Jasper Lilla and The Wolves of Banner Elk Read online

  jasper lilla and the Wolves of Banner Elk

  C.S. Thompson

  Published in the U.S. by:

  James One Institute

  Bristol, TN

  Csthompsonbooks.com

  Copyright © 2015 by CS Thompson. All right reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9904601-1-4

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner.

  Although the major characters are all fictional and any resemblance to a real person is accidental and unintentional, many of the places and events are real and the people one would find there are real as well.

  Cover design by CS Thompson & Cam Collins (www.camelliadigital.com)

  Print production by Gary A. Rosenberg (www.thebookcouple.com)

  Contents

  One. Jasper Meets “King”

  Two. Alice Dietrich

  Three. Jasper and Riley

  Four. Jasper Questions His Sanity

  Five. Telling Riley

  Six. Maggie

  Seven. Putting the Necklace Away

  Eight. Vernalisa Vanderguard

  Nine. My Brother Linus

  Ten. Tenth Grade

  Eleven. Alice Dietrich Returns

  Twelve. Riley Returns

  Thirteen. Riley’s Request

  Fourteen. Dealing with Mom

  Fifteen. Carol Returns

  Sixteen. Taking Wally to Lion

  Seventeen. James Benjamin

  Eighteen. Lion Security

  Nineteen. Vernalisa Confronts Jasper

  Twenty. Vernalisa Questions Wally

  Twenty-One. First Day of Work

  Twenty-Two. Wally’s Invitation

  Twenty-Three. Graham Crocker

  Twenty-Four. Another Encounter

  Twenty-Five. Jasper Confides in Riley

  Twenty-Six. Banner Elk and the Woolly Worm Festival

  Twenty-Seven. Martha’s Story

  Twenty-Eight. Mercy versus Justice

  Twenty-Nine. Mountain Grounds Coffee and Tea Company

  Thirty. Carol and the Necklace

  Thirty-One. Carol

  Thirty-Two. Linus

  Thirty-Three. Kitty

  Thirty-Four. Carol’s Idea

  Thirty-Five. Charley Youngdeer and the Cherokee Museum

  Thirty-Six. The Interrogation

  Thirty-Seven. My Smeller

  Thirty-Eight. Riley

  Thirty-Nine. The Security Office

  Forty. The Next Week

  Forty-One. Back to Work

  Forty-Two. Benjamin Calls

  Forty-Three. Heading Home

  Forty-Four. Recuperation

  Forty-Five. “King” Lyons

  Forty-SixBack to Banner Elk

  Forty-Seven. Aiden Cormac

  One

  Jasper Meets “King”

  My name is jasper Lilla, and this is the story of how I got a man killed. I don’t know if he deserved what he got, but he wasn’t innocent and he wasn’t nice. Guilty or not, he deserved his day in court, and it’s my fault he didn’t get it. I doubt you’ll believe what I’m about to tell you. I’m not sure I believe it myself, but it’s the true account of what happened. The story starts when I met William “King” Lyons.

  * * *

  It all began in the eighth grade when Phily Dunkin, our designated class bully, was making fun of my name again. He had been calling me Jasper the Friendly Ghost since third grade, but it was different that day. He must have caught me staring at Riley. He knew I was crazy about her, so he started telling me how she couldn’t see me because I’m a ghost and asking if I was trying to haunt her down.

  I told him to shut up, which made him mad. I had never talked back to him before. When Phily stood in front of my desk and grabbed my shirt, Riley tried to pull his arms away. She’s so small that it didn’t take much of a backhand from him to knock her over. As she fell backward she hit her head on a desk and then landed on her right shoulder. I thought she had broken her neck when I heard her scream. She was trying to protect me.

  They sent us to the gym for the rest of that period while an ambulance came to get Riley. As soon as I got home my mom took me over to the hospital to see her.

  Riley wasn’t in her room when I got there, but her father was. He was just a little taller than me, wider shoulders, a bald head, and glasses.

  “Who are you?” he asked me.

  The question scared me. He scared me. I was there to check on her, but mostly I was there to apologize for getting her hurt. Instead of being alone with Riley I found myself alone with her father. He wasn’t scary big. He was intense, though. When he looked at me he tilted his head back, and even though he was only a little taller than me, he was looking down his nose at me. And he didn’t just look at me. He lined up a shot at me.

  “I’m Jasper, Jasper Lilla,” I managed get out.

  “How do you know Riley?” He hadn’t shifted his eyes or even blinked since I walked in.

  “I’m in her class,” I told him.

  “Come in,” he told me. “I’m Riley’s father. Please sit down. She’ll be glad someone from school came to see her.” The intensity was gone, and he was more like a school nurse than the sniper he had been a moment before. “Were you there when it happened?” he asked.

  In the room there were two padded chairs by the window. I sat in one of them, and he sat in the other. His attention was still fully focused on me, but instead of looking suspicious he sounded interested.

  I didn’t want to answer that question because if I told him I was there when it happened he was surely going to ask what happened and I didn’t want to tell him that either. Riley’s interested father was tough enough to be with. I for sure didn’t want her suspicious father to come back.

  “Yes sir,” I answered. I’d have lied if I had been clever.

  “Tell me what happened,” he told me as he scooted closer to the edge of his chair.

  I distinctly remember thinking, Don’t say it was my fault, just before I said, “It was my fault.” I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help crying either.

  It was more of a sob than a cry, but I still leaned forward and rested my face in the palms of my hands. I’m not sure why I cried then. While I sat in the gym waiting for class to be over, all I could picture was Riley lying there on the floor. The nurse had her wrapped in a blanket. She wasn’t moving. As I sat in the bleachers I had to stop thinking about her lying there because I was on the verge of losing it in front of everyone.

  Then, when Riley’s father asked me those questions it all came back. I got myself back under control as best I could and lifted my face. I was certain I was going to get yelled at. In fact, I was a little surprised he hadn’t grabbed me the way Phily had grabbed me in class. But when I looked at him it wasn’t what I expected at all. He was still completely focused on me, but he was crying, too.

  “I don’t know what happened, son, but it wasn’t your fault.” He swallowed hard. “What happened to Riley was my fault.”

  At first I thought he was tricking me, but he looked serious.

  “This is the first time it’s happened in a couple of years, but she used to separate her shoulder fairly often. That’s why I wouldn’t give her permission to play soccer anymore.”

  I didn’t know she was a soccer player but I wasn’t surprised.

  He kind of rocked back and forth a little. “It’s my fault her shoulder does that.” He looked at the door like he was expected someone to walk in. His voice cracked, “Riley has always been a very strong-willed child. When she was about two and a half, she and her mother woul
d have battles of will all the time. I got fed up with it one day when Riley was sitting in front of the TV instead of doing what her mother told her to do. I took her by the hand and jerked her up.”

  He was still facing the door, but I could see a tear roll down his check.

  “I’ll never forget the sound her shoulder made.” He took a long, slow breath and looked at me. “I hope you never have to hear a sound like that, son.”

  I felt like I was supposed to say something, but I had no clue about what would be okay. No adult had ever talked to me that way before. I felt sort of special while he talked to me. I felt like an adult, but I was also terrified of saying the wrong thing.

  Luckily a nurse came in right then. “She’s fine. It’ll be tender for a bit, but the shoulder is back in place. They’ve taken her down to do an MRI.”

  Riley’s father stood up as he listened. “Is that necessary?” he asked.

  “She’s got a pretty nasty bump on the back of her head, but it’s just a precaution. She’s probably fine,” the nurse said while she rubbed her hand across Mr. Lyons’s arm. “It’s just a precaution.”

  * * *

  When the nurse was gone Mr. Lyons came back and sat next to me again. “I know Riley lied to me about what happened. I talked to the school nurse while I drove over here. I know a boy in your class pushed her, and I know he’s going to be suspended. I know he was fighting with you before it happened, but that’s all I know. So, please, tell me.”

  “The whole thing was my fault.” My heart started racing again. I was so caught up in what Riley’s father was telling me that I forgot how I fit into the whole mess. “I lost my temper,” I blurted. “I told a kid to shut up.”

  “The kid that pushed Riley?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why’d you tell him to shut up? What was he saying?”

  “He was just making fun of my name. I didn’t have to let it bother me.”

  He shrugged. “That sounds like something an adult would say—‘Just don’t let it bother you.’”

  It surprised me to hear him say that. It was an adult slogan, and I was only saying it then because there was an adult listening to me. But he responded to me like he remembered what it was like to be in junior high.

  “So, what was he saying?”

  I almost told him that Phily was making fun of me staring at a girl. I thought he’d understand how being caught staring at a girl feels, but I decided that since the girl was his daughter he might not. “Jasper the Friendly Ghost,” I told him.

  “Casper the Friendly Ghost,” he said. “I’m surprised people your age know that cartoon. Nickelodeon?”

  I nodded yes.

  “Jasper,” he said as he extended his hand, “I’m Mr. Lyons, Riley’s father. We skipped over introducing ourselves earlier.”

  I shook his hand.

  “My daughter has spoken well of you since we moved here.”

  I tried hard not to smile too much when he said that.

  “Do you know what I got teased about when I was your age?”

  I shook my head no.

  “I got stuck with the nickname ‘King.’ It’s a name that has stuck with me because my last name is Lyons. The name ‘Lion’ was originally intended as a put-down. It was the summer before the seventh grade and my family was on vacation in San Diego. We were at the zoo, and my little sister got her face painted like a tiger. It was her whole face. I thought it was so cool that I got a lion for myself. I wouldn’t have done it if we were closer to home in San Francisco, but I thought I was far enough away to be childish.” He smiled on one side of his face. “But, of course, Linda Walls, the biggest blabbermouth from my school was at the zoo with a camera.” He laughed. “Seventh grade was hell for me after that. It really bothered me then,” he smiled. “But now I’m the ‘King.’ I even named my company Lion Pharmaceuticals.”

  It was the second time I felt like I was being talked to like an equal.

  My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. It was a text saying Mom was waiting for me.

  “I have to go,” I told him. “My mom is waiting out front.”

  He stood up and held his hand out again. “Thank you for coming by, Jasper. I’ll make sure Riley knows you were here. She’ll be glad you came by.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said as I let go, but he didn’t let go of my hand.

  Instead of letting go he stepped closer to me. He almost looked like he was going to cry again. “Thank you for being a good friend to my Riley, too.”

  * * *

  That was three years ago. A lot has happened since then, but I still remember how tall I felt when I walked out of that hospital.

  Two

  Alice Dietrich

  I was a freshman in high school when Mrs. Dietrich came to our door at 11:30 one Thursday night. We had gone to Dr. Dietrich’s funeral the previous Saturday. Mrs. Dietrich had seemed pretty upset at the funeral, but she was even more upset that night. I remember wondering if something else had happened, maybe to their daughter, Arlene. I liked Arlene. When my sister, Carol, left for college it was Arlene who occasionally chauffeured me to doctor and dentist appointments when my mother was away. I was worried about Arlene, so I hid on the landing and listened right above where our moms sat in the living room.

  At first, every time Mrs. Dietrich tried to talk she’d stammer. Mom kept telling her, “It’s okay.”

  Eventually Mrs. Dietrich blurted, “The coroner officially called it a suicide.” She started crying again.

  “What does that mean, Jean?” Mom asked after Mrs. Dietrich calmed down.

  “It means nobody’s going to investigate his death.” She sounded angry to me. “It wasn’t a suicide. Franz would never have done that. Not in a million years. The police don’t believe me, and the coroner says he’s not allowed to talk to me.”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” said Mom.

  “It doesn’t sound right to my brother either. He’s a lawyer.”

  Until then, the only thing I’d heard about Dr. Dietrich’s death was that he died at his lab. He was a chemist. I had the impression he accidentally got poisoned, but if it wasn’t an accident and it wasn’t suicide, then it had to be murder. I wanted my mother to ask who killed him, but she didn’t.

  “Did your brother say if there was anything you could do about it?”

  “He told me to write a letter to the coroner and give him whatever evidence I could. He also said since my evidence was about Franz’s state of mind, it wouldn’t go very far. I didn’t know what Franz was working on until that Friday afternoon. He called me around three o’clock. He was real excited. He said he was about to confirm he had discovered a cure for cancer.”

  “Seriously,” interrupted Mom.

  “He was absolutely serious. He said he had discovered it accidentally while trying to create a grass seed that would produce a blade of grass that would never grow beyond two inches. It was something in the cell body that would limit its own growth. I didn’t understand it, but I never did understand what he was doing. He wondered if cancer cells had the same stuff, and sure enough they did. He still had to figure out how to stimulate the particular cellular action, but he thought that would be the easy part. The hard part was isolating the cellular regulating device, and he had already done that.”

  Mom said, “That’s incredible.”

  “Franz was a very prudent man,” stated Mrs. Dietrich.

  “He was,” agreed my mom.

  “He kept meticulous records of everything he did, but he told no one what he was doing until he called me that afternoon.”

  “How in the world could he keep something like that to himself? I couldn’t have kept it quiet,” said Mom.

  “He just wanted to be sure before he got anyone’s hopes up,” explained Mrs. Dietrich.

  “And he was sure?”

  Mrs. Dietrich must have nodded yes, because Mom then said, “That doesn’t sound like someone who’s thinking about ending his life.”
r />   “Exactly.”

  “What did you say to him?” asked Mom.

  “I told him, ‘You’ll save a million lives.’” Mrs. Dietrich kind of laughed a little, which surprised me, but she said, “We joked about him getting a Nobel Prize. We laughed as we imagined the trip to Stockholm and the Nobel ceremony. That’s when I asked him who owns it.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He’ll own . . . ,” began Mrs. Dietrich and then she caught herself. There was a moment of silence. I peeked over the rail. Mom was hugging her.

  “He would have owned the patent,” she continued, “but the company would have owned the rights to it.”

  “What happens to the rights to it now?”

  “I haven’t thought about that.” Her voice sounded surprised. “I’ve been so focused on what happened to Franz that I haven’t given his discovery a thought.”

  “That’s something you should talk to your brother about,” suggested Mom. I’m glad she did, because I was about to yell it down to her myself.

  “I will. But I don’t think it’ll do any good. I talked to a Mr. Benjamin. He told me that Franz’s serum turned out to be poison. That’s what they’re basing the suicide theory on.”

  “Wait a minute,” Mom said. “Do you mean they think he got so upset when his cure was no good that he took his own life?”

  “That’s what they’re saying, but that doesn’t make sense. Franz told me he was about to administer the first serum test on a rat that day. That’s my proof.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My Franz was a researcher. He was a researcher for his whole career. He used to lecture the kids about being patient by saying success on a first test was a million-to-one shot. He’d never be discouraged after one trial.”

  “I’d say that’s pretty convincing regarding his state of mind,” said Mom.

  Mrs. Dietrich cried again, but not as hard as before. “I keep thinking about what I would have said to him if I’d known it was the last time we’d ever speak.”

  “What did you say?” The question shocked me. I couldn’t believe my mother asked it.

  “He wanted to know what was for dinner. I told him fish, and he asked for steak. I told him when he cured high cholesterol he could have more steak.”