by Donna Doyle
Miss Armello would know what to do. And she wouldn’t yell at him or ground him. He turned left.
3
Help from Miss Armello
Kelly Armello had loved Halloween when she was a young child and trick-or-treating was a fashion show of little two-legged pumpkins and princesses, Woody, and Buzz from Toy Story. But that was before the innocence of the occasion was taken over by grotesque, macabre costumes that seemed more likely to celebrate serial killers of the silver screen than the playful characters with which she’d grown up. Keeping a healthy balance between the holiday and the endearing nature of childhood was something that took a great deal of thought when she was planning programming at the library, but when Kelly committed herself to something, she put her all into it.
The library had been decorated in orange and black since the beginning of October. Plastic pumpkins were everywhere. The circulation desk was decorated with a string of black cat lights. At the end of every shelving unit there was a cut-out figure of a smiling witch, a cheerful ghost, a goofy Frankenstein, a grinning vampire, and a werewolf so furry that he looked like he was up for adoption from an animal shelter. Of course, she included Maleficent, Ursula, and other Disney villains so that wherever patrons went in search of a book, they were welcomed by a Halloween character who had earned his or her—or its—place in the pantheon. Upstairs in the children’s corner, the characters were even more benign; a poster of Ariel was glued to the door and inside, the youngest patrons were greeted by representations of Peppa Pig, a stuffed unicorn, Belle, and Mulan.
On the glass door of the library was a large drawing of a light bulb to show that the library was taking part in trick-or-treat. In case anyone was unsure of their welcome, there was a sign in front of the doors saying, “Enter if you dare—candy ahead!”
The children who were familiar with the library and its programs went in eagerly to be greeted by Miss Kelly, who marveled at their costumes, tried to guess who they were, and handed out candy from a giant bowl that seemed as if it would never run out of candy. Miss Carmela, who was dressed (appropriately, the parents thought) as a witch, stood at the desk as if she dared anyone to ask to check out a book.
Adult patrons leery of the invasion of children had already left the library, preferring to return when it was less occupied by noisy youngsters. This was the night for the children and Miss Kelly made sure that the library gave out the best candy of all the businesses in town. She paid for it herself so that no one could balk at the expense; the library building was owned by the borough, but Kelly Armello wasn’t going to be reduced to handing out cheap little lollipops just to please the library board, even if Mrs. Stark, the board president, thought she should do so.
One group of ballet dancers and princesses had just left when Kelly noticed that Darth Vader was making a solo entrance. She smiled. She wasn’t surprised that Lucas Krymanski was out trick-or-treating, even though he had told her he wasn’t allowed. He had helped her with the decorating as part of his community service hours, and tomorrow, he’d be helping her to take everything down.
“Lucas,” she greeted him. “Have some candy.”
Lucas shook his head and took off the mask. “Miss Armello, can you come with me?”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Lucas looked shaken and it wasn’t like him to be ill-at-ease. He was a happy-go-lucky sort of a kid who reminded her of Huckleberry Finn; a little rough around the edges, but with a good heart.
“I need you to come,” he said, a pleading note in his voice.
Was something wrong at home? She knew that, while the Krymanskis were notorious for being involved in everything from pranks to traffic violations to more serious offenses, Tia Krymanski, who had married into the family, was a strict mother. She wasn’t one to allow her offspring to run wild. But that didn’t mean that something wasn’t wrong.
“Carmela, I’m going to go with Lucas. You can handle things?”
Carmela Dixon glared at Lucas. “You want me to hand out candy and wait on patrons?” she demanded. Carmela was the library assistant, not the director, and having to take orders from a young woman half her age rankled.
“Yes,” Kelly said calmly. “I don’t think you’ll have many patrons tonight, and there’s plenty of candy. I’m sure some of the parents will write letters to the board to thank us for welcoming the kids and handing out candy.” That last remark was a reminder to Carmela not to be rude to the children or someone might complain.
“I’ll lock up,” Carmela said.
“It’s not eight-thirty yet,” Kelly said. “I’ll be back before then.”
Carmela’s gaze swept over Lucas. He was a Krymanski, her expression said. Dealing with a Krymanski could take the rest of the night.
“But if I’m not,” Kelly sighed, “then yes, you may lock up.”
Kelly pulled on her shawl and followed Lucas out of the library. The streets were still occupied by characters in costume in search of candy. Kelly hoped that Carmela wouldn’t be too unfriendly to the children.
“Lucas, where are we going?” she asked. Lucas had simply begun walking fast, dodging the throngs of trick-or-treaters as if he were in a hurry to get to his destination.
“The alley,” he said.
“Lucas, what’s wrong? Why are we going—what alley?”
“The one off Roosevelt Avenue.”
“Daffodil Alley,” Kelly said automatically. Five years ago, in an attempt to give every address a name, the borough council had named all of the alleys after flowers. No one bothered to refer to the alleys by their names, however, and Daffodil Alley remained the alley off Roosevelt Avenue.
Kelly was tall and she jogged daily, but she was having a hard time keeping up with Lucas, who was walking as if he had winged feet. She had never seen him like this, and she wondered what was so dire that he had asked her to leave the library and come with him. Lucas wasn’t one inclined for theatrics. It was possible that he was planning a Halloween prank, but she doubted that. Whatever his reasons for getting her, he wasn’t enjoying this.
Finally, they reached Daffodil Alley.
“It’s pretty dark,” Lucas said, taking out his cell phone so that they had light.
It occurred to Kelly that there wasn’t much to conjure an impression of daffodils in the alley. All she could see was the outline of trash cans put out for the next day’s garbage collection. The alley bore an aura of neglect, as if the back lots of the businesses needn’t bother trying to keep up appearances because there was no one here who was likely to notice.
“Over there,” Lucas gestured with his phone.
“Over where—how can you see anything?”
Lucas led her to the back lot of one of the businesses that was closed for the night. “Here,” he said, kneeling down.
“What is it?”
“It’s a garbage bag. There’s a body in it.”
His voice broke. He was fourteen, but this wasn’t one of the signs of puberty. It was apparent that Lucas was upset. As anyone would be if they thought there was a body inside a garbage bag. But Kelly doubted that what Lucas said was true.
Someone with a macabre sense of humor had likely stuffed a dummy with newspaper, dressed it in clothing, and put it in a garbage bag to scare the kids into summoning the police. It was a joke. A joke in poor taste, to be sure, and not one that would make the police happy.
Lucas was unfastening the opening of the garbage bag. Gently, he lowered the flaps and lifted his cell phone to show a Princess Leia mask.
“I tried to find a pulse,” Lucas said. “There isn’t one. But she’s still warm.”
“Lucas . . .”
He wasn’t trying to trick her, she knew that. Lucas had a sense of humor and his caper throwing eggs at the mayor’s house proved that he didn’t have the best sense of boundaries. He was genuinely bothered by what he’d found.
Kelly hoped that this was merely a prank that he’d fallen for. Gingerly, she reached into the garbage bag and let out a
scream when she touched a body part that was definitely not made out of newspaper.
“Lucas,” she whispered, “we have to get the police.”
Even if they were wrong, Kelly thought. Even if, somehow, this was a joke, she and Lucas couldn’t go any further in trying to figure it out. It was better to risk the derision of a policeman than to take a chance on meddling with a crime scene.
She stood up. Lucas followed her example. “I’ll call 9-1-1,” Kelly said.
“No one will be at the station,” he said. “They’re all out patrolling to keep an eye on the trick-or-treaters.”
He was right. A call to the 9-1-1 dispatcher with the minimal information at hand was not going to send a squad car rushing to Daffodil Alley. If she sent Lucas to the police station to wait, it could take several hours before anyone responded.
“I suppose our best bet is to start walking and flag down an officer when we see a police car,” she said.
“I know. It doesn’t feel right to leave her like this,” he said awkwardly, uncomfortable with feelings that had too many nuances for a teenage boy to understand.
Kelly patted him on the arm. “I know. But neither one of us is going to want to stay here.”
Lucas swallowed. “I can stay if you want me too,” he offered.
She could have hugged him for the kindness that prompted the offer, knowing that he felt badly for the dead girl, whoever she was, because she was cast aside in an alley, in a garbage bag. “No,” Kelly said. “I think we’ll both go together to find an officer. She’s—no one is likely to disturb her.” She was past disturbing, whoever she was, Kelly thought.
4
Officer Kennedy Arrives
Lucas bent back down and once again, fastened the drawstrings so that the bag was closed. As they made their way down the alley, he told her about being in the alley when he heard a car turn in.
“Something dropped,” he said. “I didn’t know what it was. Then the car drove down the alley, this way. I hid in the corner of the lot so no one would see me. Then I went down and I—I found her. I didn’t know what it was,” he said again.
‘Maybe it’s . . . maybe there’s an explanation,” Kelly said, trying to comfort him and knowing that, unless they were wildly off base, there was no explanation that could account for a body in a garbage bag. Why was she wearing a Princess Leia mask? What grotesque Halloween event could have led to such a horrible end?
They emerged from the alley onto Roosevelt Avenue. The sidewalks, still crowded, suddenly no longer seemed cheerful and benign to Kelly. Masks hid faces and in the darkness of the night, there was no assurance that here, among these parents and children and people celebrating the Halloween holiday, there wasn’t someone who had committed a terrible deed.
“There!” Lucas pointed. “A police car just turned onto the street.”
Inside the squad car, Troy Kennedy was traveling at something just above zero miles per hour, watching carefully to avoid hitting an overzealous child who might dart across the street in search of the next house where a light indicated that trick-or-treaters were welcome. The rain that threatened seemed to be holding off, so at least he didn’t need his windshield wipers. It was seven-thirty. One more hour, and then trick-or-treating was over and the streets would be empty again and he could—
Troy hit his brakes and swore. Right in front of him, right in the middle of the street, a grown woman had stepped in front of the squad car. She had on enormous glasses, her hair was knotted up in a bun, and she was dressed like an old lady. He rolled down the window.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Be careful! There’s a crosswalk, you know.”
Undaunted, the woman approached the car. There was a young boy at her side, kind of scrawny looking, a Darth Vader mask on top of his head.
“Officer, we need your help,” the woman said. Seen up close, Troy realized that she was dressed as an old woman, but she was actually young; the gray hair, a wig. “There’s a body in a garbage bag at the end of Daffodil Alley.”
“What kind of joke is this?” he demanded impatiently. It was bad enough when kids thought it would be funny to send the police on a wild goose chase, but adults ought to know better.
“It’s not a joke,” she said. “I’m Kelly Armello; I’m the librarian. I’m not in the habit of making up stories. Will you come?”
Troy sighed. “Lady, I’m supposed to be looking after the trick-or-treaters.”
“There’s a dead body in the alley,” she retorted. “Are you going to do something about it or not?”
Of course, he was going to do something about it, Troy thought. He was going to cite her as soon as he checked out her crazy story. Blocking a police car was just the start of the charges he’d cite her for.
The officer pulled the car over to the side of the street. “Get in the back seat,” he said. He doubted that either one of them was a threat, but he wasn’t going to take a chance on some kind of mischief taking place that would leave him looking like a fool.
“Which end of Daffodil Alley?” he asked.
“The other end,” Lucas spoke up.
“Not the Roosevelt Avenue end,” Kelly clarified.
Troy didn’t put on his lights or the siren. If this was a prank, he wasn’t going to make a complete jackass of himself. For all he knew, there was a gang of people waiting in the alley ready to take a photo that would be posted on Facebook.
He turned into the alley at the librarian’s direction.
“Here,” Lucas said. “Be careful—she’s in the corner. If you park here, you won’t—you won’t hit her.”
Troy got out of the car, flashlight in hand, and let the librarian and Lucas out of the back seat. Lucas led the way.
“It’s—she’s there,” he pointed. Troy followed Lucas’s finger with his flashlight and saw the garbage bag, far enough away from the edge of the alley so that it wouldn’t be in the way of any car driving through, but not near the trash cans at the corner of each back lot.
Troy had questions to ask if it was indeed a body, but he’d wait until he found out for sure. He bent down and pressed his hands against the outline of the contents within the bag.
“Is this where you found it?” he asked.
“No, she was in the street. I pulled her here so she wouldn’t get hit by a car.”
Lucas inched closer. “Whoever dropped her in the alley just left her there.”
His indignation sounded genuine to Troy. He opened the garbage bag with deft, economical movements. His flashlight revealed a face hidden by a Princess Leia mask.
For an instant, Troy felt a rise of temper as he looked over his shoulder at Lucas, with a Darth Vader mask atop his head.
“She doesn’t have a pulse,” Lucas said.
Troy turned his attention back to the garbage bag and placed his fingers against her neck. Nothing.
He lifted the mask with one hand, using his other to hold the flashlight. He saw a young girl with bruises on her neck. There was the other evidence as well, but it would be up to the coroner to confirm those indications and give them a name. Troy left the girl where she was.
“Get back in the car,” he told Kelly and Lucas, opening the door. “I’m radioing for help.”
“Do we have to stay?” Lucas wanted to know.
“You’re witnesses. You’re the one who found the body,” Troy said. “Yes, you have to stay.”
Lucas was shivering, not only because the wind had shifted with the drop in temperature, and the rain that had threatened all evening had begun to fall, at first just a drop or two, but then more.
Troy swore and pulled the garbage bag up so that the body inside was completely covered. “Get in the car,” he ordered.
Kelly was relieved to do as he ordered, Lucas less so. His chances of getting home before his mother were diminishing rapidly. And yet, fearful as he was of her reaction when she knew that he had disobeyed her orders to stay home, he wanted to be home, inside, with the lights on, the television on
, the twins making noise, Marissa doing her homework at the kitchen table and telling him to turn the TV down because she was trying to study, Carrie and Mom talking about stuff that was boring. He’d rather be home, grounded, than out here in this dark alley, just a few feet away from a dead body in a garbage bag.
They heard Officer Kennedy giving terse instructions over the radio. It seemed like the person on the other end had a lot of questions. Lucas shivered. It was like on TV, sort of, but the person was real. She had been dressed like Princess Leia for Halloween and now she was dead.
“The ambulance will be coming,” Officer Kennedy said. “After it gets here, I’ll need to take you two to the station.”
“Lucas will need to call his mother,” Kelly said.
Troy nodded. “Where is she?”
“She’s working,” Lucas said. His teeth were chattering. Troy took off his jacket and handed it to Lucas, who stared at it as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Kelly spread it over him so that it covered him. Troy got into the car and shut the door, then turned the heat up higher.
“Where does she work?”
“The Corner Café, but she doesn’t get off until 9:30,” Lucas said.
“It’s ten o’clock,” Troy told him.
Lucas stared. How could it possibly be so late? It had just been a short time ago that he’d entered the alley to wait for Chris and Tyler.
“I’ll call her, Lucas,” Kelly said, knowing that Lucas was frightened and uncertain and unsure of what to do next. She had Mrs. Krymanski’s number in her contacts; the two had communicated often enough over Lucas’s community service schedule.
Mrs. Krymanski answered right away. She always sounded as if she were angry. “Yes? Is he still at the library?”
“Mrs. Krymanski, no, he’s—we’re—there’s been an—” suddenly Kelly was speechless.
