came to the lines “And now you can prove what you are: a true sister, or a traitor to your family,” she could barely get through them.

  There was silence when she finished.

  “Very nice,” Mr. Redburn said. “You put a lot of emotion into that.”

  Francie nodded and returned to her seat, aware that all eyes followed her.

  She tuned out as the other kids read for parts. Her mind was on her own dilemma, which, when you boiled it down, was what did it mean to be a true sister? To protect your brother at all costs? Or did she have an obligation to reveal what she’d seen and heard? Should she confront Theo? What would she say? Did you kill Digby? She could hardly bring herself to think those words, much less say them. And what if he said yes? What would she do then? Would she turn in her own brother?

  And what if he said no? That might just mean he was a liar, which he had already admitted to her that he was, and not hard to imagine if a person was also a murderer. On the dock at the cabin he’d talked about having to lie his whole life, then he’d said, “It’s not good to lie that much.” What had that meant?

  Just who was this brother who knew how to break into buildings and who had been chased by Mr. Trench Coat for who knew what reason? Was Theo in danger? Or was Theo the danger?

  Auditions must have ended, Francie realized, because the other students were filing out of the room. She got up and was walking out, too, when her name was called, and she turned back to see Mr. Redburn motioning her to come down to the front of the hall. Others glanced back, but it seemed she was the only one being called. Maybe he meant to tell her there wouldn’t be a part for her? Whatever. She could think up some other excuse to not have time to do any sleuthing.

  As she walked down the aisle, the girl named Phoebe passed her and shot her a poisonous glance. Oh boy, Francie thought, I’ve already made an enemy.

  “I’m giving you the part of Antigone,” Mr. Redburn said.

  “What?” Francie squeaked. “Maybe you haven’t read my audition form yet—where I said that I only wanted a small part.”

  “That may be what you thought, but we need someone experienced to play Antigone.”

  “What makes you think I have any experience?”

  He tilted his head and gave her a look. “I know about your acting career,” he said.

  Sheesh! Francie thought. He Googled me? How else would he know about her acting background, that she’d been in a short-lived TV show in which she played a kid detective, had some bit parts in things in New York, and had attended an arts high school in Brooklyn?

  “I also know that you have a reputation as a detective,” he went on, “but I hope you don’t intend to get involved with that business out at Enchantment.” Before Francie could protest that she had no interest, he continued, “I need you to focus all your energy on this part. It’s a lot of lines to learn and you have to be a good role model for the rest of the cast. They don’t have your level of experience.”

  “I’m really sorry, but maybe it would be best if you gave the part to Phoebe,” Francie said. “I think she really wants it.”

  “No,” he said. “Phoebe doesn’t have the . . .” He seemed to search for a diplomatic way of putting it. “The gravitas that you have. The maturity.”

  He meant that Francie looked older than Phoebe. Francie was familiar with people thinking she was older than she really was, in part because of the white streak in her hair. But apparently there was also gravitas, whatever that was.

  “Or Raven,” Francie said. “What about Raven?”

  “No, she always works on tech. She’s an excellent lighting designer and always runs the lights.”

  “Maybe she’d like a shot at a part,” Francie said.

  “Excuse me,” Mr. Redburn said. “Who is the director here? Are you in the habit of casting other people’s plays?”

  Well, Francie thought, she’d wanted an excuse to stay away from the investigation, and getting the lead in the school play was probably about as good an excuse as there was. It would mean she’d have rehearsals after school or evenings and probably some weekends, too. It would give her a way to avoid Theo, the sheriff, and the whole “business out at Enchantment.” So she said, “Okay.”

  7

  Ricing

  HOPING TO AVOID THEO over the weekend, Francie made plans to go harvesting wild rice with Raven. Saturday morning she was waiting outside for Raven when her phone dinged. Text from Theo:

  What are you doing today?

  Ricing with Raven.

  Where?

  All I know is not on the rez. That’s how come I can go along, I guess. Otherwise you have to be a member of the band.

  Got any theories on the murder?

  No.

  Weren’t you the one who solved all the murders last summer?

  More credit than I deserved.

  Aren’t you even the slightest bit interested?

  Don’t have time bc I got the lead in the play.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want the lead,” a voice behind her said.

  She spun around to see Theo standing there. “What are you doing in town?” she asked.

  “Came to see you!” he said brightly. “Now what about this role in the play?”

  “I told the director I didn’t want it,” Francie said, “but he insisted.”

  “I suppose you could have said no,” Theo said. “Weren’t you worried about making enemies of the girl who always wanted the big part, and all that stuff you said?”

  “I guess I caved.”

  “Well, it’ll be a good way to meet people.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But anyway, it doesn’t preclude you from having an opinion on this murder.”

  “I don’t know anything!” Francie said. “Everybody seemed to despise Digby, so . . .” Now would be a good time to bring up his argument with Digby, she knew. She should ask Theo what he’d been doing when she saw him at the lake. The longer
she waited to mention it, the harder it would be to bring it up. But then, she thought, why didn’t he bring it up? Why didn’t he explain himself?

  “Why are you here, Theo?” Francie blurted out.

  “I told you—I came into town to see you. Hoped we could hang out a little.”

  “I mean, why are you here at all?”

  “I was worried about you,” he said. “All those murders—you were in danger!”

  “Well, you’re a bit late now. That was two months ago!”

  “Travel is slow by yak.”

  “Yak?”

  “I was in Mongolia.”

  “They don’t have the internal combustion engine there?”

  “Not where I was.”

  “Okay, well, I’m fine,” Francie said. “As you can see.”

  Something was fishy about this. She’d like to think he’d come yak-trekking to her rescue, but she didn’t believe it. Something else was going on. What? Right now, she just wanted to slug him. While she had to go to school, keep her grades up, and get into a good college, Theo was tapping into his trust fund and gallivanting all over the world having adventures.

  “To tell you the truth, Theo, I feel like I have a lot of questions about you,” she said.

  “Oh, you mean the Muskie Bait episode?” he asked.

  “For starters.”

  “Yeah, I owe you an explanation about that. And, I suppose you want to know about Mom. I actually came here in part because I realized it was time you knew the whole story,” Theo said. “Or as much of it as I know.”

  Francie’s breath caught somewhere before it reached her lungs. She actually could not breathe for what seemed like a full minute. She heard herself saying the words, “Yes! It’s about time!” while part of her was thinking, Maybe I don’t really want to know.

  Francie was saved from knowing anything because Raven drove up in her mom’s car, jumped out, and said, “Hi, Francie. Hi, Francie’s brother.” She held out her hand to Theo, who shook it.

  “You must be Raven,” Theo said, still holding on to her hand. “I’m Theo, but you can call me ‘Frenchy’s brother’ if you prefer.”

  “Frenchy, huh?” Raven smiled at Francie. “Nice to meet you, then, Theo-Frenchy’s-brother.” Francie noticed they were still shaking hands.

  Geez! Francie thought. Did Raven’s face just get prettier, her hair glossier, her eyes more exotic? And Theo! His face had taken on a kind of movie star glow, too. Francie stared at Raven, then Theo, then back at Raven again. Some kind of wizardry had just taken place that she did not understand.

  “Well, we better get going!” Francie said, suddenly worried that Raven would invite Theo along for the day.

  “Do you want to come along?” Raven asked Theo. “We might be able to find you a spot in a canoe.”

  Theo glanced at Francie, then said vaguely, “Oh, I’ve got plans.”

  “Maybe next time,” Raven said.

  Francie quickly realized why Raven had insisted that she wear long pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Not just because of sun, but because the rice had sharp barbs that pricked. Also there were little biting worms involved.

  It was hard work, too, whether standing in the back of the canoe, poling through the tall stalks of rice (actually a kind of grass, Raven explained), or sitting in the bow, bending the stalks over the canoe with a smooth wooden stick called a rice knocker, and smacking them with another knocker to make the kernels fall off the stalks and into the bottom of the canoe. There they collected in a nice heap of musky smelling, fall-colored grains, some miscellaneous foliage, and also bugs and worms.

  It was a still day on the marshy river, and there were a few other canoes out, some of them filled with Raven’s relatives. For a while, Francie, who was working the rice knockers, could hear the murmur of conversation coming from the other canoes. After a time they all seemed to disperse, disappearing among the reeds, and it seemed as if she and Raven were the only people on Earth. Except for a few flies, lazily buzzing, and the thrum of a hummingbird chasing a red-winged blackbird, it was quiet. There was just the sound of the rice hissing along the side of the boat, the rustle of the stalks being bent over the canoe, and the chik-chik of the knockers.

  “My grandma used to be my ricing partner,” Raven said. “Then my mom tried it. But she hates the worms and bugs and stuff.”

  “Well,” Francie said, picking a few off her clothes and dropping them into the water. “They are pretty gross.”

  “Yeah, but look at all the good rice we’re getting!” Raven exclaimed.

  The canoe began to look like it was growing hair or fur. Dozens of tiny white spiders emerged and immediately got to work climbing their invisible threads, so they seemed to be suspended in midair.

  “What about your mom?” Raven said. “Is she the ricing type?”

  The canoe moved out into the open pond where the clouds appeared to float in the water, and Francie felt as if, spiderlike, she was afloat somewhere between lake and sky. It was a familiar feeling—that of not belonging anywhere, of being adrift—largely because she didn’t know anything about her mother, she supposed.

  “I don’t know if she would have been. She died when I was a baby,” Francie said, telling Raven the story she herself had been told yet had never believed. “And my dad died in a car accident seven years ago.” At least she knew her dad had died in a car crash. Whether it was an accident or not was up for debate. At least in her mind.

  “Gosh!” Raven said. “I’m sorry. That’s tough.”

  To get off the subject, Francie pointed at a likely looking patch of rice and said, “What do you think about that spot? Do you think we can get the canoe in there?”

  While Raven maneuvered them into the indicated rice bed, Francie thought again about how she might find out more about her mother. She did have one lead, one thing that she felt might hold an answer, or a clue, or something, and she was pretty sure she knew where that something was. Trouble was, she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to go after it.

  “So,” Raven said, “I should explain that dumb jail comment from lunch the other day.”

  “That’s okay,” Francie said. “You don’t have to.”

  “Those boys are just stupid. See, it was about a protest.”

  “You were protesting something?”

  “The pipeline.”

  Oh yeah, Francie thought. “The pipeline carries . . . oil?” she ventured.

  “Crude,” Raven explained. “The really dirty stuff—375,000 gallons of it going through the pipeline per day. The planned route goes through a lot of environmentally sensitive streams and wetlands—and there aren’t people around in these remote places. There could be a spill or leak for a long time before anybody would even know. Only 20 percent of spills are discovered by the company. Most are found by landowners or just . . . people, people who can’t do anything about it. So if—or maybe I should say when—it leaks or there’s an accident, that’d be dirty crude oil going right into the watershed, the watershed that’s part of Enchantment Lake, you know. It’d put an end to the rice, too.”

  “Well, that stinks,” Francie said.

  “Yeah, it literally stinks,” Raven agreed. “How do you not know about this?”

  “Sorry!” Francie said. “I spent the summer at my aunts’ cabin. No TV, Internet, not even electricity. So I’m a little uninformed.”

  They quit talking for a bit. The rice was thick in this spot and Raven pushed the canoe through the bed pretty fast, so Francie had to work to keep up.

  Finally, Raven said, “How’s the investigation going?”

  “What investigation?” Francie said, distractedly.

  “Is there more than one?”

  “Oh, you mean the murder.”

  “Uh . . . yeah?” Raven said.

  “You probably know more than me. I mean, your dad’s a cop, right?”

  “On the rez!” Raven said. “He doesn’t have anything to do with the Enchantment murder.” She paused to
shove the canoe deeper into the rice. “What do you think? Maybe that girl we heard Digby insulting—Mallory—maybe she did it? Or those other college intern types? They all seemed to hate the guy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Francie said, trying to sound bored. Maybe Raven would take the hint and change the subject.

  “Hey!” Raven said. “Maybe it was the pipeline guy. The one Digby went all ballistic on because his bulldozers were wrecking potential archaeological spots. They’re saying there was a mystery person out at the dig site the day of the murder. Maybe it was the pipeline guy.”

  Francie stopped whacking rice. “Mystery person?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I guess there was some guy there that nobody had ever seen before. He talked to Dr. Digby in his tent, and then nobody saw any more of him.”

  Francie sat up and took in a big lungful of air. The drying reeds and grasses, the musky rice, the marshy water all seemed to smell like hope for a moment. But then she realized the mystery person must be Theo, and the marsh smelled like muck again. No one at the site would have known who Theo was. And she knew he’d been there. So the mystery person must be him.

  Raven rattled on about possible motives, while Francie’s mind drifted, wondering what her brother’s motive could be. She came back to the conversation in time to hear Raven saying, “Don’t you have some kind of a theory lurking somewhere?”

  “No.”

  “You’re so boring!” Raven joked. “I thought you’d be like hanging out with Nancy Drew.”

  Francie groaned. “If I hear myself associated with her one more time, I’m going to burn all the Nancy Drew books in the library.”

  “You can’t,” Raven said. “I checked them all out in seventh grade and still haven’t returned them.”