Mystery

“God, this is great,” Fritz yelled, and for a time both he and Tom swam aimlessly and energetically in the wide part of the lake.

“Have you seen Buddy yet?” Tom asked.

“Buddy’s still in bed. I guess they had some kind of celebration at the club last night. Weren’t you there?”

“I left early. Buddy and I aren’t exactly friendly, Fritz.”

“Buddy’s friendly with everybody,” Fritz said. “Buddy’s friendly with Jerry. He and Jerry are going out shooting this afternoon. Maybe we could go too. That’d be pretty cool.”

“I don’t think they’d want me along, unless …” Unless they could use me as a target, Tom thought. “There are some things you have to know,” he said, and Fritz swam closer to him, his wide forehead wrinkled.

“Do you know what the celebration was about, last night?” Fritz shook his head. “Buddy is supposed to get married to Sarah Spence.”

“Well, sure. What’s the big deal?”

“He can’t marry her,” Tom said.

“How come?”

“She’s too young. She’s too smart. She doesn’t even like him.”

“Then how come she’s going to marry him?”

“Because her parents want her to, because your Uncle Ralph picked her out for him, and because she hasn’t been able to see me for a couple of weeks.”

Fritz stopped paddling around and stared at him. His mouth was underwater.

“I’ve sort of been seeing her. We got close, Fritz.”

Fritz lifted his mouth out of the water. “How close?”

“Pretty close,” Tom said. “Buddy tried to tell me to stay away from her, and when I wouldn’t agree, he tried to fight me, and I punched him in the gut. He went down.”

“Oh, shit,” Fritz said.

“Fritz, the truth is—”

Fritz clamped his eyes shut.

“Come on, Fritz. The truth is, Sarah was never going to marry him in the first place. She’s going to college in the fall, and she’ll write him a letter or something, and that’ll be that. They’re not even engaged, it’s just some kind of understanding.”

“Did you screw her?” Fritz asked.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, shit,” Fritz said. “How many times?”

“I have to see her,” Tom said, and Fritz dove underwater and began swimming back toward the dock. Tom swam after him. Fritz scrambled up on the dock and sat with his head on his knees. His hair glowed in the sun. When Tom pulled himself up on the dock, Fritz stood up and stepped away from him.

“Well?” Tom said.

Fritz glared at him. He looked almost ready to cry. He punched Tom in the shoulder. “Tell me you did,” he said. “Tell me you did, shithead.” He hit Tom in the chest, and knocked him backwards a step.

“I did,” Tom said.

Fritz whirled around, so that he faced Roddy Deepdale’s lodge. “I knew it,” he said.

“If you knew it, why did you hit me?”

“I knew this was going to happen.”

“What?”

Fritz turned around slowly. “I knew you were going to do something crazy like this.” There was a gleam of pure naughtiness in his eyes. He jumped forward and shoved Tom’s biceps with both of his hands. “Where’d you do it? In the woods? In your lodge? Inside or outside?”

Tom stepped backwards. “Never mind.”

Fritz shoved him again. “If you don’t tell me, I won’t do anything for you.” His eyes seemed to be all gleam now. “If you don’t tell me something, I won’t even ever talk to you again.” He backed Tom down the deck, pushing at him like a little blond bear playing with its trainer. “Where was the first time?”

“On your uncle’s airplane,” Tom said.

Fritz’s arms dropped. “On …” He blinked, three times, rapidly. He choked on a laugh, got the laugh out of his throat, and fell on his knees, bawling with laughter. “On … on … my uncle’s …” He fell on his back, still laughing too hard to speak.

“Are you going to help me?” Tom said.

Fritz’s laughter gradually subsided into a series of sighs. “Sure. You’re my friend, aren’t you?” He looked up, eyes gleaming again, from the deck. “Moby Dick,” he said, and sputtered with laughter again. Then his face turned serious, and he squinted into the sun. “Is there a real old guy in Moby Dick?”

“Sure,” Tom said.

“And does the fish get all eaten up?”

“Eaten up?”

“You fart, you got the wrong book. Even I know Ernest whatzisname didn’t write Moby Dick. Her parents were on that plane, right? They were right there, right?”

“There aren’t any hard parts in The Old Man and the Sea,” Tom said.

“Don’t change the subject,” Fritz said, and began giggling. “Oh, God. Oh, God. How can this be happening to me?”

“It isn’t happening to you,” Tom said. “It’s happening to me.”

“Well, what does Sarah Spence have to do with Lamont von Heilitz?”

“Nothing.”

Fritz sat up and jiggled a finger in his ear. He cocked his head and looked at Tom. “But I heard my uncle and Jerry talking about him—right after I changed. They were on my uncle’s porch. I told you.”

“When was this?”