The door opened again. This time it was a guy who looked like he’d be more comfortable at a blackjack table with a cigar hanging out of his mouth and a thick gold chain around his neck. She’d always heard New Jersey was a haven for mobsters.
He picked some lint off his pinstripe suit and unbuttoned one more button on his shirt. She was right about the gold chain.
In one hand the man held a large tube, in the other a briefcase. He pulled Fran aside and whispered something in her ear. Elise was shocked to see the waitress point at her.
Daniel Johnson? Sam’s description didn’t appear to be too far off base.
As he approached her table, Elise stood up and extended her hand.
“You must be Daniel Johnson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She was not surprised by the strength of his handshake. She wondered if it had broken a few knuckles along the way. “I’m Elise Jenkins.”
“Hello, Elise.” He placed his briefcase and tube on the table and sat down. “I’ve been reading the articles that you’ve been writing since you came and I must say you’re a very good reporter.”
“Thank you, that’s nice to hear.”
“How do you like Ocean Point so far?”
“I love all of it . . . the beaches, the boardwalk, the people, the pace, the lifestyle, everything,” Elise answered honestly. She was a little caught off guard by the man’s seemingly genuine personality. Maybe Sam was wrong.
“I know what you mean. This is my second summer here since moving my business into the area and I love all the same things. That’s why I want to help make Ocean Point even better.”
“And you think that your condominium complex can do that?”
“Yes, I do. I’m hoping that you can write an article that will help residents to see why my idea really is beneficial to everyone.” He removed the cap from the cylinder tube and pulled out a large set of blueprints.
Before he could unroll the papers, Fran reappeared beside the table.
“What can I get you?”
She saw Daniel Johnson’s eyes slide slowly up Fran’s body, stopping briefly on her name tag.
“I’ll take a double burger with bacon and cheese and a large side of fries. And I would love a cold draft beer when you get a second, Fran.”
“I think I can find a second for you . . .”
Elise bit back the urge to laugh as she watched the waitress bat her long false eyelashes at the developer. It never ceased to amaze Elise what was seen as a turn-on by some women.
Fran wrote the order on her pad and then looked at Elise expectantly.
“I’d like a small garden salad with Italian dressing.”
“You got it.”
When the waitress left, Elise turned her attention back to Daniel Johnson.
“Are those blueprints of your condominium complex?”
“Yes, they are.” He rolled them out on the table and turned them so Elise could see them clearly. “As you know, Ocean Point receives the vast majority of its revenue during the three months that make up the summer tourist season. Virtually every piece of property in this town is taken up by cottages, apartments, condominiums, year-round homes and businesses.” His strong hands swept across the blueprints. “This lack of space leaves no room for additional growth or revenue. My condominium complex would make room for an additional seventy families to vacation here each week during those three peak months.”
“Why the property where the first pier stands?” Elise asked. She was surprised by how professional he sounded, despite his outward appearance.
“Good question, Elise. First of all, that portion of the pier invites trouble, if I may be so blunt. The only vendors on that pier are repeat game operators and psychics. The people who tend to lurk there are the kind of people who can be detrimental to the image I believe this town tries to portray.” Daniel Johnson leaned forward in his seat and looked straight into Elise’s eyes. “And you must admit, a condominium on that property would be fabulous with its ocean-side rooms and beach access. It’s prime property.”
“My predecessor interviewed a number of vacationers last year who disagreed with the plan to get rid of the first pier. And they weren’t ‘losers’ as you say, but rather your average family vacationers.”
The man’s entire demeanor instantly changed from pleasant and mild-mannered to tense and abrupt. The Daniel Johnson that Sam had described was now front and center.
“The reporter the paper had before you was an idiot. Who cares what vacationers think, it’s not their town.”
“Actually I think the town should care very much what vacationers think, since, as you said, the vast majority of the town’s revenue is made from the tourist trade. Without them your condominium complex would be a moot point, don’t you agree?”
“Listen here, Elise. If the first pier did not exist, there would be no room for the fortune-tellers on the second pier because it is filled to capacity with vendors already,” he said as his voice became more forceful and agitated. “Without the fortune-tellers, those three innocent people who have been killed over the past few weeks might still be here, don’t you agree?”
He grabbed the beer mug Fran had quietly set down in front of him and took a long, slow gulp.
“If that pier is demolished and I build my luxury condominium complex, the residents of this town will be able to walk the streets and beaches of their community without being in danger . . .”
It was Elise’s turn to stare into his eyes as she searched the man’s face for any indication that he was issuing a threat. The eyes she looked into were dark and clouded.
“I guess it’s really up to the town council to decide. The first reading of your proposal is set to take place on Thursday evening. The final read will come sometime next month.” She could hear the nervousness in her voice.
“Oh, I’m quite sure that they’ll approve my plan. Why wouldn’t they? People are dying because of those damn fortune-tellers, and if the council wants its residents and vacationers to be safe they’d be idiots not to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
Chapter Seventeen
Wednesday, June 23
8:30 a.m.
She passed four or five cars before it hit her as being odd. The summer crowd arrived and departed on Saturdays, not Wednesdays. Yet it seemed as if every car Elise walked past was being packed to the gills with suitcases, beach chairs, and boogie boards.
Curious, she reached into her handbag for a notebook and pen, then approached a man who was trying to cram a beach umbrella into a nearby car.
“Excuse me. My name is Elise Jenkins with the Ocean Point Weekly and I was wondering if I could ask you a few quick questions.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind me packing my car at the same time.”
“It looks as if you are heading out . . .”
“You bet I am. I’m worried about my family’s safety.” He struggled with the umbrella for a few more seconds and then finally took it back out. “If there’s some kind of lunatic picking off people, I don’t think we need to be here any longer.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. The police needed to find the killer soon or Ocean Point would be ruined.
“When did your vacation start?” she asked him.
“The beginning of June. Every year we rent a house here for the entire summer. I commute to my job in the city during the workweek while my wife and kids enjoy the beach.” He straightened up and took a momentary break from packing. “We love it here.”
She jotted down his words and considered her next question.
“What is it about Ocean Point that’s kept you coming back year after year?”
“The whole package deal. We love the lazy days on the beach and then hitting the boardwalk at night. And as you can probably tell, my kids love the games.”
Her eyes followed the man’s gesture toward his car. A mountain of stuffed toys in varying shapes and colors took up precious space in the luggage area.
; “But I want my family to be safe when I’m at work and I can’t be sure of that anymore.” He closed the trunk and turned to her.
“May I have your name and hometown for my article,” she asked sadly.
“Nate Winters and I’m from Westchester County in New York.”
“Thanks for your time.”
She closed her notebook and continued on, realizing as she walked that she didn’t have enough pages left to interview the number of people who were leaving.
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.
Chapter Nineteen
Thursday, June 24
7:15 p.m.
She circled the block for the sixth and final time, hoping to find a parking spot somewhere. The town council meeting was set to start in fifteen minutes and she was going to be late if she didn’t find one soon.
But there was still nothing. With a sigh of disgust, Elise gave up and drove back to her apartment. She had only a few minutes now to walk the five blocks back to the town hall. She half jogged and half walked until she rounded the last corner.
She was stunned to see the number of people streaming through the front door of the meeting hall. It was as if a rock band was throwing a free concert.
“Hi, Elise.”
She looked to her right and saw Mitch Burns getting out of a squad car with Chief Maynard. They had gotten a pa
rking spot right in front of the building.
“Who do you have to know around here to get a spot like that?” she teased. The sparkle in Mitch’s eye when he looked at her was impossible to miss. She looked down quickly at the sidewalk, afraid he would see her excitement and run. She had waited her whole life for someone to look at her like that and now that it was finally there, she was afraid.
“Why? Where did you park?”
“My apartment.”
“I had a feeling this was going to be a circus.” He opened the door for her and gently guided her through it.
“Because of the murders?”
“Exactly. People have been calling the station all week. They are freaked out about the fact that some serial nutcase seems to be running around town. Can’t say I blame them.”
“I know what you mean. I can’t tell you how many tourists I’ve spoken to this week who were packing up and leaving because they’re afraid.” She looked into Mitch’s gentle brown eyes and knew his worried look was a mirror of her own.
“I don’t usually come to these meetings because that’s the chief’s job. But I figured there would be a lot of questions tonight and people are gonna want some answers. I’m just not sure we can give them the ones they want to hear.”
When they entered the meeting room, it was obvious that this was no normal meeting. The relatively few chairs that had been set up for the public were only enough to accommodate some ten percent of the people who were there. Fortunately, the press table provided Elise with a place to observe and record everything that would transpire.
“It looks as if the meeting is about to start, so I better go sit up front by the chief. When this spectacle is over I’d like to drive you home. Make sure you get there safely.”
She saw the quick look of concern flash across his face before he walked away. He cared about her. And she cared about him too. Unfortunately there was so much on both of their plates right now that she doubted it would turn into very much.
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