Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp (10 page)

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.