“Virginia Holiday?”
“Yes. She managed to get herself listed as the realtor, and she wouldn’t even talk to me. Then, one day, Harold Fanning called me up and said Ms. Holiday had dumped the property back on the city, that her potential buyer fell through. He wanted to know if I was still interested.”
“So you worked through Holiday Realty?”
“No, I bought it directly from the city. They weren’t happy with the cost of all the paperwork they’d done, just to have it revert to them in a month.”
“How do you propose to tell Cora?” The word “propose” seemed eerily appropriate.
“I’m not sure yet. I’m still working on that part of the plan.”
“This is sort of crazy,” I began, unwrapping another candy and popping it in my mouth for the fortifying effects of the chocolate. “My son, Chad, was here last month.”
“I heard about it, but I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting him.”
“He thinks that old building is creepy, and he wanted me to find out about renting it for a weekend so he and some friends could come here at the end of October and scare each other silly. But I couldn’t find out who owned it. I also talked to Harold, but it must have been when that new woman had it tied up. He wouldn’t tell me a thing.”
“A Halloween Party, eh?” Jerry mused. “Not bad, but too narrow an appeal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I need an adult audience. A spooky event wouldn’t draw enough townspeople.”
“To what?”
Jerry leaned in and took my hand. “How about a Harvest Ball? Would you do me the honor of attending with me?”
I let Jerry continue to hold my hand but shook my head and said, “I’m not following you.”
He released my hand and held up four fingers. “I need four things. One, I need the building. That’s accomplished.” With the other hand, he folded his index finger into his palm. “Two, I need a reason to start cleaning it up, check the plumbing and all that, without having to make up some outrageous business adventure that no one would believe. I was so concerned someone else was trying to buy it that I haven’t even checked out the interior condition, I just bought it.
“Then, I have to get Cora and a large group of citizens all in the same place at the same time, so I can present it to her. Last, she has to be shocked enough, and off-balance enough to realize that she cares about me.” His fingers were now all curled and enclosed in his left hand. He opened both hands and held them out, palms up, as if presenting the world with a gift, Cora with a future.
“And, you think she’ll actually be jealous of me and want you back?”
“I do. And of course, our game will be over that night. We’ll tell her it was part of the secret to get the building ready.”
“You’ll be lucky to get her to come. She hates big social gatherings like that.”
Jerry sighed. “I know. Maybe we can figure out a way to make the ball have some historical context, where her expertise is needed.”
“What if we reenacted the shooting of that judge? What was his name? She’d have to be involved to be sure we get it all right.” I heard myself slide right into the conspiracy, but didn’t have enough sense to put on the brakes.
“Ah. Reuben Pierce Oldfield. A local legend of infamy.”
“She’d want to bring in the exact furniture. She has it all, you know.”
“I don’t feel very good about turning a bunch of young people loose to have paintball fights in the building or whatever kids do nowadays, but I wonder if Chad and his friends would want to be actors in a murder drama.”
I felt a bit slighted at Jerry’s opinion of my particular college student’s respect for private property, but then again, I knew that boys’ pranks could get out of hand. “I can certainly ask him,” I said. However, I had some misgivings at Chad’s reaction to the idea that he wouldn’t be in charge of the plot.
Jerry now took both of my hands in his. He smiled warmly but seemed intensely preoccupied at the same time. “Ana, this is going to be the biggest social event Cherry Hill has had for a decade. We’ll draw in people from four counties. I’ll have food catered...”
“Maybe give Jack Panther some business?”
A frown creased Jerry’s face. “Jack doesn’t do fancy foods, but, yes, surely there would be some work for him.”
“Maybe Cherry Hill folks prefer plain, solid fare, nicely served,” I suggested.
The frown lines disappeared and Jerry was off and running with ideas again. “Of course. Janice and Suzi Preston could be in charge of the presentation. It all looks better without the backdrop of the Pine Tree Diner. Small pulled pork sandwiches, fruit and vegetable trays, tarts.”
“Slow down,” I said. “Create an atmosphere; you said a Harvest Ball, and turn it over to Janice and Jack. I’m sure they’ll do a great job.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“Assuming you have plenty of money to fix up that wreck of a building, and have correctly deduced Cora’s reactions, that leaves us with just one major problem.”
“What’s that?” Jerry asked.
“Adele.”
Jerry released me again. He sighed and rose from his chair, placing his napkin on the table. I stood up too, stretching my back, which was stiff from the extended time we’d spent in concentrated discussion.
As he helped me drape my cape over my shoulders, he reiterated the problem. “Adele,” he echoed pensively.
Chapter 14
Jerry and I arrived back at my house well after ten o’clock and he escorted me to the front door where the small porch light bleached a pale oval on the white clapboards.
“Do you have time to begin the plan tomorrow?” he asked.
“Doing what?”
“If we meet at the school and start going through the rooms we can compile a list of immediate repairs that need to be made. Someone is sure to see our cars and start the rumor mill working.” He winked.
“That’s practical, at least,” I admitted. “Wait. I have a meeting of Family Friends at ten. But I could meet you at the school building around eleven or a bit later.”
“Perfect,” Jerry said. He leaned forward and gave me a brotherly kiss on the cheek. As he unbent I saw he was grinning. “The gentleman should always thank the lady for a lovely evening,” he said.
“It was very nice. Thank you,” I said. “I’m not sure your plan is going to have the full outcome you’re hoping for, but we should have fun finding out.”
Family Friends is a committee of the Crossroads Fellowship church. We organize help for families who are experiencing medical problems or who might be having a tough time financially. Sometimes there is a lot of need in the community, and the meetings last quite a while until everyone agrees on what is the best way to use our resources. Thursday’s meeting, thankfully, wasn’t one of those. Adele was the committee chairperson, and after we’d all filled our coffee cups and helped ourselves to generous squares of coffee cake, she called the meeting to order. The pleasant aroma of cinnamon filled the room.
Shelby Nickerson had just had her baby, and committee member Geraldine Longcore had already arranged the schedule of people who would take in hot meals for the next week. We heard a brief report on Corliss Leonard’s progress in the adult literacy program. As usual, John Aho made a brief appearance. He had to take time out from his work at the service station and generally arrived late, in his greasy uniform. He always smelled strongly of industrial hand cleanser, which didn’t combine well with the cinnamon. A couple of other people were being given rides to medical appointments, or having casseroles delivered several days a week. But no new crises were brought to our attention.
The most challenging part of the meeting for me was to interact with Adele. I’d left the funeral the day before in a way that Adele might have taken as an affront. And now, I also had the guilty knowledge of Jerry’s plan. Adele kept looking at me during the various reports, and I struggled
to meet her gaze.
Afterwards, she gathered up her committee notebook and large purse, and approached me. “What’s bothering you, Ana?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” I lied. “I was overly tired yesterday, and I miss Chad. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to you. Was there something important you wanted to tell me?”
“Not really. I think we are all waiting for the other shoe to drop on that hatchet murder. It’s pretty strange that the police can’t seem to get any leads. I’m sure you are jumpy about that—knowing you are involved.”
“Involved? Adele! That’s pushing it. Really. The one thing the police do seem sure of is that the hatchet Cora and I found wasn’t the murder weapon.”
“Nevertheless... And something’s made you nervous today, too,” she added. “I can tell your thoughts are miles away. You can’t fool me.”
“No, I suppose not,” I said absently. But I had no idea what to say, since Jerry and I hadn’t decided on what to tell her.
“Ana! You’re drifting again. Well, I’m not going to pry into your business. You know I don’t meddle where I’m not wanted. But you let me know if you need to talk, all right?”
Adele’s assertion brought a genuine smile to my face, even if it was for the wrong reasons. “Thanks,” I said. “You’re a good friend. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
I glanced at the clock and it was ten fifty-six, just enough time to drive the few blocks to the old school to meet Jerry. Adele and I walked out of the building together. But when I turned north out of the parking lot instead of south—to go toward my home—I could almost feel Adele’s gaze boring into the back of my head.
Jerry’s Chrysler was already parked in front of the red brick school, and he was standing at the top of the entrance steps holding a large wad of keys in his hand and fiddling at the lock. I parked my Jeep behind his car. Let the gossip begin! He pulled the heavy door open just as I reached the bottom step, and stuffed the ring of keys into the pocket of a down vest he had layered over a blue denim shirt. He was wearing jeans, and I was glad I had done the same.
“Ah, my partner in crime,” he called cheerfully.
“Hey! Watch what you call me,” I shot back. “I’m in enough trouble over that silly hatchet.”
We entered the cold, damp entrance hall together. We were in an open squarish space that teed into a hallway at the far side. The space was dingy with smudged, yellowing painted walls. The lower half of each wall had dark varnished wainscoting. Small off-white floor tiles had been set in a mosaic pattern encircling a large maroon cherry, on which we now stood. The cherry’s stem was made to look as if it was on fire.
“The Cherry Hill Bombers,” Jerry explained, pointing to the pattern in the tiles.
I rolled my eyes.
Jerry took my elbow and turned me slightly to the right. He pointed to a door with an extra-large pane of glass. “The main office,” He explained. “Mrs. Sergeant kept everyone under control. And she was only the secretary. The last principal was Harold Fanning.”
“Harold Fanning!” I exclaimed. “You’re kidding. The city manager? I didn’t know he was in education.”
“He’s retired now, of course. He was a young principal then. After this building closed, he became a vocational counselor at the new Forest County Central consolidated school.”
Jerry steered me left again to face the east-west hallway. There were solid wood double doors straight ahead. We crossed to them, and he pulled one open. It gave a wretched creak, something of a cross between a screech and a moan. We stepped through, and it crashed shut behind us.
“I guess that door closer is broken,” Jerry said, with a small laugh.
The place was beginning to give me the creeps and we’d only been here five minutes. I decided Chad had been right.
“This room sure brings back memories,” Jerry said. We were now in a large room that had served as both a small gymnasium and an auditorium. Narrow blond floor boards had mellowed golden, and a dark red velvet curtain hung crookedly at the edge of the low stage. “School dances, roller skating parties, dodgeball, plays, assemblies...”
“This was your school, wasn’t it?” I asked rhetorically. I could see the memories playing behind his eyes.
“Mine and my father’s. And my children’s, too. I completely understand why the consolidation had to happen, but buying this building is as much for me, and the entire town, as for Cora. There are some things you just can’t let disappear or you lose your bearings.”
Although I saw decades worth of dirt, and could smell the mold in the dank curtains, I knew that to Jerry this building was beautiful.
He continued. “This auditorium is where the Harvest Ball will need to be. It’s not in bad shape, just needs cleaning. Maybe fresh paint. We’ll have to check out the kitchen, and of course the plumbing and furnace. There are a few broken windows, and I’ll have someone replace them, to make the building weathertight before winter. Any other remodeling and repairs can be done later.”
“Still, that’s a lot to accomplish in a few weeks. When are you thinking of having this Ball?”
“I like something mid to late October. It can’t compete with Halloween, or the small kids will feel cheated. We’ll get it done.” He spoke with the confidence of a man with money.
“What do you think will be the biggest problem in getting even this part of the building ready for public use?” I asked.
“The boiler, certainly. Well, unless kids have thrown cherry bombs in the toilets.”
“That would be ironic,” I said with a smirk.
“Let’s go to the basement right now,” he said. Once again, he grabbed my arm and led me back through the double doors. We turned left and followed that hallway to the end. A wide flight of stairs led upward to a landing where it turned back on itself and continued to the upper floor. The hall where we stood made a turn to the left, toward the back of the building. We followed it. About halfway down that hallway was an unmarked door with no window. Jerry tried it, but it was locked. “That’s a good sign,” he said, pulling out the wad of keys. “Not so easy for vandals to get in and make mischief.”
In a minute he opened the door. With no landing at the top, a flight of metal industrial steps led immediately downward into total darkness.
“Did you have the electricity turned on yet?” I asked.
He flipped the switch up and down a few times with no response. “I called and requested it, but I guess they have to inspect things first. Don’t worry, I brought a light.”
From the left pocket of his vest, Jerry drew a flashlight. It was small, but had a strong, although narrow, beam. He started down ahead of me. He’d worn leather-soled shoes, and his footsteps clanked with a hollow sound on the stairs. My sneakers were quieter, but the whole adventure was beginning to feel like some sort of juvenile mystery tale.
“Bah,” Jerry said, swatting at some cobwebs that had caught him across the face.
“Thanks for clearing those out for me,” I said.
“My pleasure, I think. The boiler probably hasn’t been fired up since 1972. I’ll have to get Todd Ringman over here. He still knows how to deal with these old systems. Ah, I thought I remembered they were over here.”
We had reached the bottom of the steps and Jerry shone the light to the right. The cone of illumination was small, but at the far end of the room I could see two large boilers raised on legs, with dozens of pipes disjointedly angling out from them like the legs of a dying spider. Various gauges and other unknown projections were covered with a thick layer of dust.
He moved the beam of light back until we could see down the passageway which extended straight from the bottom of the steps.
“What’s down there?” I asked.
“Should be the electric circuit room, and the custodians’ break room. Storage. Things like that. I think the electric service was upgraded just before the building was abandoned. It would be great if there are breakers instead of fuses.”
The light stabbed down the hall. “Look at the floor,” I said. “I think someone’s been down here recently.”
Jerry lowered the flashlight, and we could see that the dust was definitely scuffed up. No clear footprints, but something had disturbed the thick coating that covered every other surface.
“Well, remember, the building was almost sold to someone else. Unlike me, they probably looked around before buying. Or, not buying, as it turned out.”
“True enough.”
We proceeded down the hall on a concrete floor. Here the dust muffled our steps, but as we loosened the old dirt, a fusty smell rose with it, and swirls of tiny particles and threads danced in the flashlight’s beam. A cold breeze was coming from somewhere. The first room on the left had no door and one side wall was lined with lockers. Two tables with benches filled the center of the space. A coffee pot and hot plate stood neglected on a table pushed against the opposite wall next to a chipped and stained porcelain sink. A small window, high on the far side, had one broken pane of glass.
The next room did have a door, but it wasn’t locked. “Here’s the breaker panel,” Jerry said as we entered.
I hadn’t needed the explanation, but it was reassuring to hear his voice. I don’t consider myself skittish, but this place was getting on my nerves. He played the light across the tall gray electric boxes, whose doors were hanging open.
“Everything here looks pretty good,” he continued. “Each switch is labeled. Here are classroom numbers, and ‘front office,’ ‘west boys lav,’ ‘west girls lav,’ etc. This shouldn’t be difficult to put in working order.” He flipped a few switches back and forth. “They feel solid,” he added.
“What else do you want to check?” I asked. “I’m getting chilly.”
“Let’s look in the rest of the rooms as long as we’re down here. Do you want my vest?”
“I’m okay, but let’s speed things up a bit.”
Jerry closed the panel boxes and returned to the hallway. I had stepped out of the room ahead of him and turned to the next room, hoping to hurry us along. The door was ajar, and I pushed it open. Jerry came up behind me and shined the light over my shoulder. He angled the beam downward slightly as he lifted the flashlight high.
Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp Page 7