The Ghost of Gruesome High (15 page)

Well, it’s even weirder to see them at home, standing at the door in a T-shirt that says JERRY GARCIA LIVES and not wearing any shoes. He also wasn’t wearing his glasses, which made him look totally different. It took me a moment to find my voice. “Mr. Greenwald? I hope I’m not—”

“Patsy! I didn’t expect to see you today. Come on in.”

Mr. Greenwald’s house was pretty much the way I’d pictured a bachelor’s house. It wasn’t filthy or anything. There wasn’t any food lying around. It was just untidy. I guess I’m used to homes with a woman in them. I know that sounds sexist, but women generally care more about housekeeping than men.

“Mr. Greenwald,” I said as I sat down on his couch, “I want to apologize for running away yesterday like that. I-I just didn’t want to answer a lot of questions right then—and you always ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s true,” he said, smiling down at the floor. “I guess asking questions is an occupational hazard for a teacher. I’ll try not to ask too many questions today. But I do have a few.”

I didn’t say anything. I just waited for him to speak. He was silent for a moment, then he said: “Could I get you a milk, or juice, or a Coke or something?”

I shook my head. “No. Thanks. I’m fine.”

“I guess you know I spoke to your mother last night. I felt I had to after Ben Thompson attacked you. What do you think he would have done if I hadn’t been there?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. Actually I’d almost forgotten the entire incident. Too many things were happening too quickly for me to keep track of all the details. “Thank you.”

“That’s not why I brought it up. I want you to back off on this ghost thing. Certain people are getting very upset. And when they get upset, things happen. Bad things.”

“But doesn’t that mean I’m getting close to an answer?” I said excitedly. “I know how to catch—”

“No!” He stood up and paced around the room. “I want you to stop. I mean it. This isn’t some game. A man was murdered, and the person who did the crime has nothing to lose if he murders again. I don’t want to see you dead. Do you understand?”

I’d never thought about it like that before. It had never dawned on me that my life might actually be in danger. The whole thing started off as sort of an exercise, just to see if I could figure out the mystery. But now it was more. A lot more. I didn’t think I could drop it, even if my life were in danger. “I’m not going to stop,” I heard myself say. “If I stop now, then that means I let the bad guys win. I’d have to live with that the rest of my life. I can’t do that.”
 

He started to speak, but this time it was my turn to stand and hold up a hand to stop him. “You don’t have to help me. I wish you would, but you don’t have to. But whether you do or not, I’m going to continue trying to catch the ghost. If anything happens to me, it’s not your fault.” I turned and started walking toward the door.

“Wait!” I turned. Mr. Greenwald sat back down and looked at his feet. “How can I help?” he asked.
 

I quickly crossed back to the couch and sat down. “I need you to get the principal to announce that a time capsule is going to be buried at the edge of the quad, right behind the principal’s office.”

“Why? And why there?”

“Because that’s where the coins are buried, and that’s probably where your cousin is buried, too.”

He suddenly sat forward. “Are you sure? Are you sure about that?” It was a lot more than just a question. It was a plea.

“No. I’m not one hundred percent positive, but I’m pretty sure. I think I’m sure.” I could feel myself cracking under his intense gaze. This was more than an exercise to him and his family; this was the answer to a ten year nightmare. “Look, Mr. Greenwald, I’m pretty sure that’s the general area where the stolen coins are buried. I’m just guessing that your cousin’s body is buried there, too. I mean, if I were a murderer and I was hiding a body and a bag of gold coins I sure wouldn’t want to dig more than one hole and risk drawing any more attention.”

Mr. Greenwald relaxed and sat back in his chair. “That makes sense, I suppose. I won’t ask why you think that’s the spot where the coins are buried.” He hesitated, then pursed his lips and said: “I guess I’ll just have to trust that you know what you’re doing.”
 

“Then you’ll do it? You’ll get the principal to announce that a time capsule will be buried behind his office at noon on Friday? And you’ll make sure he announces it first thing Monday morning?”

Mr. Greenwald blew air out of his mouth and frowned. Then he looked at me and said: “I’ll do my best. It’s not going to be easy—but I’ll do what I can.”

I stood up and smiled. “Don’t look so glum,” I said teasingly. “We’ll win. You’ll see! This might even be fun!” I opened the door and started to step out.

“Miss Hoyle? Be careful. Be really careful.”

“I will.” I closed the door behind me.

It was all coming together. If everything went well, the ghost would be caught and August Wallenberg’s killer would be behind bars in less than forty-eight hours! I sat on my bike for a moment and fantasized about how great it would be to prove that Mayor Thompson robbed his own store for the insurance money and murdered August Wallenberg to cover up the robbery. I could see it now, the newspapers, the TV—I would be on CNN! Me! On CNN!
 

O.K., O.K., let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I said to myself. I need to take some time and really think about this . . . make sure there aren’t any holes in my plan. Timing was critical. For my plan to work, everything had to be done in exactly the right order and at precisely the right time.

If anything were off—even a little—the whole thing could fall apart. Most people are terrified at the thought of failure—but the idea thrilled me! I felt a tremendous exhilaration! Without the possibility of failure, without the chance of loss, what was the point? Where was the thrill? I suddenly thought this must be the way a gambler feels when he stakes everything on one turn of the cards.

Suddenly my day dreams were interrupted by a nagging voice in my head. It was a voice that had been trying to get my attention all morning, but I had been purposely ignoring it, hoping it would go away. But it wouldn’t go away. Instead, it was getting louder and louder.
 

I sighed and resigned myself to the voice. I had something I needed to do—and I couldn’t put it off any longer.

* * *

I stood at Jason’s door for at least a minute, debating with myself whether I really wanted to see him or not. Finally I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Jason’s father answered the door, wearing ratty shorts, a stained undershirt, and black socks but no shoes. He held a copy of the Daily Racing Form in his hand. He looked at me as if he didn’t know who I was. I tried to smile. I knew how tough everything was since Jason’s mother died a couple years ago—but I still felt uncomfortable around Jason’s father.

“Hi. Is Jason home?” I asked in as cheery a voice as I could manage.

Mr. Benson looked at me with a sour expression, then turned around and yelled at the top of his lungs: “Jason! Get your butt down here! You got a visitor!”

He then turned back to me, frowned, stepped back from the door and motioned me inside with the racing paper. “Come on in. He’ll be right down.” As I stepped through the door, Mr. Benson turned again and yelled, “Hurry up, you lazy, good-for-nothing bum! It’s a girl!”

Mr. Benson sat down on the couch and spread the racing paper out on the coffee table in front of him. I got the impression he had forgotten about me completely. I stood as still as I could in the middle of the room, wishing Jason would hurry.

When Jason finally did meander down the stairs it was obvious he was in no hurry. It was also obvious that he was not happy to see me. He nodded at me as he reached the bottom step. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I answered back. “Um, could we maybe go for a walk or something?”

He had the look on his face of a man who knew he was being led to the gallows. He sighed and said: “Sure.”

Jason walked out the front door without speaking a word to his father. I looked at Mr. Benson, wanting to be polite and at least say ‘good-bye’, but he was so totally absorbed in the paper that I don’t think he even knew I was in the room.

Jason waited outside, his back to the house. He didn’t turn as I walked down off the porch and stood at his side. I hesitated a moment. I wasn’t sure what to say. It suddenly dawned on me that I would probably be a lot better off if I anticipated situations like this better and actually planned what I was going to say in advance. Maybe rehearsed it once or twice in front of a mirror or something. Unfortunately I didn’t do that this time. Live and learn. “I get the feeling you’re not really very happy with our situation.”

He didn’t look at me. He put his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. He began to walk slowly toward the street. “I thought you were the one who wasn’t happy,” he said.

“I don’t think either of us is all that happy,” I answered softly.

We walked in silence for a couple of minutes. The street in front of Jason house is a fairly wide and busy street. Cars whizzed by us as people began going about their day. I was afraid Jason might say something quietly and I wouldn’t hear him over the drone of the cars. But when he spoke he spoke quite clearly.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“I like you. You’ve been acting like a real jerk lately, but I still like you.”

“Not the way I like you.”

So there it was. He’d said it. Now I really didn’t know what to say. We got to the corner and he sat down on a bus bench. I sat down next to him. “I’m sorry, Jason,” was all I could say. This was really hard. It was even harder than I ever dreamed it would be. I could feel waves of hurt pouring off him. For an instant something inside me made me want to hold him and comfort him and tell him everything would be all right. But I knew I couldn’t do that. “Can’t things just continue like they’ve been going?” I asked.
 

He leaned forward and looked at his shoes very hard, as if he was memorizing every scuff mark. “I don’t know. I-I feel funny now every time I see you talking to another guy. I-I know I’m going to lose you and—”

“Jason! You’re my best friend in the whole world. You’ll never lose that, I promise.”

Jason stood up and turned his back to me. “Of course I will! You’ll start going out with some other guy and he won’t want you hanging out with me!”

I put my hand on his shoulder. The hurt and the pain coming off Jason were almost more than I could bear. “You’ll start going out with other girls and they won’t want you hanging out with me, either. But we’ll work it out. We’re pals. We’ll always be pals.”

Finally he turned around and looked at me. Tears were running down his face. “Why can’t you feel the same way about me that I do about you?”

Now it was my turn to look down at my feet; it just hurt too much to look into his tear-filled eyes. “I don’t know,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

I put my arm around his waist and we started walking slowly along the busy street together. “It’s not fair,” he said softly. Nothing else was said.

After a few minutes I noticed that we were wandering into a rather dirty area of town. There were several older men who need shaves wandering near us; I could see them casting furtive glances our direction and I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. “Jason, maybe it would be better if—”

But I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Quite suddenly a car behind us raced its engine and was coming right at us! We both turned and saw the massive vehicle jump the curb no more than twenty feet from us. Out of the corner of my eye I could see other people running for safety. I vaguely wondered why we weren’t running, but for some reason my mind and my body didn’t seem to be connected. All I could do was stand there and watch as the car rushed right towards us. For some reason it just didn’t seem real. But it was. Just before the car hit us, Jason suddenly pushed me to the side.

Everything became quite confusing, but I heard the thud and I knew that Jason had been hit. My mind stopped working in its normal fashion. Suddenly I felt almost superhuman. I willed my body to get up. “Jason!” I yelled.

The car roared away, bouncing down off the curb and back into the street. I heard one or two other cars honk their horns and screech their brakes, but my main concern was Jason.
 

He was lying on the sidewalk maybe ten feet from me! He wasn’t moving. I ran to him as fast as I could. “Jason! Jason!” I bent down and looked to see if he was breathing, but I couldn’t tell if he was or not! “Oh my God! Jason!”

Chapter 24

Now it’s personal!

An ambulance came quickly; I don’t know who called it. There was never any question about me riding with Jason in the ambulance, though the paramedics did ask a lot of questions about where Jason lived and what his phone number was and stuff like that. I didn’t know if his father was home or at the track or where he was.

The paramedics tried to assure me that Jason was going to be all right, but I didn’t believe them until Jason finally opened his eyes and winced in pain. “My leg,” he said. “What’s wrong with my leg?”

I held his hand. “You were hit by a car,” I answered. “Are you O.K.?”