“Movie theater…movie
theater…movie theater…where in the world is this movie theater?” Auburn stared worriedly at the search
results. According to Yahoo!, the closest was in Ponca City,
several miles away. Outside of that, the
next-closest were Enid and Winfield, the latter of which wasn’t even in
Oklahoma (it was in Kansas). If the
meeting was at either of these, Auburn was sunk—there was no way she could get
to any of those places by herself.
“It’s got to be closer,”
she told herself. “Richards can’t have
everyone getting dropped off by their parents…not if he wants them in the dark
about his secret…whatever that is.
Surely there must have been one in town at some point…oooohhhh.”
It suddenly occurred to
Auburn that movie theaters used to be much more common…and much smaller. The technology for a theater to broadcast
multiple flicks simultaneously didn’t come about until the ‘60s. Before that, movies were in single-theater
buildings, and there was one in every town.
Many of these old ones were still standing, though they usually weren’t
showing movies these days.
Auburn guessed Blackwell
was no exception to this trend, and she was right. A few more results down, she found sites
mentioning the Rivoli Theater, and a narrowing of the search brought her
exactly what she wanted to know. Named
for a famous theater in New York (ironically, the same one the film Oklahoma! would premiere at), the old
Rivoli Theater building still stood at 106 S. Main Street in Blackwell. The ancient yellow brick building was a fine
work of art, complete with a fancy marble entryway that made moviegoers feel
like they were walking into a treasure (which, in its heyday, was probably the
case). Though the theater only took up
the (rather large) first floor, the building stretched four stories tall, its
upper rooms most likely office space for different companies back when it was
in operation. Since its abandonment,
sometime in the ‘80s, the place had gone to seed, but Richards had purchased it
and personally overseen its renovation by his club. An article about the renovation mentioned
that the screen was being kept, in order to provide the club members with
“good, wholesome” entertainment on special occasions.
Hah!
thought Auburn. If they were showing Lassie, that
kid wouldn’t have reacted the way he did.
Now, there remained only
the problem of getting to the theater at 6:00…without being seen. The building was just over a mile away, but
once Auburn arrived, she’d have to make sure Richards didn’t notice her
presence. On top of that, she’d have to
get into the building somehow and get close enough to tell what was going on.
Those problems, though,
couldn’t be addressed until Auburn actually saw the theater for herself. The few pictures she found online weren’t
clear enough for her to figure out her entrance strategy, so she decided to
wait until she arrived. Her parents
would be out until late, meaning she’d have an easy time getting out of the
house without being spotted…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“…and now for our next
order of business.”
Entering the theater had
proved quite simple, really. Auburn had
shown up about ten minutes early. Hiding
across the street, she watched club member after club member enter the theater,
each with the same defeated expression on their faces. A few were accompanied by their parents, and
it was due to these that Auburn got her first real look at Mr. Richards.
If ever there was a man
that exuded confidence, it was Richards.
His piercing black eyes lit up each time he stepped outside and greeted
a parent with a friendly handshake.
Auburn could even hear that voice she’d heard the other day across the
street, asking in its same cheerful tone how life was going. An expression of interest, concern, or
compassion rippled over Richards’s long face as he listened to what the parents
had to say, before offering some word of encouragement. The conversations would last about a minute or
so, then Richards would walk back inside while the parents drove off, unaware
that their children were about to have one of the most frightening experiences
of their lives.
Knowing how all the club
members felt about him, Auburn found Richards’s behavior very unsettling. She felt like she was watching an act, like
there was another side to Richards. A
dark one, of course. But was there?
Auburn couldn’t get
through the front door without being spotted, but all other entrances were fair
game. Just after six, Auburn crossed the
street. She didn’t go straight over
Main; rather, she crossed Bridge Avenue, Main, and Bridge again, just so
Richards wouldn’t spot her coming across the street. She guessed he was the type of man who
started on time, but she didn’t intend to take any chances.
Once she reached the
south side of the building, getting in was pretty easy. A couple rusting doors that had served as
exits for moviegoers streaming out at the close of a film still stood along Bridge
Avenue. These were shut, though, and
they’d never had exterior handles. A
little farther down, however, there was another door, this one leading to the
staircase for the upper floors. Auburn
didn’t expect this to be open, but it swung out soundlessly as she tugged the
handle.
Too
easy,
Auburn thought, and she peered in nervously, ready to make a run for it if
Richards was lurking behind the door.
But he wasn’t, and no one else was either. No cameras were in view, and Auburn stepped
in, gently closing the door behind her.
The door didn’t just lead
to the staircase; a door on the left opened onto the first floor. That might go straight to the theater,
though, and Auburn couldn’t risk walking into that room in front of
everybody. She chose the staircase
instead, pleased that the aging cement steps didn’t creak.
Several flights led past
the tall theater room, which could seat nearly eight hundred people. Auburn was starting to think the staircase
was endless when the door to the second floor came into view. It was closed, and Auburn hesitated, putting
her ear to it to make sure no one was on the other side.
Was anyone else in
cahoots with Richards, or did he work alone?
Auburn hadn’t read anything about helpers in the papers, but she also
hadn’t read anything about bank robberies, and she knew the Blackwell Journal-Tribune wasn’t telling
the whole story. She wasn’t worried
about shoddy reporting, but she was worried about herself, and what might
happen if she walked through that door.
No sounds came from the
other side, and she decided to chance it.
She shoved open the heavy metal door and winced as it gave a loud
groan. Holding it in place for a minute,
she half expected to hear footsteps pounding down the hall to investigate the
noise. None came, and she slipped her
way onto the hall.
This floor had once
contained offices, some for the theater, most for local businesses. That was many years ago, and empty nameplates
were the only traces of bygone employers.
Several of the doors hung open haphazardly, indicating that no one cared
whether anyone went in or out of the rooms.
On a hunch, Auburn
wandered into the first room, and it was here that she found what she needed to
find. The room was empty, except for a
large quantity of dust that covered its floor.
On the wall, down by Auburn’s feet, was a vent, about one-and-a-half
feet long and tall. This vent was
connected to the movie theater, and voices drifted up from the room below. Auburn crouched down and put her ear to it,
ready to make her discovery.
“…to keep Legion Park
free of trash. Let me just remind you,
litter pickup will occur this Saturday, at ten o’clock sharp. I’ll expect all of you to be there for that. And now for our really important business.”
So clearly was the sound
coming up from below, Auburn heard a page flip.
Then, the voice spoke again, this time with an excitement that had not
been there before. The hair rose on
Auburn’s neck, however, as she heard the next words that came out of Richards’s
mouth.
“For those of you that
went, nice work last Tuesday. We raised
$53,285 cash, plus an undetermined amount in the form of valuables. This…fundraiser, shall we say, was
impressively managed, and I’m pleased to say that our competitors are
stumped. They think midgets were behind
it; you all are completely free of suspicion.
Once again, you all have demonstrated the power of young minds working
together for a common cause.
“I’m uncertain of the
order of our next projects, but I’ll let you know as soon as I finalize
them. In the meantime, I expect you to
hold to the strictest discipline as you practice for these new jobs. Just because no one expects you to make a
difference doesn’t mean you can expect to get complacent about your duty and
still serve the club. But just in case
any of you are tempted to get complacent, we’ll watch the film again.
“Headphones!” The word was uttered as a command, and the
silence that followed implied it was obeyed.
Auburn heard a few footsteps which grew softer as someone walked from
the front of the room to the back. Then,
she heard nothing.
Auburn wondered if the
Rivoli had existed during the silent era.
This film was not silent, of course, but Auburn didn’t have a pair of
headphones. Not being physically present
in the room below, she had absolutely no idea what the children down below were
watching.
Which may have been a
good thing. Sounds began trickling up
through the vent again—not sounds from the film, but sounds from the
audience. Taps, as if a foot was
fidgeting nervously. A whimper, from
someone. Another whimper, from someone
else. Footsteps moving across the
floor. Then, “Look up, Laura!”
All at once, there was a
scream! It came from somewhere on the
left side of the theater; at least, that’s where it sounded like it came from
to Auburn. She heard the footsteps
again, then a smack. Then, Richards’s
voice, this time with no hint of kindness.
“Don’t ever do that
again, Helen! I want you all to give
this film your full attention, and the rest of us can’t do that if you’re
screaming. If someone hears you, they
might investigate, and that would be too bad for all of you, wouldn’t it? Keep silent, or you’ll end up exactly like
the girl on the screen!”
No reply was
audible. Auburn expected that Helen
nodded her head or something, for Richards’s footsteps could again be heard,
moving to the back of the theater. The
room below fell eerily silent, and Auburn guessed that Helen hadn’t been the
only one to hear Richards’s rebuke. Now
she was more curious than ever about the film, and her imagination began going
over awful possibilities.
The film lasted about
seven minutes; then, Richards wandered back to the front of the room. “You may now remove the headphones,” he
said. “Well, this concludes our club
meeting for the night. Billy, Zechariah,
Thomas, and Jimmy will all be letting you know when our next meeting is. See you around, and have a wonderful week!”
Auburn heard seats
swinging back into place as the theater occupants prepared to depart. None of the kids wanted to stick around any
longer than they had to; the events of the past few minutes had been enough to
ruin their evening.
Yet, in the midst of the
charging footsteps headed for the exits, Auburn heard Richards speak once
again. “Brittany, I need to see you in
my office for a minute. Alone.”
Auburn heard no reply,
but she knew enough by now to know that Brittany wouldn’t dare say no. I’ve
got to find out what he has to say, Auburn thought to herself. But
how?
Slipping out of the room,
Auburn glanced up the hall, then ran towards the front of the building. There was no staircase on the southeast
corner, but glancing to her right, Auburn saw there was one on the southwest
corner. She darted through the building
and flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time, until she reached the
first floor.
From the hushed voices
and footsteps coming from the other side, Auburn gathered that the staircase door
opened into the main lobby. She paused,
wondering what to do next. Richards’s
office had to be on the first floor; the second had been unused for quite some
time. To get anywhere on the first
floor, though, Auburn had to step out into the lobby, which would put her in
full view of anyone that happened to be going by. She needed a way to hide.
Auburn glanced around the
bottom of the stairwell. The sun was
still up outside, and faint light streamed through a grime-covered window. It fell upon some boxes and other objects
from the old theater days, stored in the corner between the stairwell and the
wall. Posters from old attractions were
rolled up, signs reminded moviegoers to purchase snacks, and some little marble
statues looked as though they had once greeted patrons out in the lobby.
Towards the back of the
storage space, however, there was a large, fake bush. Its formerly red flowers were now pink—not
the brilliant pink of azaleas, but the faded pink of a Southern Pacific diesel
whose paint scheme had not been chosen with the future in mind. No doubt the bush had once served as a tacky
lobby decoration; Auburn doubted it would be used today, were the theater still
in business. However, the bush was just
large enough for her to hide behind.
Forcing her way through
the stuff, Auburn was pleased to find that the fake plant was not very
heavy. The hardest part about moving it
was trying not to sneeze. Dust flew in
the air, and Auburn nearly dropped the bush in her attempt to remain quiet.
She was very disciplined
about not sneezing, though, and she landed the bush in front of the door
without issue. Carefully, she nudged
open the door, watching to see if anyone was paying attention. A few children were still in the lobby, but
they were all headed out, and the last thing on their minds was the door in the
corner.
Brittany was still in the
lobby, though, and she looked miserable.
She sat upon an old couch, one leg draped over the stuffing pouring out
of a large hole in the corner. She
stared unseeingly at the wall, taking no notice of Auburn, who watched the door
to the theater for Richards’s emergence.
When he came out,
Richards seemed completely unconcerned about the meeting. He nodded at Brittany as casually as if he
had a simple business meeting planned.
“Let’s go to my office,” he told the girl.
The two of them walked
towards the north end of the building, then turned down a hallway and disappeared
from Auburn’s view. She gave them about
five seconds, then poked her head out, just in time to see them disappear into
an office on the left side of the hall.
Auburn looked back
towards the lobby. No one in sight. Quickly, she shoved open the stairwell door
and moved out, holding the bush in front of her in case any youths were still
around. She slunk down the hallway, back
to the wall, bush in front of her, moving sideways until she was just across
from Richards’s office. Richards’s door
was open a crack, and Auburn left the bush a few feet from his office as she
scurried across to peek through the space.
She saw Richards sitting
at his desk, a nervous Brittany sitting across from him. “…will occur this Friday at nine,” he
said. “You’ll drive Jimmy, Lou, and Fred
to Mrs. Smyth’s house, that mansion at the north part of town. You remember it—you helped clean out the
attic there. As you’ll also remember, we
disarmed the security system while we were at it. Jimmy knows how to shut that off; you leave
that to him. Your job is to get the
stuff we steal back here, then drop your passengers off without being
detected.”
Brittany shook her
head. “It’s too soon after the bank—”
“Don’t worry about the
bank job. The police won’t associate
that with a burglary. You have nothing
to fear from them.”
“Someone’s bound to see
me driving the getaway car—”
“And what if they do?”
said Richards. “They probably already
have, but they’re not going to connect you with a crime. Miss Brittany McPherson, that nice young lady
that works at the Conoco station on Highway 11, driving bank robbers around
town? The only way our plans could fail,
Brittany, is if you give them away. And
you won’t, will you?”
“You know I won’t,”
Brittany said, looking down at her shoes.
“That’s right, you
won’t. Because if you do—”
“You don’t have to tell
me again!” Brittany exclaimed, looking up wildly. “Do you really think I’m going to forget?”
“I’ll just make sure you
don’t forget,” said Richards, opening a drawer on the top right of his desk and
pulling out some sheets of paper, all stapled together. He flipped to the second page and began
reading.
“Alice McPherson,
nicknamed Allie. Age 9. Loves horses and dollhouses. To kill her, break through bedroom window and
drive a pitchfork through her heart. It
would be so easy.” Richards looked up
from his document and smiled. “No one in
town would believe that I’d do such a thing, and even if they did, your
precious sister would still be dead.
You’re not going to blow the whistle on me, are you?”
“Can I go?” Brittany whimpered
quietly. “Please?”
“Go on,” said
Richards. “Have a good night, kid.”
Brittany took off running
for the door, nearly hitting Auburn with it as she ran out of the room. She barreled down the hallway, not noticing
Auburn or the bush in her haste to get out of the building. Richards, meanwhile, sat back in his seat and
grinned up at the ceiling, quite happy with the way the evening had gone.
Auburn didn’t need to
hear any more of this. She worked her
way back to the stairwell, where she replaced the bush in its corner. Then, she crept back up the stairs, worked
her way through the second floor hallways, and left the way she’d come in. When she found her bike, she pedaled off as
fast as her legs would carry her.
She now knew the secrets
of the Brotherhood Club, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming.
