The Riddles of Mulberry Island

By Huston Piner

While out fishing one bright summer day, fifteen-year-old Tommy Oakley is startled to spy what appears to be a giant fish surfacing in the inlet near Mulberry Island. Confused and a little fearful, he returns to Bayside, the tiny village where he lives, and recruits Wendy to help him solve the mystery.

A few nights later, Tommy goes camping with his best friend John, and they're alarmed to see ghostly lights floating above the water and movement inside the island's abandoned mansion.

Everyone in Bayside knows the island is uninhibited, but they also think it's haunted, so Tommy and John are more than ready to stay away. But the strong-willed Wendy convinces the reluctant boys to investigate the source of the lights, thereby setting in motion a harrowing adventure that has them dodging bullets and running for their lives, all the while struggling to sort out their conflicted feelings for one another.

One thing is certain—if they survive the summer at all, things will never be the same between them again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
• Release date: Jun 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781648900327

Book preview

Chapter One

The Great Bird and the Big Fish

SUMMER 1952

Tommy Oakley dashed through the woods, stumbling over roots and ducking low-hanging branches. He knew they might get in trouble snooping around Mulberry Island, but he hadn’t bargained on this. Now all he could do was hope he was going in the right direction and that John and Wendy would be ready to sail as soon as he got there.

He swerved around thorny bushes and jumped over spiny brambles, gulping air, desperate to get away from his pursuer. It wasn’t easy. For every branch he ducked or squeezed past, two or more scratched him and tore at his sweat-drenched clothes. And all the while, his pursuer’s cursing and stumbling grew louder behind him. Somehow, the man was getting closer.

He’s still gaining on me? Doesn’t he ever get tired?

A glimpse of marsh confirmed Tommy was going in the right direction and would soon get to the safety of the boat. The thorny bushes were giving way to more open ground, and he was finding it easier to run in a straight line. But that also meant the man chasing him would find it easier too.

Up ahead, he spotted the area where they had hidden the dinghy. Just a little more and he’d get away. Panting, he tried to find the strength for a final burst of speed.

Bang!

The shot seemed to echo all around him.

Tommy gasped and froze in his tracks, listening, as fear of capture gave way to a more deadly alarm.

From somewhere came the loud click of a rifle being cocked.

As if fired from a gun himself, Tommy took off running in a complete panic.

The second bang was so loud it was deafening.

Then the whole world fell silent.

Tommy fell to the ground.

A branch gashed into his forehead, and he collapsed onto a bed of fallen leaves.

Blood oozed from his wounds.

He saw a fading image of the great bird.

And then darkness took him.

*

ONE MONTH EARLIER

Tommy was sitting in his boat on a beautiful sunny afternoon, the handle of his pole loosely resting in his hand, his mind wandering. It was the first time his father had ever allowed him to go out fishing by himself.

As various thoughts crept across his mind, he happened to glance up, and there it was, soaring on the edge of the heavens.

The great bird stretched its wings and floated in wide swirling spirals. As Tommy watched it, a light breeze floated over him. The briny air filled his lungs, and he sighed, pushing sandy brown locks out of his eyes.

It had been a perfect day.

Well, almost perfect. He’d wanted it to be special, one to remember—and normally, he would have invited his friends John Webster and Wendy Harris to come along. The trouble was, lately, John and Wendy always seemed to be getting on each other’s nerves. And if Tommy only invited one of them, it would hurt the other one’s feelings. So, he’d snuck out by himself and spent the whole day fishing and thinking while the hours drifted by like the water all around him.

He glanced at his watch. It was four thirty.

Keep an eye on the time, his father had said.

You be sure to get home early for supper, his mother had added.

They always treated him like a child.

He looked up again at the great bird.

Probably on the prowl for a rat or fish or something.

He imagined having wings and sailing through the air. He’d soar and dive across the sky like he did underwater when he was swimming. He’d float up high like the great bird. He’d be free.

He smiled at the thought. Then, as he lowered his gaze, something caught his eye. It emerged in the inlet between Mulberry Island and the peninsula.

Tommy blinked and leaned forward, squinting into the distance. It looked like some kind of fish, but it was huge—it had to be for him to see it from all the way out in the middle of the bay.

For a moment, it sat there, and then, in the same unexpected way it had surfaced, the giant fish made a slow descent, vanishing below the surface.

Wow. That was incredible! But what was it—a whale? It would be very odd if it was. They never came this far inside the sound. And this fish had a large dorsal fin that looked more like some kind of weird top hat than a fin. He’d never heard of a whale that looked like that.

It was so strange, and all the more so because of where it was. But then again, everything strange seemed to be connected to Mulberry Island somehow.

They’ll never believe it. They never do anyway.

Tommy’s parents never took him seriously. His teacher said he had a vivid imagination. But as far as his family—and most of the people in Bayside, the tiny village where they lived—were concerned, he was either absentminded or just plain dumb.

It’s not fair. Mom and Pop treat me like a child.

It was like this boat. It had been a thirteenth birthday present, but he’d never even been allowed to use it on his own before today.

Come on, Pop, he’d pleaded over a year ago. It’s embarrassing. I’m almost fourteen. It’s been nearly a year since you gave me the thing. I mean, why even call it mine? Here he was begging for permission to do something his friends had been allowed to do for at least a year, if not longer.

What a joke, he had muttered under his breath.

Yeah, Pop, his brother Jacob had said. Give the kid a break. He’ll be okay.

Tommy would have been grateful for the moral support, but then Jacob had tousled his hair and added, Won’t you, little guy?

It was something Tommy positively despised. At twenty years old, Jacob wasn’t a bad guy, and he often sided with Tommy. But he had the uncanny knack of treating him like a silly but lovable little puppy, which irritated him to no end.

But it didn’t matter anyway. In the Oakley house, a no was a no. His fourteenth birthday came and went, the school year started, and winter passed into spring. Finally, it was the beginning of his last summer before high school and tenth grade. He had just turned fifteen.

They were all listening to the radio, and the news had just finished with a report about President Eisenhower’s remarks on the war in Korea. Tommy took the opportunity to ask his father one more time, only to be told no yet again, and he had despaired of ever being treated like anything more than a child.

Then, last night, his father had surprised him and said if he wanted, he could go out in his boat without adult supervision in the morning. At first, Tommy had thought he was joking, but his father assured him he was serious.

Of course, there had been a few ifs to go along with this bestowal of generosity: He could go if the weather was promising, if he made sure to return before suppertime, and if his mother didn’t need him for chores. That last if was almost a deal breaker. Tommy’s mother was famous for making up excuses to keep him under her wing—something the other boys at school often teased him about.

But somehow, he’d managed to get away. And despite not having John and Wendy with him, it had been the best day of his life.

And then he’d seen that big fish.

*

Tommy strode down the path from the dock with his tackle box and his rod flung over his shoulder, still puzzling over what he’d seen. He wanted to recall every detail, but the truth was there just wasn’t that much to remember. It had been pretty far off, so all he could say for sure was it had been very large with a weird, almost square-like, dorsal fin. Its gray color blended in with the water so well that if not for the angle he’d seen it from, he might have missed it entirely.

Emerging from the path to the dock, he strolled along the road.

Ahem, a voice said. Hey, Tommy, how’s the fishing? …Tommy? …Tommy …THOMAS OAKLEY!

He jumped and stared across the road at the raven-haired girl watching him with her hands on her hips. She wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dungarees, and sneakers similar to his own.

Oh. Hi, Wendy, I’ve been fishing today—caught five flounders.

She glanced at the tackle box and fishing rod. Really? Fishing? I’d have never guessed.

She crossed the road and began walking beside him.

I heard your father finally let you actually use your own boat. Congratulations.

Thanks.

News travels fast. Although, given the small number of people living in Bayside, it didn’t have to go very far.

You think maybe sometime I could go with you? You know I love fishing, and I’d love to go with you.

Yeah, that’d be nice, he said, and they walked along for a while in silence.

Nearly a year older, and almost three inches shorter, Wendy looked up at him and frowned.

It must have been quite a day. You act like you’re in another world.

Yeah… I mean, it was fun. Gave me a lot of time to think.

"Don’t you mean daydream?"

Tommy smiled. Okay, ‘daydream.’

When are you going out again?

I don’t know. It depends. Could be in a day or two, or maybe sometime next week, why?

Wendy sighed. Because I’d like to go along too—if you don’t mind, that is.

Sure, that’d be nice.

Okay, she said, smiling. Well, I’ve got to get home. Now, don’t forget me the next time you’re going out, okay?

Tommy nodded, and she turned up a side lane to head home. He watched her for a second and then continued walking.

He liked Wendy. She was smart, and although he’d never say it in front of her, he thought she was pretty. Her black hair looked nice, and she had hazel eyes with long eyelashes. The two of them always had fun together, and until recently, that had included times when John was with them.

Tommy didn’t understand it. They all used to get along so well together, and sometimes, they still did. But for John and Wendy, more and more often lately, one of them would get annoyed, and before Tommy knew it, he’d find himself in the middle of an argument. The worst part was they acted like it was some kind of contest that he had to settle. And no matter which way he decided, he was never able to please both of them. He just couldn’t figure it out.

He shook his head, and his thoughts drifted back to the giant fish. How could he ever get anyone to believe he really saw it? Then it crossed his mind that if he could catch it surfacing again, it wouldn’t hurt to have another witness along.

Wendy might be a good choice. She’s observant. And lately, she turns up a lot to spend time anyway. Maybe the next time I’m going fishing, I’ll ask her to go along with me.

*

A couple of days later, Tommy was weeding the family garden. He’d been at it for two hours. It was dull, grueling work, and the sun was hot on his neck. His legs were cramped from having to squat while he inched his way down each row. Sweat streamed down his face. His back felt stretched and stiff from crouching over for so long.

He stood up, wiped a hand over his brow, and spied John with a big grin on his face waving at him from the comfortable shade of a nearby oak tree. He must have seen Tommy weeding from the road and decided to settle down and just wait until he was noticed.

Hi John. How ya doing?

Oh, fair to midland, Tom. What are you up to?

I’m weeding the garden.

John ran long fingers through his wavy brown hair. You don’t say.

John had been his best friend for as long as either of them could remember. A few months older than Tommy, he was patient, though sometimes stubborn, always there when he needed him, and Tommy liked how he often found everyday things amusing.

I heard you got free of the old ball and chain at last. Congrats, John said, a twinkle in his green eyes.

Huh?

Your folks let you use your own boat without having to have an adult along.

Tommy walked over and sat next to him.

Oh yeah, thanks. To tell you the truth, I didn’t believe it at first.

"Yeah. And I also heard you promised to take Wendy fishing with you sometime."

Tommy looked down and shrugged.

Well, she…uh…she kind of trapped me into it, he said, flicking an acorn to one side.

With a raised eyebrow, John scratched his chin. Uh-huh.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up. Say, listen, Tom. What do you say we use your newfound freedom to go camping? We could go Saturday afternoon and hang out, maybe go skinny dipping, and we could even do a little shrimping that night. It would be fun.

Sure, Tommy said, smiling. "It all sounds like fun, but my parents would probably never let me."

You never know until you ask. I mean, they did let you go out in your boat all by yourself. Just tell them you’ll be with me, and I’ll keep you out of trouble.

The idea of camping was very appealing. He and John would have a lot of fun, and it was the one kind of outing he could share with him he wouldn’t also have to invite Wendy to.

"Well, maybe. I suppose it might work. I’ll ask my mother."

Be sure to tell her you’ll get half of the shrimp.

Tommy brushed off his hands and went inside.

To his surprise, when he asked his mother, she didn’t say no. Instead, she asked him where they intended to camp. Even more surprising, she then said that unless his father had any objections, and since he’d be with John, it was okay with her. Overjoyed, he gave her a sweaty peck on the cheek and ran back outside, breathless.

John, you won’t believe it. She actually said yes.

Good. Then it’s all settled.

Well, it’s all settled unless my father has a different idea.

John shook his head. Tom, your mother has spoken. It’s a done deal. He leaned forward to stand, and Tommy noticed a substantial bruise on his forearm.

Another one. No wonder he wants to get away and camp out. Anywhere must be better than his house.

Meet me at the dock Saturday, say about five o’clock?

Sure. Tommy glanced up at him and realized John had grown so much over the past year he now stood a few inches taller than him. Those broad shoulders and long legs gave him a solid masculine look. And his wavy hair and square jaw made him kind of handsome despite the freckles on his long sharp nose.

Tommy glanced down and scuffled a foot.

Say, John…you, uh, wouldn’t want to hang out and maybe help me with the weeding by any chance, would you?

Can’t do it, Tom, he said with a wink. "I’ve got to go ask my mother if I can go. It’ll be a lot easier now that I can tell her your mom already said it’s okay."

With a smile, he nodded and turned to go. Tommy watched him walking away for a few seconds. He doubted Mrs. Webster would take much convincing one way or the other. She didn’t seem to care much about anything, especially if it concerned John. As long as she didn’t have to deal with him, she was happy. And if John was lucky, Mr. Webster wouldn’t know about their camping trip until they were already gone. All the boy needed to do was lay low until Saturday.

Tommy sighed and went back to his weeding.

Chapter Two

The Webster House

John walked along the side of the road, the scent of summer wildflowers tickling his nose, a smile on his face. A whole night camping…with Tommy…just the two of them… They were going to have so much fun. They could talk and maybe go swimming—a thought that, oddly, made his cheeks warm.

He turned up the lane he lived on. Glancing around, he saw no sign of his father or mother. His father must still be at work. Good.

He knew where he’d find his mother; she’d be in the living room listening to the radio. Those soap operas were a daily part of her afternoon routine—well, that and maybe a few… Anyway, getting permission for the camping trip was going to be a piece of cake. All he had to do was wait until the commercial break was almost over—that part was crucial. She hated being interrupted when her stories were on, and she’d agree to anything just to shut you up so she could get back to The Guiding Light, or Perry Mason, or whatever it was she was listening to. Yup, timing was the key to success with his mother, and thanks to the soap operas, this was the perfect time to ask her.

But first things first.

He went to the family shed and walked over to the workbench that rested against one wall. After squatting, he set aside several used paint cans and a couple of boxes. Reaching to the back of the shelf, he ran his fingers over dusty canvas.

Yes, it was still there—his tent.

He’d found it at the village trash dump a few years ago. Although he’d had to patch it in a few places when he brought it home, it had otherwise been in serviceable condition. John could never understand why people would throw away anything like a perfectly good tent.

Having confirmed that his father hadn’t moved it, or worse, thrown it out, John replaced the boxes and paint cans, stood, and brushed his hands.

He strolled back to the house, feeling relieved and lucky, but before the screen door even swung to, he was being hollered at.

Where the hell have ya been?

His father stood in the kitchen, towering over him with knitted brows.

I, uh, I had to go over to Tommy’s house, John said and added, I—I had to return a book I borrowed from him. I was only gone for a few minutes.

Mr. Webster took a swing at him but swayed a bit and grabbed the doorjamb to steady himself.

Will the two of you shut up? Mrs. Webster shouted from the living room. How am I supposed to hear my stories with all that racket?

Mr. Webster snorted and turned to the sink.

John took the opportunity to slink away and pad through the living room, trying to be as quiet and invisible as possible. Along the way, though, he spied the glass resting on the table next to the chair his mother was sitting in. It was about a quarter full with an amber-colored liquid. That meant by suppertime, she’d have a headache.

He sighed as he passed the bathroom and opened the door to his room. Situated at a corner of the house, windows framed two adjoining walls. He opened each one, buttressing them with narrow wooden rods, and a soft breeze expelled the stifling hot air smothering the room.

He sat on the edge of his bed and sighed again.

That had been a close one. His father had never liked Tommy, and he liked John hanging out with him even less. John didn’t care though. Nothing would stop him from being friends with Tommy—not even his father. Even if Bayside wasn’t so small, and there’d been a hundred other kids his age to choose from, he still would have chosen Tommy.

Staring out the window, he wondered why his folks couldn’t be like Tommy’s family? The Oakleys were everything John had ever wanted. Mr. and Mrs. Oakley always smiled when he came over, and they treated him like he was almost one of the family. Even Jacob seemed to like him—something John considered unheard of for a man in his twenties. But the Oakley’s were that kind of people.

And then there was Tommy.

Tommy was the brother John had always wanted. He was nice, he was always happy to see John, and in all the years they’d known each other, they’d never had a single argument about anything. Tommy was always ready to go along with whatever game or activity John proposed, and John could relax and be himself around him.

His own family, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of the Oakleys. No matter how hard John tried, he could never seem to do anything right as far as his father was concerned. Granted, sometimes, he’d make a mistake or mess something up, but even when he didn’t, his father still found fault. And when he wasn’t yelling at John, he was yelling at his mother.

It would have been all right if his mother wasn’t almost as bad as his father. Sometimes, John got the idea she somehow blamed him for her husband’s eternal bad temper. And on those days when she sat down to listen to her soap operas with some kind of drink in hand, John knew things would just go from