Slow Dance in Purgatory (8 page)

             
“They did some kind of bridge building contest in Mr. George’s class, and they got one of those big trash cans with the wheels on it up there full to the top with heavy stuff.  Do all the other trashes and then wheel the big one to the dumbwaiter to get it down to the main floor, just like I showed you last week, okay?” Gus instructed.

             
"Don't let Johnny get you, Mags!"  Shad called out.  He chuckled, but Maggie didn't miss the worried expression he tried to hide.  Gus just shook his head and waved her off.

             
Maggie took a deep breath and jogged up the stairs, determined not to be spooked, hoping Johnny Kinross had had his fun.  Classroom by classroom, Maggie bagged and re-bagged trashcans, piling the bags into a bigger can and wheeling her way around the third floor.  The halls were silent, and the classrooms empty, and Maggie started to relax into her work.  It wasn’t until she reached the drafting room that she discovered that Gus had not been exaggerating. 

             
The wheeled, economy-sized garbage can was brimming with broken bridges made from assorted materials - everything from sticks, to rocks, to one that looked like it had been constructed with a concrete mold.  It was so heavy that Maggie had to rock it a little just to build some momentum to get it to roll.  Once she got it moving, she eased it down the hallway and headed for the dumbwaiter around the corner.

             
Honeyville High had been built before mandatory ramps and handicap accessible regulations had been instituted, so the old dumbwaiter served as a manual elevator for the janitorial staff and the occasional wheel chair.  It was a platform large enough to hold Maggie’s trashcan, but just barely.  Grunting and shoving the overflowing bin onto the metal platform, Maggie stepped back and tried to pull the sliding door down to close the dumbwaiter, but the scraps piled on top protruded out too far.  Maggie stepped onto the dumbwaiter and shoved and pushed, trying to reposition the heavy debris so the door could close.

             
Suddenly, a loud grating and grinding noise reverberated down the narrow shaft, and the little platform shook violently.  Without warning, the crank jerked and the pulley released, sending the platform and its contents plunging toward the ground floor.

             
Maggie screamed and leaped for the opening, scrabbling to get a foot hold on the block wall of the shaft as her hands clawed for purchase on the ledge.  Her legs bicycled, and her arm muscles shook as she clung to the landing above her.  The ledge was a smooth, squared-off edge, and she couldn’t get a firm enough grip to hoist herself up.  She couldn’t even call out.  Every ounce of her strength was needed to just hold on.  Even if he heard her, Gus would never make it in time.  She was going to fall.

             
“Don’t be afraid, Margaret.  I’m going to try to pull you up.”  A man’s voice came from somewhere above her, and Maggie whimpered in relief.

             
She lifted her head expectantly, and a face appeared above her, leaning over the edge.  Strong hands gripped her around each wrist and pulled her up, up, and over the ledge and onto the floor beside the gaping hole.   He released her hands as soon as she was safe and then sank to his haunches beside her, elbows resting on his knees.  Maggie laid in a quivering heap and stared at her rescuer.   

             
He was young, but probably older than she, Maggie thought.  His hair was a dark blonde, and it was swept back off his face, except for one lock that curled down onto his smooth forehead.  His jaw was square, and his chin, which he rested on his clasped fists, had a deep groove at its center.  His full mouth was unsmiling and his dark brow furrowed above eyes that looked light in color, though it was hard to tell in the shadowy alcove that housed the dumbwaiter.  He wore jeans, a white tee shirt, and scuffed black boots that were scarcely two feet from her face.  He stood and backed away from her, giving her space to sit up, which she did, though she didn’t dare stand; her trembling legs would never hold her.

             
“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.

             
“I think so,” Maggie replied, and felt her lower lip tremble.  "I lost my glasses, though."  It was the thought of her glasses that broke her composure.  They were probably smashed at the bottom of the shaft, where she would have been if not for this stranger.  Tears threatened to fall – the relief that she was safe was so sharp she could weep.  She swallowed back the emotion that was rising in her chest and struggled to stand.  His hands shot out to steady her and then fell when she successfully rose.

             
“Where did you come from?  I mean… I didn’t know anyone was up here,”  Maggie stuttered.  “If you hadn’t come...I - I would have fallen.”

             
“Miss Margaret!  Miss Margaret!”  Gus’s shouts rang up out of the dumbwaiter shaft, and Maggie moved gingerly to the edge to peer down two stories to where the platform had crashed to the floor, spilling garbage out around it.  Gus’s grizzled grey head appeared below her, and he stared back up at her, shock and horror stamped on his familiar face.

             
“What happened?  Are you okay?  I heard a horrible crashing sound, and I came runnin,’” Gus called up to her.  “I couldn’t get here nearly fast enough, and then I couldn’t get the darn door open ‘cause the trash here was wedged up against it.”

             
“I’m okay, Gus.  Something snapped and everything went crashing down.  I almost fell but luckily someone was here to pull me up.”  Maggie turned back to get her rescuer’s name, but he wasn’t there. 

             
“We're coming up there, Miss Margaret!  Don’t you go nowhere,” Gus hollered below her, and Maggie stepped away from the death trap and went to find her savior.  He couldn’t have gone far.  She walked out of the alcove and looked up and down the hallway, puzzled and bewildered that he would simply leave.  She hadn’t thanked him.  Maggie stuck her head in the nearby classrooms, but there was no sign of him.  Had he broken into the school and been worried about getting in trouble?  Maybe he was the intruder from the other night. 

             
Maggie felt ice trickle down her spine and into her arms and legs.   There hadn’t
been
an intruder the other night.  There had been a troublesome ghost.

             
“Johnny?”  Maggie called out instinctively.  Silence met her query.  “Was it you, Johnny?  Are you the one who saved me?”  Again, silence.  Maggie waited several long breaths, feeling silly and wondering if the near death experience had addled her brain.

             
“Maggie?”  A soft voice spoke up behind her.

             
“Oh!”  Maggie jumped and spun, almost knocking poor Shad to the ground.  He had beat Gus up the stairs and was looking at her like she had lost her mind.  Gus rounded the corner then, breathing hard.

             
“Who were you talking to?”  Shad asked, looking over her shoulder into the empty classroom beyond.

             
Maggie didn’t respond but turned and looked up and down the long hallway once more. 

             
“You didn’t see anyone on your way up here, did you Gus?”  Maggie asked, leading Gus and Shad back into the alcove where the accident had occurred.

             
“No, Miss Margaret.  I didn’t see a soul.  Oh Lawdy!  You said somebody pulled you up out of there?”  Gus asked in amazement, looking over the ledge down at the smashed garbage bin.  Shad leaned over a little too far, and Gus grabbed at him, stepping back from the ledge, pulling Shad with him.

             
“Who was it, Mags?”  Shad seemed as confused as Maggie, and she shook her head, unwilling to give voice to her suspicions.

             
“I would have fallen.  I was literally hanging from the edge.  He...he pulled me up.”

             
“Who pulled you up, Miss Margaret?”

             
“I don’t know, Gus.  He was here a minute ago.”

             
Shad shuddered violently and hugged himself, hopping from one foot to the other.  "This freaky-assed school should be closed!!  It's scary as hell!"  Shad forgot to watch his language in his grandpa's presence and got a thwack to the back of the head as a result.

             
"Shadrach!"

             
Maggie was silent.  After a moment, the three of them filed wordlessly back down the stairs to the ground floor.  Gus said he would take care of the trash and the dumbwaiter in the morning.  He seemed anxious to get out of the school where tragedy had been narrowly averted, this time.  Maggie and Shad didn't object and followed him out.  Shad kept looking behind him, and he slipped his hand into Maggie's like a frightened little boy.  Maggie decided it was okay, just this once.

6

“I BELIEVE”

Frankie Laine - 1953

             
Maggie arose early that Saturday and pedaled the mile or so to the pretty Main Street that boasted a variety of pricey boutiques and the stately courthouse and city buildings that handled most of the official goings on in Honeyville.  Maggie had never been inside the newly remodeled library, and it hadn’t been on her list of things to do since she’d moved to Honeyville five months ago.  Aunt Irene had offered to drive her there, but Maggie didn’t want her aunt to know what she was looking for, and she didn’t know how long it would take her to find it – if it could be found.  She had fibbed and said she needed the exercise.  Maggie danced two hours a day, minimum, and she didn’t need the exercise, but Aunt Irene shrugged and let her be.  That was definitely one of the things she liked most about Aunt Irene.  She gave her plenty of space without making her feel like she didn’t care.

             
The lady at the front desk looked like she knew her way around a library, and as Maggie approached, she mentally rehearsed her prepared lines.

             
“Hi,” Maggie chirruped cheerfully, smiling her best how-to-butter-up-a grown-up-smile.  “I’m doing a little research on Honeyville High School for my school paper.  We’re doing a big spread called ‘Back to the Past,’ and I wondered if you had some old newspapers from around the time when the school was built?”  Maggie didn’t like to lie but, unfortunately, her time in the foster care system had helped her to cultivate the ability to tell a pretty convincing whopper when she needed to.  She supposed she could have just said she wanted to do research on the Johnny Kinross disappearance, but she didn’t really want to explain herself.  Defensiveness was also a by-product of living in seven different homes in seven years.

             
“What an interesting idea!”  The librarian seemed impressed with her lie.  Maybe she should make some suggestions to the school's newspaper editor, Maggie thought with just a twinge of guilt.

             
“Well, you are in luck!” the librarian continued happily.  “We have a new, state-of-the-art microfiche system that has been updated with articles from the last 100 years of Honeyville history.  It is so much easier than digging through those old binders of newspaper print.”

             
The trim librarian bustled down a long flight of stairs and into a room lined with tall stacks of very old books and a couple of cubicles with computers housed on metal desks.   Instead of old books, the whole room smelled like paint and new carpet, courtesy of the recent renovation.

             
The librarian led Maggie to one of the cubicles and showed her how to access the microfiche records.  The librarian punched in a series of dates and started scrolling through the available records.

             
“Do you know the year it was built, dear?”  The librarian asked kindly.

             
“Yes ma’am.  It was completed in 1958,” Maggie answered, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her.   She had wheedled that information out of Gus.

             
“Well, this should be about the right time period then.  Just click through these dates.  You can also enter key words to narrow your search.  If you have any questions just come back upstairs, and I will be glad to help you.”

             
Maggie thanked the nice lady and waited until she climbed the stairs before she started clicking through the newspaper articles that might help her unravel the mystery of Johnny Kinross.

             
  She found articles that talked about the construction of the school.  She saw a picture of Aunt Irene’s father-in-law, Mayor Clayton Carlton, with a shovel in his hands at the ground breaking.  He was a handsome enough man, if a guy in his forties could even be handsome, which Maggie wasn’t convinced he could.  

             
She clicked ahead until she found a headline that caught her attention.  “Tragedy at Honeyville High,” it shouted in bold print.  There were several pictures below the article.  One picture had a shot of what looked to be Mayor Carlton, his wife, and a young Roger Carlton exiting the school.  They all looked harried and upset, and the caption read “Roger Carlton shown leaving the scene of the terrible accident of which he was a witness.”