The Boy Must Die (27 page)

Later, Justin joined Cara and David, who were standing by the door watching Randy and Sam drink and talk loudly in the kitchen.

“You hungry?” asked Cara.

Justin came up beside her and was about to apologize for rushing away earlier. Then he saw Randy stumble to the doorway. He was drunk, his eyes narrow and watery. Sam Heavy Hand was smoking and whistling by the sink.

“Why don’t you kids go on downtown for a while?” said Randy. “Go and get yourselves a burger at Frank’s Café. No use having to cook tonight when you’re tuckered out.”

“Yeah, get the hell out,” said Sam, his voice heavy with beer. “Go and have some fun.”

Justin looked at Cara and David. He could see they were tired.

“You go ahead,” Randy said. “Do what Sam says and have some fun. We’ve got some planning to do for tomorrow. We’ll scratch up some dinner here.”

Sam broke into a hoarse laugh. Randy said nothing else, and after a second he walked into the kitchen and started talking to Sam as if the three members of his crew had simply evaporated.

“What do you think?” asked Justin.

Cara shrugged. David’s face turned grey. His whole body looked limp with fatigue, but he shrugged, too. The three of them picked up their wallets, left by the side door, and headed down to Main Street,
crossing over a small bridge onto a road that led through tents and trailers parked under fir trees for the night.

Yellow light illuminated the main street. The evening also brought with it the noise of cars and tourists talking and strolling by the restaurants and gift shops. This was the first time Justin had been in the centre of town. Overhead lights like Christmas tree decorations sparkled in the aspens and birches planted along the sidewalks. Frank’s Café was a spacious building with varnished plywood booths and formica tables. The menu advertised Chinese chow mein, buffalo and beef burgers, chicken wings, and smoked trout. Justin checked out the bar, a long wooden structure with chrome stools. It was past nine, and his stomach growled. David and Cara found a booth. They ordered buffalo burgers and beer and waited in silence. Justin reached for his glass of water and slowly drank.

When the food came, everyone ate without speaking. Justin paid his portion of the bill after dinner while Cara and David counted out change. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said. He put his wallet back into his pocket and got up from the booth. On the street, he breathed in the warm summer air. Over the tops of the buildings rose the huge dark mountains. The lake beyond the main street, seen through rows of cottonwoods growing by the stony beach, was now black and as hard as polished glass. Justin checked to see if Cara and David were coming. As he did, he noticed a man walking down the opposite side of the street. He was headed towards a general store, its windows covered with posters advertising trail rides and nature walks with the town’s naturalist. Justin quickly stepped back into Frank’s. He grabbed Cara’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice low with alarm.

“Do you see that man over there walking past the café?”

“Where?”

“Just across from us. He’s headed into the general store.”

Cara looked at the man with the open shirt and the black shiny dress pants.

“Don’t point, Cara!”

“Do you know that man?” she asked, standing closer to Justin as if to shelter him.

“Yes. He’s Yianni Pappas.”

“Who?” asked David.

“David, do me a big favour? Yianni just went into the general store. Go over there and see if you can find out anything.”

“Like what?” David said with a sleepy voice.

“Justin, you’re shaking,” said Cara, taking hold of his right hand.

“Please, David. Go on over and tell me what he’s doing. Maybe listen to what he has to say. He’s standing in line. See? I need to know why he’s in town.”

“You in some kind of trouble?” David asked.

“No,” replied Justin. “But I really need you to go over there now to see what’s up. Please.”

“I’ll go with you, David,” said Cara. She let go of Justin and opened the door.

Justin watched David and Cara go into the general store. The huge windows showed couples walking around with items in small wire baskets. The store sold dry goods and fruit. Yianni was talking to the two women at the cash register. Justin watched it all like a
TV
show with the sound muted. Cara lined up behind Yianni, holding a couple of apples. David stood next to her. Yianni’s mouth moved slowly; one woman at the cash nodded, spoke until Yianni grinned, and pointed to the cigarettes stacked on a shelf behind the counter. The woman pulled a pack down, and Yianni paid and walked out into the street. Justin then turned and as fast as he could went past the bar and into the hall leading to the men’s room. He peeked around the corner. Cara crossed the street and stood by the front of Frank’s until David caught up to her.

“There you are,” Cara said as Justin came back to the front of the restaurant.

“Well?” asked Justin.

“Guys, I’m real tired.” David Home leaned against the yellow-painted logs of the façade of Frank’s Café. “I didn’t hear anything, Justin,” David added. “I’m sorry. I’m going back to the cabin. I’ll see you there.” David started down the street.

Cara took hold of Justin’s arm and began leading him in the other direction, towards the small marina. The bay had rows of docks and small motorboats. Benches overlooked the docks and were placed facing out to the lake. “Come here,” Cara said. They sat down on a bench. In front of them at one of the docks, a man in his late seventies was struggling to pull a green tarp over an old boat. On the side of the boat was a small inscription: “Fifty Years on Waterton Lakes.” Cara checked the other benches. On one, a young couple sat talking. The rest were vacant. A small speedboat slowed and pulled in to the docks, causing the others to bob and sway. Cara leaned close.

“He asked where Professor Mucklowe was staying.”

“What?”

“If it was Yianni.”

“Oh, it was Yianni. No mistaking him.”

“He said he needed to get a hold of Professor Mucklowe. He didn’t use Randy’s first name.”

Justin felt a chill run through him. Yianni was here in town, looking for him.

“Why was he asking for Mucklowe? Does Yianni know him?” Cara asked. She pitched her voice low. She took hold of Justin’s hand again.

“He’s after me, Cara. I told you.”

“Now wait a minute. It’s possible he knows Randy. Maybe Randy owes him some. . . .”

“I’m going to kill myself!”

Justin bent forward, slipping his hand free from Cara’s and resting his face in his palms. He felt tears coming.

“Listen, Justin,” Cara said. “Let me help you. You said Patsy Hanson would lend you the money. I can drive you to her place. We can go tonight if you want. We can phone first.”

“Oh, Cara, I wish. I don’t know if I can trust her. I need time to think. How are we going to walk home now? What if he’s waiting for me?”

“Look, I’ll run to the cabin. You wait here. I’ll check it out. If everything’s okay, I’ll bring my car down and pick you up. Why don’t you sit and wait?”

Cara got up. She held Justin’s face in her hands.

“Be calm. It may not be as bad as you think.”

On the edge of the bench, Justin rubbed his hands while looking to make sure Yianni Pappas was not nearby.
Where is Cara?
It felt like she had been gone for an hour. Too much time in any case. Was he just going to sit here in the open? He had to move. Cara would spot him on Main Street. He might as well walk where there were lights and crowds. He got up, turned his back towards the docks, and headed out, his calves and thighs stiff from sitting. The day had been long, and he needed to stretch his muscles before sleep.

He crossed Main and strolled into an open field in the centre of the village. Around him, new cement foundations were brightly lit by huge arc lamps. Randy had said the village was putting in a new lodge. One building was completed, its roof high and pointed and covered with large cedar shingles. Past it, by a chain-link fence, a second building was going up, skeletal walls of pine studs resembling a wooden cage. Justin saw a figure standing in the door frame of the wall smoking a cigarette. It was Yianni. There was no way he could avoid him. Yianni’s face appeared chalk white in the glare of the construction lamps.

“Nice night, Justin.”

“Hello, Yianni.”

“How’s the dig going?”

“Fine. How did you know I was. . . .”

“Your mom is a nice lady, Justin.”

“What do you mean?”

“She said you had left town for the week. A school project, she said. I told her I was a friend of yours from your university.”

Justin didn’t move. Yianni stepped from the door frame and sidled up to Justin. He stopped a few inches from his face, tossed away the cigarette, and smiled.

“How come you didn’t tell me, Justin?”

“I . . . I’m sorry, Yianni. . . .”

“I thought I told you not to go on a holiday. Didn’t I tell you that, Justin?”

“This is no holiday, believe me, Yianni. I had to do this project, it’s part of. . . .”

Justin felt Yianni’s warm damp hand brush his arm and rise to his shoulder. Before he could pull back, the hand smoothly slipped to the base of his neck. Yianni did not hold him hard. But his thumb gently stroked Justin’s Adam’s apple. Yianni pressed his groin tightly against Justin’s.

“You are a nice kid. I’ve always thought so. Tell me. You making any money on this project? Your mom said something about you getting a stipend or some cash for helping out your professor. A student . . . what did she call it?”

“Hon . . . honorarium.”

“That was it. That’s good, Justin. How much?”

“Five hundred dollars.” Justin was breathing in the foul sweetness of Yianni’s breath.

Yianni leaned in close to his ear, moist lips lightly brushing his earlobe.

“That’s a start.”

Yianni tightened his grip on Justin’s neck, spat to his left, wiped his free hand across his mouth, broke into a smile, and, with the pointer finger of his right hand, tapped Justin softly on the chin.

“I got to drive back to town, kid. It’s getting dark. I like the sound of five hundred dollars, but I like the sound of six thousand even better. I look forward to seeing you Saturday. Promise me we can see each other on Saturday. You won’t let me down?”

“No, Yianni.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“You sure now?” Yianni held his hand firmly around Justin’s neck.

“Yes, I promise.”

Yianni let go. He smoothed his hair and brushed something from Justin’s shoulder. He rubbed Justin on his lower back, just below his belt line.

“See you Saturday.”

Yianni Pappas walked away, going around a pile of cedar shingles. Justin stood still. Over his head, he heard a bird calling into the darkness. Then he began to run. Stumbling in the dark, he didn’t care where he was as long as it was away from Yianni. Justin headed up through the construction site, across a field full of birch trees, down the slope that led to the river. Ahead lay the campgrounds. He dodged through trees and shrubs, and finally he saw the rooftop of Randy’s cabin.

Cara had not made it back yet. Justin was sweating. The aspens crowding the cabin rustled with the hot breeze, and crickets buzzed in the humid grass. Sam Heavy Hand’s half-ton was parked by the stone patio. Sam was sleeping inside the cab, snoring loudly, his head propped up against the passenger window on a bunched-up denim jacket. Justin made his way to the cabin door and opened it. What a relief it was to be inside. The kitchen and living room were full of shadows as Justin struggled to the bathroom. He threw up. After rinsing his mouth, he heard Cara’s car pull in. He walked to the back door and met her.

“Oh, Justin. Thank God! I thought you’d gotten into trouble.”

“I saw him.”

“You look awful.”

“He came here to threaten me.”

Cara put her arms around Justin’s shoulders. She led him into the dark living room and sat down beside him on the couch, her arms embracing him. “You’re shivering,” she said, holding him tighter. Justin breathed in Cara’s warmth, the smell of her perfume.

“Come on,” she whispered. He stood up with Cara’s help and walked
to the bedroom. Cara had her right arm around his waist. When she kissed him lightly on the mouth, he didn’t struggle. When she stroked his hair, he shut his eyes and allowed her touch to soothe him.

“Come here, Justin.”

He lay down beside her. The bed springs creaked. “Oh, Justin,” Cara whispered. She laid her hand on his neck and stroked him. Justin breathed out, his heart calming. He let Cara caress him, and in doing so he let go of his fear.

Billy’s disappointment tasted bitter. Maybe he was tired; maybe he’d been expecting too much too soon. After all, Blayne Morton had a motive, and there was the Polaroid of the naked Darren Riegert to orchestrate a conviction. But now Billy was asking a man called Axel Preis to repeat what he’d told him not two seconds before. The light in the small green office was too bright and stung Billy’s eyes. The smell of fuel from the buses in the garage next door seeped everywhere, a pungent sweet odour of motor oil and rubber.

“I know the kid well. He’s always riding up and down my route — Number 43 — down Ashmead, out to the mall, Loblaws, and round to city hall. Can’t mistake him with that head of his. He’s big. I see him pretty near every night and after school. Looks lonely. Never asked him his name. Friday, he was walking up Ashmead around 10:45. I knew it was him ’cause of the green hair. I figured, he’s out walking tonight. I honked a couple of times at him before he saw me and ran to Stop 17 on the route, right next to the soccer field off Ashmead and Baroness. He looked pale. That camera was with him. Seems to take it everywhere.”

“Are you sure of the time, Mr. Preis? Please be as accurate as you can. This is very important.”

“I can see that. My timetable says be at Stop 17 by 10:45. I checked the old town clock. It’s pretty accurate since they replaced the innards. Read 10:42. I checked my watch, 10:43. Out a minute. Why the boy was out so late, I can’t say. He got on at 10:45. We rode around together almost a couple of hours until he got off at his stop, by the mall. No one got on,
it was him and me. His stop is a good sixteen blocks or more from Ashmead, where the house you told me about is situated. I checked in to the bus barn by 1:00, on the dot.”