"Whatever," he echoed.
"You had to realize she'd tell me about the two of you. Sisters share almost everything."
"I don't know what Liza told you, but we were just friends."
I shook my head and turned to walk away.
"Jenny, listen. I may have. . misled Liza," he said haltingly.
I glanced back.
"When we first got to camp we became friends almost instantly. We spent a lot of time together and told each other stuff about our families. We had a lot in common-l mean, our dream of being actors and all.
I realized too late that Liza was misinterpreting things, that she thought I was interested in her romantically when really I was-" He broke off.
I stepped toward the fence and finished his statement: "Interested in my father, interested in his connections. Maybe he could get you a scholarship, like Walker did," I said and started to laugh, though I didn't think the situation funny. "You know, I've been used by guys who wanted to date my sister. I've been used by theater groupies who wanted access to Dad, but I didn't think something like that would ever happen to Liza."
Mike said nothing.
"Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be used that way-how much it makes you feel like a nothing?"
"I tried to let her down easy. I tried to back out, but she wouldn't let go."
"Did you kiss her?" I blurted.
He looked at me curiously. "Does it make any difference to you?"
"No, of course not." Talking about lying, I thought, I had just told a big one.
Mike was silent for a moment. "Well, as you know, accidents happen."
I stared at him angrily. "Next time, kiss up to my father, not me and my sister."
He took a step back.
"Why did you send Liza the note asking her to meet you by the river?"
"I didn't."
"You know what note I mean," I went on.
"The one Ken claims she saw, asking Liza to meet me at the gazebo. If there was one, I didn't send it. And, besides, Liza was killed under the bridge."
"Under the pavilion," I corrected him.
His forehead creased. "They found her under the bridge."
"She was murdered under the pavilion."
"How do you know that?" he asked. "l"-l was reluctant to tell him about the visions-"I sense it."
He moved closer. "Sense it how?"
I was tired of lying. "I have dreams about it, visions."
"Like the dreams you had when you were a little girl? The blue dreams?"
I blinked. "How do you know about them?"
"Liza told me. She said that sometimes you would dream the same thing as she. She thought you had a special connection to her, that you were telepathic."
I grasped the fence, twisting my fingers around the wire.
"She talked to me about you all the time," Mike said. "She really missed you. I was so sure you'd come to see her."
"Well, I have-finally." I fought back the tears.
From the other side of the fence Mike smoothed the tips of my fingers with his. "Why did you come? Why now?"
I pulled my hand free of the fence. I didn't want to get into that with him. "Does Paul know who I am? Does Keri or Walker? Did you tell them?"
"I haven't told anyone," he said. "Have you?"
"Just Brian. Who is playing the pranks?"
"Until yesterday, I suspected Brian-Brian with some help from Arthur," he added. "Both would enjoy messing up Walker's rehearsals."
"Brian says it's Paul."
"That's possible. The ring that Liza wore for last year's production, the one that rolled across the floor yesterday, was taken by Keri. Kids thought it was misplaced, but she took it last year and gave it to Paul."
"I don't understand. Why would Keri give Paul something connected to Liza when she was so jealous of her?"
He shrugged. "Maybe Keri hoped Paul would be grateful to her, that he would be grateful and notice her."
"That doesn't make sense."
Mike smiled. "I guess you've never been in love with someone who's in love with someone else. You find yourself saying and doing stupid things just to get that person to look at you."
I looked away. "Does Paul know much about sound equipment?"
"He's pretty good with that stuff when he puts his mind to it. Why?"
"The first day of camp, when you were in the theater, up in the balcony, did you hear voices, voices that sounded like Liza's?"
"All I heard was you saying Liza's lines."
"Before that."
"I came in right then," he said.
At least he kept his story consistent.
"Well, I heard voices. The sound, like Liza's perfume and the sudden appearance of her ring, was haunting, but I believe it was simply a recording of Liza's voice overlapping itself."
"So these pranks are directed at you?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. I'm beginning to think I stumbled into a private rehearsal. It would have been a good time for the person behind the pranks to practice, since everyone was supposed to be busy with check-in at the dorms, if I did barge into a rehearsal, then these hauntings were planned before camp began, before anyone had a chance to recognize me. And I'm sure no one thought I'd be coming."
"I didn't think I would come this year," Mike said. "But then I found that I had to in order to go on. Is it like that for you? Is that why you came?"
He kept wanting an answer to that question. "It was at first."
"And now?"
"Liza wants me to find her murderer."
His eyes widened.
"She told me, sort of," I added lamely.
"But the serial killer could be anywhere."
"I believe she was killed by someone who knew her, then doctored the crime to make it look like part of the series."
He was silent for a long moment, spinning the tennis racket in his hand. "That's why you were searching my room. You think I'm involved."
"I think more than one person is involved and that more than one person knows something."
"I can't believe you'd think that I-" "I have to. I can't trust anyone."
"including Brian?" he prodded.
"Until I know more, everyone is a suspect, everyone but Liza and me."
I left Mike beating balls against the wall and returned to Drama House. The common room was air-conditioned, but after washing my face, I chose the quiet and drowsy warmth of my own room.
I set my alarm, hoping to nap, but I couldn't fall asleep. My mind was restless, full of questions and suspicions, flicking from one theory to the next, as if I were clicking buttons on an Internet site. Uncle Louie, I remembered suddenly, and opened my laptop to check my e-mail.
His reply to my letter came up on the screen. It was typical Uncle Louie.
Greetings, my most beautiful goddaughter!
What a pleasure to hear from you-even if it was not to invite me to the camp performance. I could make all kinds of pleasant chitchat here, but as I know that you are a young lady who keeps to a schedule, let me hasten to the question at hand, the history of Walker Burke.
I cannot be entirely negative toward Walker; after all, he did give Broadway the finest star we have today, inviting your father to America. Walker offered your father his first role in New York, and it was quite a nice showcase for his talents. He found him his second job as well.
The problem with Walker was that even as the years went by and your father's skills far exceeded any opportunities Walker had given him, he felt your father owed him. Perhaps your father felt so, too, for he agreed to star in a new play, a script and production about which I had many doubts. To begin with, the producer was in love with the writer-you know how romance clouds the vision-and he was desperate to please her. Meanwhile, Walker was desperate to establish himself as a Broadway director. He even put in some money of his own-not much by theater standards, but probably his life savings, given his status at that point. I believe your father knew the play was a dud well before previews. Opening night reviews ran from mediocre to bad. Nevertheless, Lee performed for another two weeks, and because of his name, they brought in a full house each night. Walker, the writer, and the producer were quite pleased with the production; not so your father, who dropped out the third week. The play sank faster than the Titanic.