Before the Storm

by Di Morrissey

  Maggie sighed. ‘I can’t see Patrick going along with that. And how would that help the whole town, anyway? People would see through stories like those.’

  The voices in the little office rose, and Ellie and Maggie could tell Patrick was getting cranky.

  ‘I think I’ll intervene,’ Ellie said to Maggie.

  She tapped at the door and went straight in. ‘Hi . . . Oh, hello, Susan, may I join you, Poppy?’

  Ellie extended her hand to a sallow-faced man standing beside Susan.

  ‘This is Councillor Lowe,’ said Susan.

  Grasping his limp hand, Ellie immediately disliked him. His disdainful look, small, mean eyes and the arrogant expression on his pinched face set her teeth on edge.

  ‘I’m Ellie Conlan. Patrick’s granddaughter.’

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ he replied.

  ‘They’re here to ask us about doing stories that make the council look good,’ said Patrick bluntly.

  ‘Now, Patrick, that’s not quite true. Surely we’re all on the same team here,’ said Susan with a tight smile. ‘We all want to promote the town, and make sure everyone knows this is a feel-good place with great opportunities.’

  ‘We have an impressive online presentation to attract families and businesspeople here to make this a place to visit, to retire to, to invest in. We want people to see that this is the perfect town to move to, somewhere they can raise a young family and start a business,’ said the councillor briskly.

  Patrick continued to look unimpressed. ‘Before I’d encourage people to move here, Councillor, there are a few pieces of infrastructure that need fixing. The coast road is the pits – literally – and the internet’s dodgy. Maybe council should cool it with some of their more expensive projects that direct money away from what the community wants and needs,’ he said impatiently.

  ‘What do you see as a priority for the town?’ Ellie asked the councillor, trying to be conciliatory.

  Lowe straightened slightly and launched in, as if reciting a rehearsed spiel. ‘Every community has to grow and flourish, be viable, and in order to expand we need to promote the good news about our town . . .’ But then, seeing Patrick roll his eyes, Lowe changed tack, saying briskly, ‘We want to attract people here, yes. But the right kind of people.’

  Patrick snorted. ‘And who might the “right kind of people” be, Councillor? Cut to the chase. What’s this really about? Why should the paper do a tap dance about people and businesses, many of whom are already doing rather nicely, thank you very much? And how much money are you asking people to put up to be featured in this campaign?’

  ‘Mr Addison, Patrick, the council has great respect for the Chronicle, but you do have a tendency to point out negative issues and that is not always helpful –’ began Councillor Lowe.

  ‘Rubbish! Look at the front page; a little lost boy is rescued, how good is that?’ snapped Patrick.

  Ellie could tell he was fast losing patience now. ‘Just what would you like the Chronicle to do?’ she asked as Patrick shot a frown her way.

  ‘Support the council,’ said Councillor Lowe, sounding annoyed. ‘It’s bad enough that our mayor finds it difficult to support her own team –’

  Susan quickly interjected. ‘It’s your decision what goes in the Chronicle, of course, but it is a newspaper for the community. The council would like to be able to count on your support for its new ideas and projects,’ she said.

  ‘Excuse me, Susan, I’m a little confused,’ said Ellie. ‘I thought you worked for the O’Neills. Why are you lobbying for the council?’

  Susan frowned. ‘That’s not what I’m doing at all. The O’Neill family are stalwarts of this town!’

  Ellie thought this an odd answer to her question, but she let it go.

  ‘So what’s it going to cost these businesses to support your idea?’ asked Patrick. ‘Is everyone paying the same? Are the small businesspeople being asked to throw in the same amount as the big guys? And what do they get for it?’

  ‘It’s promotion for everyone!’ cried Lowe. ‘The town. And council will match this campaign, dollar for dollar. That includes your newspaper. So we hope you will commit to selling the good news too. Forget attacking the council, as it could work against you and the paper.’

  Patrick’s voice rose as he glared at Lowe. ‘Are you threatening me? This feels very much like a case of bullying, obfuscating, shuffling cards. You’d get a lot more from the town if you were upfront about things.’

  Lowe’s face reddened. ‘I’ve had it. You’re stubborn and no help to this town –’

  ‘Enough!’ bellowed Patrick. ‘I run this paper. Council runs the town. Let’s stick to what we do, whether or not we agree on the ways in which we do it. I don’t try to run the council, so don’t you try to tell me how to run my newspaper,’ he thundered.

  Susan scrambled to her feet. ‘Well, thank you for meeting us, even if we don’t always see eye to eye.’ She glared at Councillor Lowe. ‘I think it’s time to go. We’re wasting everyone’s time.’

  She turned on her heel and walked to the door, followed by the scowling councillor.

  Ellie signalled to her grandfather to calm down and stay put, then followed them out to the main office.

  Susan was yanking at the Chronicle’s front door as Ellie caught up with them.

  ‘While you’re here, Councillor Lowe, I wonder if you know anything about a proposed development on the site of the caravan park?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘We came here to discuss a potential campaign, not to indulge your idle questions,’ said Susan. She looked furious. ‘And what business is it of yours, anyway? You don’t even live in Storm Harbour.’

  ‘I work for the Chronicle, and what happens in this town is certainly the Chronicle’s business,’ Ellie replied coldly, before turning back to Councillor Lowe. ‘So if you do have any comment to make, Councillor, we’ll be sure to include it in the paper’s published investigation into the situation.’

  Councillor Lowe was stony-faced. ‘As Susan said,

  we came here to discuss what could have been a

  mutually bene­ficial collaboration. That conversation is evi­dently over.’

  This time it was Ellie who lost her temper. ‘Well next time, tell us what you’re really after,’ she said, unable to mask the angry tone in her voice.

  ‘Won’t be a next time. You’ve had your chance.’ Lowe shepherded a glaring Susan out the door, slamming it behind him.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked a bemused Maggie.

  ‘A whole lot of hot air and none of it good,’ said Patrick, walking out of his office. ‘The way Lowe was threatening makes me think we might lose some council advertising. Not good for our bottom line.’

  ‘It was as we thought, Maggie. They’re trying to persuade us to write only good news stories about the council and the town,’ explained Ellie. ‘They don’t want us criticising them.’

  ‘The mayor supports us so we must be doing something bloody right,’ muttered Patrick, grabbing his fedora. ‘I’m going over to see Roly. I promised I’d join him for a game of chess.’

  Ellie sat at her desk in the back office and played the recording of her interview with Ben. She had enough to make an outline of the story, she decided. She’d call him with any follow-up questions that came to mind as she fleshed out the article. You’re still learning this business, she reminded herself. And, she had to admit, she was enjoying the process.

  Two hours later, she had a draft outline, and several more questions for Ben. She also made a note to ask him if it was all right if Jon took some photos of his wood carvings to go with the story, as well as including those of him at the rescue of Peter Jensen.

  Ellie knew there was another story to be told – about Ben’s difficult relationship with Ronan – but he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. The little he had said, he
’d asked her to keep off the record. She’d respect this request, of course, although it didn’t stop her from wondering what Ben’s life must have been like, growing up in the shadow of his confident and perhaps bullying older brother.

  Reading over the draft again, Ellie thought Ben came across as a modest, quiet local boy hiding his light under a bushel. Storm Harbour was lucky to have someone with his talents. The fact that he was part of the most influential family in town was of passing interest.

  Feeling quite pleased with her draft, she emailed it to Patrick for his ‘blue pencil treatment’. Then with a wave to Maggie, Ellie made her way outside to head home. She was getting into her car when her phone rang. She smiled when she saw who the caller was.

  ‘Hi, Mike. How’re you?’

  ‘I’m okay. I have interesting news.’

  ‘Oh, do tell, I can hear the excitement in your voice.’

  ‘Your nemesis, Sophia, has been fired!’

  ‘No way!’ Ellie sat in the car and pulled the door closed. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m not smiling! Please spill the beans!’

  ‘I’m an outsider so I don’t know all the details. But it was hot gossip at the bar last night. Evidently the whole thing totally unravelled. Sophia put up a good front, but she also put her team off, your old team, that is. The company let her drive the bus and it crashed.’

  ‘Sounds like it fell apart at a bad time. They should be ready to launch by now,’ said Ellie.

  ‘I have the feeling she was in over her head. See, you made it all look too easy!’

  ‘Oh, Mike. Well, I’m not surprised. She was so full of herself. Thought she knew it all. Doesn’t make me feel any better about losing my job, though.’

  ‘I think you have every right to feel smug.’

  Ellie laughed. ‘Maybe. But I am sorry for the team that had to work with her.’

  ‘From what I heard, they didn’t race to her rescue,’ Mike said.

  ‘Knowing Sophia, she wouldn’t have listened to them even if they’d tried.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ said Mike, suddenly sounding distracted. ‘Listen, gotta go. Couldn’t wait to let you know, though. I’ll pass on anything else I hear.’

  ‘Thanks, Mike.’ Ellie hung up feeling like she was a million miles away from inner-city Melbourne. As she went to put her phone in her bag, she saw the note tucked inside the cover. No time like the present, she thought. She pulled it out and dialled the number written on it.

  ‘Hello?’ It was a man’s voice.

  ‘Hi. This is Ellie Conlan. You left a note on my windscreen.’

  ‘Ah, yes. When your car was outside the hotel. Can we meet?’ The man had a pleasant voice.

  ‘Can you tell me what you want, what this is about exactly?’

  ‘Not over the phone. I’m no conspiracy theorist but I don’t trust my phone completely. I’m close to town. You know the rocky path that goes out to the lighthouse island? There’s a seat and a bench at the seawall. Can you meet me there, early tomorrow morning? Say six o’clock?’

  ‘I guess so.’ Ellie knew the little park from her walks with Sam.

  ‘I don’t want to sound paranoid, but it’s best we’re not seen together so I don’t want to meet in town. Your paper should know what’s going on in council. See you there.’ He hung up.

  The man seemed reasonable and Ellie was sure she’d be safe, but she thought it would be sensible to ask someone to keep an eye on her from a distance when she met him. The caravan park wasn’t far away, so she decided she’d ask Steve or Cassie.

  As Ellie was about to turn on the ignition, a van pulled into the carspot next her. She realised it was Jon behind the wheel. She took the key out again and climbed out of the car to speak to him.

  ‘Hey, how’s your investigation going? Finding anything of any interest?’ asked Ellie as Jon transferred to his wheelchair and came towards her.

  ‘Could be,’ he said. ‘Are you just arriving or leaving?’

  ‘I was just going out, but I’ll come in and hear your news.’

  Inside, Jon wheeled his chair to his desk and Ellie sat opposite him.

  ‘I’ve just been poking around, talking to people. I went down to see the gang at the caravan park,’ he began.

  ‘Has anyone heard anything?’

  ‘No one that I spoke to. But I saw a guy there. He seemed to be working, making some notes, which seemed like an odd thing to do by the river, especially as he was wearing a suit. Well, no tie, but it was an expensive suit.’

  ‘So probably not a local,’ said Ellie. ‘Did you talk to him?’

  ‘I did. He wasn’t very friendly. Or forthcoming. Definitely an out-of-towner. Said he was “making some notes about the place”. Just getting some ideas. He slammed his notebook shut but not before I noticed he’d drawn some diagrams and plans.’

  ‘So he’s no artist,’ said Ellie.

  ‘He said he might be coming up here for a couple of weeks, so he asked where he should stay. He gave me his card. He’s from Melbourne. Seems he’s a surveyor.’

  ‘Did he say what he was doing or who he was working for?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘The more I asked, the more tight-lipped he was. Oh, and I forgot to mention that before meeting this bloke, I went to the pub for a counter lunch and started talking to a couple of tradies. They were saying there should be a lot of work coming up soon. When I asked them about it, they clammed up,’ Jon said. ‘Anyway, I took a few photos at the caravan park because the light was so good and I noticed that when the guy was leaving, he put something in his car boot. I thought it was a tripod, and that he’d been taking photos too, but now when I think about it, it could have been a theodolite, you know, that surveyors use.’

  Ellie nodded. ‘I don’t know what, but there’s something happening,’ she said.

  ‘If anyone knows anything, then they’re not saying. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. I tried to ask council if a permit to develop any land along the river had been lodged but they wouldn’t give me that sort of information. Just said to keep checking the council website.’

  ‘We’ll definitely do that, and more,’ said Ellie. She thought about asking Jon to keep an eye on the meeting but knew that he usually went swimming at dawn with a few mates and she didn’t want to upset his routine. Instead, she said goodbye to him, got back into her car, and pulled out her phone to call Cassie.

  After talking to Cassie for a minute or so, Ellie told her about the meeting.

  ‘Six am at the lighthouse. This guy has some information for the paper. I think it might be a leak from council. I just wondered if you or Steve would be able to hang about and keep an eye on me, in case I’m grabbed and thrown in a car and driven away . . .?’

  ‘Oh, Ellie, stop. That’s not funny!’ exclaimed Cassie. ‘Of course. I’ll ask Steve to go and watch out for you. He’ll love pretending he’s James Bond,’ she said, and Ellie could hear the smile in her voice.

  ‘It’s not a trenchcoat job! Perhaps he could take his rod and pretend he’s going fishing on the other side of the island.’

  ‘Absolutely. He’ll be there. Might catch something for breakfast. Do you want him to snap a photo or something?’

  ‘Definitely not. Now, it’s at the end of the little park, just after you cross over to the island,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Where that table and bench is, I know the place. He’ll be there, Ellie. It all sounds very cloak and dagger.’

  ‘Not really. Just council stuff!’

  They both laughed.

  ‘Well, I hope whoever it is has something useful,’ said Cassie. ‘We’re still on tenterhooks about the rumours that council or developers are planning something for the caravan park.’

  ‘I’ll let you know any news, if I can,’ said Ellie.

  No sooner had she hung up than her phone rang again.

&nbs
p; ‘Hi, Meredith, how are you?’

  ‘Hello, Ellie,’ said Meredith. ‘I’m glad I caught you. Do you have a few minutes to talk?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ellie, concerned at hearing the stressed tone in the mayor’s voice. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I think things might be coming to a head. Councillor Lowe is being very cocky, pushy, arrogant . . .’

  ‘More so than usual?’ commented Ellie. ‘I only met him today but he was all of those things.’

  ‘Yes, if that’s possible. Smug is more his usual demeanour, so I know he’s up to something. He pushes things through for mates and he’s devious enough about it that I haven’t been able to catch him out.’ She paused then asked, ‘How did you come to meet him today?’

  ‘My grandfather had a visit from Councillor Lowe and Susan McLean,’ said Ellie and she proceeded to fill in the mayor on all the details.

  ‘I’m not sure if they’re stupid enough to believe such a spurious effort at heavying the Chronicle would work,’ Meredith said. ‘To think they can control what goes in the paper! “Good news only.” What crap. ’Scuse me. There’s no good news coming out of council at the moment. It’s disappointing that the decent people in there are so easily intimidated by the likes of Lowe.’

  ‘But why would they pressure us to lay off criticising them in the paper?’ asked Ellie. ‘Surely that would be enough to make us want to find out what’s going on.’

  ‘As I see it, their method is to dilute the scrutiny. Divert attention from something they want to slip through unnoticed. Try to make you investigate one thing while they work on another.’

  ‘Surely that can’t happen?’ said Ellie, then quickly added, ‘I suppose that’s naive of me, given there’ve been so many instances all over the country of corruption in some councils in the past.’

  ‘Sadly, that’s true,’ Meredith said, then went on, ‘Ellie, I’m ringing because I’m under attack again. Trolling on the council social media now and nasty notes in my letterbox. It’s unnerving. I was wondering if you’ve deleted any more posts like the one you told me about before?’

  ‘Just one or two,’ Ellie said. ‘Almost exactly the same as the first one I told you about. They seem to have stopped, though. Maybe whoever wrote them realised that I’ll just delete them immediately, so they’ve started contacting you directly instead. What do the notes say? Is someone trying to frighten you off something? Shut you up?’