Murder of a Bookstore Babe

As Skye opened all the cupboards, refrigerators, and even the ovens, she pondered the fact that the boy had disappeared between the time his teacher had walked her class to the gym and when Todd had taken roll call. She was sure that was significant, but why?

Still no sign of the ten-year-old anywhere, and she nibbled her thumbnail. Was there anywhere else he could be in here? Her gazed scanned the walls, stopping at a square that looked a little like a boarded-up window. She stepped over to it and tapped.

It was definitely hollow on the other side. She examined the painted plywood section, trying to figure out what it could be. Finally, she remembered that there was a basement under the old part of the school that was used for storage. This must be a dumbwaiter they used to transport supplies to and from the kitchen.

Putting both palms on the wood, Skye pushed, and the panel slid up smoothly. Squeezed inside was Arnold Underwood, and he wasn’t moving. She swallowed a cry, reaching out to touch the boy’s hand to check for a pulse.

Arnold’s eyes popped open, and he screamed. He was big for his age, barely fitting in the small compartment, but he backed up as far as he could get against the rear wall, then crouched there, panting.

“Arnold, it’s Ms. Denison. Remember, I came into your class and talked about making friends. We did little plays about different situations.”

He took a gulping breath and nodded. He’d had a rough life. His parents were poor and rented an old run-down house not too far from Skye’s family farm. They’d moved there from Joliet when Arnold was eight, and he’d had a hard time fitting into the already established pecking order of his second-grade class. The kids in Scumble River, like their parents, were slow to warm up to newcomers.

“Can you get out by yourself?”

He nodded again and scooted to the edge but stopped. “Am I in trouble?”

“I don’t know.” She was unsure what Caroline would do and unwilling to lie to the boy. “But I’ll try to help you. Why did you hide?”

He sat with his feet dangling over the edge and mumbled, “Because.”

“Was someone mean to you?” Skye wasn’t sure what to do. They hadn’t covered a boy hiding in a dumbwaiter in her school-psychology training, and she doubted it was in the Best Practices manual.

A tear ran down his cheek, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Skye felt her throat close. She had to do something. Her mind raced, and she suddenly put together the pieces of the puzzle. “Is it because today is weighing and measuring day in gym?”

Arnold looked at her as if she had just read his mind. “How did you know?”

“I hated that day when I was in school, too.” Skye touched his hand. “Do they still yell out how much you weigh so everyone hears it?”

He nodded without looking at her and began picking at a scab on his arm.

“I used to pretend to be sick that day,” Skye told him, then had another thought. “Is Mr. Grind cool about the whole thing? My teacher was pretty horrible. She always made a nasty comment if she thought anyone weighed too much.”

“He’s not cool at all. He’s mean,” Arnold blurted out. “He calls me Porky and makes pig noises.”

“I’m so sorry.” Skye helped him out of the dumbwaiter. “He’s very wrong to do that.” As she escorted the boy to the office she said, “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure you aren’t in trouble for this.”

Skye sat in Caroline’s office. It was nearly eleven, and the situation was finally resolved. Arnold had been reassured, his teacher had been briefed, and he had returned to the classroom.

Now Skye was filling in the principal. “I really miss our last PE teacher. She was so great with the kids. I’ve explained to Todd on numerous occasions that teasing children about their appearance and lack of athletic prowess is a form of abuse. He insists that it toughens them up for real life.”

“And you disagree?” Caroline spoke thoughtfully from her seat behind the desk.

“Yes.” Skye leaned forward, intent on convincing the principal. “Most people can get past a bad experience, but they never get over it. Humiliation like this follows them the rest of their lives.”

“Judging from today’s incident, not to mention my thirty-eight years in education as both a teacher and a principal, I’d say you’re correct.” Caroline’s expression was hard to read. “Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Do you really want my suggestion?” Skye asked, making sure the principal wasn’t using the royal we. She’d gotten stung too many times while trying to be helpful not to be cautious.

“Yes.” Caroline’s expression was anything but happy. “I’m distressed to admit that I’m not sure how to deal with Mr. Grind. This is his second year with us, and my usual methods don’t seem to be working.”