I didn’t bother to ask what she had thought up because staying hidden sucked more than moving. I (appropriately) waddled up the bank and rolled onto the wooden boardwalk. I shook out my legs until some feeling returned to them and then tried to casually sidle up to the assembled group.
Just then, a furious chorus erupted from the edge of the pond.
“Quackquackquackquack QUACK quackquackquack.” A furious fit of green and black and beige burst out of the reeds and veered dangerously close to the assembled suits. The men scattered as I rounded the corner of the boardwalk so my lens was unobscured by trees. I hit the shutter release again and again without paying attention to what I was actually doing. One of the men ran into me.
“Sorry, sir,” I said brightly. “I was trying to get a shot of the wood duck. Junior nature photographer competition. Fauna, you know? Serious stuff! Be well!” I said.
He looked at me like I had three beaks. He turned back to his friends. I snapped another couple of shots of their faces for good measure. None of the other guys there seemed to register that I had appeared at all. They all muttered to themselves about pointless birds. I was going to argue, when Risa grabbed me by my shoulder and hauled me off, back toward the Nature Center.
“Hey!” I said when we were out of earshot.
“If you or I told them off, we’d blow our cover. We were supposed to get info for Richard. We don’t want to tip these guys off to think we heard something.”
I rubbed my shoulder. “Okay, okay.”
“Sorry about the grabbing,” she said more gently. “I was super annoyed at them and super nervous.”
“It’s okay. I get it. I can’t believe you freaked out a bird. Off the path, even! Who are you, Risa Morgan?” I said.
“It was a real duck fit,” she agreed.
I grinned. “Oh my god, it was! They are pretty bad,” I said.
“Did you get their picture?”
I lifted my camera and we stopped to look at the screen.
“I think I have at least one of all of their faces. Those two guys were the same ones from before. I don’t know those dude bros, though.”
“That one! In the navy suit. Recognize that guy from the news. City council, maybe? The mayor’s office? Yes!” She looked at me. “He’s the deputy mayor! He’s running for mayor in November because the other guy is retiring. Remember he was here last fall when we opened the water fowl exhibit?”
“Yes!” I said. “Well, fuck that asshole. Pretending to care about trumpeter swans! Bet the motherfucker couldn’t even tell a mallard from his own ass.”
“Right. The nerve,” said Risa. “I tried to get a recording of them on my phone. I got a little of it, the part that sounded most like a bribe. But I’m pretty sure it’s totally illegal to wiretap or reed-tap or whatever. So we can’t use it, exactly. But we know they are up to some shady-ass bird shit.”
We got back to the Nature Center, where Richard was waiting with Louise.
“We got the stuff,” I whispered.
Richard’s eyebrows shot up like a macaroni penguin’s. “Oh yeah?” he said.
I showed him the pictures and Risa played her recording. The words played surprisingly clear.
“Those cads,” breathed Louise. “They know it’s a bad idea but they want to do it anyway. And what for? Why do they want to use this land specifically?”
“Maybe it’s cheap?” said Risa. “Or it belongs to the city already somehow?”
“Maybe this goes deeper,” I said. Gran loved detective shows; this seemed like something that might happen on one of them. “Dirty politicians. Money. Corruption. Murder.”
“Okay, rein it in there, Miss Fisher, master lady detective. Seems rather dramatic for little ol’ Shunksville, but not outside the realm of possibility,” said Louise. “One of the state reps is from Shunksville, and that guy is in with the governor, who is probably going to run for president one day. I bet all of this is tied together somehow.”
“Totally,” I agreed.
“I think we need to find out more,” said Risa. “They mentioned that stuff would be filed and people could come look at it. There’s also going to be meetings. I think it’s pretty crappy to do it in June and July, when everyone is one vacation. Hardly anyone goes to those meetings to begin with. No one is going in the summer!”
“Maybe that’s their plan, too. Allege to put it out there, no one pays attention, and then they just do what they want.”
“Infuriating,” said Louise. “Some things never change.” She winked at Risa and me. “You girls feel like a little social action?”
“I’m in,” I said instantly. Gran would be so proud of me; she loved this kind of shit. She used to walk around topless to protest men or something back in the day. (I probably should have paid more attention to all those stories. Maybe she was protesting sexism? Damn it, I’d have to ask Mom.)
“Protesting is for the birds!” said Risa.
“Indeed it will have to be,” said Richard. “Come on, Lu. Let’s go see if Jerry knows anything about this.” They walked off toward the Nature Center.
“So what do we do?” I said to Risa.
“I already have a plan.” Her eyes took on a wicked gleam.
“Are we going off the trail again?” I said.
“Me? Off trail? Always,” said Risa. She reached out and squeezed my elbow.
Risa’s tank top inched above her cargo shorts a little, but that was secondary to the fact that heat shot through my arm from where she touched me. There was something about her eco-spying techniques that were so damn attractive. But this was Risa, photography saboteur. Maybe. Why was there heat in the first place? It spread to my face.
I was glad there were no wood ducks around this time. It would have been decidedly anti-conservationist to have incinerated them in the ball of awkward fire that now threatened to consume my face.
FIELD JOURNAL ENTRY
MAY 31
Shunksville City Hall stood across Main Street from Shunksville Central Park. Both had grander names than they deserved. City hall was really only a small, squat building flanked on one side by a construction site and on the other by a Coney Island Hot Dogs. The park was a few benches circled around a tiny stage for concerts and an even tinier fountain in the middle. Risa, Sophie, and I sat on a bench directly across from city hall, watching.
“What are we waiting for, exactly?” Sophie asked. I’d convinced her to come along so I could spend as much time as possible with her before she went off to art camp the next week.
I wiped sweat from the bridge of my nose. Risa had insisted all of us wear sunglasses, “to blend in.”
“Anything suspicious,” I said.
“Don’t we think everyone has gone on vacation?” said Sophie.
“Maybe,” said Risa. “But those guys said stuff was going down over the summer, so I just have a hunch that this is the place to be today.”
“Are your hunches generally correct?” said Sophie. I could tell her eyes were boring holes through Risa’s head behind her dark shades. I might have gone a little overboard last year with my Risa-surely-sabotaged-me rants. The collision of my two worlds was getting kind of weird.
“I’d say about eighty percent. Eighty-five, maybe,” Risa said. She pulled off her glasses and looked through her binoculars at city hall. “Plus Jerry texted me this morning. He said there is going to be a press conference in the park at ten. They usually do press conferences on Friday so that nobody notices them. They get lost over the weekend.”
“Yes. That might seem to indicate your hunch is correct. You know, we could just go in. It’s a public building,” said Sophie. “The binoculars might give away our investigative intentions.”
Risa smiled at her. “But I’m a birder.” She pointed to the camera slung around my neck. “Another known birder. This is what we do. Bet you have your sketchbooks in that bag. Another non-surprise. No one is going to think we’re weird. There’s an owl who lives in the bell tower on t
he church down the street. We’ll just say we are trying to get a glimpse of him.”
Sophie glanced over at me. I could see her throw me the side-eye behind the sunglasses. She raised her eyebrows and gave me a little kick. I tried to kick her back without attracting Risa’s attention.
“Look,” Risa said. A van with an antenna sticking out of the roof pulled up to a meter across the street. Another one arrived a few minutes later. A bunch of bored-looking people climbed out and began unloading things from the backs.
“That’s Bill Andrews from Channel Four Action Live,” I said. “Gran’s a fan.”
“I think that other lady does the lunchtime news on Channel Eight News. Boy do they look thrilled,” said Sophie.
The reporters and their camera crews strolled across the street, in no hurry to broadcast whatever city hall meant to announce in a few minutes. Risa, Sophie, and I stared at a few common grackles who hopped up to us. People on benches often fed them. One hopefully ticked his head in my direction. When he saw that I had nothing to offer, he squawked to his friends and they flew a few benches over to an older couple to try again.
At 10:05 a.m., a few people emerged from city hall. I recognized Edgar Snyder, the mayor, and Michael Ross, the deputy mayor. A woman rolling a small wooden podium across the asphalt followed them, as well as two of the guys who I’d photographed at the pond.
“I think those are the bad guys,” I whispered to Sophie.
“Assholes,” she mouthed back.
We watched the small crew walk over to the bandstand/gazebo/stage and greet the reporters.
“Might as well go over,” said Sophie.
We moved to closer benches. A few other people joined us. Grackles, pigeons, and doves pecked nervously at our feet. They were used to the polka fests and motorcycle rallies where popcorn and pierogi bits dropped for the taking. A few crows called their annoyance overhead. This was probably the worst jamboree they’d seen in town in quite some time. I probably should have thought ahead and brought some seed with me.
The mayor cleared his throat. Cameras swiveled toward him and all of us assembled gave our full attention.
“Welcome to the last press conference of the spring!” he said. “As you know, there have been several developments in the works for Shunksville this year that will really start to take shape over the next few months.”
The mayor launched into a twenty-minute explanation about details for the new online billing system for municipal services like water and trash collection, and how all houses would have to have their number clearly visible from the back for recycling pickup. He devoted another twenty minutes to road and alley replacement. Our fellow onlookers began drifting away, and I watched as a cameraman began to nod off with film still seemingly running. Even the grackles got too bored to stay around.
“And I think that’s everything. Oh, actually, one more thing.” The mayor paused. “My deputy mayor, Michael, has a few words.”
Michael stepped up. “As you know, an exciting development is coming to Shunksville. We have been chosen as the new site for the cooperative Greater Martintown-Shunksville-Richburg school district.”
A murmur went through the newspeople. This caught their attention.
The deputy cleared his throat. “The cities have been examining sites and have chosen one based on its convenient location, possibilities for expan—”
“Pardon me, sir,” said Channel Four’s Bill Andrews. “But isn’t the merger just Martintown and Shunksville?”
The deputy mayor cleared his throat. “Ah. Well, yes. That has been amended. The exploratory committees have come back with their initial reports, and due to unprecedented growth in the biopharmaceutical industry, it has been decided that it would behoove all of the districts—”
“Isn’t Richburg nearly an hour away? They’d put kindergartners on a bus that long? When would they leave in the morning? When would they get home? And the labs are largely centered in Martintown. Why are they building schools in Shunksville?” That was Channel Eight. I thought I remembered her name was Ellie something.
“Obviously there are some details that need to be explained. The next community meeting will be held at its usual time on the second Tuesday of June.”
“And doesn’t the school board have to vote on the school location?” asked Bill Andrews of Channel Four.
“Yes,” said the deputy mayor. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
“And when will that be? June?”
“No. July,” he said.
“Can the public give input on this proposal?”
“Will other towns weigh in as well?”
“Will other town school boards have a say in this? Will the boards merge?”
“Why is this taking place over the summer?”
“There wasn’t much warning for this. Are there larger political implications to a move like this?”
“Are other sites still being considered?”
Four and Eight were taking turns lobbing rapid-fire questions as the deputy mayor looked increasingly uncomfortable. He pulled a little on the stiff collar of his perfectly ironed shirt. I bet he wanted to loosen his tie or possibly just run away.
“Friends.” The mayor stepped back to the podium. “These are all great questions that will be hashed out over the next months. The public is welcome to view all proposals in the records department in the interim, and attend the council and board meetings.” He stepped away and nodded at the cameras, a clear sign that the press conference was over. The woman stepped behind the podium and wheeled it away after the mayor and deputy.
“Well,” said Ellie Something of Channel Eight, looking at Bill Andrews of Channel Four. “That’s odd.”
“Is it?” said Bill Andrews of Channel Four, shrugging. “It’s probably better for Shunksville, right? Having the school here? There will be construction jobs, more faculty and staff jobs. Local vendors will get contracts. More kids and families might attract other businesses.”
“Maybe,” said Ellie Something of Channel Eight. “Do you know if Em’s is open today for lunch?”
“Wait,” I said suddenly. “No, Bill Andrews of Channel Four Action Live Team!” Everyone turned to look at me. “There is more to this story.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked.
“Um. A viewer. I was here for bird watching. But that’s the point. The new location of the school—he didn’t say it. It’s in the Nature Center. In Sarig Pond and Jenkins Wood. They want to build there, take out the pond and the wetlands. That is the new campus.”
Ellie Something frowned. “How do you know that?”
I could tell them about our secret recording. About the pictures. The questionable legality made me think twice.
“There are rumors. And I bet if you look into the proposal, you’ll see that’s where it is. They ended it before anyone could ask. And they didn’t answer any of your questions. Don’t you think that’s weird?” said Risa.
“They work at the Nature Center. People have been coming around looking at the place. Haven’t they?” said Sophie.
Risa and I nodded. What would Gran do in this situation? I wondered. She’d probably tackle the newspeople until they listened to her.
“Bill Andrews of Channel Four Action Live Team,” I implored him. “Look into this. There is a story here.” I turned to Ellie Something. “And would you want Channel Four to scoop Channel Eight?”
“You can just call me Bill,” Bill Andrews of Channel Four said. “They seriously want to take out the nature preserve?”
“Yes,” Sophie, Risa, and I said at the same time.
Bill shrugged. “I’ll look into it,” he said.
Ellie Something narrowed her eyes. “So will I,” she said. Girlfriend seemed like the competitive type. Good. Let them fight over this story and get it out into the world.
“Thanks,” I said. The newspeople gave us curious looks but then started back to their vans.
“They should be going to city
hall to look at the proposals.” Sophie sighed. “I mean you told them.”
“Seriously,” said Risa.
“Well, we could go to city hall,” I said. “We can photocopy them and send them to Channel Bill and Channel Ellie.” I nodded to myself.
Just then, two sharp little bursts of sound erupted from the canopy of park trees.
“Holy shit,” I said. “Where was that? Do you see it? It is right here.”
“I did!” Risa looked up and raised her binos to her face. “Is this the bird you were looking for the other day with the junco? You were right. That was a weird call. Dang it, where’d he go?”
I pointed my camera into the trees and snapped. The call sounded again from across the park. We broke into a run. We stopped at a maple.
“He’s up there,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
“I saw him! Sort of. I saw a tail. I think he’s gray.”
The call sounded, loud and clear, directly above our heads.
“Show yourself, motherfucker” I said. I knew Gran’s messenger or soul or Patronus or whatever would be pissed I was swearing at it, but maybe it could make this shit just a little easier for me.
Guilt gripped my heart and squeezed. Here I was blaming Gran for something that was clearly my fault. I took a deep breath to shove the fist down where it couldn’t choke. I could do this. I would figure out what Gran was trying to tell me. I could will things okay again.
As if to let me know that I should watch my language in the presence of avian astral projection, the bird sang out once again and then rustled leaves. It took to the sky. I clicked and clicked but only got a blurred speck against the luminous summer sky.
“Goddamn it, motherfucker,” I yelled toward it. The old couple on a far bench clucked their tongues at me and I sighed.
“Wow. It’s fast.”
“Birds usually are.” I slumped on her shoulder.
“Okay, so,” said Risa. She stopped and looked at Sophie. She frowned and took a step back like we had pushed her. “Um … I think it was tufted.”
“Wait, what?” I said, straightening up. “What do you mean tufted? Like, his head? Had a tuft of feathers? Or his tail? Or both?”
The Confusion of Laurel Graham Page 9