The day after Casey had met Sarah Vance in Fraserville the snowstorms clobbering Richford for weeks finally headed south. With no shovelling to be done, he had some free time. Since Sarah wouldn't have any news for him for a week, Casey put that part of his investigation on hold. He stayed for basketball after school and went to the Ducks and Drakes with Hank a couple of times, beating his brother twice at Demon Explorer. To outdo Hank at anything concerning computers or video games was a miracle. Whenever there was a news item about hackers breaking into a top-secret computer, Casey felt uneasy, and he caught his parents giving Hank funny looks. Everyone would breathe a great sigh of relief when word came that the hackers had been caught, but then there was always the next time …
Life was certainly more pleasant for Casey since the business with Mr. Deverell. Lots of people at school talked to him now, and being asked to be a member of the Coyote Club was great. But he knew some people were jealous of all the attention he was getting. Casey knew that it was almost worse to be at the top of the teeter-totter than at the bottom. It was so easy for whatever was holding you up there to move away and let you crash down. He had never wanted to be seen as anyone special; he only wanted to be seen.
Kevin and Terry had been with him when Steven Priddie had asked Casey sarcastically, "You planning to pose for any more publicity photos, Mr. Town Hero?" Greta Maitland, another student, then had made a nasty remark about how some new kids in town would do anything to impress people.
"What's with you two?" Kevin had demanded angrily. "You'd rather Mr. D. hadn't been found? That he'd died?"
"Well," Steve had replied, "if Old Deverell had minded his own business he wouldn't have gotten hurt."
Casey now figured he better get some of the other kids in on his investigation to share the spotlight if it shone again. But for sure not Steve Priddie. No. More like Kevin and Terry. They had been the first guys to show him any friendship, and he knew they and their families were just as upset about the hate situation as the Templetons were.
Bryan should be someone to involve in his investigation, too, but when he remembered the expression on his dad's face after he asked about letting Bryan assist in the inquiries, he decided that wasn't a good idea at all.
Casey was thinking about all of this while he and Bryan were walking home from school one day. In fact, he was on the verge of asking what had happened the night his mother had taken Bryan home. As if reading his mind, Bryan asked, "Want to hear what happened between your mother and my parents the other night?"
"Sure."
Bryan shook his head. "I couldn't believe it. When I told my parents about my involvement with the hate business, my dad started yelling and my mother began crying. Your mother, in a voice that was like ice and fire at the same time, told my dad to be quiet. Then she turned to my mother and told her how she and your father had been friends with my dad from when they were little kids. That even your grandparents and my grandparents had been friends.
"My dad glared at your mother, but she and my mom started to talk. My mother told yours not to blame the mess I got myself into all on my father, that a lot of it was her fault because her own mother died when she was only six and she'd never had anyone as a model for being a mother.
"I never heard my mother say anything like that ever. Your mother looked at her real sad and told my mother what a lot she'd missed and that she'd lost her father when she was thirteen and went ballistic with grief. She said it was your dad who'd helped her get through it."
"My mother said that?" Casey asked. "Boy, I never heard about that."
"Anyway, your mom told mine just to remember what she'd wished her mother could have done for her and to act like that toward me. Then your mother said they only had my side of this story and that there must have been some reason for me to have gotten involved the way I did. ‘We always gave him everything he ever wanted,' my mother said sort of helplessly. ‘Just like my father gave me everything.'
"Then your mother said something like, ‘He needs love. And he needs to feel like he's a really an important part of your family.' Then she told my father what a great kid he'd been before he got all his money. My dad tried to interrupt, but your mother just went on. ‘Up to now,' she said, ‘it seems all you wanted Bryan for was so you could keep your money in the family. End of lecture.' My dad actually started spluttering, then said, ‘How dare you talk to us like that!' Your mother just laughed and said she'd be on his tail if he didn't start paying attention to me. Then my mother asked yours if she'd like some coffee, and your mother said she'd like that fine."
Casey grinned. He sure had one heck of a mother.
A day or so later Casey persuaded Bryan to come to the Rec Hall. At first Bryan just stood inside the doorway chewing his fingernails, but Casey brought Marcie Finegood up to talk to him, and some of the others started including him in various activities.
As Casey, Kevin, and Terry walked to the Rec Hall that Friday, Casey said, "I've been wondering if you guys might like to help me with something to do with the Deverell case."
Kevin and Terry exchanged looks and nodded in unison, then Kevin asked, "Are you involved in the investigation?"
"Not officially, but I'm working on a couple of ideas. Want to hear?"
"Sure," Terry said.
Casey told them about finding the drapery remnant and his contact with Sarah Vance. He didn't tell them anything he had picked up listening to his dad and the RCMP talking, or what he knew about Hank's research. Casey kept strictly to his own discoveries.
"If Sarah can get the names and addresses of who bought the fabric," he told them, "maybe the three of us can check them out. The weather's too bad to bicycle around the countryside, but maybe we can come up with a way to see the necessary places."
"My brother, Jeff, just got his driver's licence," Kevin said. "He'll drive anyone anywhere, and he was Mr. Deverell's star student and good friend a few years ago. I know he'd want to help find who clobbered him."
"Terrific!" Casey said. "Tell him my dad's co-directing the team of investigators. I might hear something from Sarah by tomorrow night. I'll let you know. And, guys — this is strictly between us and Jeff, okay?"
"Absolutely," Terry said. "I'm glad we get to help. But that's just one thing. You said you had a couple of ideas."
"Either of you got any connections to Sanford's Hardware?" Casey asked. Then he told them about the brass screws.
"I've got connections," Terry admitted. "All the wrong kind. My aunt used to be married to one of the Sanfords, and since they broke up, the families haven't talked. Now my dad goes way out of town for all his hardware."
"I don't know anybody there at all," Kevin said.
Casey frowned. "Too bad. Keep thinking."
"Okay," Kevin said as he held open the door of the Rec Hall for the others to enter.
Everyone at the Rec Hall was talking about the school's Halloween costume party coming up in a week. Bryan was there, just inside the door again, speaking to Marcie Finegood. Casey hoped they weren't getting too friendly, because he thought of Marcie as his very good friend and maybe something more. The party wasn't a "boy asks girl" or "girl asks boy" thing. It was just a great big party the school held every year for kids too old to go trick-or-treating. Every year more and more kids from Casey's high school came. It was the place to be. Casey was surprised at the enthusiasm. He had never been at a school where even the parents — who came to dish out food, play heavy metal, rock and rap, give out prizes, and even stand watch over a dozen rented video game machines — wore costumes and masks so that nobody was sure who was who.
When Bryan and Marcie noticed Casey and his new friends, they came over. Casey caught Bryan looking at him warily, as if he thought Casey might spill the beans about what had happened. He should know I'd never do that, Casey thought.
"So do you guys wear costumes at the Halloween party?" Casey asked.
"You have to or you don't get into the party," Kevin said.
Casey had a sudden vision of what he would go as. It was so brilliant he almost told Terry and Kevin right there. But he decided he would keep it a secret. He was going to go as Mr. Clarence Wilberforce Willson!
Marcie had taken Bryan to talk to two girls at a table across the Rec Hall. She glanced up and waved at Casey.
"See you guys later," Casey said to Kevin and Terry. "There's something I want to ask Marcie about."
"Sure thing," Terry said.
"You going to be back soon?" Kevin asked. "Remember, we've reserved the pool table for eight o'clock. That's just ten minutes from now."
"I'll be back," Casey said, threading his way through the Friday night crush toward Marcie. "So, Marcie," he said when he reached her and led her to a bench away from the others, "how are things? No more posters of swastikas, I hope."
"No more of those," Marcie said, "but my dad's been getting awful phone calls telling him to leave town so people who belong here can breathe the pure air of freedom. Freedom from us, I guess." She was mad. "They're not going to scare me, Casey, no way. My family's been in this area almost a hundred years. We've always been good citizens, paid our taxes, everything, and now some people are telling us to leave. They think they can scare us? Let 'em try!"
"Did your dad tell the RCMP about the phone calls?"
"No. He's mad as heck about it, but the callers said they'd torch our store again if we reported the calls. Dad says it's not worth putting our family at risk, that nothing can be done." She was silent for a moment. "Look, I'm telling you, Casey, because I know your father's trying to stop these terrible things. You tell him what's happening. I'm sure he can do something."
"I'm sure he can, too," Casey assured her. "I'll tell him."
Marcie pointed across the room. "Your friends are trying to get your attention."
"Yeah, we have something set up." Casey got to his feet. "By the way, are you going to the Halloween party?"
"Everyone goes to the Halloween party," Marcie said matter-of-factly.
"Well, uh, I … I guess I'll see you there for sure," Casey said nervously, then made his way hurriedly to the pool table at the other end of the hall.
The problem of tracking down the brass screws was on Casey's mind as he walked home from the Rec Hall later that night. He was feeling pretty good about himself, feeling like one of the gang, feeling as if he could solve anything. Well, almost everything, except maybe the business of the phone calls to Marcie's dad. If Terry, Kevin, and he could come up with information that either solved the case of Mr. Deverell or at least pushed it forward, that would be terrific. It would show the Mounties and his father that they were wrong to turn down his help.
Then something else occurred to him. What if he could make a copy of the police artist's sketch of "Elsie Tavich." He could take it to Sanford's Hardware and see if someone remembered her buying the screws. Of course, she might not have been involved except in connection with the computer. But what if the Hate Cell used her so that none of their members would be seen around Richford?
Casey's father was sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by heaps of papers as Casey came in the back door. "Hi, Dad!"
"Hello, Casey. You've had two phone calls, both from the same woman, I think. Your mother took one and I took the other."
Casey tried to sound uninterested. "Really? I wonder if it was Mrs. Phipps at the library."
"At ten-fifteen? I don't think so."
Since it didn't sound as if his father was going to pursue the subject, Casey decided to change it. "Doing some homework on the Deverell case, Dad?"
"I'm looking over what we have so far. What really puzzles me is the fact that we can't find a trace of anyone around here who might be involved. Whoever they are, they must have taken off — far off."
"I heard something new from Marcie Finegood, something her dad's afraid to tell your team because he's been threatened with another fire if he does. But Marcie said I should tell you because she thinks you can and will do something about it."
"Tell me."
Casey filled him in on the phone calls point by point.
"This is so important, Casey. We'll get phone taps on the Finegoods' phones right away."
"But Marcie's father will have a fit if he finds out she's told us."
"Leave Mr. Finegood to me, Casey. This might be the only way we can track these people down."
Casey spotted a stack of posters with the face of a woman blown up on them. He knew who it was, but he acted as if he didn't. "Who's that?"
"That's Elsie Tavich. She's tied into this business, but she's proving very difficult to trace. She hasn't been using any credit cards as far as we can tell. It's as if she vanished."
"Any way I can help?" Casey asked innocently, scooping up a couple of the posters. "I could ask around at school and maybe check out the library. I'm sure Mrs. Phipps would put one up on the bulletin board."
To Casey's surprise, his father said, "Why not? It's worth trying. Take as many copies as you like. It always pays to be thorough. And speaking of being thorough, I'm sure you noticed the wind's blown a lot of snow back onto the sidewalk and driveway. I guess you'll be busy fixing that tomorrow morning, right?"
"Right," Casey groaned. He opened the fridge and took out a foil-wrapped plate of fried chicken legs. "Want some, Dad?" He put three of the eight on a plate for himself and sat down.
"That sounds like a good idea," his dad admitted.
Casey put three chicken legs on a second plate and took out the breadboard, a knife, a loaf of caraway rye, butter, a carton of milk, and two glasses. The food disappeared quickly.
"I'll have just one more leg, Casey."
"And I'll have the last one," Casey said, taking them out of the fridge.
"Oh-oh!" his dad said. "Weren't they supposed to be for tomorrow's lunch?"
"Yeah, I think so."
They finished off the chicken in happy silence.
"Tell you what," his dad said finally, looking full, satisfied, and younger than Casey could remember in a long time. "I'll invite your mother out for lunch tomorrow to the Snick Snack. Want to come?"
Casey grinned. "Sure, Dad." He was thinking how he would do the sidewalks, take in lunch at the Snick Snack, and then start his research at Sanford's Hardware.