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Overview
Generations have sat in the classrooms of St. Francis Academy, played on its grounds, cheered for its sports teams and applauded its plays. But all that is about to end as two shadowy figures make their way through the darkened hallways on a late-night mission that will force the school to close forever. When six seniors uncover the plot, they take matters into their own hands. As the six friends work to solve a mystery, they soon find themselves in jeopardy, battling a formidable stranger who will stop at nothing to get what he wants, including murder. Will unexpected help from an old man and a former student who died 73 years ago be enough, or is it too late for the friends and for St. Francis Academy?
In this suspenseful tale, a group of students determined to save their beloved school soon discover that when all seems lost, hope arrives in surprising ways.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781491742679 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 11/20/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 164 |
| File size: | 207 KB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Stranger in the Night
By Anthony McLevey
iUniverse
Copyright © 2014 Anthony McLeveyAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-4269-3
CHAPTER 1
St. Francis Academy Stony Brook, Long Island, 1998
Andrew flashed Julie a smile as they sang the last note of "Silent Night" in four-part harmony as they stood in the tunnel leading to the back of Newman Hall.
"Not bad for a jock," Sarah said to Mike.
"It's seven o'clock!" shouted Joe, looking at his watch. "We're five minutes late."
"We'd better get back before Mrs. Lewis has a fit," said Maya.
"You mean before she has another fit," added Julie.
Sarah hurried from the tunnel with the others but not before snatching the candle that had burned at their feet as they sang.
"We should sing at open mic night at the diner!" said Andrew.
"Are you sure it's seven o'clock?" asked Mike.
They ran toward Newman Hall, catching snowflakes on outstretched tongues along the way. As they neared the well-lit steps, Joe jumped on Andrew's back, throwing him into a snowbank.
Once inside, snow was quickly brushed from boots and jackets before the six hurried down the hallway under the gaze of former students and teachers staring from the class pictures hung along the paneled walls.
Mike pulled open the large wooden door and stepped aside for the others to enter.
Andrew smiled. "What a relief! They haven't started yet."
Mrs. Baxter stood in front of the stage, directing every movement of the students rehearsing a Christmas play. Along the far wall, other students were helping Mrs. Swinton, the math teacher, to hang Christmas garland intertwined with colored lights and fake snow.
They peeled off their jackets as they navigated their way toward the risers in the far corner at the back of the hall where Mrs. Lewis was directing a choir of junior students.
"Louder!" cried Mrs. Lewis as her body shook in time with the music. "Louder! Remember your breathing! Big breaths! Force the air out!"
"Please tell me we don't have to go through this," groaned Mike.
"Thank you, juniors," said Mrs. Lewis as she rearranged the sheet music on her music stand. "That was good, but for heaven's sake, don't forget your breathing on bar seventeen, and remember the dynamics. Unless you have another practice, I'll see you in class tomorrow. Now, I want my senior men's chorus, please."
Mrs. Lewis turned and visually rounded up the twelve members of the senior men's chorus. Mike and Joe felt the unmistakable command in her eyes as she looked at them in turn.
"Welcome, gentlemen. Quickly, take your places. We'll work until eight o'clock and then call it a night. Everyone else, if you are not in the senior men's chorus, please go home or take a seat in the audience."
"This concert is going to be awesome," whispered Sarah as she took a seat with Maya and Julie in the audience near the choir. "What are you doing for Christmas, Julie?"
"My mom's sister is visiting from Boston, and she'll be staying with us."
Maya said, "Julie, is your uncle on the board of trustees for the school?"
"Yes, and he's in the library right now meeting with the board of trustees and Principal Wallace."
"Does your uncle think the show will raise enough money?" asked Sarah.
"He said it will. He told Mom that all five hundred tickets were sold. Mom said she heard people are planning to travel from the city and stay for the weekend."
* * *
Julie's uncle, Bob Matthews, stood at the end of the table and forced a faint smile at the concerned faces. An outgoing man in his midforties, Bob Matthews felt little of his usual enthusiasm.
"Thank you for coming," he began. "Everyone's busy, and it's not easy to find time to go to meetings so close to Christmas. I don't remember being so late putting the lights on my tree."
"Bob, do you have new information about the lawsuit?" asked Principal Wallace.
"Yes, I spoke briefly with our lawyer this evening. She's going to join us shortly to give an update. I thought it would be good for everyone to meet her and hear firsthand how things are going."
"Before we start, Bob, I have a question I'm sure is near and dear to the hearts of everyone here," said Andy Horwood.
"Of course, Andy. I want this to be a frank and open discussion. Please, ask your question."
"Where's the coffee?"
"Good idea," said Bob Matthews, pointing to the refreshment table near the window at the back of the library. "Let's grab a coffee and a few cookies before we start. Thanks, Joan, for setting everything up."
* * *
"Joe," pleaded Mrs. Lewis, "I want you to use your face when you sing. You can't sing with a poker face and expect the full range of sound you need to get the most out of this piece."
"I feel so foolish," said Joe.
"Look, Joe, drop your chin like this," said Mrs. Lewis, dropping her chin. A long, big, deep, almost mournful sound poured from her tiny frame, prompting a look of distress on Joe's face and muffled laughter from his friends.
Good grief, thought Joe. "Mrs. Lewis, I like to sing, and I like being in the choir, but I don't do dropped chins."
"Joe," said Mrs. Lewis, "girls love the deep, rich sound that comes out when the chin drops."
"You know, it's never too late to learn something new," said Joe.
"That's the spirit!" said Mrs. Lewis.
"If I work with Julie," continued Joe, "I bet I could master the art of the chin drop."
Mrs. Lewis turned to face Julie. "Julie, if you pull this off, we will be in your debt. Joe, be back in ten minutes."
"Looks like duty calls," said Julie as she rose from her seat.
"Okay, where were we?" asked Mrs. Lewis.
"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas," sang a helpful voice from the piano stool.
"Thank you, Andrew."
"Mrs. Lewis," called a voice approaching from the front of the hall.
"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"
"If you don't need some of these fine people in the audience, I would like to borrow them. We need help in the costume room and help to move sets."
"That's fine, Mr. Barnes. You have the pick of the crop."
"Okay, gang," said Mr. Barnes. "You two go to the costume room," he said, pointing to Maya and Sarah. "You four come with me to Mr. Hall's workshop. We need to bring the sets to the storage room backstage."
"I guess we won't get to see Joe dropping his chin." Sarah sighed. "I was so ready to practice my swooning technique."
"Are you kidding?" said Maya. "If he thinks girls like how he sounds when he drops his chin, he'll never get his chin back up."
* * *
"Okay. We're ready to start," said Bob Matthews. "I'll tell you what I know about the financial situation, and I'll let Ms. Shepherd give an update on the lawsuit. Meanwhile, Angela has been working with me on the finance committee and knows as much or more about this as I do. Feel free to jump in, Angela, if I leave anything out."
Bob Matthews cleared his throat and began to read the paper he held in his hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to tell you that we are on schedule with the new capital projects. The sports center, including the short track and the gym floor, are ideal for a facility this size. The architect made a few changes to the recital hall after consulting with an acoustical expert, but everything is on schedule. Construction of the science lab is well underway, and the new ventilation system we've ordered exceeds safety requirements.
"I'm pleased to report that the committee is confident the new facilities will exceed the expectations of all students and parents. We are projecting total enrollment next year of four hundred students. Our budgetary projections show that St. Francis will be in a strong financial position."
Bob Matthews took off his reading glasses and placed his report on the table. "This is the report I prepared two weeks ago for tonight's meeting. What a difference two weeks can make. I'm going to pass things over to Angela."
"Thanks, Bob. What a difference two days can make. Two days ago, I received a call from Deputy Fire Chief Will Cooper. Mr. Cooper told me he had received a written complaint that the fire safety features in the school are inadequate."
"The school is inspected every year," said Bill Barnes. "We've never had a problem, so how can it be inadequate?"
"I said the same thing to the deputy fire chief," said Angela. "He told me the complainant offered very specific information about where the school is in violation of the code and stated that if an accident were to happen, St. Francis would be subject to litigation."
"Angela," interrupted Susan Holloway. "Did the chief say who made the complaint?"
"He said it was from a law firm in Manhattan."
"From Manhattan!" repeated Principal Wallace. "What interest would a law firm in the city have in whether St. Francis met the requirements of the Stony Brook fire code?"
"I don't know, Stephen," replied Angela. "I've asked myself the same question."
"What is the name of the firm on the letterhead, and who signed the letter?" asked an old voice, impatient and crisp.
Angela said, "The firm is called Denton Blackmore, Mrs. Whitman, and the letter was signed by a paralegal."
"Never heard of it," Mrs. Whitman said, and she gave a snort. "I would be happy to have my lawyer look into it."
"Thank you, Mrs. Whitman," said Bob. "I'd like to make that offer to Lisa Shepherd when she joins us later."
Angela continued. "I met Deputy Fire Chief Cooper on Wednesday night when he came to the school to carry out an inspection of the items noted in the complainant's letter. He was very polite and seemed a little apologetic because he knows the school is inspected every year. He explained that the problems cited in the letter were related to little-known changes to the fire code made in 1975. He pointed out that the changes are rarely enforced in older buildings like St. Francis unless major renovations are undertaken."
"Good grief!" thundered Colin Ford, slapping his hand on the table. "Did he say we would have to make the changes?"
"Not while he was carrying out the inspection, but I received an e-mail from him yesterday that lists eight changes that must be made. He called me later and apologized and said he had no choice but to enforce the code. He agreed that St. Francis is a safe school if we use the safety protocols that are in place."
"So why can't we argue against making the changes based on our safety protocols?" asked Mildred House.
"I asked the same question, Mildred. He said that once the fire marshal receives a complaint, an investigation is carried out, and the fire marshal's office has no choice but to enforce the code, even for older buildings."
"Angela, you're making me nervous," said Principal Wallace.
"Wait, it gets worse," said Angela. "I sent the list of changes to the contractor looking after the construction of the new facilities. One of his employees prepared an estimate of what it would cost to bring the place up to code. To make the changes and comply with the code will cost a half million dollars!"
"Where are we going to find half a million dollars?" demanded Colin Ford.
"That's why we needed to meet tonight," continued Bob Matthews. "The deputy fire chief's e-mail states that these changes must be made within thirty days, or St. Francis must close its doors."
"May I remind everyone," said Mrs. Whitman, "that thirty days from now is two weeks after Christmas vacation?"
"Please, everyone. Please," said Angela appealing for calm. "The finance committee has a proposal we think might work. Back to you, Bob."
"Thanks, Angela. I've been speaking to the contractor, and he is willing to assign his crew to do the upgrading work during the Christmas break. However, the money we have been using for the new sports complex, the theater arts center, and the science lab must be redirected to the upgrades if St. Francis is to remain open for the rest of the school year."
Principal Wallace interjected, "Bob, without the new facilities, we won't be able to accommodate the new students we need to keep the school financially viable next year."
"Unless we raise an additional half a million dollars," wailed Mrs. Whitman.
Principal Wallace continued. "It sounds like the end of the road for St. Francis is in thirty days."
A knock on the library door was followed by a smiling face peering into the room. It provided a welcome distraction.
"Lisa," said Bob Matthews. He rose to his feet to greet the visitor. "Please, come in."
All eyes fell on the tall young woman as she shook hands with Bob. "Everyone, this is Ms. Lisa Shepherd, our legal counsel on the land issue."
"Hello. I'm sorry I'm late," said Lisa, acknowledging her welcome as she took the seat next to Bob Matthews.
"Not to worry," said Bob Matthews. "We were going over some other matters, but unless there are objections, we'll vote later on what to do about the safety issues. Let's move on to the next order of business, and that's to do with the land issue. Lisa, I'm handing it over to you."
"Thank you, Bob," said Lisa, who remained standing to address the group. She smoothed down the sides of her navy blue skirt and cleared her throat. "I'm afraid I have bad news."
"Bob, what do you say we grab more coffee and a few more cookies," interrupted Andy Horwood as he pushed back his chair.
"I'm with you on that one," agreed Bob. "Let's break for fifteen minutes."
* * *
"Listen, everyone!" said Mr. Barnes sternly to the students carrying the sets for the school play. "I don't want anyone getting lost or hurt while we carry the sets through the basement!"
"What is this stuff?" asked a student, puffing under the weight of the set he was helping to carry. "It's so heavy!"
"That, my boy," declared Mr. Barnes, "is real plywood! Feel it. Smell it. Taste it. Enjoy it while you can because it's getting more expensive by the day. Be careful with those! They were painted last night, and I don't want to see paint chips falling to the floor. If it's too heavy, leave it until someone can help you. If you can't lift it now, you will never get it up the stairs. Mr. Wilson, did I just see you nibble on that plywood?"
* * *
"Mrs. Woodman." Maya knocked on the open door. "We're here to help."
"I'm over here," replied a weary voice from a chair in the corner. "Thank you for coming to help. I'm afraid I'm not as energetic as I used to be, so I'm just having a little coffee break. It was difficult to know where to start, and it's still quite overwhelming. I don't know if I'll have everything organized for the show tomorrow night."
"We're here to help, Mrs. Woodman," said Sarah. "Others are coming to help after practice."
"The more the merrier," said Mrs. Woodman. "Would you like something to drink, girls? I've got hot chocolate, tea, coffee, milk and juice."
"I'd like hot chocolate," said Maya.
"Help yourself. There's lots on the table over there. I think there's even a box of cookies."
"Look, Maya, a book on the Olympics," said Sarah, grabbing a coffee table picture book from the top of a pile. "I bet you'll be in the Olympics someday."
"Where did all this come from?" Maya asked as she looked around the cluttered room filled with books, paintings, photographs, antique furniture, ornaments, and clothing. She held up a dress admiringly. "The costumes are beautiful!"
"They're incredible," said Sarah, holding a dress to her shoulders and twirling around. "Who made them, Mrs. Woodman?"
Mrs. Woodman bit into a chocolate chip cookie. "All the costumes were borrowed from Stage Fright Productions and its theater company. Now, where did I put that list?"
"It must have taken forever to make them all. Maya, do you think this would look good on me for the Christmas dinner and dance?"
"Almost all of them needed mending before we could use them," said Mrs. Woodman, "so the costume people at Stage Fright have been working flat out for a week."
"They repaired all this in a week?" said Sarah. "It took me three weeks to knit a scarf."
"Mind you," said Mrs. Woodman, "it was nonstop for a week. Ah, there's the list. Now, girls, we have to group the costumes by number. This is a list of all the scenes, and you'll see each scene has a number. The Christmas song, for example, is number three on the program, so we must collect all the costumes with a number three sticker on the sleeve and put them together. Once we have them sorted, we must take them to the storage closets in the backstage room."
"Let me sort those for you, Mrs. Woodman," said Maya. She took a bundle of costumes and laid them on the table.
"Thank you, dear. Let's finish our hot chocolate before we dig in."
* * *
"How long have you been a lawyer, Lisa?" asked Principal Wallace before sipping his coffee.
"Two years, all with Madison Turner."
"And what's it like working for a big Manhattan law firm?"
"I love it. The people are great."
"Are you from the city?"
"I grew up in Paramus."
"A Jersey girl."
"Absolutely. I even moved back to Paramus after law school, but after a year, I found a great little apartment near the office. Now I walk to work, and I love it."
Bob Matthews placed his hand on Principal Wallace's shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, Stephen and Lisa, but we should get started." He smiled as he said, "Everyone, if you could please take your seats, we'll continue with the meeting. Thank you. Lisa, over to you."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Stranger in the Night by Anthony McLevey. Copyright © 2014 Anthony McLevey. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse.
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