The Secret of the Missing Grave Read online

  Must be at the island, he said to himself. Which one, though? There were literally dozens of uninhabited islands scattered across the bay, and he didn’t know if they’d been gone minutes or hours. They could be anywhere. Through the door in the main bulkhead he could see that it was still pitch dark outside, so he figured they hadn’t been gone too long.

  His thoughts were interrupted when he tipped to one side as the boat, with its engine cut to an easy idle, nudged hard against a fixed object. A float, Bean thought as he righted himself. That meant an inhabited island, which cut the possibilities by about 80 percent. He heard Monty jump off the boat and tie the bow line to a ring in the float. He didn’t tie the stern line, which meant they were probably facing upwind; otherwise the stern would have drifted away from the float and swung the boat around.

  The wind was supposed to be out of the southeast, Bean remembered from the last weather he’d heard on the radio. That meant they were on the leeward side of an island, facing southeast. Not that that meant a lot, but every little piece of information might come in handy later on.

  Further speculation was cut short by the sound of Monty jumping back aboard. Bean scrunched himself tightly into the shadows and listened as Monty made a beeline for the trunk cabin and the paintings.

  Once again, Monty shifted the paintings—this time from boat to land—while Bean watched and waited from the cover of his hiding place, his heart keeping time with the steady throb of the engine.

  In four trips, Monty had unloaded all but three or four of the paintings. He’d be back one more time, Bean figured. Good. Bean’s legs were cramped, and he wanted to stretch. He was thankful that he hadn’t stayed in the chain locker with Spooky.

  Apparently Monty wasn’t taking the paintings farther than the float, because there was little time between trips. Bean knew that this meant he’d be making more trips back and forth from the float to wherever he was going to hide them. That would give Bean time to think and plan, and let Spooky out of the chain locker.

  Bean was so deep in thought that he was startled when Monty came for the last load of canvasses. In his hurry to get out of the way, Bean bumped his head against a hot pipe and just barely managed to stifle a cry.

  Suddenly there was a loud sneeze. It came from the chain locker. Monty froze in place. “What’s that?” he said, cocking his head. “Who’s there?” He reached over to the engine and pulled the choke. The engine quickly sputtered and died, leaving a huge, deep silence. For a second it seemed as though Monty were about to convince himself he’d been hearing things. Unfortunately, Spooky sneezed again. Louder this time.

  18

  CAUGHT IN THE ACT

  IT TOOK ABOUT TWO SECONDS FOR MONTY TO OPEN the panel in the bulkhead and pull Spooky, kicking and squirming, from his hiding place.

  “Spooky Martin, what the heck are you doin’?” said Monty, his brain apparently racing to catch up with this unexpected turn of events. “How long you been in there?” He shook Spooky good and hard.

  “Hey,” said Spooky, emboldened by fear. “You’re rattlin’ my eyeballs. Let me go.” He tore himself from Monty’s grasp. “I ain’t done nothin’ .”

  “What’re you doin’ on my boat?” Monty demanded.

  Bean was wrestling with two options. He could either come to Spooky’s rescue and give everything away, or wait to see if a better opportunity might develop. He decided to wait. And while he waited, he prayed that Spooky wouldn’t give him away.

  “I was hidin’ ,” Spooky replied, as if he were the injured party.

  “Hidin’ from what?”

  Never had Bean been so thankful that Monty was not a quick thinker.

  “Bean,” said Spooky.

  Bean almost leaped from the shadows.

  “What d’you mean? Beanbag?”

  “Yeah. We was sleepin’ out in his tree house and went out for a sneak-around. We met up with some other kids down around Sands Cove and decided to play hide-and-seek,” Spooky said calmly. The story was apparently making itself up as he went along. “Bean was It, and the rest of us went and hid.” He paused for a moment. “I hid in here while you was loadin’.”

  “Loadin’ what?” said Monty suspiciously.

  Spooky shrugged. “How do I know? I wasn’t watchin’ you. I was lookin’ out for Bean.”

  There was only one problem with this explanation, thought Bean. If Spooky hid himself in the chain locker, how had the pieces of wood been turned shut? Of course, there was a good chance that the thought would never occur to Monty.

  “Hey,” said Monty. “If you hid yourself in there, how did the handles get closed?”

  Bean shook his head, but Spooky hesitated for only a second. “One of the other kids shut me in,” he said. “He was gonna let me out if Bean didn’t find me.”

  “So, what happened?” Monty demanded.

  “I fell asleep,” said Spooky matter-of-factly. “Next thing I know, you’re draggin’ me outta there and shakin’ me all over the place. Now, lemme go.”

  “Let you go?” Monty repeated. “Where d’you think you are?”

  “At your float,” Spooky said.

  Bean wondered what Spooky was up to.

  “You mean, you been asleep the whole time?” said Monty, taking Spooky by the shoulders again. “You don’t remember anything?”

  “What’s to remember?” said Spooky. “What time is it? They’re gonna be lookin’ for me.”

  Monty laughed. “Well, they ain’t gonna find you. Look out there.” He pushed Spooky to one of the trunk cabin’s portlights.

  “Hey,” cried Spooky in perfect surprise. “This ain’t Sands Cove.” He turned and faced Monty. “Where are we?”

  “Ha!” said Monty. “I guess what you don’t know won’t hurt ya. You get out and give me some help.”

  He pushed Spooky out of the cabin, off the boat, and onto the float. Now that the engine was off, Bean could make out what they were saying. “Grab an armload’ve these things and follow me,” ordered Monty.

  Bean waited a second, then raised his head and stared out the starboard portlight. In the first faint hint of dawn, he could make out a ramp leading to a small island. Monty and Spooky were carrying the canvasses up a steep, narrow path into the woods.

  “What now?” he said to himself. “Think, think.” He tapped his head. A lot of possibilities ran through his brain at high speed. What if he followed them? But why should he? He knew they were going to some camp up in the woods where Monty and Mierette had conspired to hide the canvasses. And there couldn’t be more than one or two camps on an island this size. So, what if he waited until Monty left, then went in and stole the canvasses? But what would he do with them? What if they really were valuable paintings and something happened to them as a result of his trying to save them? No. Besides, that would still leave the question of what to do about Spook. Well then, what if he took the boat and stranded Monty and Spooky? No. Monty would know that someone was with Spooky, and it wouldn’t take long to figure out who—even for Monty. Then who knows what he might do to Spooky.

  Still, there was something in the idea of taking the boat and leaving Monty stranded—alone—with the evidence. “The thing is,” Bean said aloud, “how do I get Spookers on the boat without letting Monty aboard?”

  Nothing came to him right away, so he decided to follow them. At least he might be able to communicate with Spooky somehow.

  It wasn’t long before he had the chance. Not fifty yards up the path, he heard Monty’s voice coming toward him. There was no time to think. He just reacted.

  A gnarled old branch of a massive spruce tree hung across the path, just within reach. Jumping, he grabbed it with both hands and pulled himself up into the thick branches just in time to see Monty and Spooky round the corner, their sneakers slapping loudly against the granite in their steep descent.

  “Question is,” Monty was saying as he led the way, “what am I gonna do with you?”

  “Whaddya mean, ‘what’re you
gonna do?’” said Spooky. “You’re gonna take me back to Sands Cove and let me off.”

  “Maybe,” Monty replied slowly. He turned and grinned menacingly at Spooky. “And maybe not.” He turned away again and resumed his descent toward the shore.

  “What’s that s’posed to mean?” said Spooky. “Ow!” The first sentence was directed at Monty. The second resulted from his having been hit in the back of the head with a pine cone.

  Monty stopped and looked at Spooky, who was bending over and groping about in the steel blue light of dawn. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Spooky stood up, holding a spruce cone. “I just got this in the back of the neck.”

  Monty laughed once and shrugged. “Big deal. Fell outta the tree.” He continued walking.

  Spooky was suspicious. He stood rubbing the back of his neck and surveying the trees. “Fell awful hard,” he said. He was just about to rejoin Monty when another missile grazed his left ear and hurtled off into the darkness. “Hey,” he said, turning sharply. “What the—”

  “Shh,” said Bean from the tree.

  “Bean?”

  “You comin’?” called Monty from farther down the trail. “We got two more loads to carry.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Spooky hollered. “I gotta pee.”

  “Well, make it quick,” Monty called. “You ain’t gettin’ a free ride without doin’ no work.”

  “You have terrible grammar,” Spooky yelled.

  “Shuddup,” came the reply. “Make it snappy.”

  “Bean?” said Spooky tentatively. “That you?”

  “Who else?” said Bean, dropping to the ground. “I got a plan.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Spooky. “’Cause I think Monty’s workin’ on one, too. And I don’t think I’m gonna like it.”

  “You gotta get away from him somehow and get down to the boat.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re gonna take it and strand him out here.”

  Even in the semidarkness, Bean could see Spooky’s eyes widen. “Are you crazy? Some lobsterman will pick him up, and when he gets his hands on us, we won’t be worth the powder to blow us up with.”

  “Hey,” came Monty’s call from the shore. “Hurry up.”

  “Comin’ ,” Spooky cried. “Just hold on a second, will ya?”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” said Bean. “There won’t be any lobstermen out. Besides, I think he’s gonna have other things to worry about,” said Bean slyly.

  “Like what?”

  “Like the police,” said Bean.

  “You gonna snitch?” asked Spooky. “He’s your own cousin.”

  “I guess he doesn’t care much about the family if he’s willin’ to risk draggin’ our name through the dirt. I don’t owe him nothin’.”

  “Good point,” Spooky agreed. “So how do I get to the boat without him?”

  Bean thought a second. “Well, he just went on without you, didn’t he? Go hide down at the bottom of the path, and when you see him comin’ back up, you head on down as if you’re gonna get the rest of the canvasses. I’ll go down through the trees this way and meet you there. As soon as he’s outta sight, we hop in an’ haul off.”

  “Okay,” said Spooky, and he started down the path. “But make sure you don’t get lost.”

  Bean wove his way through the thick undergrowth. By the time he arrived at the shore, Spooky was waiting, the painter untied and in his hand. “’Bout time,” he said sharply, jumping aboard.

  Bean put one foot on the float, the other on the gunwale, and pushed off. He jumped in beside Spooky and turned to the wheel. “Uh-oh,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Spooky,” came Monty’s call from up the path. “Where are you?”

  “I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Spooky bellowed. “Quit buggin’ me.” Lowering his voice, he repeated to Bean, “What’s wrong?”

  “He took the stupid key,” said Bean. “I can’t believe it. Who’d steal his stupid boat way out here?”

  “Well,” said Spooky as the boat drifted away from the dock in the first, full light of day.

  Bean almost laughed at the realization of what he’d just said, but at that moment Monty was thundering down the path, breaking out of the woods to the shore, with canvasses at odd angles overflowing his arms.

  “Bean?” he said in bewilderment as he came to a stop on the float. “What’re you doin’ here? Where are you goin’ with my boat?”

  The island they were on was really two islands separated by a narrow spit of land. Mostly rocks and mussel shells, the spit was covered at mid-tide and, at the moment, was just barely above water. Unfortunately for the boys, both the incoming tide and the wind were pushing the boat toward the second island. Monty saw this at the same time Bean did. Monty smiled malevolently as he reached in his pocket and produced the keys. “Nowhere is where you’re goin’,” he said.

  He carefully placed the canvasses on the float, trotted up the ramp, and began running along the shore toward the northern island, where his boat was headed.

  “Now we’re in trouble,” Spooky observed.

  Bean wasn’t about to give up. “There’s got to be a spare key around here someplace.”

  “Where?”

  “Who knows? Hidden somewhere. Help me look.”

  The boys began frantically ransacking the boat.

  “What’re you doin’?” Monty called as he splashed along the narrow spit of land between the islands. “There ain’t no other key. I got the only one right here.”

  Bean sensed a note of desperation in Monty’s voice. “There is another key,” Bean said as he ran his hands around the back of the console.

  Spooky, who was searching under the stern, looked up. Monty had reached the island and was scrambling to the top of a big rock they were drifting toward. In twenty seconds he’d be able to jump aboard. “It’s all over,” Monty said.

  At the same instant, Spooky’s fingers touched a little box in the corner under the stern. “What’s this?” he said, removing the plastic box and holding it up for Bean’s inspection.

  Monty saw it, too. “Hey, put that back. You leave my things alone.”

  Bean opened the box and removed a key, which he dangled in the air. “Now what do you s’pose this is?”

  “That ain’t nothin’ ,” Monty bluffed, his face reddening. “That’s the key to my truck. You put it back.”

  Spooky was watching the distance between them disappear as the tide pushed the boat toward shore. “Bean,” he said under his breath, “in five seconds he’s gonna be able to wade out and grab us. If that’s the key, use it.”

  Already, Monty was stretching to reach the boat. Bean jumped to the helm, inserted the key in the ignition, and turned it. Nothing happened.

  “Crank ’er up,” cried Spooky. He had taken the boat pole and, leaning over the stern, was trying to push off the bottom with one hand while using his other hand to slap at Monty as he strained toward the boat.

  “I’m tryin’ ,” said Bean. “Nothin’s happenin’.”

  “I told you that wasn’t the right key,” said Monty. “Now, let me aboard before you stave ’er in on these rocks. You get a scratch on ’er, I’ll have your hide.”

  Spooky cast a glance over his shoulder. “She’s in gear, Bean. She won’t start in gear.”

  Bean cuffed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I can’t believe I did that.” He pulled the lever into neutral and turned the key.

  This time the engine roared to life, spraying Monty in the face with exhaust and backwash.

  “Drop ’er into gear and let’s get outta here,” Spooky ordered.

  Bean punched the lever into gear and pushed the throttle sharply. The boat responded instantly, and within five seconds they were a hundred yards from shore. Monty, barely audible above the drone of the engine, was yelling and cursing and jumping up and down in impotent fury.

  Suddenly Bean pulled back on the throttle and turned to
ward the island. “What’re you doin’?” Spooky demanded.

  “I’m gonna get a look at them canvasses,” Bean replied. “I’ll put up to the float, and you jump out and grab’ em.”

  Spooky shot a horrified glance at Monty, who, sensing Bean’s plan, was already splashing across the spit of land and heading toward the float. “He’s comin’ ,” Spooky cried. “We ain’t gonna make it.”

  Bean throttled up a little, and the race was on.

  When they reached the float, Bean had to be careful to keep from slamming the boat against the pilings, which would give Monty time to scramble aboard. Meanwhile, Spooky was waiting for the stem to swing close enough to the Hoat so he could jump off and grab the paintings.

  “You leave them paintings alone,” Monty was threatening. “They ain’t yours.”

  “And I s’pose they’re yours, huh?” Bean retorted. He throttled back, slipped the lever into reverse, and throttled up, swinging the stem of the boat toward the float. “Go, Spook.”

  Spooky jumped onto the float just as Monty’s heavy boots landed loudly on the ramp. “You put that down, Spook, or else,” Monty threatened, but Spooky didn’t plan to wait around to see what “or else” Monty had in mind. He scooped up the canvasses and headed for the boat, but he slipped on a loose piece of pot warp and went down with a thud. Before he could scramble to his feet, Monty had bounded down the ramp and grabbed his foot.

  “Let him go!” cried Bean from the boat.

  “You bring that boat in here and I just might,” Monty replied with a leer.

  “Catch!” Spooky yelled at Bean. With a sudden motion that caught Monty by surprise, Spooky tossed one of the paintings across the five or six feet of water to Bean, who caught it between his hands.

  “Hey!” said Monty, loosening his hold on Spooky. “Give that back!”

  Spooky seized his opportunity. He quickly pulled his leg out of Monty’s clutches, sprang to his feet, and hurled himself toward the boat.