“I’m okay, Mr. Brussard. I can swim.”
He stopped stroking. “You can?”
He released him and Jack treaded water as he turned to face him.
“Yeah. I … I just fel off the boat.”
“But you didn’t come up. I thought …” He laughed. “You mean I got soaked for nothing?”
“Wel , I wouldn’t say for nothing.”
“Poor choice of words. Let’s get to shore. It’s cold in here.”
“You go ahead. I’ve got to get the boat.”
“I’l help you.”
Together they stroked out to the canoe. Then, each grabbing a side, they swam it ashore.
As they stood panting on the bank, Mr. B said, “Wel , I’ve got to say I didn’t have this in mind when I walked over to the Lodge this morning.”
Jack felt like a fool. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It livened up an otherwise dul Saturday.” He pushed back his wet hair. “I don’t know about you, but I’m heading home for some dry
clothes. Boy, that water’s cold.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Next time you’re in a canoe, don’t act like a jerk, okay?”
As he walked off, Jack said, “Thanks, Mr. B.”
He stopped and turned. “Thanks? You said you could swim.”
“I can. But you didn’t know that. Thanks for trying to save me.”
He smiled. “Hey, Steve needs you. If something happened to you, he’d
As he stood and watched Mr. Brussard walk away, Weezy ran over.
“Do you
Jack shook his head. “He tried to save my life.”
“Some cold-blooded murderer he is,” she whispered.
Jack turned to her. “I don’t get it. What happened?”
“I was watching where you’d ‘fal en’ in when I heard a splash on the other side.” She pointed toward the Lodge. “I saw a pair of shoes on the bank there
and someone swimming like mad toward you. I didn’t know who he was until he grabbed you.”
“I heard a scream. Was that you?”
She nodded. “I thought he was going to …”
“Yeah. So did I. But he was trying to save me.”
…
Jack couldn’t wrap his mind around that. He’d suspected Steve’s father of being a murderer. But maybe he’d had it al wrong. Maybe Mr. B had been
genuinely trying to protect those men, and whatever he’d been trying simply hadn’t worked.
That meant someone else—or
The klazen? Or Bert Chal is?
Or maybe they weren’t being kil ed at al . Maybe it was simply a huge coincidence that al three Lodgers died of cardiac arrest within days of each
other. Or, like Dad had said, voodoo.
Jack shook his head. He knew coincidences happened, but this was too much. Those men had been kil ed. But how? And by whom or what?
Could there real y be such a thing as a klazen?
Bert Chal is was a better bet.
Weezy nodded toward the lake. “You going back in there?”
“No way.” Despite the warmth of the late-morning sun, Jack stil felt chil ed. “Besides, whatever it is, I’l never find it in al that muck.”
“So this was al for nothing?”
He looked at her. “No, not ‘al for nothing.’ I learned something about Steve’s father.”
She lowered her voice further. “What? That he’s not some mustache-twirling serial kil er?”
“Wel , what else am I supposed to think?”
“Lots of things.”
