The officer shook his head. “He said he was with some friends at one of their rental cottages and that he left them around one in the morning and went home to bed. We talked with several of his friends separately, and they all confirmed his story.”
“What crap,” my father said.
Officer Davis locked his eyes onto mine. “Tell me again about informing Bruno that your sister would be on the platform at midnight,” he said. “Where were you when you told him?”
“The other side of the canal,” I said.
“With your friend.” The officer nodded. “What’s her name?” he asked.
“Wanda Lewis.”
“They’re not really friends,” my father said, and I knew it was not the time to argue with him.
“Who else was there?” the officer asked. “Was there anyone else who might have heard your conversation with Mr. Walker?”
“George was there,” I said. “Wanda’s brother. Her other relatives were there, too, but they were down—” I pointed across the canal to the area where Salena and the men had been fishing. “They weren’t close enough to hear.”
“But this George was,” the officer said.
I nodded. Suddenly I realized where this was going.
“George wouldn’t hurt anybody,” I said.
“Why are you asking her about this…George?” My father said his name as though he was talking about an object and not a person.
“Mr. Walker claims that Mr. Lewis looked very interested when he heard Julie say that Isabel would be alone on the platform.”
“Bruno’s just trying to pin the blame on someone else,” I said, but I could feel my heart sinking. I remembered George’s occasional appreciative comments about my sister and the scary way he’d cut his eyes at my father the day he came over to drag me home.
“Well, that may be so,” Officer Davis said. “Just the same, we need to talk to Mr. Lewis. Do you know how we can reach him?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have a phone number or address or anything,” I said. “But I think they live on South Street. And they’ll be back across the canal in the morning, probably, if it’s a nice day. But I know he didn’t do it.”
“You don’t know that, Julie,” my father scoffed. “You don’t really know those people. You don’t know what that boy’s capable of doing.”
“He’s nice to me,” I said, but that only enraged my father more.
“This is what happens when you disobey me,” he said, and I supposed he was right.
I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I went up to the attic early with Lucy, who was weepy and withdrawn, and I didn’t bother going down again. I kept crying—we all did. I would think I was okay, that I’d gotten a grip on my emotions, and then all of a sudden, I’d be sobbing again.
I replayed the night before in my mind over and over again, examining my actions to see if I could have done something different and thus prevented my sister’s death. I remembered looking out the attic window at the dark canal. If only I’d left the house earlier. Would that have made a difference? And what if I’d gone through with my idea of getting Ned to go with me? Then we would have been in his boat and been able to reach the platform safely, although we might have been too late.
Suddenly, I sat bolt upright in my bed. I remembered running over to the Chapmans’ house, getting ready to knock on the screen door only to realize their entire house was dark. I remembered looking toward the canal and seeing the empty Adirondack chairs. And then I remembered the policemen questioning Ned that afternoon, and the way he had looked down at the sand when his father said they’d been watching a meteor shower together in the backyard. Had Mr. Chapman fabricated an alibi to save his son?
I pressed my hand to my mouth, a shiver running through my body.
CHAPTER 39
I awakened the next morning with new resolve and a plan: I needed to do my own investigation. The facts I knew did not fit together. I would tell the police my suspicions about Ned, but not until I’d seen what other evidence I could gather. As heartsick as I was at the thought of George being my sister’s killer, I was triply distressed to think it might have been Ned. I would be objective, though, as detached as I could possibly be from the outcome as I gathered my clues.
I was relieved to have something to do that would both ease my sense of helplessness and also allow me to avoid my family. I left the house early and started walking toward the beach. What made no sense, I thought as I walked, was that Ned had told me to tell Isabel he couldn’t meet her that night. Then why would he have thought he could find her on the platform? My question was answered only minutes later.
I was nearly to Mitzi’s house when I noticed she was in her front yard washing her parents’ car. She tried to hide from me on the other side of the car, but she knew I’d already seen her. I saw her shoulders sag with resignation as she watched me approach.
“Hi, Mitzi,” I said, walking up her short driveway.
“Hi, Julie.” She stopped scrubbing the car with her soapy sponge. I almost felt sorry for her, she looked so uncomfortable. “Are you all right?” she asked. “How’s your mother and grandmother?”
“Messed up,” I said. “Did the police talk to you?”
“They called, but they just asked me what time Izzy left my house the night…the other night.”
