She sighed and hung up the phone. Maybe her book would help distract her.
Four chapters later she realized she hadn’t absorbed any of the words she had read. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, her mind kept going back to the same thing over and over again.
The stuffed dog. And Mitch Burns.
“Maybe I should get a reading,” she said softly. “Maybe Madame Mariah can tell me if she sees a man in my life sometime between now and when I hit fifty.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Thursday, July 1
10:30 a.m.
She pressed the save button on her keyboard and sat back in her seat. One more story finished.
“Hey, Elise,” Debbie yelled from behind her desk across the room. “Just got a call from some chick. Town hall is being picketed.”
She wasn’t surprised. The residents she had spoken to after the town meeting were determined to do it. She reached for her notepad and pen and stood up. If she hurried, she could get some quotes and have the story written by midday.
“Thanks, Debbie. I was told this might be coming.”
She passed the receptionist’s desk as she headed for the door. She liked Debbie a lot. She was always on top of things and managed to act as a great filter for the unimportant phone calls that came into the paper on a daily basis.
“Where are you off to?” Sam walked in the front door just as she turned her in/out card over.
“Those residents I told you about at our staff meeting got their picket together. I guess they’re walking in circles outside town hall as we speak.”
“You head on over and I’ll see if I can track Dean down and send him over too.” Sam walked toward the darkroom and stopped. “A picket outside town hall will make a great front pager for Sunday’s paper.”
She stepped out into the brilliant sunshine and breathed in slowly. One of her favorite things about living near the ocean was the smell of the salty sea air. The sunny days, constant ocean breeze, and endless blue skies left little room for negativity. She forced herself to pick up the pace as she crossed Sandcastle Place and turned down Sand Dune Lane. She loved the street names in Ocean Point, each one a reminder of the town’s proximity to the Atlantic Ocean.
When the town hall finally came into view she could see the demonstrators walking in a wide circle in front of the building. Many of the picketers carried large posters with brightly colored words written in big block letters. She was impressed by the group’s peaceful manner as they worked to get their sentiments across.
The first picketer she reached was a silver-haired gentleman. He walked quietly, carrying a poster with the words “Leave The First Pier Alone.” Elise tapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m Elise Jenkins with the Ocean Point Weekly. Can I ask why you’ve decided to picket today?”
“Gladly. I’ve lived in Ocean Point for nearly fifty of my fifty-eight years and I’ve watched this town grow larger each summer as everyone tries to think of new ways to accommodate more tourists. I’m not a fool, I know how important those summer dollars are to our community and our schools, but I think we’re doing just fine the way we are right now. We don’t need seventy more families in here each week and we most certainly don’t need to tear down the first pier. That pier has been standing since my daddy helped build it some forty-five years ago.”
“You don’t believe the first pier is the root of the recent rash of homicides in our town?” she asked.
“I most certainly do not. Madame Mariah has been working on that pier for a number of years and we’ve had no trouble from her at all,” he said, scratching his forehead. “I don’t believe she has anything to do with those deaths.”
“Thank you, sir. May I have your name for my article?”
“Russ Simpson.”
She heard the sound of a shutter firing behind her and turned around.
“Hey there, Dean.” She pointed at the man she had just finished interviewing. “I got some good quotes from that gentleman in case you want to get a shot of him.”
Dean nodded and started shooting.
“Excuse me,” Elise said, tapping a young girl on the shoulder as she passed by with a sign. “I’m with the newspaper and was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment.”
The girl put her sign down and walked over to a shaded bench a few feet away. She reached into a backpack and pulled out a water bottle.
“It’s hot out here.”
“It sure is,” Elise agreed. “What made you want to come out here on a hot day like this to voice your opinion on the proposed condo project?”
“I don’t care if they build another condo in town or not,” she said between gulps of water. “What I’m upset about is where they want to put the condo.”
“Because of the pier?”
“Yeah. If they put some luxury condo on the beach, you can bet they’ll try to make that portion of the beach private. Right now you can step off the boardwalk and sit by the water whenever you want, and I don’t want to see that change.”
Elise wrote the girl’s comments in her notebook. They made perfect sense.
“Thanks for your time. Can I get your name?”
“Meg Cronin.”
She watched as the girl picked up her sign and joined the picket line once again. It was neat to see people of all ages fighting for what they believed in. Elise caught Dean’s eye and pointed in the girl’s direction. He turned the camera and snapped a few more pictures.
11:35 a.m.
“May I speak with Daniel Johnson?”
“May I tell him who is calling?”
“Elise Jenkins with the Ocean Point Weekly.”
She drummed her hands on the desk as she waited. The quotes she had gotten from the picketers were good, but she knew Daniel Johnson’s reaction to them would be even better. She looked up at the wall clock in the editorial room and sighed. Five minutes later he finally came on the line.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Elise.”
It was funny how sarcasm could be so easy to pick up even when you didn’t have a facial expression to confirm it.
“I was just down at the Ocean Point Town Hall and I wanted to get your reaction to the picket that is going on.” She couldn’t help but hope he didn’t know. He deserved to have a bomb dropped on him, and she was more than happy to drop it.
“What picket?” His angry tone confirmed her hope. He didn’t know.
“You don’t know?” Elise asked with as much sweetness as she could muster. It was becoming apparent the phone conversation was going to be even more fun than she had originally thought. Now she was going to be able to get a first-reaction quote. And knowing Daniel Johnson it was sure to be a doozy. “There are about thirty residents down there right now carrying picket signs in opposition to your condominium proposal.”
“Damn it!”
She looked around the office as she waited for a more printable response. She saw Debbie point her out to someone but she couldn’t quite see who it was because of the pole in the center of the newsroom. Elise shifted forward in her desk chair and realized it was Mitch who was asking for her. She held her finger up quickly to let him know she would be with him in a minute.
“I would have thought that this town wouldn’t mess with my idea anymore,” the developer hissed into her ear. “Especially after everything that’s transpired over the past four weeks. How many more people have to be knocked off before they agree to this?”
Was she hearing what she thought she was hearing?
“Meaning?” she asked, curious to see where Daniel Johnson would take his comment.
“Meaning, if this pier gets torn down and we get rid of these damn psychics, maybe the killings will stop.”
She strained to hear the quiet yet angry words that continued to pour out of the developer’s mouth.
“This is your fault, Elise Jenkins. I was told you were asking people a lot of questions after the council meeting last week. You stirred this up, di
dn’t you?”
“I didn’t stir anything up. These people have disagreed with your idea from the first time you brought it up last summer. They just want to make sure the council really thinks their decision through before they vote on it at the end of the month,” Elise said, defensively.
“They may end up rethinking their own decision by the time I’m done,” Daniel Johnson said.
The sound of a dial tone filled her ear. She listened to the buzzing for a few seconds before she finally returned the phone to its cradle. Daniel Johnson was on the brink of losing it. And she was afraid he was going to erupt in her direction.
“Elise, you’ve got a visitor up here!”
She jotted down a few remaining notes in her book and then headed up to the reception area to find Mitch. Waiting for her.
“Are you okay?” Mitch asked when he saw her.
“I just got off the phone with Daniel Johnson.”
“And?”
“Not right now,” she said softly. As much as she loved Debbie, the girl had a big mouth.
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat with me over at the Sidewalk Café? It’s less than six blocks from here.”
“Sure. Just let me get my purse.”
She couldn’t believe the detective had come to see her, let alone ask her to lunch. Suddenly, the anxiety she was feeling just moments earlier eased. Maybe Mitch Burns was semi-interested too. She walked back to her desk and hit save on her computer. She didn’t want to come back from lunch and find that her picket story had disappeared.
Now she was ready. She slung her purse over her shoulder and stopped. Karen Smith was talking to Mitch. Elise saw the society reporter hand the detective a folder, say something to him briefly, and then walk away.
“Ready to go,” Elise said casually as she joined the detective once again.
When they stepped outside, Elise let out a long, slow sigh. She hadn’t realized just how badly she needed the sunshine and fresh air.
“Tough day?” Mitch asked.
“It wasn’t too bad until I spoke to Daniel Johnson. Excuse me for saying this, but that man gives me the creeps.”
“What did he say?”
She related the entire conversation to Mitch as they walked the six blocks to the restaurant.
“He really said all that?”
She nodded, her gaze dropping to her feet.
“He really scares me,” she whispered.
“Let me go off the record here for a minute,” the detective said, looking into her eyes as they walked.
“The second you asked me to lunch we were off the record, Mitch.”
“I gave a lot of thought to what you said about the number one. I varied that angle a little bit and came up with first.”
“First?” Her mind began racing in circles as she considered the word. “As in the first pier?”
“That certainly went through my mind.”
She thought about all the angry things the developer had said to her when she questioned his plan. His whole demeanor suggested the possibility of a horrendous temper. And somehow violent behavior didn’t seem like such a big stretch. She shivered.
The feel of Mitch’s hand on her arm made her look back up at the detective.
“I’m checking him out, Elise.”
“Good.”
When they finally reached the restaurant, an attractive waitress led them to a small round table next to a tiny rosebush at the edge of the patio area. She handed them two menus and left. Mitch put his down.
“I’m really sorry that I haven’t had much opportunity to talk to you since the other night on the boardwalk,” he said. “I really enjoyed the evening with you.”
“I did, too.” The sudden warmth in her cheeks made her look away briefly. “I can’t believe you took the time to walk me home after you got the call about Ben Naismith’s murder.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you there. Besides, I couldn’t make you carry that stuffed dog all the way home by yourself, could I?”
She laughed at the thought of the enormous stuffed animal that now graced her tiny bedroom. She had moved the dog out of the entryway after talking to Madame Mariah on the phone the other night in an effort to ward off any troubling dreams. Instead, as she had thought back to her evening with the detective, she had drifted off into the most peaceful night’s sleep she’d had in months. But she wasn’t ready to share that story with Mitch. Not just yet anyway.
“How are you dealing with all this?” She hadn’t meant to ask so quickly, but she couldn’t get past the sadness in Mitch’s eyes.
“Not very well. I feel like I’m spinning my wheels all the time. I want so desperately to be able to tell the families of the victims that I’ve caught the man responsible for their deaths. They need that desperately right now.”
She looked at him closely and waited. There was an underlying passion in his words that seemed to weigh on him with something even bigger than what was going on in Ocean Point. But she didn’t want to pry if he wasn’t willing to share.
“When my dad was killed twelve years ago, his death was traumatic for me and my mom. One day he was alive, the next he was dead. But we always knew it was a possibility every time he walked out the door.”
“Why was that?” Without thinking, she reached out and covered his hand with hers.
“He was a cop. But what was even harder than his death was the fact that we had no idea who shot him and why. That was what kept my mom awake at night. The gnawing questions and lack of answers.”
She wanted to move her hand up to his face, stroke away the lines that creased his forehead, but she didn’t. Instead, she waited for him to continue.
“One day she simply didn’t wake up. She’d had a massive stroke. But her doctor believed it was brought on by stress. The stress of not knowing. So when the creep who killed my dad fired his gun, he really killed two people with one shot.”
“Oh, my God, Mitch. You must have been in high school when all that happened.” She was horrified at the burden he had been living with for so long.
“I was sixteen when Dad died. Seventeen when Mom died. Aunt Betty took me in, and I managed okay. She was a godsend for me. Her faith got me through most of it. Until just before I moved here.” He turned his hand upward and squeezed her hand. “They finally found the bastard who did it. He was a schizophrenic who thought my dad was crossing the street to get him. The cops finally found him because one of his personalities admitted to it at a party one night.”
She stared at him, wanting so desperately to comfort him somehow.
“When I came here I almost fell apart myself. I was so angry that it had taken eight years to find the guy. Eight years I lost with my mom. Father Leahy was my saving grace. He and Aunt Betty were rocks that stood by me through some pretty tough times.”
It was suddenly so clear to her why Mitch was so protective of her on the boardwalk, why his car was at the station well into the night every night. He had given himself a job to do. And it was motivated by an underlying force she was just beginning to understand.
“You’re going to find the person who is doing this, Mitch. You’ve just got to believe in yourself.” She pushed her chair back and walked around the table to him. Leaning down, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered in his ear, “I believe in you.”
It was several long moments before he let go. When he did, his face seemed more relaxed, the creases softening on his forehead.
She pointed at the folder he had tucked next to his chair leg. “What did Karen give you?”
“I don’t know. She said she had gotten some background information from the chief for a profile article she was doing on him and she asked me to make sure it got back to him.”
Mitch opened the folder and looked at the contents inside. Elise noticed the color drain from his face.
“What’s wrong, Mitch?”
12:30 p.m.
All the suspicion Mitch had projected onto the chief was for noth
ing. The boss’s file wasn’t unusually thin because of some sinister reason. The man had simply given most of the papers to a reporter to help her with a profile.
He shook his head in disgust. He deserved to be strung up by his toenails for believing his boss could be a killer.
“Do you know how long Karen has been working on her profile on Chief Maynard?”
“Probably about a month,” Elise answered. She sat back in her chair as the waitress quietly set their water glasses down. “She apparently does an extensive history on everyone she plans to profile so readers can really feel they know the person she is writing about.”
“Well, that explains why I didn’t see this when I looked at his file.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing now.” If it wouldn’t make him look like such an idiot, he would consider confessing to his boss. But somehow he knew that the chief wouldn’t find Mitch’s suspicion to be amusing in the least. And the last thing he wanted was for Elise to think he was a heel too.
“So what do you think about the possibility that Daniel Johnson may be connected to all of this?” she asked him.
He looked across the table at Elise and smiled. He had never opened up to a woman about his family like he just did. But he wasn’t surprised. There was something about her that made him feel alive, yet vulnerable. In a good way.
There were no two ways about it. Elise Jenkins was the kind of girl he had been looking for. Nice, sweet, intelligent, curious. But the timing was bad. He was so wrapped up in work these days he didn’t have the time to wine and dine her like he would have liked to. But he had this moment to be with her and he wanted to savor it for as long as possible.
“It sure seems to be growing more likely all the time,” he answered quietly.
They ordered their lunch and then sat back to wait. He studied her face as she looked around at their surroundings. She was beautiful. It took everything he had in him not to reach across and move a stray hair away from her blue eyes.
“We got a call today from Ray Carlson,” he said, hoping to bring those blue eyes back on him.
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