Chapter Eighteen
Thursday, June 24
9:00 a.m.
She didn’t know why she was so excited for her morning with the mayor but she was. Subject shadowing was a journalism technique she learned in school, a way to bring a subject to life for readers. And she was eager to give it a try on a man who was new at an important position.
Elise pulled her purse strap higher on her shoulder and tugged at the fitted summer jacket she wore over a soft pink blouse. She didn’t know what was on the mayor’s agenda for the day so she made sure to dress as professionally as possible.
The brunette seated behind a glass-topped counter smiled at Elise from across the foyer area of the town hall. “May I help you?”
“Yes. My name is Elise Jenkins and I have an appointment with Mayor Brown today.”
“The mayor is expecting you.” The woman stood and pointed to the door at the end of a short hallway. “Go right in.”
“Thanks.” Elise pushed a wayward curl off her forehead and headed toward the closed door. When she reached the door with the mayor’s nameplate, she knocked softly. A moment later the door swung open and she was face-to-face with the town’s top dog.
“How are you this morning, Elise?”
“I’m doing great. Thank you again for allowing me to follow you around this morning. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”
“I’m honored that you’d want to follow me around. I only hope I don’t bore you too much.”
She liked him. His eyes sparkled when he smiled and he seemed to genuinely enjoy her presence. It was nice to know that most subjects weren’t going to be like Daniel Johnson.
“So, what do you want to do first?” he asked as he gestured toward the coffeepot in the corner of his office. “Do you want a cup?”
“No, thank you. As for this morning, I would really like to just observe you as you go about your day.”
“Oh. A day-in-the-life kind of thing.”
“Pretty much. It seemed like a neat way to mark your first full month in office.”
He nodded and reached for a small pink slip of paper on top of his desk.
“I guess I’ll return a phone call I received from one of our council members earlier.” He took off his suit jacket and settled into his desk chair. “It seems that everyone around here is terrified Ocean Point is going to fall apart because of the murders.”
She thought of the cars she had seen heading out of town yesterday morning, the look of worry on the faces of the occupants.
“Do you think it will?” she asked.
“No. I have faith that everything will come around, the fortune-tellers will leave, and things will be back to normal.”
“Do you really believe that the fortune-tellers are at the root of this?”
“Each victim had consulted a psychic the night they were killed, right? Obviously there is a link there, so get rid of them and maybe this will all stop.”
“Do you think Johnson and Associates’ proposal for a condominium complex is the answer?”
“It is certainly one answer. But an even better answer is for people to stop consulting psychics in the first place.” He adjusted the knot in his tie and sat back. “There is no way they can know the future. It’s just not possible.”
Elise considered the mayor’s comments while he returned the council member’s telephone call. It wasn’t hard to tell from the one-sided conversation she was hearing that the official was quite alarmed by the amount of vacationers leaving Ocean Point. She was intrigued by the way the mayor worked to placate the gentleman, repeatedly assuring him things would be okay. He sounded so confident it was hard not to believe him.
When the call was complete, Steve Brown stretched his arms over his head and sighed.
“You wouldn’t believe how many of those calls I’ve been getting over the past week or so.”
“I’m sure,” she said knowingly.
The receptionist entered the room and handed the mayor a memo. While he looked it over, Elise took a moment to look around the office.
Steve Brown certainly had a nice touch. The large mahogany desk and high-back leather chair conveyed a feeling of respectability, while the countless personal photographs added a touch of warmth. An American flag in the corner of the room was displayed proudly, while an old—and somewhat battered—homemade cross served as a reminder of where Steve Brown got his strength and faith.
When the mayor had finished reading, Elise took the opportunity to inquire about some of the pictures she saw.
“Did you take all these?” she asked. She picked up a maroon and gold frame with a picture of two young boys wrestling on the ground.
“Yes, I did. Those are my sons. They’re teenagers now, but they still wrestle around with each other on a daily basis. Unfortunately it’s not in such a loving way these days.”
“You’re a good photographer,” she said with admiration.
The sunrise shot hanging to the left of his desk was one she would have loved for her apartment.
“Elise, I would like to run over to St. Theresa’s for a moment to light a candle for the victims’ families.” He reached for his suit coat and stood. “I would be happy to have you accompany me.”
As they walked the two short blocks to church, Elise marveled at the way her subject seemed to run his life.
“You’re very active at St. Theresa’s, aren’t you?” she asked as they approached the steps to the church. “I saw you giving out communion on Sunday.”
“Yes. My religion is very important to me. I hope to become a deacon one day.”
“Wow! That would be quite an undertaking. I always liked the deacons at the church in my hometown. They seemed more reachable somehow. I guess that’s because they could be married and have families.”
“It’s nice to see a young person so in touch with her thoughts,” he said. They walked into the tiny room off the sanctuary where the prayer candles stood. “I’ve seen you at Mass every Sunday since you arrived.”
“I was brought up Catholic and attended parochial school from kindergarten on up. It’s in my blood, I guess.”
She stood quietly off to the side as the mayor placed a dollar bill in the offering box beside the candles. He struck a match and lit a candle near the front of the arrangement. He knelt down at the small pew and quietly said a prayer. When he was done, he made the sign of the cross and stood.
“I feel so badly for the parents of the two girls, and for Ben Naismith’s wife. What a disappointment for them.”
They were halfway down the block before the oddity of his last statement hit her. Somehow heartbreaking seemed like a more appropriate description.