Meadowview Acres (16 page)

Mrs. Beatrice Walton was the weekend receptionist and had known Bug since she was Ladybug. “Bug, Sweetie! How good to see you! Come give old Mrs. Bea a hug,” the old lady cooed at her.

Bug went obligingly around the desk to be squished by Mrs. Bea’s ample bosom. “Hi, Mrs. Bea, it’s good to see you, too.”

“Hi, Shasta. How’re you dear?” She said, acknowledging Shasta at last. “What brings you two out here today?”

Shasta smiled and said, “I’m starting a summer internship here, and Bug said that she’d show me around.”

“Yeah,” said Bug. “Dad can’t wait for Shasta to start. She’s going to be a big help!” Bug was overly enthusiastic, showing Mrs. Bea a mouthful of teeth.

“Okay girls,” Mrs. Bea replied. “Just stay out of the second floor offices. Those are for the big dogs!” Mrs. Bea giggled and went back to her gossip magazine. Once the girls were out of sight, she would forget about them altogether.

The girls shot each other a quick look and headed for the elevators. The offices of the Hallston Daily Journal were set up in a straight forward manner. The offices used most often were on the first floor. Those were the reporters, classified ads, business advertising and reception. The second floor housed Mr. Hamilton, who was the Editor-in-Chief, his assistant editor, the assistant’s assistant and miscellaneous secretaries and other assistants. The actual printing was done in the lower level. That left the third floor for the Resource Room and the Archives. That’s where Shasta and Bug headed. They hopped into the waiting elevator, and Bug jabbed a finger at the button marked “3”.

Shasta was feeling a little anxious, like she was doing something sneaky. Bug had told her dad that she was taking Shasta around the offices today, so they really weren’t doing anything wrong.

They made it to the third floor with a “ding” from the elevator. The doors slid open, and the girls walked out. Shasta followed Bug to the left and down the narrow hallway. It was an old building, and it smelled like must and dust and newspapers. Shasta loved it. She couldn’t wait to start working there for the summer.

They made it to a large door with a big glass pane in the middle. Shasta reached for the doorknob, but Bug said, “Hang on. We need this.” She pulled a key out of her pants pocket and held it out to Shasta.

Surprised, Shasta said, “Did you take that from your dad? Bug, I don’t think we should do this.”

“No,” Bug replied. “I’ve had this key for ages. Whenever I come here with Dad, I always go in here and read. It’s super interesting. I bet I’ve read most of the newspapers in this place.”

Shasta should have known. Bug wasn’t the devious type. She took the key from Bug’s outstretched hand and unlocked the door.

Walking into the room, Shasta was elated. The whole room was filled with newspaper memorabilia. There were stories that had been framed on the walls and a great big table covered with plexi-glass in the middle of the room. Shasta walked over to find the very first issue of the Hallston Daily Journal under the glass. It was dated July 4, 1945. The headline read, “Independence for Hallston”. The story was about how the town of Hallston had split itself off from the larger neighboring city of Glovercroft.

Bug walked over to a rectangular table by the windows and started to take her things out of her bag. She arranged her spiral notebook and pens neatly and then took her Hot Dog Hut Go-Box out and placed it on the table beside them. Shasta took her cue and joined Bug at the table. As they ate their lunch, they discussed their plan of action. They were going to double team – Bug looking through headlines, while Shasta took the Obituaries.

Bug had been coming to work with her dad off and on since she was about seven years old. She had always loved that room. There were so many things to learn about. The lady who worked in there was Ms. Shelbourne. She had always been so nice to Bug. She taught her how to use the different machines, and she showed her where they kept all the back issues. She also showed her the boxes of discs that represented each year of the newspaper. There wasn’t a disc for each paper but one for every month. Since Bug had read so many of the newspapers already, she knew that she hadn’t yet seen anything out of the ordinary. The last time she was there, she had left off at May of nineteen eighty-seven. She left Shasta to retrieve that box of discs.

Their saving grace was that Hallston was a very small town. Even the larger neighboring towns were small. Any death or accident was front page news, much like Heather, Hansen and Mr. Jackson had been. Bug had watched her father struggle with those stories. They had been so personal.

Shasta had settled down in front of one of the computers when Bug came out of the back room with two boxes. One was for nineteen eighty-seven and the other was nineteen eighty-six. The girls settled in and started to scan through the information. Shasta found that there were very few deaths in the town, sometimes none at all. She concentrated mostly on the Sunday papers. She made sure to read the dates and the circumstances of death if it was available.

Bug absolutely flew through the headlines. She was so familiar with how the paper was formatted that she knew where to find the most interesting stories and which ones were fluff. She also felt like she should know what she was looking for. She and her father had talked at length about all kinds of stories that had made headlines over the years – even the ones that had happened before her birth.

An hour later, Bug was on November of nineteen seventy-nine and Shasta was studying July of nineteen eighty-two. Shasta’s eyes were getting tired, so she got up and stretched. She wandered over to the window and looked outside. It was a beautiful late-fall day and the sky was soft-blue with puffy-white clouds.

“You know, Bug. We might just be on a wild goose chase here,” she started. “I was thinking about a different strategy. Why don’t I go over to Eli’s house and talk to him? You know, at the funeral home he probably was not in the best frame of mind. I could go over tomorrow and ask him about the box. Maybe Darren would go with me. Eli might feel more comfortable with a guy there.”

“You could do that anyway,” Bug replied. “But I just feel like there’s something here. It’s driving me super batty.”

Shasta could tell that her little friend had tunnel vision, so she went back to her computer and started on nineteen eighty-one. She read more obits, some from accidents, some from old age, a couple from a fire or drowning. It was starting to get a little depressing, but Shasta kept on. If she was going to be a good journalist, she needed to get used to tedious research.

Bug’s stomach was growling, but she didn’t want to stop. She felt like she would stumble upon something any minute. The sun was starting to go down, and they would need to leave soon, but that itchy feeling in her brain was telling her that she was close to finding something. She just couldn’t stop yet. She was on August of nineteen sixty-eight when something caught her eye.

The headline read, “Two Mystery Deaths in Hallston”. Bug sucked in her breath and motioned Shasta over. They read the article together.

A man had been found just outside of the town limits of Hallston. There was no clear sign of death, no identification of the man and no clue as to where he had come from. About a mile down the road, inside the Hallston city limits, was an abandoned car. The gas tank was empty but the license was registered to a Gerald Bell. Gerald Bell was not with his car, however. Mr.Bell was evidently waiting for the bus to Glovercroft. He had a ticket and was waiting for the arriving passengers to get off before he could board. He died on the spot. A massive head trauma is what they called it. Witnesses said he was talking to a white-haired man who had just gotten off the bus, and the next thing anyone knew, that man was gone, and Gerald was on the ground dead.

The girls finished reading at about the same time and looked at each other.

“Well,” Shasta said. “Maybe the dead guy on the outskirts killed this guy at the bus stop and stole his car. It ran out of gas and he had to walk. Then he had a heart attack or something.”

“Maybe,” Bug wondered, “But let’s just see.”

She scrolled down to find the paper for the previous day, and there was another headline.

“Woman Dies Waiting For Bus to Hallston”

This article had been borrowed from the Glovercroft Gazette. It told of Jenny Littrell who was waiting at a bus stop close to the docks in Glovercroft. The witnesses to this death had said that she must have had some sort of fit. She had been fine as she waited with the others. Suddenly, she started choking and grabbing her throat. She had convulsions and died right there at the bus stop.

Shasta looked at Bug. Both girl’s eyes were wide as they remembered how Hansen had bought his ticket to Heaven (or wherever). “Keep going,” said Shasta.

Bug scrolled down some and, on the same day, found yet another headline.

“Dock Worker Dies, Family in Shock”

The sad story was about Donny Lane who had been a well-liked young man of twenty three. His family was shocked when the physicians had reported that he had died of a brain hemorrhage. There was also an “excessive amount of blood”.

“These can’t be a coincidence,” Bug said. It’s just too perfect if you know what to look for. Even the way they all died. It fits.”

“You’re right. It does fit. But what started it in motion? See if there’s anything else.”

Bug scrolled down and found no other deaths. There was, however, a different kind of headline.

The headline read “Professor Preston Monroe only passenger to disembark from Death Ship”.

“I think we found our guy,” Bug said.

The girls started reading the article.

CHAPTER 20

Bug & Shasta

A
s soon as they had read the article about Professor Monroe, Shasta and Bug knew that they were on to something. Evidently, Professor Preston Monroe, age thirty-two, had been the only person to disembark from the cargo ship
Tritoria
on that August day in nineteen sixty-eight. The ship had then immediately left port. One of the dock workers reportedly had spoken with a deck hand and found that more than fifteen crew members had died on the journey from a small island in the South Pacific. “The guy had been acting very nervous,” reported the dock worker. “He said that they must’ve had some kind of virus on the ship, and they wanted to get out of here real quick, so they wouldn’t spread it.” The article said that the professor was in poor health as well.

“So what does this mean?” Shasta asked.

“Okay,” started Bug. “We’ve got this professor getting off of a ship in Glovercroft. A ship that had a lot of crew members die during the journey. After the professor got off the ship, a dock worker died. That Donny Lane from the article. He died from a brain hemorrhage and his family was shocked, remember? Then, at the bus stop near the docks, Jenny Littrell has a fit and choked to death. That bus leaves for Hallston. Gerald Bell dies at the bus stop in Hallston after greeting some man who just got off the bus that came from Glovercroft. You with me so far?”

Shasta narrowed her eyes and tried to follow the trail. She nodded, “Go on”.

“So Gerald Bell dies at the bus stop, but his car runs out of gas down on Route 68. How did his car get there? Whoever was in the car walked down Route 68 and ran into the vagrant man. That guy dies, and the trail ends.”

Shasta was still trying to piece it all together. “So if I’m following you correctly, you’re saying that Professor Monroe got off the ship in Glovercroft – Donny Lane dies. Waited for the bus to Hallston – Jenny Litrell dies. Got off the bus in Hallston – Gerald Bell dies. Stole Mr. Bell’s car and drove it till it ran out of gas. Then he walked the rest of the way out of town where he encountered the last guy who also dies. Right?”

Bug nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Okay, I’ve got that part, but how does that get us here today? How does that connect with what’s happening now?”

Bug explained, “Well, if my theory is correct, I think that Professor Monroe had something with him. I think he knew it was bad, and he wanted to get as far out of town as he could and bury it. And I think Hunter and Eli unburied it. It’s a super theory, and I know I’m right. Want to know why?” Her eyes were twinkling.

Shasta smiled despite the seriousness of the matter. “Yes, please.”

“Mr. Mystery Man that died outside the city limits in nineteen sixty-eight was found at marker post 143. That’s where Meadowview Acres is. The town has grown since nineteen sixty-eight. It used to stop way up around where Main Street hits Olive. But Hallston’s been built up a lot, the new high school, more houses and stores. Hallston has expanded. Back then, this guy was way out of town. The guy probably thought that it’d be buried forever, but he didn’t foresee the town growing so much. Then Oakwood Homes decides to build more houses and, POOF, thar she blows!”

Bug sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. She felt confident that her theory was right.

“That makes a lot of sense. So to find out what he buried, we need to do a little investigating on this Professor Preston Monroe and find out what he was working on and where that ship had come in from. But that was so long ago.” She furrowed her brow thinking. “Hey, you don’t think we could find him, do you? He would be in his seventies now, but he might be living around here somewhere.”