The Academy (Moving In Series Book 6) (16 page)

“I’m Detective Skillings,” the older woman said, offering her hand.

He shook it.

“How are you feeling, Herman?” the detective asked, sitting down in a small, plastic chair which looked far too slight to hold up her weight.

“Terrible,” Herman replied.

“Fair enough,” Skillings said.

“Do you need me to stay, Herman?” Lisa asked.

He shook his head. “Could you call Mrs. Alcott, though?”

“Absolutely,” Lisa said. She smiled and left the room.

Detective Skillings looked at him for a moment. In a surprisingly gentle voice, she asked, “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Herman thought about it and realized he couldn’t. “No. I don’t.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“I was standing outside of the Mather House,” Herman said.

“You were found inside of it,” she said. “Tell me, Herman, why were you there?”

Herman was a terrible liar. His face reddened, and he stuttered briefly as he tried to answer. Detective Skillings watched him patiently and finally, Herman sighed.

“I was going to go in and look for something,” he said.

“What?”

He didn’t even bother trying to lie. “A silver fob.”

She looked at him, confused. “A fob?”

“Yeah,” Herman said. “A sort of charm, I guess, for a pocket watch’s chain.”

“How did you know it was there?” the detective asked.

Herman didn’t want to tell her the truth, and he couldn’t lie. So he didn’t say anything at all.

“Herman,” she said, “how did you know?”

He shrugged.

She looked at him, and Herman turned his face away from her. He heard her stand up, leave the room, and come back in a moment later.

“Herman,” she said.

He looked at her and was surprised to see a man with her. He was taller than the detective, broad shouldered and bald. Thin, vivid scars stood out on his scalp.

The man folded his arms over his chest and said pleasantly, “Hello Herman, my name’s Brian.”

“Hi,” Herman said. “Are you a police officer too?”

Brian shook his head. “I am working with the detective right now, though. I have a question for you, if that’s alright?”

Herman shrugged.

“Herman, did you go to the Mather House because someone asked you to?” Brian said.

Herman swallowed nervously and said, “Yes.”

“You went in to get the fob,” Brian said, “because someone wanted it?”

Herman nodded.

“Did Weiss tell you to bring the fob to him?” Brian asked.

Herman’s eyes widened, and he stared at Brian. “How did you know about Mr. Weiss?”

“I have seen him on the campus,” Brian said. “And he would be the only one to send you on an errand like that.”

“He’s really nice,” Herman said hurriedly. “If he had known about what could happen, he wouldn’t have sent me.”

“Really?” Brian said skeptically. “Have you spoken to him since it occurred?”

“No,” Herman said, “and I don’t even know what happened.”

“You were attacked,” Detective Skillings said. “You were beaten, and someone pulled three of your teeth out. Brian was passing by and heard you screaming.”

“Mr. Nathaniel Weiss is not a good man,” Brian said coldly. “Nor is he a nice man, unless he needs to be. You were a means to an end.”

Herman’s face grew hot, and he looked away. “He’s nice to me.”

“And you’ve helped him before, haven’t you?” Detective Skillings asked.

Herman nodded.

“Did you say any other names for him?” Brian said.

“Yes,” Herman replied.

“Did you say,” and Brian hesitated before he continued. “Did you say the name, Charlie Roy?”

Again Herman nodded. The three of them went silent, the various sounds of the ER filling the room.

Finally, Herman asked, “Are you going to tell my parents?”

“No,” Detective Skillings said. “They may notice, however, when the statement from their medical insurance shows up in the mail.”

“They won’t notice,” Herman said sadly, then thought,
They’re too drunk to even open the mail most days.

“Herman,” Brian said. “Did you move any objects for Mr. Weiss?”

“Yeah,” Herman said. “A trophy and a book. I left them on the first floor of Adrienne Hall, in a doorway.”

“Nothing else?” Brian asked.

Herman shook his head.

Brian turned to the detective and said, “Beth, I’m going to go back to my hotel. I need to read up a little on the Academy. I need to see if there were any other instances like these.”

“Sure,” Detective Skillings said. “I have your number.”

“Herman,” Brian said, facing him. “If the detective gives you my number, will you call or text me if you remember anything else?”

“Yes,” Herman said, “I will.”

“Good,” Brian said. He nodded to each of them and then left the room.

Herman was alone with the detective. She smiled reassuringly at him and said, “I’ll wait until Mrs. Alcott gets here. And no, I won’t tell her how it happened. I’ll leave that to you.”

“Thanks,” Herman said. He closed his eyes, listened to the steady beep of the medical machinery, and waited for Mrs. Alcott to arrive.

Chapter 41: Researching History

At a little past two in the morning, Brian pushed his chair away from the table, stood up, and stretched. For over an hour, he had been reading about ghosts, the way they increased their power, and what Weiss might be able to do with it.

He’ll be able to bring himself back,
Brian thought tiredly.
Permanent possession of someone. Someone impressionable. Someone willing to help.

Herman,
Brian thought, sighing and rubbing his eyes.
He’ll want Herman, and the boy wants to help. The boy doesn’t seem to care much for his parents either.

Then there’s the whole issue of how long Weiss has been gathering the dead around him,
Brian reminded himself. He had spent a good part of the evening digging through the internet, searching for anything about the Academy and strange occurrences.

He had found them, too, 1980 and 1981. Brian glanced at the laptop.

Lots of trouble then,
he thought. Beatings, a few accidental deaths. A fire. And 1980 was the year the library had been opened. The old Weiss home.

Did someone find something?
Brian wondered, walking over to the bureau. He picked up a bottle of water, took the cap off, and took a long drink. He was tired.
I need to sleep.

Images of Charlie flickered past his mind’s eye, and Brian sighed as he put the water down. He walked over to the bed, sat down, and pulled off his shoes. Once more, his gaze was drawn to the laptop, to the article he had left up.

It was from
The Northfield Bulletin
, the city’s local paper. The story was about the Academy. The library and the new director, Bradley Marion, who had previously worked at the Otis Library downtown.

Is he still alive?
Brian wondered, undressing.
Was he the one who was the cause of the trouble? Did he even know it?

Brian got up, went to the air conditioner, and turned it on, setting it at sixty-five. He rubbed the back of his head.

Should I look for him now? There has to be some record of him.

No,
Brian told himself, shaking his head.
Go to bed. Get some sleep. Go at it in the morning.

Brian nodded, pulled the blankets and sheet down, climbed in, and got comfortable. He turned out the light, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep.

It wouldn’t come.

He remembered Charlie. He remembered Charlie’s funeral. Brian could picture the casket, white with silver fittings and brackets for the handles. The lid had been closed, of course. Neither his mother nor his father had wanted to see their son in a box. Brian hadn’t wanted to see his brother in it either.

Sadness welled up inside him at the memory of the incident. He pictured the police sergeant and the detective, the two men accompanied by the minister. Brian’s father had become enraged, foaming at the mouth and screaming. His mother had fainted.

Brian opened his eyes, turned the light back on, and went to the computer.

Let’s see if Bradley Marion is still alive,
Brian thought.
I don’t think I’ll sleep much tonight.

The keys of the laptop clicked loudly in the room as Brian began to search for the librarian.

Chapter 42: The Past Returns

Bradley Marion lived in Nutmeg Pavilion, an advanced-care nursing facility. He was fortunate, having a room to himself, but it was small comfort most days. There had been no room for his books, and he missed them; far more than his deceased wife, or his deceased mistress. Or even his children who had convinced the State of Connecticut that it would be in Bradley’s best interest to be placed in Nutmeg, to begin with.

Bradley chuckled.

And how well did that work out?
he thought.

He had asked his son and daughter the same question many times. When he had heard about their efforts from a neighbor who worked in the court system, Bradley had made plans of his own. He knew his children wanted the house. The grand Victorian was only a few minutes from Mohegan Sun and Foxwood casinos, and it sat on four acres of land.

With the help of a lawyer, Bradley had crafted a finely-tuned living will. It made certain that should he be placed in an assisted living facility, the property would be donated to Northfield Free Academy. Including all of his belongings as well.

Ah, the outrage,
Bradley thought, smiling.
Oh, how offended they had been.

He pulled his blanket tighter around him. At eighty-six years of age, he was not in the best of health, and in spite of the room’s warmth, Bradley was still cold.

Someone knocked at his door, and he looked over. One of the nurse’s aides stood in the doorway.

“Hello, Mr. Marion,” the woman said, her voice heavily accented. Elise was from South Africa, an exceptional worker, and by far one of the kindest people he had ever had the pleasure to meet.

“Ah, Ms. Elise,” Bradley said happily. “How are you?”

“Very good,” she said, stepping in. “There is a man here who would like to speak with you.”

Bradley frowned. He never had any visitors outside of his grandson. And Jonathan would have walked right in without stopping at the nurse’s station. “Who is it?”

“He said his name is Brian Roy,” Elise said, “and he says he would like to speak to you about Northfield Free Academy.”

“Please ask him to come back another day,” Bradley said, shaking his head. “I’ve no desire to meet with him. I’m certain it is some ruse from my children.”

“Alright,” Elise said, smiling. “I’ll be back shortly with fresh coffee.”

“Excellent,” he said. She left the room, and Bradley returned to the window. He looked out at the large koi pond in the courtyard below.

“Mr. Marion,” Elise said from behind him.

Surprised, Bradley turned around. “Yes?”

“He’s insistent,” Elise said apologetically. “He asked me to tell you he wishes to speak with you about the Weiss Library and Nathaniel Weiss.”

“Oh,” Bradley said, sitting down in his easy chair. “Oh. Are you certain he said Weiss?”

She nodded.

“Please, send him in, then,” Bradly said softly. “And would you bring two coffees?”

“Yes,” Elise said. She hesitated at the door and said, “Are you sure you want to see him, Mr. Bradley?”

He smiled at her. “Yes. Yes, Elise. Thank you.”

She nodded and left the room. A moment later, she returned with a middle-aged man who looked as though he had seen better days. The man’s eyes were dark with lack of sleep, and he thanked Elise.

When she had left the room, the stranger advanced into the room and offered his hand to Bradley.

Bradley shook it. “Please, sit down, Mr. Roy.”

“Brian, please,” the man said.

“Brian,” Bradley said. “You may certainly call me Bradley.”

“Thank you,” Brian said, taking a seat in the room’s other chair. He adjusted it slightly so he could face Bradley.

“You mentioned Mr. Weiss,” Bradley said, his voice suddenly rough.

Brian nodded. “I did.”

“Why?”

“He’s back,” Brian said.

Bradley shook his head. “How? I hid the damned safe? I put it into a wall, for Christ’s sake!”

“There was an accident at the school,” Brian said. “Someone found it. Someone opened it. You left the key with it.”

Bradley nodded. “I did. I couldn’t keep the key with me. I was afraid I might have to add something to the safe someday. So I put the key with it.

“Well,” Bradley said, sighing, “tell me what’s going on.”

Brian spoke softly, pausing only once when Elise brought the coffee in. When he finally finished, Bradley was fully aware of what had occurred at the Academy.

“Tell me, Brian,” Bradley said after a moment, “what is it you wish to know from me.”

“Where are the other items which were originally in the safe?” Brian asked.

Bradley looked at him in surprise. “How do you know of them?”

“I spoke with Ernest,” Brian said.

“Ernest who?”

“Ernest Weiss,” Brian replied.

Bradley shook his head. “Ernest Weiss is dead. And he has been for a very long time.”

“I know,” Brian said. “I went and spoke to him at his grave.”

Bradley chuckled and then saw Brian hadn’t tried to be funny. The man was serious.

“How?” Bradley asked, unable to keep scorn out of his voice. “Are you a medium?”

“No,” Brian said. “But I do see the dead. And I can speak with them, too. Ernest told me about the items in the safe. About locking his father’s ghost in it. I did some research last night. You were the Academy’s first librarian; 1980 and 1981, there were some bad events which occurred.”

Bradley looked at Brian, nodded and said, “Yes. They weigh heavily upon me. I’m to blame, after all.”

Brian looked at him and waited for Bradley to continue.