Free Slow Dance in Purgatory by Amy Harmon Page A

care of the trash and the dumbwaiter in the morning.  He seemed anxious to get out of the school where tragedy had been narrowly averted, this time.  Maggie and Shad didn't object and followed him out.  Shad kept looking behind him, and he slipped his hand into Maggie's like a frightened little boy.  Maggie decided it was okay, just this once.

6
    “I BELIEVE”
    Frankie Laine - 1953
     
     
     
     
                  Maggie arose early that Saturday and pedaled the mile or so to the pretty Main Street that boasted a variety of pricey boutiques and the stately courthouse and city buildings that handled most of the official goings on in Honeyville.  Maggie had never been inside the newly remodeled library, and it hadn’t been on her list of things to do since she’d moved to Honeyville five months ago.  Aunt Irene had offered to drive her there, but Maggie didn’t want her aunt to know what she was looking for, and she didn’t know how long it would take her to find it – if it could be found.  She had fibbed and said she needed the exercise.  Maggie danced two hours a day, minimum, and she didn’t need the exercise, but Aunt Irene shrugged and let her be.  That was definitely one of the things she liked most about Aunt Irene.  She gave her plenty of space without making her feel like she didn’t care.
                  The lady at the front desk looked like she knew her way around a library, and as Maggie approached, she mentally rehearsed her prepared lines.
                  “Hi,” Maggie chirruped cheerfully, smiling her best how-to-butter-up-a grown-up-smile.  “I’m doing a little research on Honeyville High School for my school paper.  We’re doing a big spread called ‘Back to the Past,’ and I wondered if you had some old newspapers from around the time when the school was built?”  Maggie didn’t like to lie but, unfortunately, her time in the foster care system had helped her to cultivate the ability to tell a pretty convincing whopper when she needed to.  She supposed she could have just said she wanted to do research on the Johnny Kinross disappearance, but she didn’t really want to explain herself.  Defensiveness was also a by-product of living in seven different homes in seven years.
                  “What an interesting idea!”  The librarian seemed impressed with her lie.  Maybe she should make some suggestions to the school's newspaper editor, Maggie thought with just a twinge of guilt.
                  “Well, you are in luck!” the librarian continued happily.  “We have a new, state-of-the-art microfiche system that has been updated with articles from the last 100 years of Honeyville history.  It is so much easier than digging through those old binders of newspaper print.”
                  The trim librarian bustled down a long flight of stairs and into a room lined with tall stacks of very old books and a couple of cubicles with computers housed on metal desks.   Instead of old books, the whole room smelled like paint and new carpet, courtesy of the recent renovation.
                  The librarian led Maggie to one of the cubicles and showed her how to access the microfiche records.  The librarian punched in a series of dates and started scrolling through the available records.
                  “Do you know the year it was built, dear?”  The librarian asked kindly.
                  “Yes ma’am.  It was completed in 1958,” Maggie answered, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her.   She had wheedled that information out of Gus.
                  “Well, this should be about the right time period then.  Just click through these dates.  You can also enter key words to narrow your search.  If you have any questions just come back upstairs, and I will be glad to help you.”
                  Maggie thanked the nice lady and