Free Innocent Little Crimes by C. S. Lakin

dock, the group
gathered at the rails and stared at the sandy stretch of beach
before them. The island was undeveloped and wooded, sloping gently
to the water, which raced in a turbulent clip along the beach. A
tall metal flagpole stood erect out of the sand, the only sign of
civilization. Dick saw no boats, phone lines, or roads marring the
primitive landscape.
    “Is this it?” Dick said. “Where’s the house?
Or are we camping out?” He laughed, but the others looked
despondent.
    Mac threw the line over the post and helped
everyone out of the boat. “Now, just head through that clearing
there. You can’t miss it. I’ll be back to round you up Sunday
afternoon, weather permitting.”
    Millie frowned. “What do you mean, ‘weather
permitting’?”
    “Just like I said. Nasty storm’s coming in.
But if I can get here, I will. You’ll be plenty comfortable in that
little cabin of Lila’s.” He unloaded all the gear and set it on the
dock, shaking his head.
    As the boat headed back out into open water,
Dick broke the silence. “Well, what are we waiting for, gang? Let’s
check out this little ‘cabin’ of Lila’s.” He hoisted his suitcase
and trudged through the wet sand. The others fell in behind him.
The sun was starting to set and Dick didn’t want to be wandering in
the dark. Who knew what kind of wild animals prowled these
woods?
    As they came out of the dense brush, a
palatial stone castle rose up three stories before them, lushly
landscaped and accented with multi-colored spotlights. A small
wooden sign stuck out of the sand that simply announced, “Lila’s
Joint.” In the gloom of the fading light, Lila’s retreat shone like
the castle at Disneyland. She had even put in a small moat and
drawbridge at the entrance.
    “Get a load of this,” Dick said, his jaw
dropping in amazement.
    Before any of them could speak, the
drawbridge lowered, exposing a pair of wooden doors, easily fifteen
feet high.
    Jonathan laughed. “What a great gimmick.”
    Della stood with Davis and Cynthia, all
watching with curiosity. As the drawbridge touched ground,
loudspeakers blasted a fanfare of horns.
    “This is too much,” Davis said. “Isn’t this
great, hon?”
    Cynthia nodded but Dick could tell she would
rather be home. A pang of jealousy struck him, looking at Cynthia’s
beautiful face and slender figure. Davis always got the girls. Dick
humphed and turned back to the castle. He reached into his carryall
and pulled out a small camera. “Okay, guys. Everyone! Stand in
front of the moat. Now, don’t fall in. Lila’s probably got real
crocodiles in there. Come on, come on.” Slowly, the group gathered
and Dick snapped away.
    “What about you?” Millie asked.
    “I’ll take it.”
    A slender man, dressed in colorful court
jester’s attire, strolled across the drawbridge. He pulled the
camera out of Dick’s hand and motioned for Dick to get into the
shot. Who was this clown?
    “Now then,” the man said, looking each one in
the eye, “welcome to Devil’s Island. Peter Avon, here to entertain
and amuse you until her majesty arrives.” He snapped some photos
and handed the camera back to Dick.
    “Let’s see if I can guess: Dick Ferrol, no
doubt.”
    Dick, stunned, extended his hand. “How’d you
know my name?”
    “Oh, Lila’s told me about all of you.
Here—that must be Millie,” he said, pointing and working his way
down the line, examining each one. “And Della, Davis, Cynthia, and
finally Jonathan.” He drew close to Jonathan’s face. “So especially
glad to meet you ,” he said
with a twinkle in his eye, then looked puzzled. “One
missing?”
    Jonathan pulled away. “Melodie couldn’t make
it.”
    Peter feigned disappointed. “So sad. I was
looking forward to meeting an aspiring starlet.” He clapped his
hands. “Well, entrez-vous! As Lila says, ‘Mi castle es su castle.’
”
    Peter escorted them across the bridge and
into a reception area paved with rough-hewn stone and