Spring Rain (45 page)

Clay leaned over and kissed her forehead. “No, you can’t, love. Even if you were 100 percent physically, for the plan to work, you need Ted. Trust me on this.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I can’t manage by myself.” She looked from him to Ted and back. “And while Ted and I go to the beach, you will be doing what?”

He explained the plan carefully.

“Poor Buster Cassidy,” she said and dialed 911.

B
ILL COULDN’T BELIEVE
that there was a gun, a very scary gun, touching him. Actually touching him! And Mr. Molino’s shaking hands were even scarier than the gun. He’d probably pull the trigger just with the shakes.

God, please don’t let him shoot me!
Bill shuddered. The thought of some doctor cutting a hole in him to get out the bullet that had already made a hole in him made him feel nauseous.

“Can you move that away from my throat? It’s just a suggestion, but what if someone came along? They’d call the cops if they saw a gun.” He did his best to sound like he was trying to be a big help instead of the scared to death kid he really was.

Mr. Molino looked at him in surprise. “Not a bad idea, kid.” He lowered the gun so it was aimed at his spinal cord, definitely out of casual view and more important to Bill, out of his range of vision. “Now we’re just two guys sitting on the jetty, watching the tide come in.” Mr. Molino looked at the oncoming water and shivered.

“Yeah. Two guys.” Bill stared at the path through the dunes. Where was Mom? Weren’t fifteen minutes up yet? It seemed like forever that he and Molino had been waiting here on the jetty. Mr. Molino began entertaining him with visions of what he would do with the
treasure when he got it and horror stories of what his brother Stanley had done to him when he was a kid. One good thing—Bill didn’t feel so bad about being an only child anymore.

A surging wave crashed noisily against the jetty, and some drops of spume reached them, making Mr. Molino jump.

“I hate the ocean,” he yelled. “I can’t wait to get away from here!”

“Don’t worry. High tide won’t cover us for a while yet,” Bill said. “We should have plenty of time to get away.”

Mr. Molino looked startled. Then he brought his face close to Bill’s. “That’s not funny, kid. You think I’m so stupid that I don’t know high tide don’t come this far?”

“Most days it doesn’t,” Bill agreed. “It probably won’t today. At least I don’t think it will. We’ll just hope not, huh?”

They fell silent as Mr. Molino kept throwing glances over his shoulder like he expected the tide to come flooding in like an avalanche rushing down a mountain or something. Bill shook his head, unable to imagine being that afraid of the water.

“There comes your mother!” Mr. Molino climbed to his feet. “Get up, kid.”

Bill rose and watched with a sinking heart as his mother and Uncle Ted walked through the dunes. Mom was supposed to come alone! Instead Mom limped beside Uncle Ted, hanging onto his arm for support. They walked very slowly.

“I said just Leigh-Leigh,” Mr. Molino growled. “I told her.” He grabbed Bill and squeezed his arm until it hurt. Bill bit his lip and promised he wouldn’t embarrass himself by crying.

“She’s hurt,” Bill said, rushing to his mother’s defense. “Remember? She can’t walk alone.” Why was Ted here? Where was Clay? He knew Clay wouldn’t let them face Mr. Molino alone.

Bill’s heart jumped with excitement now instead of fear. His father had a plan. He knew it. His father was going to save the day. Mom and Uncle Ted were just a diversion.

“Why are you smiling, kid?” Mr. Molino poked the gun against Bill’s side.

“I’m not smiling,” Bill said quickly. “Just a gas pain.”

Uncle Ted was carrying something, but Bill couldn’t tell what it was. A phony treasure probably. It had to be phony. Bill knew there wasn’t a real one.

Mr. Molino grabbed Bill by the arm and pushed him off the jetty onto the sand. “We’ll just wait here.” He flicked the gun against Bill’s side. “Don’t be dumb and try something that could get you hurt.”

Bill shuddered and looked away. So where was Clay? Bill felt suddenly uncertain. Maybe Clay was sitting in the kitchen eating a piece of Grandma Jule’s caramel apple pie, so mad at Bill for his big mouth that he wouldn’t come help. Bill couldn’t blame him. He’d been awful.

No. Clay would come. He had to. He wouldn’t be Clay if he didn’t.

“We’ve brought you the treasure,” Mom called. Her voice barely shook.

Ted held what he was carrying high over his head. Bill frowned. It looked like Grandma Jule’s silver jewelry box. She’d showed it to him one time when he asked if she had any heirlooms. They were doing reports for school on heritage, and Bill had decided to borrow the Whartons’ heritage since his own was so tacky. The silver box was the center of his report.

“It’s made of silver so thick that the carved flowers stick up several inches,” he wrote. “It is one of the prettiest things I have ever seen. I’m proud that it belongs to my Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe someday it will belong to me. I will take good care of it.”

He’d gotten an A. He suspected the teacher had talked to his mother about his adopting the Whartons, but Mom had never said anything to him about it. He thought that was because she wished she were a Wharton too.

Suddenly it occurred to him that he hadn’t been lying when he wrote about the Whartons. He
was
a Wharton. They were his heritage as much as the Spensers were. The wonder of that realization made him forget Ernie Molino for a full minute.

Because of Clay, he was a Wharton. He could even change his name if he wanted. He could be William Clayton Wharton III.

“Billy, are you all right?” Mom looked scared to death from worrying about him.

Bill pulled his attention to the problem at hand and nodded.

“Answer her out loud, kid. Tell her you’re fine—for now. Just don’t mention the gun.”

“I’m fine—for now,” he repeated.

Mom and Uncle Ted halted about twenty feet away. Uncle Ted put the chest down on the sand.

“Here’s your treasure,” Leigh called. “Now let him go.” She held out a hand. “Come on, Billy.”

Ernie Molino grabbed Bill by the shoulder. “Oh no. I’m not that stupid. I let him go, you grab the treasure, and I’m stuck with nothing. Uh-uh. You bring it all the way to me.”

Uncle Ted picked up the chest, and he and Mom started walking. Bill watched Mom with concern. She was limping pretty badly.

“Not you,” Mr. Molino hollered, pointing at Uncle Ted. “Just her.”

“I can’t carry it with my bad ankle,” Leigh called. “It’s too heavy.”

“Yeah, baby, heavy,” Ernie Molino muttered under his breath.

Bill was surprised the man wasn’t drooling at the sight of his “treasure.” If he had his hands free, he’d probably be rubbing them together in anticipation.

“Okay,” Mr. Molino called. “You can both come.”

Slowly and carefully, Uncle Ted and Mom walked toward the jetty.

Mr. Molino held Bill with one hand, the gun in his other hand resting between Bill’s shoulder blades, out of sight of Mom and Uncle Ted. Bill found it hard to remember to be scared of the gun. It was too TV, too movies to be real. Besides, no one with any smarts would shoot someone with two witnesses present. Then again, there was some debate over Mr. Molino’s intelligence. Anyone who believed Pop-pop’s line about a treasure was suspect, at least as far as Bill was concerned. Still he stood quietly, thinking it better to cooperate than take a risk.

Mom and Uncle Ted stopped about ten feet from Mr. Molino and Bill.

“You.” Mr. Molino gestured to Mom. “Bring it the last few steps by yourself. I don’t want your boyfriend near me.”

Bill blinked. He thought Uncle Ted was Clay. The man was not only dumb, he was blind. Couldn’t he see the hollow cheeks, the pale face? Granted the down jacket made Ted look fatter, but still, Clay radiated health, and Ted certainly didn’t. It must be a matter of seeing what you expected to see.

Mom took the chest from Uncle Ted and began limping toward them. Her eyes went to Bill. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, then watched with interest as her eyes slid past him, past Mr. Molino. She brought them back to him almost immediately, but suddenly Bill knew where Clay was.

“Now put it down, Leigh-Leigh, and back up.”

Mom did as she was told.

“Now both of you back up.” Mr. Molino waved the gun, and Mom and Uncle Ted backed up.

“Now let him go,” Mom said.

Mr. Molino ignored her. “Grab it, kid,” he ordered, his eyes glued to the treasure.

“The chest?”

Mr. Molino pulled the gun front and center and held it at Bill’s Adam’s apple. “Don’t get fresh with me. Get it!”

“Don’t hurt him!” Mom pled. Bill thought for a minute she might collapse. “He’s only a boy!”

Bill leaned carefully away from the gun and reached for the chest. He almost dropped it. He’d forgotten how heavy it was.

“Don’t try any tricks,” Mr. Molino snarled.

“I’m not,” Bill protested. “It’s just real heavy. Lots of silver.”

Mr. Molino grabbed Bill by the neck of his T-shirt. The gun rested against his jaw. “Okay,” he shouted at Mom and Uncle Ted. “The kid and me are getting out of here.”

“No!” Mom looked ready to faint. “You said you’d let him go if I gave you the treasure.”

“Oops.” Mr. Molino smiled. “I lied.”

Bill felt real bad as Mom started to cry. “Mom’s real honest,” he explained. “She thought you’d be honest too.”

“Her mistake.” He jerked on Bill’s shirt, dragging him backwards. All the time he kept his eyes on Mom and Uncle Ted.

Mom’s eyes darted beyond Bill for just an instant. It was a mistake on her part, because this time Mr. Molino saw her. It was enough to warn him. He pulled Bill against him and glanced over his shoulder. He let out a shriek of anger when he saw Clay mere feet from him. He spun ninety degrees, his back to the ocean. He looked from Clay to Ted and back.

“You’re sick in bed!” He looked from brother to brother, confused. “One of you.”

“I guess not.” Clay took a step closer.

“I’ll kill the kid if you come any nearer! I mean it!”

Bill looked out of the corner of his eyes and saw Clay freeze. He didn’t know how Clay felt, but he felt real disappointed. The attack from the rear had come so close to success.

“You don’t want to kill the boy,” Clay said. “He’s ten years old. You want a ten-year-old on your conscience?” And he took a step closer.

Mr. Molino backed up a step, dragging Bill onto the jetty with him. “So maybe I won’t kill the boy. Maybe I’ll kill you.” He waved his gun at Clay.

“And have all these witnesses to murder? You might be a thief, Molino, but you’re not a murderer.” Another step. “At least you haven’t been. You don’t want to start now, do you?” Another step. “Think where they’ll put you if you murder someone.”

Bill thought for a minute that his hearing was playing tricks on him, but no, he did hear police sirens coming their way.

Mr. Molino heard them at the same time. “I said no police!” he shrieked at Mom. He leveled the gun at her.

Clay took two steps, big ones, up onto the jetty. Mr. Molino backed farther onto the jetty, moving away from the threat. A wave crashed and he flinched, the gun wavering.

“Don’t kill my mom,” Bill begged. “I haven’t got any other family. I’ll be an orphan!” He tried to squeeze out a tear or two.

“Shut up, kid. Who cares?” He backed away from Clay some more, dragging Bill.

“But you were Pop-pop’s friend. Think how upset he’d be if you hurt me.”

“Like I care. He was slime, and he’s dead anyway. He’ll never know.”

“Bill.” Clay called to him in a firm, unruffled voice.

“Shut up! Leave the kid alone,” Mr. Molino yelled as the sirens wound down and doors could be heard slamming and voices calling out on the street.

“You’re only a step or two from the Grand Canyon,” Clay said.

Bill frowned for a moment. “That’s in Arizona.” Then he smiled and nodded ever so slightly.

Mr. Molino yelled to Clay, “Stay away from me! And keep the cops away. The kid and I need to get out of here.”

“Want to have a game of toss after this is over?” Clay asked, staring intently at the silver chest.

Toss, not catch. Bill looked down at the chest and back at Clay. “Really?”

“Really.” Clay was very firm.

Bill shrugged casually. “Sure.” And he tossed the silver chest into the churning sea.

“No!” Mr. Molino screamed as he watched the chest sail off to port side. It hit the water just as a surging wave broke. It disappeared into the foam and sank immediately. “No!”

The breaking wave sent water creaming over the rock on which Bill and Mr. Molino stood. “No!” he screamed again. In his terror he clutched even more tightly at Bill’s shirt.

At the same moment Bill threw the chest, Clay rushed Mr. Molino, grabbing for Bill who tried to wrench himself free.

“No!” Mr. Molino yelled at Clay. He aimed at Clay’s chest even as he took a big step backward, right to the very edge of the rock. As he teetered and flailed, he pulled the trigger. The shot went wild as he fell into the hole in the jetty where the boulder was missing. Since the tide was almost high, the hole was full of cold brine, and Mr. Molino fell screaming and sunk below the surface.

As Mr. Molino fell, Clay pulled Bill from his grasp.

“Dad!” Bill threw himself into Clay’s arms. “Dad!”

I
T WAS EARLY EASTER
evening by the time things quieted down. With a sigh, Leigh settled herself on the couch in her apartment. At her side was her tote bag of work, papers to correct before going back to school tomorrow. Criminals may come and go, but marking papers went on forever. She placed an ice pack once again on her ankle, grabbed a red marker, and reached for the bag.

Bill was over at the Whartons, being plied with cake and sympathy by Julia who was appalled when she heard what had happened.

“What would I have done if I had lost you too?” she had cried, hugging Bill so tight he gurgled, “I’m turning blue here, Grandma Jule.”

She looked at her sons with disapproval. “Next time, don’t put the child at risk.”