The Ghost of Gruesome High (10 page)

There was no question about it whatsoever; someone had been here recently, reading this very newspaper! I could only assume one thing: someone else was interested in the Gruesome High ghost!
 

I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I just knew it was an important piece of information. But for the moment I decided to concentrate on what I came here for in the first place. To learn. To make connections. I laid the newspaper flat on top of a cardboard box under the main light in the room, and looked at it carefully for the first time. The date on the newspaper was July 23rd, ten years ago! I was barely five years old when this newspaper was printed! It’s sort of weird to think about all these things happening when you’re just a kid.

But what was even more weird was the headline! MAJOR DOWNTOWN ROBBERY! The article was all about the robbery of Thompson’s Jewelry store! Was I lucky, or what! The first paper I picked up and it was all about the robbery!
 

Everything was here. The half million dollars in gold coins and jewelry . . . even Mr. Greenwald’s father, police Sergeant Greenwald, was mentioned in the second paragraph! This was really exciting! It suddenly began to feel like the robbery just happened! I was beginning to feel as if I was living part of history!

I read the whole article. There was only one big piece of information that I didn’t already know. According to the article, the thief (or thieves) knew exactly what they were after; they just took the most valuable things, and things that could easily be sold and were hard to trace. The police said it looked like an inside job— and a trusted store employee, an August Wallenberg, was also missing!

When I read that I stopped reading and set the newspaper down. All my theories started to fall apart! I was suddenly very discouraged!

If this August Wallenberg stole the coins and jewels, then that meant Mr. Thompson didn’t rob his own store! That meant everything I thought about this case was out the window! Damn!

But if this Wallenberg character stole everything, then why did Mayor Thompson act so weird when I questioned him about hiring Mr. Bell to be the night watchman? And why was Ben Thompson spying on me and threatening me? And Mr. Greenwald said his father, who investigated the case, thought Mr. Thompson robbed his own store . . . .

This detective stuff was a lot harder than they made it look on TV! I’d just read one article and already I had more questions, but no more answers!

I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could. I could see I was going to be here a long time!

Chapter 16

A serious threat

I lost all track of time, and evidently the librarian forgot I was even in the storage room because by the time I stumbled out of the back room, my head pounding with the worst headache I’d ever had, my throat totally dry and parched and my eyes feeling as if someone had dumped a bucket of beach sand in each of them, it was 4:40 in the afternoon!

I’d missed all my classes after lunch and the library was closed!

I’d like to say that the library was all dark and spooky, but that’s not true. It was still bright and sunny outside, and there was plenty of light coming in the big, slightly-tinted library windows so nothing looked spooky or frightening in the least. Libraries were supposed to be quiet, so even the quiet part wasn’t that eerie.

I looked around quickly to make sure Ben Thompson wasn’t waiting for me, hiding behind one of the stacks. But that was stupid. I was starting to let my imagination get out of hand. If I let myself be scared of Ben all the time, then Ben had already won our little battle of wills, and I simply refused to let that clod win! I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I was calm, I was in control—not Ben Thompson!

I did feel a little funny being some place I wasn’t supposed to be and I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out and lock up behind myself, but that turned out not to be a problem, either; all I had to do was push the little button on the door knob when I left and the door automatically locked behind me.

Fortunately no one saw me leave the library. Not that I was doing anything wrong—I wasn’t concerned that anyone would think I was—I just didn’t want to waste a moment’s time explaining things. I wanted to catch Mr. Greenwald before he left.

I had a few questions I wanted to ask him!

I didn’t think my headache could get any worse, but suddenly it did. My head hurt so much I had to stop walking. For a moment I was afraid I was going to throw up! So when I got to Mr. Greenwald’s class and the lights were off and the door was locked I was not in a good mood! Damn! I thought. Now I’ll have to wait all weekend to talk to him!

There was only one possible thing that might save me. Maybe he was still in the parking lot. I knew what car he drove; I’d seen him get out of it in the teachers’ parking lot several times in the last year and a half. Maybe if I hurried . . . .

The fresh air and sunshine were finally starting to make my head feel better. Now it just felt as if it was the size of a basketball and there were only twenty bass drums pounding away in there. I was concentrating so much on my headache and trying to find Mr. Greenwald’s car that I actually bumped into Ben Thompson’s chest before I even saw him!

It took me half a second to focus my eyes and my mind on the fact that I was standing in the nearly-empty school parking lot, toe to toe with the biggest bully I knew, a bully who had already threatened to hurt me.

For a moment I think my mind stopped working completely. Staring up at Ben’s cruel face seemed unreal somehow, as if I was watching someone else look up at him. The moment he spoke I was snapped back to reality.

“What was ya doin’ in the library all day?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply he shoved my shoulder, almost causing me to drop my notebook. “I thought I told ya not to mess around in things don’t concern ya.” He shoved my shoulder again, harder this time. I stumbled backward several steps, just barely managing to stay on my feet.

I think I was more scared at this moment than I had ever been before in my whole life! Ben was a lot scarier than any ghost! He stepped up to me again quickly. The anger in his eyes was so intense I almost felt as if I could grab hold of it in my hands.

“I guess maybe you’re not as smart as everyone says ya are, are ya? I guess you need a little convincing!”

With that he shoved me hard, with both hands! Down I went! I landed hard, right on my butt! My right elbow hit the pavement hard. Sparks of bright light filled my head for a moment, and then were gone.

I was so frightened I didn’t really know how to feel; I had never been this scared before. I’d never been in a fight in my life. I’d been punched in the arm lots of times when I was a kid—but that was nothing like this!

As I looked up at Ben, still so stunned my mind hardly knew what was happening around me, I could see Ben begin to reach down toward me, his eyes filled with hate! Just before his big, beefy hands grabbed my arms, I heard a voice yell, “Hey! What the hell’s going on here? Hey! You!”

Ben looked in the direction of the voice, then looked back down at me. “Wise up, little girl,” he said angrily. “This ain’t no game.”

With that he straightened up and ran. I didn’t watch where he ran; I didn’t care. I tried to sit up, but I as soon as I did my head felt all funny and these black and red dots began floating around in front of my eyes. I felt sick to my stomach and my head felt as if it was going to explode.
 

Then, suddenly, I felt two arms grab hold of me and hold me up. Which was good, because I couldn’t hold myself up any longer. I just lay there, limp, in those arms, not knowing for a moment whose arms they were. I knew someone was saying something to me, but for some reason I couldn’t understand anything they were saying. It was as if my ears just weren’t working for a few seconds.

Then I heard: “Patricia! Miss Hoyle! Are you all right?” It took another full second before I recognized the voice. It was Mr. Greenwald. “Miss Hoyle?”

I forced myself to open my eyes. Except for my headache and my elbow I really didn’t feel all that bad any more. In fact, the more I looked into Mr. Greenwald’s concerned face, the better I felt.

“Are you all right?” he asked. I could tell he was trying to smile reassuringly, but his eyes told me how really worried he was. “What happened? What was that all about?” he asked.

Even though I was terribly glad he was here, I really didn’t feel like answering any questions. I tried to stand, and with Mr. Greenwald’s help I was able to get to my feet. I looked at my hands, still a bit shaken. “My notebook,” I said. “What happened to my notebook?”

I could see Mr. Greenwald’s eyes soften a little. His smile almost looked real. He quickly bent down and then stood back up, pressing my notebook into my hand. “Right here,” he said. “Why don’t we walk over to my car so you can sit down.”

As soon as I started walking I began to feel a lot better. In fact, I felt so much better I began to feel a little embarrassed for the way I had been acting a few moments ago. “I’m fine,” I said, pulling my arm from his hand. I quickly smiled and moved my arm around to show him I was O.K. and not being unappreciative of his help. “See? I guess I just had the wind knocked out of me for a minute, that’s all.”
 

I could feel my strength and my voice returning. I noticed that even my headache was better now. I flexed my arm and was surprised, myself, at how good I felt, except for the bruise on my right elbow where it struck the pavement. And my butt was a little sore.

Mr. Greenwald opened the front passenger door of his car and motioned for me to sit down. “What was that all about?” he asked, a concerned look still in his eyes. “It looked like Ben Thompson attacked you. Is that what happened?”

“Yeah,” I said, taking a deep breath.
 

“Why? What was he trying to do?”

I thought about that for a second, but then decided that I had nothing to lose by telling Mr. Greenwald; after all, he was trying to solve this ghost thing, too. “He doesn’t want me messing around with this ghost stuff,” I said.
 

Mr. Greenwald frowned. “I was afraid it might be something like that,” he said. “Mayor Thompson has spoken to the school board and to Principal Wright trying to get me fired.”

I looked up at Mr. Greenwald and I could feel my mouth drop open. It had never dawned on me that anyone could do stuff like that. “Really?” was all I could manage. I didn’t know what else to say.
 

“I’ve even had my tires slit twice, right here in the school parking lot. I’m pretty sure who’s responsible, but I haven’t been able to catch him in the act.”

There was no question in my mind who he meant: Ben Thompson!

“But why?” I asked, feeling helpless and confused. “According to the papers, some guy named August Wallenberg stole the coins, so why—”

“Because August Wallenberg never stole the coins,” Mr. Greenwald said firmly.

Chapter 17

The pieces begin to fit together!

I could feel a sudden tension in the air, though I wasn’t sure why. “How do you know he didn’t steal them?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Mr. Greenwald stood up, dusted the knees of his blue jeans. “Because there’re parts of the story I still haven’t told you. Maybe it’s time I did. Get in the car. I’ll drive you home.”

Without thinking about what I was doing I swung my legs into the car. Mr. Greenwald closed the door, walked around the car and got in behind the wheel. We were out of the parking lot and pointed down the hill before he spoke.

“How did you find out about August Wallenberg?” he asked, finally.

“I spent the afternoon in the school library, reading old newspapers,” I answered quite simply. “According to the papers, it looked like an inside job and August Wallenberg had worked at the store for just three months before the robbery. The night of the robbery he disappeared along with the coins and no one has seen him since. It sure sounds like he did it.”
 

Mr. Greenwald didn’t say anything for a few seconds as he concentrated on making the right hand turn at the bottom of the hill which put us in relatively heavy Friday afternoon traffic. When he did speak, his words were slightly halting, as if he was considering each one carefully.

“I’ve read those newspaper accounts. In fact, I got the custodian to let me into the back room of the library just a couple of weeks ago so I could reread everything just in case there was something I missed the first time.”

(One small mystery was solved! Now at least I knew who had read the newspapers in the library recently!)

“Unfortunately I didn’t find anything new or anything I’d forgotten. I’m afraid this case has become enough of an obsession with me that I know just about everything there is to know about it.”

“But how do you know that August Wallenberg didn’t rob the store and go to South America or something?” I could tell this was making Mr. Greenwald uncomfortable for some reason—I could see him gripping the steering wheel harder and harder; the knuckles on his hands were completely white with the effort—but I didn’t understand why.

“Because August Wallenberg was my cousin. I’d known him all my life. He was very deeply in love with his wife—I’ve never seen two people more happy and more in love in my whole life—and there was no way on Earth he would have left her and never tried to contact her again.”