I flattened myself against the wall, not sure what could be seen through the frosted glass. I heard her footsteps approaching. "Walker?"
I figured it would be easier to explain my presence to her than to security. But then, security was so lax around here, it might take an officer forever to get here. Better to go through the window, I thought. Then I heard keys rattling on the other side of the door and knew Maggie was about to open it. I did instead.
"Jenny!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
She looked tired, not just in her eyes but in the sag of her shoulders.
"I was looking for something."
"What?" she asked, clicking on the overhead light, eyeing the folder tucked under my arm.
I opened the file for her. "I found this in Walker's cabinet. Look-these are articles about the serial killings, the first three, not the one that happened last year. Why would he have something like this?"
She took the folder from me and paged slowly through the articles. "Probably because he wants to try dinner theater next spring, to stage one of those popular murder mysteries that involve the audience. Walker always does research, collecting details from nonfiction accounts of whatever subject or historical period is being dealt with in a play."
I bit my lip. I wasn't convinced.
"Now, Jenny, I have a question for you. Why are you sneaking around in here?"
"I've got a good reason," I said, then paused, trying to decide how much to tell her and where to begin.
"I' m waiting."
"It's complicated."
She glanced at her watch, then handed me the folder. "Put this back where you found it and come to my office. We'll walk over to the Student Union, and you can explain on the way."
I returned the folder to the cabinet, picked up the trash can, and slipped on my shoes. When I rejoined Maggie, I found her standing next to a bookcase, leaning on it, her head in her hands.
"Maggie, are you all right?"
Her head lifted quickly. "Yes, fine."
"You don't look fine," I observed.
She walked over to her desk and sat down wearily. "I'm just hungry. I haven't eaten all day. And I'm a bit down," she admitted.
"You work too many hours," I said. "You need more time for yourself. You can't always be worrying about drama camp."
"My work is my relief," she replied. "If that was all I had to deal with, my life would be wonderful."
"What do you mean?"
She fidgeted with her scarf. "I've discovered that Brian is lying to me."
"About what?" I asked.
"It's a serious matter, not one I can discuss with you."
Was this about the pranks, I wondered, or was there something more going on?
Maggie leaned forward on her desk, resting her face on her hands. She looked gray.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No. Why don't you run ahead. We'll talk later."
"I'll get you something to eat," I offered. "They're serving sandwiches after the movie. I'll get one and be right back."
She glanced up at me, rubbing her mouth against her knuckle.
"Just rest here, okay? I'll be back," I told her, hurrying out of her office before she could protest. When I reached the Student Union, the movie had ended and kids were picking up sandwiches. Brian was talking to Walker, both of them laughing over something Brian had said.
I knew that Maggie was a worrier and, at the moment, exhausted. When people are tired, problems and fears become exaggerated. But what if Brian wasn't trustworthy? What if he leaked my identity and my purpose for being here? I remembered his description of the way people worked: in the end, everyone is out for himself, he had said, and sometimes that makes people seem for you, and sometimes it makes them seem against you.
"Where did you go, Jenny?"
I jumped and Tomas looked at me curiously. "Didn't mean to scare you," he said. He had two large sandwiches on his plate.
"I was at Stoddard talking to Maggie. She's pretty upset, Tomas, and hasn't eaten all day. May I have one of your sandwiches to take back to her?"
"Sure. Want me to come with you?"
"No."
He handed me the paper plate with the untouched sandwich. "People keep disappearing," he said. "You, Mike, Paul."
I glanced around. "Did Mike and Paul come back?"
"Haven't seen them. I can't figure out why Walker isn't saying anything about it."
Perhaps, I thought, because the two of them were doing something for him.
"Maybe because he leaves that kind of stuff to Maggie," I said aloud. "She's waiting for me back at her office. Catch up with you later, okay?"
Tomas looked puzzled. "Okay."
I hurried back to the theater and let myself in the back door. When I reached Maggie's office, both her door and Walker's were closed, but her light was still on.
"Just me," I said, tapping lightly on the glass.
She didn't respond to my voice or to a harder knock, so I opened the door. She was gone. I walked over to her desk to set down her food and saw a note lying on the seat of her chair. I picked it up to read.
I'm sorry, Brian. I can't go on.
I can't try anymore.
My will is with the lawyer.
Everything should be in order.
I stared at the short sentences, their meaning sinking in slowly. It was a suicide note.
"Maggie?" I called. "Maggie!"
I rushed out of her office, then stopped, not knowing which way to turn. There were too many rooms in this place for me to check them all quickly. And she might not even be in the building. Get Brian, I thought. No, call security to get people to search the building and send the police to her house.
I turned back to make the calls, then spotted her scarf on the floor, halfway down the hall. I noticed the door at the far end was open. The tower door! I ran toward it, hoping I wouldn't be too late.
Maggie!" I shouted from the bottom of the iron stairs. "Maggie, I have to talk to you!"
I thought I heard movement far above me and hurried up the steps. "Maggie, listen to me. Things will get better. I'll help you. I'll find someone who knows how to help you."
I climbed as fast as I could, turning every five steps to rush up the next five, panicking that I wouldn't get there in time. I was out of breath from calling to her. It seemed as if I'd climbed a hundred stories. Just four, I told myself, the four stories of Stoddard. Then the walls began to narrow. I figured I was entering the top of the brick portion of the tower, the area with the shingled roof that was surmounted by the clock.
The stairs became a spiral here, worming their way up through the shrinking space, then on through an area with narrow platforms and square casements containing the clockworks, one facing each direction. The triangular steps were difficult to climb, so narrow on the inside, my feet slipped off. The spiral became a simple ladder to a trapdoor. It was dark, but I felt a splash of night air coming from above. I climbed through the open door and found myself in a space like a covered porch, enclosed by three-foot walls with a pillar at each corner and a roof.
Maggie was sitting sideways inside one of the four bays, her feet drawn up on the sill, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her body shook. I was sure she heard me, but she kept her head turned away from me. If she rolled to the right, she would fall six stories.
"Maggie," I said softly, "I saw your note."
She turned her head jerkily. In the darkness the pupils of her eyes were large. Her mouth trembled.
The tower was no more than five feet across, but I was afraid to move toward her too quickly. If I reached for her suddenly, she might panic and fall.
"I can help you."
"You?" The laughter that spilled from her jangled out of tune.
"I'll find someone to help. Let's go down now."