Read Online The Case of the Yellow Diamond by Carl Brookins - Free Book Online Page B

respond. What was that all about? I filed her reaction in my mental tickler file, and we went back downstairs.
    I had the names and addresses of two of the boys who had been at the Bartelmes’ beach when Calvin was injured. They were on a crumpled scrap of paper Josie had thrust at me at the hospital. I hoped to get an eyewitness account of the shooting. I walked down to the edge of the lake, alone. Maxine had declined to accompany me into the hot sun. I looked at the empty floating raft with its low diving platform. It was altogether a peaceful summer scene. I found it hard to believe what had happened.
    Voices arose on my left from the adjoining property. A hedge separated the properties, but no fence. The location was one of the two I had for boys on the scene earlier that afternoon, so I pushed through the hedge and found myself on another beach with a short dock in the middle of the property.
    Three boys about Calvin’s age sprawled on the beach in their swimsuits. A fourth thrashed through the water toward the beach, making a great laughing, sputtering production out of it. The other three were flicking sand and water droplets at each other. When I appeared, fully dressed, a stranger, they turned immediately serious. I walked forward holding their attention while the fourth boy struggled toward us out of the lake.
    â€œMy name’s Sean Sean,” I said. “I’m working for Tod and Josie Bartelme.”
    â€œYou’re the PI,” one of them said, “with the same first and last names. Cool.”
    â€œHow’s Cal doing?” another asked.
    â€œHe’s going to be fine,” I said. There was immediate reduction in the tension. The boys relaxed. “Now I need some help. Which one of you answers to the name of Jeff Brooks?”
    Teenager automatic distrust of adults asserted itself. The boys glanced at each other, not saying anything. Except two of them looked at the same boy.
    â€œThis is no big deal. I just want to try to recreate the shooting. I know you and some of your friends were on Bartelmes’ beach when it went down.” I stared at Jeff Brooks. “You were the closest, according to what I’ve been told. I suppose these other fellows were there too, right? Now, the cops are gonna be here soon to get formal statements. Your parents are probably being notified and lawyers rounded up. There’ll be delays while routines are followed. I just want to find out what happened to your friend, whatever you saw, as near as possible before things get complicated.”
    I spread my hands and looked at them. The boy I’d figured was Jeff stood up. “I’m Jeff Brooks,” he said. We shook hands.
    â€œLet’s go next door,” I said, and we all trooped back through the hedge of lilacs. It turned out my instinct was right, all the boys were there when Calvin got shot. The one who they all agreed had been farthest from the action, Ted something, insisted he didn’t actually see anything, so I selected him to be Calvin for my deal. I had my new digital camera with me. The plan was to get a series of pictures of a body flying through the air in the same position as Calvin was. At first it didn’t work. For some reason Ted Something-or-other couldn’t get his arms and legs in the right position. The boys were serious and pointed out problems in jump after jump.
    Finally the Brooks boy came out of the water saying, “Let me try it. I showed Calvin how I do a cannonball. It’s with a half twist, like this.”
    He swam to the dock and did his cannonball with a twist. The other watching boys all enthusiastically agreed that was exactly how Calvin was positioned when he was shot. So I had him do it six more times and took lots of pictures. We all figured he got his arms and legs just right at least four times. That was easier than trying to calculate how high off the water Calvin had been when he was plugged.
    It wasn’t