She sighed. Why couldn’t the right guy and the right time ever happen at the same time? She wasn’t sure she would ever find the answer to that question, but now was not the time to try. She placed her shoulder bag down on the press table and opened the packet with her name on it.
The agenda for the monthly meeting was relatively short, no doubt a result of recent events. The night was set to kick off with twenty minutes of public comments and questions, followed by a presentation by Johnson and Associates.
Her gaze moved quickly down the list of items for the night. A revised ordinance concerning sign specifications and a briefing from the police chief completed the evening’s agenda.
“The June twenty-fourth meeting of the Ocean Point Town Council is now in order.” Mayor Brown struck the long table with a gavel. “We will open the meeting up to residents for any comments and/or questions. However, we remind everyone that each person may have only three minutes to speak.”
Elise looked around the crowded room. Most of the faces she saw looked sad and troubled. She noticed an elderly man in his sixties stand up and approach the small podium that faced the mayor and council.
“My name is Jack Smith and I’ve lived in Ocean Point since I was a young boy. I’ve raised my children in this town and my grandbabies visit us now. I’ve always seen this town as a safe place—but no more. In just two and a half weeks we’ve had three members of this community killed. I’m fearful for my life. I want to know what the police department is doing to stop this.”
Chief Maynard rose to his feet and stood in front of the room.
“Mr. Smith, I empathize with your feelings. Although I haven’t lived here as long as you have, Ocean Point is my home now too. I’m just as concerned with what’s happening here as you are. We don’t have many answers right now, but we’re working day and night to catch this person.”
“Is it true, as has been reported in the paper, that each victim had consulted a fortune-teller just hours before they were killed?”
“Yes, it is. We are exploring that aspect completely. If need be, we will do what we need to do to make psychics illegal in Ocean Point.”
She shot a look in Mitch’s direction. He sat ramrod straight in his chair, his right leg bouncing furiously. It was pretty obvious from where she sat that he was as surprised as she was by what his boss was saying.
“Do you think these fortune-tellers are to blame for all of this?”
“It’s certainly suspicious, don’t you think?”
“But why now? They’ve been a part of our boardwalk for over a decade and they’ve never caused a moment’s problem to the best of my knowledge,” the elderly man said. He was clearly bewildered by what he was hearing.
“They are trouble in a variety of ways. Look at the clientele they draw in . . . it’s mostly troublemakers. Then consider the fact that we are dealing with three murders right now, all with a definite tie to a particular psychic.”
Elise was stunned by the animosity apparent in the police chief’s voice. He wasn’t even trying to be impartial.
“There are some good and decent people who consult those same fortune-tellers,” yelled a man from the back of the room. “Not all the clientele are troublemakers, all you need to do is look at the victims to know that.”
She was curious to hear what the chief’s reaction to that statement would be. But it wasn’t the chief who responded.
“We’re not here to debate character issues right now,” Mayor Brown said as he leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s get on with the meeting. Mr. Johnson, if you would like to begin your presentation now . . .”
She shrank back in her chair as the man she had met for lunch two days earlier walked past on his way to the front. There were no two ways about it . . . he scared her.
Daniel Johnson placed a large sketch onto the easel beside the podium. The artist’s rendering of the luxury condominium complex was beautiful.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity to address you this evening.” She watched as he unbuttoned the top button of his silk shirt. “I first addressed you last year concerning my proposed condominium complex. But when I saw the reception I received, I decided to pull back for a while.”
He paused for a moment, looking at each council member before continuing. “I suspect things will be different now, in light of recent happenings involving the pier I am suggesting for demolition.”
She wondered why he was making it sound as if he was just now bringing it up again, when in reality he had brought it back up again prior to the first murder. He was a piece of work.
“The condominium complex I am proposing is a luxury building, with all the trappings of a first-rate community.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped at the beads of sweat on his forehead. “My complex would contain seventy two- and three-bedroom units. Those units would allow seventy more families to vacation in our town each week during the summer season. Which, as you know, would bring more revenue to our town. More revenue means more money for our roads, schools, parks, and so on.
“The land I am proposing for my complex is the land now inhabited by the first pier of the boardwalk. That portion of the boardwalk is made up of me-too games and psychics, neither of which are huge moneymakers. In fact, I believe that demolition of this pier will be a good and safe thing for everyone in this town.”
It bugged her the way he was playing on everyone’s vulnerabilities. Especially when she considered the possibility that he may be responsible for putting the fear there in the first place.
When he finished, she watched as he stood in front of the council members, waited for them to do the first reading of his proposal. She couldn’t help but wonder if the council members felt as intimidated by him and his stance as she did.
“The second and final reading on this proposal will be at our meeting next month.” The mayor struck his gavel once more and then looked at Daniel Johnson. “Thank you, Mr. Johnson. If you would send an extra copy of that artist rendering to my office, I would like to hang it up where our constituents can see it.”
Daniel Johnson nodded his head, a look of undeniable smugness evident on his face. He was clearly satisfied with the fact that he had not received any resistance to his plan. He thanked each council member by name and then proceeded to gather up his drawing. When he passed her table he stopped. His icy brown eyes bore into her face, his mouth contorted with controlled rage.
“That went well, didn’t it?” he asked through gritted teeth.
She was suddenly very grateful for Mitch’s offer to drive her home. She turned her eyes away from the man and focused on the meeting. After a few uneasy moments, he finally walked away.
“As you all know, it is time to vote on the chief’s request for an increase in manpower for our police department,” Mayor Brown said, looking around at each member of the council. “I will give Chief Maynard a moment to address you before I call for the final vote.”
Again, Chief Maynard rose to his feet.
“Thank you, council members, for the careful consideration I know you have given this request over the past month. Before the murders happened, I believed we were understaffed in the department. These murders have only solidified what I already believe. I’m just sorry you had to have such an unfortunate illustration of our need.”
The chief shifted his weight from one leg to the other and continued.
“I do believe that the funds needed to allow me to hire one or two extra officers per shift is money this town really can’t afford not to spend.”
Less than a minute later, Chief Maynard had the unanimous result he sought.
“This meeting is adjourned.”
Elise saw the chief jump out of his chair and slap Mitch on the back in a celebratory gesture. But it was the look on the detective’s face that surprised her. Mitch looked uncomfortable, almost wooden. Why wouldn’t he be excited about having a little extra help around the station?
She would have to ask him that question when he drove her home later. But for now she needed to try and get a few words with the various council members. Tomorrow was deadline day again and she had a lot of space to fill.
When she had gotten all the quotes she needed, Elise returned to the press table to gather the rest of her belongings.
“Ready to go, Elise?”
“Sure. Where’s the chief? Didn’t you two ride over together?”
“We rode over together, but he’s going out to celebrate with Daniel Johnson and a few other people.”
They walked out to the squad car in silence.
She could feel the tension in the air, see the rigid way Mitch moved. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
“Just got a lot on my mind right now. I’m following so many different possibilities with these murders and I feel like my head is going to explode.” He unlocked the door of the police car and held it open for Elise.
She sat down in the car and looked around. The closest she had ever gotten to a police car was during school field trips in elementary school. Except back then the driver wasn’t nearly as cute.
Elise smiled at Mitch as he got into the car, hoped her presence would somehow lighten his stress for at least a few moments. “I noticed your expression during Daniel Johnson’s presentation. He makes you wonder, doesn’t he?”
“He sure does.”
“I met him for lunch on Tuesday. He’s very insistent that his project will save the residents of Ocean Point.” She looked out the window as the car pulled into the road. The groups of people who had been inside the town hall for the meeting now stood in smaller units outside. She couldn’t hear their words, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what they said. The murders in Ocean Point were the only topics of conversation these days. “Daniel Johnson is a very intimidating man.”
“Did he say something to scare you?” Mitch asked quickly.
“If he wasn’t threatening me, then there was a threatening tone,” Elise replied as they pulled up in front of her apartment.
“Back off him for a while, Elise. Just in case he does have something to do with this.”
She was surprised and flattered by the protective tone in the detective’s voice.
“Do you think he does have something to do with this?”
“He’s one of my possibilities right now. But, Elise, that’s got to stay between you and me. Promise?”
“You can trust me. I promise,” she said quietly. She so wanted to touch him and erase the worried lines that creased his handsome face. “It seemed like you weren’t too crazy about the chief getting his request approved. But won’t that help lighten your load right now?”
“The approval might make my life a whole lot easier in more ways than one, I’m afraid.”
She searched his face for some indication of what he meant by that statement, but he did not offer any explanation for his words.
“I’ve got to get back to the station and get some more work done tonight,” he continued. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and yawned. “I want to go to Ben Naismith’s funeral tomorrow if I can find an hour to spare.”
She squeezed his hand quickly and stepped out of the car.
“Take care of yourself, Mitch Burns.”
Chapter Twenty
Friday, June 25
11:00 a.m.
He wasn’t surprised to see how many people were there to pay their last respects. Although their paths hadn’t crossed often, Mitch was well aware of the fact that Ben Naismith had been the kind of guy who would give the shirt off his back and the food from his plate to help someone else.
Mitch placed the plaid blanket alongside the piles and piles of contributions people had brought in tribute. Even now Ben was helping others. The donations were going to be given to a homeless shelter on Ben’s behalf, a selfless gesture in honor of a selfless man.
Mitch took a seat in one of the center pews and waited for the service to start. There were surely a hundred people gathered in St. Theresa’s that morning. Many of the faces he saw were familiar, nearly all of them touched personally by Ben’s special ways. He noticed Chief Maynard sitting four rows up with a few of the council members, and Mayor Brown off to the side speaking to Ben’s widow.
As the opening notes of the processional began, he rose to his feet. The site of the pallbearers carrying Ben’s casket brought a renewed sense of determination. He was going to catch the monster who did this. And he was going to see that he paid dearly.
During the service, several people stood at the lectern and spoke of Ben. Mitch had heard that Ben was a selfless guy, but the endless stories of ways he helped people surprised him.
“I remember the day that Benjamin came to see me.” Father Leahy spoke slowly, considered each word carefully. “He hadn’t been raised in a religious home, didn’t know much about God. But he realized his life held little meaning and so he sought answers. He listened to what I said, read the Bible, asked questions, and learned everything he could about our faith.”
The elderly priest stopped for a moment and looked at Kelly. “As he learned and practiced Christianity, he saw the rewards from God. Kelly was the biggest. But instead of resting on what he’d discovered, he sought to share it with people less fortunate. He was a missionary in every sense of the word, only his mission field was right here in our own backyards instead of in some third world country.”
Father Leahy stopped speaking and nodded at a man in the second pew. The director of the Groverton Homeless Shelter introduced himself and shared a few memories of his time with Ben. Mitch tried to listen, but it was the quiet man who stood beside the director that caught his attention. He was oddly dressed in mismatched clothing, a look of profound sadness on his face. Mitch watched the man closely, curious as to his connection to Ben. He seemed wary, uncomfortable in his position at the front of the church. But when it was his turn to speak, his words were heartfelt.
“My name is Louis and I’ve spent many a night at the homeless shelter in Groverton where Ben volunteered. He always treated me like a human being, an equal.” The man’s eyes narrowed, his stance drooped. “Ben was a true gentleman in a world with very few.”
The shelter’s director slipped an arm around the man’s shoulders and led him to a pew near the front of the church.
Mitch quietly cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling. It didn’t matter that twelve years had passed since Dad’s funeral. It seemed like yesterday at times. He swiped quickly at a tear that formed in his left eye, reluctant to let anyone in the church see him. Too many people counted on him for crimes that were happening now. Not something that happened in the past.
When it was Kelly’s turn to speak, he listened closely to every pained word that left her mouth. But it was when she spoke of the children she and Ben would never have that he felt the tears start again.
Mitch closed his eyes and forced himself to think of something other than the words Kelly spoke. Father Leahy had once told him that he couldn’t change what was in the past. He needed to look forward, pray for guidance. It was a lesson that applied as much to his life now as it did when he first consulted the priest four years ago. There wasn’t anything he could do to bring back Susie or Cindy or Ben. He needed to look forward, concentrate on solving the crimes so there wouldn’t be any more victims and so loved ones like Kelly could have answers.
Mitch prayed silently, a mantra that always helped him escape troubled thoughts. And gratefully, it worked once again.
When he opened his eyes, Kelly had returned to her seat. Her anguish was more than he could handle at that moment. He wanted so desperately to offer her a measure of comfort that would come with the knowledge of who and why. But he couldn’t. Not yet anyway.
He looked at the piano as the first few notes of “Amazing Grace” began and noticed Ray Carlson. How the man could sit there and play such a sad song just two weeks after the death of his own daughter was beyond Mitch’s comprehension.
As t
he second verse of the hymn began, Mitch noticed a quiet commotion off to the side of where he stood. Chief Maynard and Mayor Brown were escorting a woman to a side exit, and from where he sat it didn’t appear as if it were friendly. He strained to see around the open hymnals beside him, to catch a better glimpse of the woman’s face. But it was no use. The only thing he noticed was the long caftan she wore with a simple pattern, and black hair in a bun.
“I’m surprised she actually showed up, knowing the rumors going around about her.”
Mitch looked at the gentleman standing beside him.
“Who is that?” he whispered.
“That’s Madame Mariah. She’s the fortune-teller that Ben saw just before he died.” The man lowered his voice so only Mitch could hear him. “I guess the police chief and the mayor think her presence is inappropriate.”
“Did you know Ben well?” He knew it wasn’t the time to carry on a conversation, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Yes. Kelly is my niece.”
Mitch nodded, reached a hand to the man’s shoulder and squeezed gently. They both turned back to their hymnals and finished the song. But Mitch’s attention was no longer on the words he was singing. He wanted to walk out the same door the chief had gone through with the fortune-teller, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want his hasty retreat to call attention away from the person everyone had come to mourn.
When the service was over, Mitch turned once again to the man beside him.
“I’m sorry about your loss. I’m Detective Mitch Burns and I’m working very hard to find out who did this. Please know that.”
The man held out his hand to Mitch and shook it firmly.
“I know that. And Kelly knows that as well. I was told you were out at the house the other day and I know your visit meant a lot to her. I just hope she didn’t notice Madame Mariah being escorted from the service.”
“I hope so too. I got the impression when we spoke that Ben and Madame Mariah were friendly with each other and that he respected her.”
“He did. And Kelly is convinced that the fortune-teller had nothing to do with Ben’s murder. Frankly I find it a bit far-fetched as well.” The man patted Mitch on the back and then excused himself quickly so he could join Kelly’s family in the receiving line.
Deadly Readings Page 11
